#stolenmoments

[true-stories-of-what-ifs]

After so many years, we met again at your father's funeral. Your sister, who was so close to me and a coworker, was the reason I went, knowing I would see you there. When I arrived, I hugged your siblings and your mom, feeling your presence just a few feet away. But I couldn’t find the strength to offer my condolences directly to you.

I tried to stay busy, chatting with others to avoid catching your eye. As I did, memories of our time together when we were young came rushing back. I was so in love with you then. We were just kids, caught up in a secret romance. You had your girlfriend, and I had my boyfriend, so we kept our love hidden from everyone. I cherished those stolen moments deeply.

You were the outgoing, adventurous one. Because of you, I learned to see life with a happier perspective. You made me try things I never would have on my own, pulling me out of my boring routines. Eventually, we went our separate ways, our love story too complicated to sustain.

Now, here we are, both married to other people. As I look at you from across the room, I can only wish you happiness, grateful for the beautiful, if fleeting, moments we shared. Our love may have been a secret, but it will always be a treasured part of my heart.

As I left the funeral, I couldn't help but wonder—what if we had never known each other? What if we hadn't fallen in love? What if our story had never happened? But then I realized, even with all the 'what ifs,' our love, however brief and complicated, was a precious chapter in my life. And in the quiet corners of my heart, I will always hold a piece of you, a piece of us, with fondness and a wistful smile

[anna3196441]

THE DATE

I smiled after a long time,

I forgot about my sad life,

I got so lost in your eyes,

was it real or all in my mind ?

The laughs we shared,

The stolen moments,

The urge to kiss you,

Were you shy or unintrested ?

For you, it was not good,

but wasn't bad either,

you said it is a good thing,

I say, a maybe is a no.

Now its the after,

Are we back to being just friends ?

Or we might soon be lovers ?

Should I let go or hold on harder ?

[heroexxs]

while jessie was in no mood to celebrate love at the moment, she knew it was a bit too late to back out of one of her best friend’s wedding. being in the party didn’t help her case so she knew she just had to grin and bare it as she was surrounded by all of this love after being recently broken up with. blindsided was an understatement and even though the wounds were still fresh she tried to make it seem like everything was alright and she was having a good time. as everyone headed into the reception the brunette quickly grabbed a drink in hopes to make herself feel a little bit better. out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but to notice a little crowd start to form and when she got a glimpse as to why, she could feel the smile on her face widen. she never thought that derek would show up, especially with his found fame and how busy he seemed to be she didn’t picture him actually showing up. when the small crowd around him finally died down and she saw he had a minute to himself, she headed over to his table with a smile on her face. “well, well, well…” she said as she stood behind him, trying to hold back pulling him in for a hug. it had been so long since they had seen one another she didn’t know the proper etiquette. “carly told me that you might be coming, i didn’t know if you really would.” // @stolenmoment​

[whskyneat]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 | @awalkoflife / @stolenmoment​

FACED with adversity feels to be more melodramatic than what the punishment actually entails. Surely Logan could have gone away with a slap on the wrist but as the new kid lies in a hospital bed, he figures a college play is better than the hell his guilt manifests. He knows how he got into this predicament; his anger lies in the why. It was supposed to be harmless fun, a right of passage that he himself had undergone. He couldn’t be the wet blanket, not when he’s finally found a family in his friends -- something he could never find at home. And so he pushed; he deceived the boy that just wanted to fit in and now he’s stuck trying to find it in him to care enough about acting.

He pushes through the double wide-set doors with a huff, glaring at anyone whose eyes pass him with curious interest. Logan keeps his head held high, sauntering as if he wants to be here and that they should be grateful that he is. There’s no professor in sight, or at least not one that he recognizes and fuck, if this is going to be run by the student community, then jail time isn’t looking all that grim.

He gives up and strides towards her. Logan knows she’s not to blame, knows that she wasn’t even there when the cops came but her innocence strokes his frustrations to no end. No one can be that good, not when the world is how it is. 

“You in charge?” His voice is gruff but he has no plans on softening it, not for the angel over here. “Just tell me what to do so I can get the hell out of here.”

