ShosetsunoKamisama



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    Haruhi said to the stranger, "The food's good, isn't it? Have you tried the small quiches?"

    She'd spoken English on the assumption that most people in the room would likely understand it, but when the man turned it became apparent that he was Japanese. Haruhi knew this because she recognised his face. It was the face of Japan's ace skater, Katsuki Yuuri.

    "K-K-Katsuki Yuuri-senshu!" Haruhi clapped her hand over her mouth, feeling the blood rise to her face.

    "Ah," said Katsuki. He was different off the ice. His spectacles reduced the impact of his eyes, and the shape of his face was somehow softer, less distinctive. "Do I know you?"

     

    Yuuri makes a friend. Viktor hates it.

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    10 Jul 2021

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    It takes Alina longer than it probably should to even become aware of the fact that something about her husbands' behavior has changed.

    And why.

    Once she does though, a part of her can not stop laughing.

    Or: Communication is key. And sometimes results in babies.

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    10 Jun 2021

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  3. Public Bookmark 45

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    'I didn’t understand before, but I do now.

    You cannot claim what was not given to you.

    The Stag chose ME.'

    And Morozova's Stag declares its choice far sooner, adorning her brows and not her breast, tearing at his plots.

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    10 Jun 2021

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    "Which is it, Alina?" He speaks before the words have scarcely left her mouth. "Toy or pet?"

    Alina goes still. There's a trap here. She can sense it, like a third person in the room. She swallows. "What's the difference?"

    ___

    On their wedding night, Alina and Aleksander come to an understanding of their roles.
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    10 Jun 2021

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    He kisses her, and it is like an answer to a question she had not known she was asking. 

     

    With her, he is soft, and beneath the heavy, dark exterior she sees him — he is lonely, perhaps just as lonely as she is. In each other, they have found answers to questions Alina did not realize she was asking, questions that he has been ruminating on all along. 

     

    Her hands slide into his hair, feeling the soft strands beneath her fingers as he tugs her closer, cups her jaw and kisses her as though he’ll never get the chance again. Nothing about this kiss is safe, Alina knows — not just because it’s him, but because of the way he does it, the way he tugs her into his body until she is pressed along the length of him, the way she knows that he intends never to let her go. 

    --
    How the Winter Fete scene should have gone, if they weren't interrupted. I won’t ever forgive Netflix for taking that away from us. There are so many different iterations of this scene in fic but I wanted to try my hand at writing in-universe, so please enjoy my take!

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    10 Jun 2021

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