The first thing that Victor realised was, that Yuri probably had one drink too much.
The second thing he realised was the way how Yuri pronounced his name.
So, that’s when you decided to write a book, you say. That was three seconds before you realised that you can’t write and that people who can’t write shouldn’t be thinking about writing a whole fucking book.
„Don't you fucking dare using my body for those filthy acts!“
He didn't mean any harm. In fact he just wanted to get out, away from his brother, since they had a pretty harsh argument before.
Not too far away in the forest he saw where the others usually trained.
When he waved Subaru good-bye, watching after him as he melted into the crowd of pedestrians, there was a warm feeling filling Yasuda’s chest.
Subaru was someone he could talk to, not someone who wanted him to listen.
Slowly the demon opened his eyes. Warm sunlight flooded the bedroom of his apartment and he felt rays of sunshine on his face. It was early in the morning and as Crowley realized where he was and who laid next to him in his arm a hint of a smile ran over his face.
"Crowley, whatever happens in the next few minutes, don't you ever...turn around."
"What are you up to?"
"Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Close. Your. Eyes!"
"...
„I'm home“ Yuri shouted as he walked in the apartment, where he lived with Viktor and Makkachin.
Right after the GPF – where Yuri placed second – he moved to Russia and Viktor wanted to live with him together, so Yuri brought all his stuff to Viktors apa
Ludwig glanced at the TV, hoping, begging, praying that that nobody would get arrested or even had to die. He prayed his brother was save, still scanning the crowd on the TV screen, looking after a glimpse of grayish hair.
Impatiently, she buries her hands in his hair, pulls him towards her, and this time, their collision is much more precise, drawn out, and way, way too satisfying.
A cough, a sniff, shaky hands curling around a mug of tea, pouring some honey into the hot liquid. Once one of his hands was freed from its former task, Takanori brought it up to pull the thick scarf closer around his aching throat, snuggled up into his fluffy bathrobe.
I couldn't have known that day I made the decision, that everything would end up almost reverse. Frau as a military escape, me as a ghost and Ayanami chasing my soul. Well... Good enough that I know what would have been. But what of now?
Since these are basically drabble-length oneshots, all taking a look at Sasuke's and Naruto's relationship from different angles, the genre varies greatly... Just added 'adult' chapter. Oo''
"No, you're not real. You can't be real," he mumbles over and over again like a prayer. He has cried out in agony leaving him hoarse when his head was taken in an iron grip sealing his fate.
Original by: Kyo- 304goushitsu, Shita to Yoru
tears streaming down my smiling face, puting a hand to my wrist.
Your Voice, I know, hypocratic laugh, who is addicted to be the victim.
crying watching the soft fluffy stucture.
But at least you’re cozy now, breathing the honey-citrus-y scent that you know must be shampoo but that always just screams Anzu, and for the first time in about two hours, your heart rate goes down a tiny bit.
How much did he want to go over to Die and embrace him, reach up for his faced and caress it gently, pull it down and place a tender kiss across his lips? How many lyrics had he written about this hopeless love? ...Yes, that is what it was: hopeless...
That’s a lie – Yugi has way better things to do tonight than listen to her whine about this screwed-up life of hers. He probably has better things to do every night. But who cares? Like so many, this lie is seductively easy to tell.
The whole day had been shit.
Big shit.
And when I say shit, I mean shit.
Work had been shit, the weather was shit, my visit at the konbini had brought up nothing but more shit, my hairdresser had turned the mop on my head into shit.
That’s an unfamiliar tone. Anzu has never been one to talk about guys like this – evasive, like their names are some sort of big secret, and pessimistic, like she doesn’t stand a chance with them, anyway.