[bullet-prooflove]

StolenMoments!Series - Part One: First Date - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

You try not to like Sabatino, you really do. He's a spook, a CIA Officer, a master of manipulation but there's just something about him that captures you. You know that the outcome of that last mission weighs on him, you can see the regret in his eyes when he talks about Brendan Broake’s death.

Murder is what you’d thought when you’d first encountered him under his alias.

Accident is what he had told you in the aftermath.

You believe him, despite yourself.

When he’s not wearing a persona, he’s captivating. He talks with his hands, the left side of his mouth quirks up into a smile, his accent is sharper, more defined. It’s a far cry from the alias he was using when you first met him, an insurance adjuster called Roger who simply spat out the word lawyer.

“I heard you had to cancel a date tonight for this?” He says as he sits beside you in an unmarked car, watching the building across the street.

You’ve been here for a couple of hours, keeping an eye on your target. He hasn’t done anything more interesting than pass by the window a couple of times with a glass of top shelf whisky in his hand. In comparison the two of you are now eating Chinese from white take-out boxes with chopsticks.

“Sam and Michelle are trying to set me up with a teacher friend of theirs.” You tell him, your eyes fixed on Sidorov’s window.

“I’m guessing you weren’t looking forward to it.” He says, digging through the noodles in his box in search of the chicken.

“Trust me I much prefer being here with you tonight.” You utter, grimacing as Sidorov lingers in front of the glass with his robe open. “I never know what to say when they ask what I do for work…”

“Because if you say law enforcement, they either lose interest or they get a little too interested.” He summarises, nodding knowingly.

He’s been there, he was DEA before he became an operative for the CIA, he’s met his fair share of badge bunnies. They’re good for a night but anything more than that and they start to get a little crazy.

“I had a guy take me home to show me his murder wall once.” You reveal and suddenly his interest is piqued. He tilts his head towards you.

“O.J, JonBenét Ramsey or Jonathan Luna?” He asks because he’s been on the receiving end of the first two before and the third is more of a personal favourite, he’s listened to it recently on a true crime podcast.

“Technically two of those are already solved.” You remind him and he almost spits out his food because there’s not a person in his very small circle who knows who Jonathan Luna is, despite how weird the case is. The fact you do…

It makes him like you just that little bit more.

“Jonathan Luna’s not solved.” He protests, pointing the chopsticks at you. “There’s not a chance in hell that was a suicide. You can’t convince me otherwise.”

The edges of your mouth twitch up into a smile and his gaze meets yours. A blush creeps up his cheeks because he’s just betrayed a part of himself, shown you something that he’s passionate about. You want to explore that a little, hear his thoughts, his theories. You want to hear all about those true crime podcasts you know he listens to.

“It was The Golden State Killer.” You respond to his earlier question “Before they caught him.”

Boring, he thinks. Every man and his dog had a theory on that one before Paul Holes had managed to track down the killer. He is curious though…

“Was he close?” Sabatino asks, picking up his soda from the cupholder and sipping through the paper straw.

“Not even a little.” You laugh and he shares a smile with you because he gets it entirely. He’s lost count of the number of parties he’d attended before he turned CIA, where people would literally assault him with their theories. It’s a hazard when you’re law enforcement.

“I can’t even keep a plant alive let alone a relationship.” He confides in you, before gesturing between the two of you. “This is probably the best date I’ve had in years.”

“It’s in my top three.” You say with a humorous lilt. “Stuck together in a car, eating Chinese food while we wait for Sidorov to finish fucking his mistress. It’s dinner and entertainment.”

He laughs then, it’s a rich, warm sound that resonated through his body. It catches him off guard because for the first time in a while it’s genuine. He’s used to pandering to other people, making them feel comfortable, it’s part of his job. However, sitting here with you tonight, it’s the most real he’s been with another person in a long time.

“I guess the second date will have to make up for it.” He says, setting the takeout container on the dashboard before he wipes at his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, you think there’s going to be a second date, do you?” You tease before setting your own little white box onto the panel so you can hunt down the carrier bag. He pulls it out with a flourish before holding it open for you. A clean stakeout space is a happy stakeout space. He waits for you to deposit the trash before he fastens the bag, and he tosses it in the back seat before he turns his attention back to you.

