barely made it home

snapdragon-princess  asked:

Do you know of any au/alternate canon fanfic where Yuuri is a more confident person? Can be due to time-travel, or any other reasons.

Thanks for these requests! I think I have a few here that may fit what your looking for! I love confident Yuuri! (Psst… you can find more confident!Yuuri fics on my role reversal AU list!)


Confident Yuuri


Escort Me by lucycamui, Explicit, 5k
On a ‘business’ trip to Tokyo, Victor picks up a captivating escort… ft. Confident Yuuri! Thumbs up! (The ending is not what you’d expect hahaha)

Surprise, Motherfuckers by LazyPotatoo, Gen, 5.3k
When Yuuri and his friends stumble upon an unusual bar, Yuuri is forced to showcase a skill of his past. Oh, and then he accidentally becomes an urban legend. Thumbs up!

I Want to Skate like Him by IdunAurora, Mature, 27k
At age 27, five time consecutive world figure skating champion Yuuri Katsuki decides to retire. He has barely made it home to Hasetsu before he finds an eager and all too enthusiastic silver-haired Russian on the doorstep of Yu-Topia Akatsuki, demanding Yuuri to coach him. Well, it’s not as if the Japanese legend has been able to get 23-year-old Viktor Nikiforov out of his mind since the young man enchanted him at the GPF banquet in Sochi months earlier, anyway. Role swap AU!

Faded by martialartist816, Explicit, 6.2k
Victor knows only two things: that he’s very drunk and that Yuuri looks very good in that suit.

Exactly What I Wanted by SharkGirl, Teen, 722 words
“That depends.” Yuuri scooched closer, bumping their noses. “Are you hungry?” Quick, cute one shot!

Bedroom Warfare by RedishBlueRose, Explicit, 2.1k
In the middle of the night, a war commences inside a hotel room. SPICY KATSUDON

Drape me in your warmth by Miiika, Teen, 27k (WIP)
So Victor being Victor, he kidnapped Chris, bought less aristocratic clothes to wear and went to the brothel. It wasn’t his first time in a brothel, god no, but he heard that the dance, which was performed there, was something to die for. Prince AU!

Weakness by Flightless_Bird, Teen, 1.8k
“Some might have thought it was a poor choice, pointing out a skater’s flaws. But to him, it was a symbol of both his biggest weakness and his greatest strength. It was something that could push him to do better or bring him to his knees. And that something was watching him from across the ice right now.” VERY sweet!

stay young (go dancing) by ryuuzaou, Explicit, 7.2k
“Do you do this with every pretty boy that serves you champagne?” Yuuri asks, finally a touch of humor in his tone. “I’ll admit, I’m the flirty type,” Viktor says, “but I haven’t asked to kiss any.” Oh, fuck it. Yuuri throws caution to the wind and says, “You won’t have to.” Shy on the streets, eros in the sheets… ;)

Age as Fireflies at Dusk by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche), Teen, 4k
In which it’s more than obvious to Lilia Baranovskaya that Yuuri is trained in ballet, and Yuuri proves to have more of a backbone than anyone in the Russian contingent except Yuri expected to see. Especially when Victor isn’t around to act as a buffer. Great fic!

last year’s offer (this year’s guarantee) by persephoneggsy, Explicit, 3.5k
When Victor gives Yuuri more details about what happened the night of the banquet, the Japanese skater ends up finding out that he did one more embarrassing thing before he inevitably passed out. HOT!!

Live, Laugh, Love by Lucien_King, Teen, 9.4k (WIP)
Yuuri Katsuki, a 23-year-old Japanese actor, was a veteran top star. He has been in various popular movies as both main and supporting actors, creating a massive fan base. And then, he met the Viktor Nikiforov. WOW!

Love Wins! by QuinnTuha608, Explicit, 4.6k
After Yuuri ends the Cup of China short program competitions with a new personal best and a spot at the top Viktor decides to celebrate by going out on a date; later in the night Yuuri explores his more dominant side in the bedroom. HOOOO BOY IT’S HOT UP IN HERE

Masquerade by Ashida, Explicit, 60k (WIP)
Yuuri is part of Japan’s most notorious mafias. Victor is the head of the Russian mafia. After brief meetings throughout the span of five years, they decide to go off together and leave everything behind. I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS FIC!

Sex Bomb (Smut)

MASTERLIST

Request:  Yo can you make an imagine about buying the sex bathbomb and taking a bath with shawn that leads to some slow passionate sex ?

Word Count: 2,217

Sex Bomb

“Are you done yet, please?” Shawn whined at me.

I was holding another dress up in front of me, looking at myself in the mirror.

“Soon babe, I promise” I assured him.

He stuck his tongue out at me, obviously very annoyed with me. It just made me laugh, though. He was cute when he got frustrated. Shawn leaned against the wall in the store, doing his very best to let me know, he surely wasn’t happy with me.

