NCIS: You Are MineMore Like This
I walk into NCIS headquarters from my day off and walk towards Tony.
"Hey Tony. I'm back from my day on." I smile and lend over on his desk.
"Hey Ziva." He stretched my name out to sound like Zee-vah. "Oh, and its off, back from your day off. What did you do on your day off?"
"DINOZZO, GET BACK TO WORK!" Gibbs yelled.
"Sorry, Boss. Going back to work now." He just smiled at me.
"Well, while you guys work on your case, I will be in the break room." As I started to walk away, I could feel someone staring at me, so I turned around. "Tony! Stop staring at my ass!"
He blushes and goes back to looking at the report papers on his desk. I go to the break room and fall asleep. I wake up at Tony shaking my shoulder.
"Did you guys catch your killer, yet?" I asked tiredly.
"No, but Abby wants to see you."
I go to Abby's lab and she's got the music up so loud that I couldn't even hear my self think.
"ABBY!" She didn't hear me, so I turned off the music.
"HEY! Don't touch my music!"
you are single.you’re not single because you didn’t forward that chain letter,More Like This
because your replies were too quick
because you missed one of his
because you said the wrong thing.
you’re not single because
your tits are too small or
her ass looks better in those pants or
you have a stomach or
“men want women with curves.”
you’re not single because you’re messy
you’re not single because you’re not ladylike enough
because you don’t fit in
because you’re too ugly
because you’re too this, you’re not enough of that.
you’re not single because who would date somebody like you?
you’re not single because you fall in love too easily,
or because you don’t open up enough.
you are not single because your heart is too big
or too small.
relationships are not gained through meticulousness,
at how precisely your words land
and how perfect your face is when you laugh.
you are not single because it’s what you deserve
Center of AttentionFrancis looked down at the floor, pouting like a three year old child that had just been denied a cookie. Arthur had just completely ignored him- well, not completely. They had just finished dinner and Francis had tried to get him out of washing the dishes and into bed, like a good lover would, but no! as soon as he'd gone to touch Arthur's chest exactly how he liked it he'd gotten a gentle elbow-to-the-face and a sharp word.More Like This
"Not now," came Arthur's slightly-irritated reprimand. "I have to finish these before they start to smell."
Thus, Francis had gone to pout, sitting in a chair by the fireplace and staring at the floor between his knees. Arthur never, ever brushed him off like that. Like, seriously never. He'd always been able to at least provoke him a little, tease him just the tiniest bit until Arthur either a) tried to kill him, in which case Francis would dodge and pin him to the floor, or b) gave up and let Francis carry him upstairs and get him all hot and bothe
Big Brother"Angleterre, you're sick." Francis guided the British man to the sofa and sat him down. "You're pale, and you sound sick, and you look sick, and-"More Like This
"I'm not sick." Arthur shoved the concerned Frenchman away, growling. "I'm fine." He pushed himself up and got to his feet, instantly grasping onto the other's shoulder for support. He took a step, found himself to be steady, and took another, moving slowly until he was in the kitchen.
"What do you think you're doing?" Francis crossed his arms and stood in the entranceway, eyeing the Englishman sternly.
"Doing the dishes, of course." They'd just finished breakfast when Arthur had suddenly frozen, made some sort of noise, and grasped onto Francis' shoulder for support. He'd blamed it on having had too much alcohol the night before and carried on normally. Then he'd nearly fallen on his way back to the sink, Francis' arms saving him from a cracked skull. And now he was back in the kitchen, the workaholic.
"No, you're not." Francis strode over
Arreter le masquage - FrUKFrancis, this isn't funny anymore, and it never was.More Like This
It's been a year now. Come out from wherever you're hiding.
Where did you go? I miss you. I admit it. I even shout from the rooftops, sometimes. I'll scream your name to the Parisian night, hoping that you might appear from one of the stars, before smiling that god damned smile, holding me close and ruffling my hair. I even learnt how to say it in French for you. "Où êtes-vous, mon amour? S'il vous plaît revenir à moi. Je m'ennuie de toi, François." Right?
I go to sleep in an empty bed, and I wake up in an empty bed. My hands feel empty when you're not holding them. The vase is empty because I haven't put any roses from you in there. I hate all this emptiness. I look into the mirror and see an empty face. You never appear from behind me anymore to hold me close. Sometimes, after I take a shower and am clad in only a towel around my waist, I even elbow the air, blushing and mumbling "Get of
FrUk Fluff- Tea.FrUk Fluff: Tea.More Like This
Arthur lay on his back in the middle of the garden. There was a scattering of cushions around him on the grass, his hip resting awkwardly half on half off one. The early afternoon sun coated one side of him; warm and comfortable, the promise of a hot summer. His other side felt colder, and neglected, a definite feel of empty space. He ignored it, and adjusted his shoulder blades on the ground, closing his eyes. The sun poked from behind his eyelids, turning the blackness into a dark dusky red. He felt the air shift next to him; felt weight on the cushions and dense ground. A warm hand felt his face; traced his cheeks, nose and eyebrows. A breath skittered across his neck. Lips touched his as the gentle scent of vanilla toyed with his senses. The lips moved away.
"Hello Frog." He didn't need to open his eyes to know that kiss.
Arthur sat up, and looked at the man next to him. It was Francis, of course it was. He knelt on a pale cushion, pale hands c