You’re an attractive woman, he thought that the first time he met you but it’s more than that. There’s a connection between the two of you, an undertone of something. He finds himself slipping back to the person he used to be, the man beneath all the identities. He hasn’t been that person in a very long time.

“I’m kind of liking the vibe we have, aren’t you?” He says dipping his head so that he can meet your eyes. “And I can promise you that I don’t have a murder board at home, that’s strictly for office use only.”

“You’re serious?” You ask him and he smiles.

It’s his real smile, the one that no one else gets to see. You can tell because his eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Yea.” He says quietly as he leans in a little, his gaze lowering to your lips. “There’s an Italian place not far from the Boatshed. A little dinner, a little wine, we can get to know each other better.”

“You can tell me about your true crime podcasts.” You murmur as he reaches out, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. The scent of his aftershave floods your senses, something woody with a citrus undertone. His nose trails along the length of yours and you tilt your chin up so that your mouth brush over his.

You’re surprised by how soft his lips are, how tender he is with his kiss. His thumb chases along the line of your jaw and already you know you’re falling for him. And that’s ok, because he’s falling for you too.

“Sidorov’s on the move.” Sam’s voice comes across the radio. “Back exit.”

The two of you break apart reluctantly before pulling on your seatbelts.

“Tomorrow night.” He promises, his gaze focusing on the road ahead as he starts the engine of the car. “We’ll do it tomorrow night.”

***

The second date never happens.

Instead, the two of you end up sharing a cigarette outside of the Boatshed. He lost a friend today; a partner and you can see how much it devastates him. It’s in the way he pinches his brow when he strides outside to get some air, his hunched shoulders. He’s barely keeping his shit together.

“I have to go to Washington tonight.” He tells you wearily and you nod your understanding. You’d heard they were setting up a taskforce to bring down Sidorov, you know he has to be there. That even if it was a choice he’d still go. You didn’t like Synder, but he deserved better than being shot to death on a basketball court.

“Nik.” You say his name and his head inclines towards you.

Your fingertips brush over his cheek and he raises his hand, clasping your palm to his face. He closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, savouring your touch because he knows it’s the last time he’s going to feel it.

“I’m sorry we missed our moment.” He says, his lips brushing over the hollow of your wrist.

“Yea.” You whisper with a sad smile. “I am too.”

Love Nik? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[iwantabreak]

on ao3 there's these warrior nun fics that are tagged #stolenmoments and they just make me so so sad because they are stolen moments from us as an audience (because s03 :( ) and from Ava and Beatrice because of what happened in S02 (because we don't know the exact ending) and it just makes me so so sad and mad.

these fics are amazing and brilliant but just looking at that makes me so sad and defeated like when will I live in a world where I don't have to fight to see representation or wlw. I don't have to fight to see scarps of wlw on screen...I love books but I'd love to see more wlw on screen...this is just heartbreaking man. there's so much more I want to say but I feel so defeated... sigh

[luvi69]

Faces... bwshot #photography #photographyislife #photographyart #photo #pictureoftheday #stolenmoments #stolenshot #bwshot #bwshotoftheday #faces #intoshadow (presso Torino casa mia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfMV0SJNf14/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[pink-wednesdays]

Stolen Moment Chapter Update -Love Like This

Someone beat on the bathroom door from the other side needing to get in. She slid to the grimy floor. The pounding at the door going entirely unnoticed. Two little lines, two little lines that changed everything and yet nothing at all staring up at her from the white and pink stick. For in the grand scheme of things she knew this was the time, there was no way this could happen again. No way she could risk it, to bear this weight alone. Because she would, go it alone. Draco would never know about the two little lines glaring back at her, so painstakingly obvious now that she thought about it. The sensitivity to smell, the sickness she had brushed off as a case of the flu. Wizards and witches didn't get sick. Everyone knew that. She knew that.

So why was she in shock that this had happened? They had taken every precaution, hadn't they?

Hands roved up her back, starting from the bottom and wrapping around her front to cup her breasts. His teeth bit down into her flesh as she let out a moan. Allowing all her body weight to rest against him as he took his time with his agonizing torture.

Oh how she'd missed this, these hands, his mouth... the feel of his heart beating in his chest in tune with her own. For too many months they had been apart, but tonight, tonight was important. Every year no matter what they were sure to return home for this night. 

The zipper on her dress slowly slid down her back, and she allowed the black garment to slide past her shoulders and onto the floor. A pleased grin tugging at her lips at the audible sound of the hitch in Draco's breath.

"You like it then?" glancing at him over her shoulder she watched his awed expression. His eyes roving over every inch of her, taking in the emerald green lace chemise she had purchased just for this occasion. 

"Very much." His masculine grunt of approval sending delicious waves of anticipation straight to her core. "Turn around."

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13639964/3/Stolen-Moments

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281656/chapters/68295499#workskin

[arturobinewski]

take.care #metz #binewski #blackandwhite #stolenmoments #bnw #bnwphotography #portrait #street #canon2000d #france #moselle (à Metz (Metz, France)) https://www.instagram.com/p/CE2LDd4iPZv/?igshid=1bnf6lskynx4q

[pilgrimoflove90]

"Stolen moments" we keep on keeping on 😉🎶🎶😷 #stolenmoments #olivernelson #jazzguitar #blues #minorblues #guitaristsofinstagram #guitarplayer #musicians #music #jazzlicks #jazzblues #pickupjazz #pickupmusic #quarantine #torino #italy https://www.instagram.com/p/B99s9KGjDmD/?igshid=15bnj2j180mrk

[healthymusik]

🎵I don’t wanna tell you that I love you 🎵

[hookist]

And we have our final winning #writer! Congratulations to @myMerilee! Master #guitarist and #Grammy nominated #songwriter @garylucasguitar chose yet ANOTHER of your lines to be a part of our GORGEOUS SONG! Well done! Your line is a beauty and you have given Verse 3 a wonderful end to our song! Gary had a special shout out for #VondaMcCants for a huge imagination, endless ideas and the guts to take risks! Go Vonda! Gary also had big shout outs for #Paula #Kayly #LovieDSa #KeithCurtis @hipsterdoophus and #Blue! And he sends Kudos to all! Every one of you made his job so very difficult! And it's a gorgeous #song! We hope to record it in the New Year! We will keep you posted! Great job, everybody! If you enjoyed this experience, we hope you will invite your music-lovin' friends to join us for our next collab starting 12/5 with @dardensmithmusic for @songwritingwithsoldiers ..... Photo by @nasa Thx! #singersongwriter #writeasong #music #lyrics #songlyrics #songwritersofinstagram #sunrise #stolenmoments #grace #jeffbuckley https://www.instagram.com/p/B5UHLfZn1iJ/?igshid=1i4n57hp9ak0o

[heroexxs]

a little chuckle slipped his lips as he shook his head at her. “nah, not at all. actually i think it’s pretty cool that you smoke. i know a lot of people who still aren’t keen on the whole idea.” as he passed her the joint in his hands, he leaned back against his chair and gave her another smile. ever since he moved in she had been nothing but nice to him, that and she was extremely easy on the eyes. he could stare at her for hours and just continued to get lost in her eyes. he had to keep reminding himself that she did have a husband, a very strong one at that and he knew if he stared a bit too long that he’d probably get angry. he had heard a fight or two just from being outside, several doors slamming throughout the house and he just assumed that it was normal married problems. if anything serious happened he knew he’d run right over to help out. as he pushed his hair out of his face, he gave her another smile before chuckling to himself. “not a problem, trust me i won’t tell anyone. your secret is safe with me.” damian never asked too many questions about her husband. he assumed he had to have some sort of big job if he wasn’t there all the time but was thankful that they didn’t have any watching eyes over the two of them. “well you’re more than welcome to come over here anytime. i didn’t have any plans, i was just gonna hang out here by the pool, relax a little bit and that’s about it.” he said with a little shrug. “when does your husband come back? i’ll make sure to reach out to my guy, and hopefully i can get it tomorrow before he comes back. don’t worry about a thing, really.” he said with another smile. “how about you? did you have any plans tonight? i’m sorry if i’m kinda ruining them but you’re more than welcome to stay out here with me for as long as you’d like.” 

// @stolenmoment

[whskyneat]

‘ you took the time to memorize me: my fears, my hopes, my dreams. ’ ( from derek to poppy bc 🥺 !!!! )

SHE loves him. There's no doubt about it. The fear subsides until there's nothing left but this: the safety of being in Derek's arms, thoughts of an unspecified future pushed away, the knowledge that here, now, she is loved and she loves in return.

"Of course I did." Poppy huffs. "Whatever time is granted to me, I want to spend it with you. I want to spend it knowing you even if . . . even if."

Her breath shutters, eyes quickly blinking back tears.

"I'm going to love you to the very end, you know."

[bullet-prooflove]

StolenMoments!Series - Part Three: Yours - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

It’s in the late hours of the evening on Christmas Day that you make it back to base. You’ve been out in the wild since the early hours of the morning, meeting with community leaders from the villages you’d supported in the past, re-establishing connections. The reception is positive for the most part, you meet a few roadblocks but nothing that escalates to a point you can’t manage.

When you climb out the Hum-Vee you’re tired, aching and filthy. It’s been a while since you’ve carried this much equipment on your person, it’s something you’re still getting used to.

Sabatino’s in the kitchen when you step through the door. A heavenly scent assails you, your stomach rumbling as you strip off your equipment and jacket before hanging it in your cubby. The two of you have barely seen each other over the last few days, with your trips off site and his attempt at tracking a group of insurgents. You know he’s around though when his heated blanket appears folded neatly on your bunk after the generator goes out. The nights get cold here and your appreciative of the gesture.

“That smells amazing.” You tell him, shaking the sand out of your hair and he gives you that smile, the one that makes your heartbeat just a little faster in your chest.

“I’m more than just a pretty face.” He says as you step into the kitchen to survey his work. “It’ll be ready in thirty.”

“Just let me get washed up first then I’m all yours.” You say before disappearing into the bathroom.

All yours…

He has to admit, he likes the thought of it. The two of you never made that date in L.A but he’s hoping not to miss his moment here in Afghanistan.

He sets the battery powered camping light in the centre of the table before turning the mains off. It casts a pretty dulcet glow across the table, illuminating the space. The ‘plates’ you’re eating from are trays, the ‘turkey’ is actually bearded vulture and the wine is from a box someone bought over for New Years, but he’s done his best with the tools he has at hand.

When you step out of the bathroom, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re clad in leggings and an oversized jumper with thick woollen socks pulled over your feet. Your damp hair falls loose across your features.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” You tell him, gesturing at the meal as you take the seat across from him.

“Nah. Just a man trying to impress the girl he likes.” He says, a small smile playing across his lips.

The conversation flows from there. You learn that his mother was Armenian, she met his Italian father as a student in the US. They both loved to cook, a trait that was passed down to their son. At weekends his father would take him camping, teach him how to live off the land, skills he’s utilises throughout his career, although he prefers the comforts of an urban landscape these days.

“Nothing beats a hot shower and a comfortable bed.” He tells you.

In turn he learns that you enlisted in the Army straight out of high school as a way to pay for college. You have a degree in criminal justice and became a member of the military police, serving two tours in Afghanistan before you put in your papers and began working in humanitarian services.

“A lot of the people I met with today are girls I’ve helped over the years, women who’ve stepped into the role of community leaders.” You confide in him, sipping from a beaker filled with wine. “Some were child brides, others trafficked, or dishonoured. I was part of a network that rescued girls from abusive situations, educated them, gave them prospects.”

It’s the first inkling he has that the work you had done with the villages in the region was actually clandestine. They’re relocation spots he realises, homes for people who couldn’t return to their families for fear of being killed or punished. He understands now why it had to be you that came to Afghanistan, the unique position you were in to help.

“You saved them, so they trust you.” He remarks quietly as the pieces fall into place.

“It’s more than that.” You say with a sad smile. “I saw some horrific shit as an MP, the stuff some of our soldiers got away...”

You trail off with a bitter taste in your mouth. He knows what you’re talking about. Out here it’s lawless, and if you’re of the right disposition it’s an excellent hunting ground for the weak and the vulnerable.

“I got a rep for taking on those cases, the ones where civilians accused our guys. They started to see me as someone who would hold others accountable.” You say leaning back in your chair, cradling the glass of wine to your chest. “It was recommended that I didn’t reenlist when the time came, that it would be bad for my health.”

It’s a thinly veiled threat, one that tastes of violence, and it infuriates him because you shouldn’t have had to give up a job that was worth doing in order to protect yourself from the very organisation you were policing.

He’s still thinking about it when he walks you to your room that night. How brave you were taking those men to task for their crimes, for stepping into a role that put a target on your back. He knows there’s more you’re not telling him, that when you’re ready you’ll disclose the rest of it. He can wait, he isn’t going anywhere.

He intends to say goodnight, to go back to his bunk, listen to a true crime podcast the same way he has all other nights however there’s a look in your eyes as you linger in the doorway.

When you kiss him, it’s nothing more than a light brush of the lips but it ignites something inside of him. His thumb chases along the line of your jaw, his palm coming to rest on the nape of your neck.

“Take me to bed Nik.” You whisper against his lips, and he smiles as he closes the door behind him.

He makes love to you on the floor of your bunkroom, the blankets from the other rigs laid out across the ground, cushioning it. Each bunk is single person, meant to discourage fraternization and Sabatino he likes to have space to work. He takes his time with you, stealing greedy kisses from your mouth as he undresses you slowly, removing each layer as if he’s carefully unwrapping a gift.

That’s how he sees you, something precious, to be cared for, revered. His lips chase over your skin, mapping out all of those sensual little areas, the ones that make you say his name. He commits each and every one of them to memory.

God, the noises you make, it’s enough to drive any man to madness.

You taste like God damn sunshine when he gets his mouth on you. He licks up that sweet honey like it’s a feast, his tongue tracing over your clit before he thrusts his tongue into your needy cunt making your hips arch and you head tip back into the pillow.

You look so fucking beautiful when you come, that pretty pink flush creeping across your skin in the throes of rapture. He kisses his way back up your body, his skilled palms caressing your curves as he slots between your legs. The tip of his cock brushes over wetness, smearing the head of it with your slick. He positions himself, right there at your entrance waiting.

If you want him, you have him, but he's got to hear it before he takes this any further.

“Nik, please.” You whisper against his lips. “I need you.”

It’s been along time since anyone has said those words to him.

He sinks into you slowly, his mouth covering yours, stifling that gorgeous little moan as he fills you completely. Christ, he almost loses his fucking mind because this, it’s absolutely perfect, you are absolutely perfect. Your thighs tighten around his hips as he moves in long, punctuated thrusts that rake over that deviant little spot inside of you, the one that has you keening for him. His fingers entwine with yours and your breathing hitches just a little because the intimacy of that, it heightens everything.

It's never been like this for him, he’s never felt so connected to another human being. You bite his lower lip when you come, and he fucking loses it. You grip him like you were made for him, wringing the ecstasy right out of his body as he spills his release inside of you. Still, he isn’t satisfied, he fucks it deeper because he’s a territorial son of a bitch, and you need to know you’re his.

You kiss him in that moment, moaning into his mouth and he realises you need it just as much as he does.

“Oh, you like that.” He whispers, his thumb ghosting over the curve of your cheek as he looks into your eyes.

“I do.” You tells him, your fingertips trailing along the scars that line his back. “It makes me feel like I’m yours.”

“You are mine.” He says resolutely, his lips brushing over yours. “It doesn’t matter where in the world we are; you’ll always be mine.”

Love Nik? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[bearrepublicnetwork]

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A post shared by J Eric Sandoval (@unconventionalcommonsense)

I was feeling melancholy and this song kept coming to mind. So I just started plunking clumsily on the piano while お母さん was showering. Rare are the moments I even get to touch the piano, unless she’s at the doctor. I stole this moment. #piano #pianolover #misshome #stolenmoments #pixies #whereismymind #pianocover (at Wanitakashiro, Otsu-shi) https://www.instagram.com/p/B2g6Jm1nN7l/?igshid=8mpe124ov1wz