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anonymous asked:

99 with taehyung or yoongi! Make it angsty as posibble please 😊

Prompt: “I can’t believe you’re carrying my child.”

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Everything falls apart once you realize you’re pregnant.

Word count: 1k

A/N: There will be a Part 2, but this can be read as a standalone. Also, I chose to write this with Yoongi because Tae loves kids and I couldn’t make it angsty with him 🙃

Part One | Part Two (both can be read separately)


Yoongi had never been the most attentive of boyfriends–you knew that well. You had been dating him for almost two years, just recently moving into his apartment.

He worked as a music producer, often engrossing himself in his work and neglecting his own health. There would be weeks where Yoongi hardly came home, barely acknowledging you.

He made up for those difficult weeks by being perfect to you afterwards. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but you loved Yoongi and would rather wait for him.

Currently, you were going through a rather difficult stretch in your relationship. Yoongi had been producing a new album for an upcoming hip-hop group called BTS. He was also creating his own mixtape on the side.

This time, however, you were happy about your boyfriend’s absence. You had a lot to reflect on.

After all, you had an aching suspicion that you were pregnant.

Your period was late. Very late. At first, you attributed it to stress from your own job and Yoongi. But it was far passed the point of stress now.

A few days ago, you had bought a pregnancy test. It was sitting on the bathroom counter, and you stood opposite of it, trying to build up the confidence to confirm your suspicions.

Eventually, you brought yourself to do it. And, indeed, a few minutes later, the small test you held in your hand read positive.

That night, you cried yourself to sleep. Yoongi hadn’t come home. The only comfort you could find was in the warmth of your empty bed, pretending the blankets pulled around you were Yoongi’s embrace.

-

The next morning, you woke up to an intense bout of nausea. Rushing to the washroom, you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Violent wretches raked through your weak frame.

You knew immediately that this was morning sickness. Your older sister had had a baby a few years ago, and you helped her throughout her pregnancy.

On shaky legs, you lifted yourself up and flushed the toilet. You tried removing the bitter aftertaste from your mouth with cold water.

You had to tell Yoongi. You could already guess how he would react. He didn’t want children–not yet–and he didn’t want to settle down, either.

But where did that leave you?

With trembling hands, you picked up your cell phone from your nightstand. Sitting down on your bed, you dialed Yoongi’s number. Your phone rang for ages, and you were afraid he wasn’t going to answer at all.

“Y/N?” Yoongi called, his voice tired and scratchy. “I’m at work right now. What do you need?”

“Are you coming home soon?” you asked, keeping your tone steady.

“Probably in an hour or two,” your boyfriend answered. “Why?”

“I just need to talk to you,” you whispered. You began to pull the phone away from your ear, moving to hang up. “I’ll see you later. I love you.”

A few hours later, Yoongi did come home. His haggard frame appeared in the doorway. You were waiting for him in the living room. As he moved closer, you could see the dark circles ringing his eyes.

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice probably overused from rapping.

Wordlessly, you handed him your pregnancy test. He regarded it with a blank expression. Then, he laughed coldly, throwing the pregnancy test onto the coffee table.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Yoongi demanded, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe you’re carrying my child.”

“I know,” you whispered, un-shed tears clouding your vision. “I’m sorry. I just took the test this morning.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi choked out. “You’re sure this thing is right?”

You nodded. “I’m having morning sickness already,” you admitted. You looked up at your boyfriend, meeting his eye for the first time. “Yoongi, I don’t know what to do! I know-”

“Y/N, you know where I stand,” Yoongi interrupted, rubbing his hand over his face. “You know I can’t do this with you, not right now.”

“What does that mean for me?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

Yoongi was silent for a few moments. “If you want to have this baby,” he finally spoke, “then you can’t be with me.”

A single tear escaped from the corner of your eye. You tilted your head up, looking at the ceiling. “Okay,” you breathed, and the finality of this statement shattered your heart into pieces.

You packed as much as you could into one suitcase. Earlier, you texted your sister to let her know you needed to crash with her for awhile. As you collected your belongings, you couldn’t help but entertain the “what ifs” running through your mind.

What if you had never gotten pregnant? What if Yoongi loved you enough to let you stay?

Eventually, with your luggage in tow, you met Yoongi by the front door.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you said, looking at your feet. Yoongi nodded but didn’t say a word. He opened the door for you, moving aside to let you pass.

“Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating?” Yoongi asked suddenly, his voice somber. “I told you to never ask me to choose between music and you.”

“Because music would win every time,” you said, completing Yoongi’s thought. The tears you had been holding in finally escaped, cascading down your face. “Goodbye, Yoongi. Good luck with everything.”

-

Yoongi released his mixtape a few weeks later. You opened your laptop and  streamed it immediately, missing the sound of his voice. The title of one track caught your eye.

First Love.

You moved the cursor to begin playing it. You wondered if the song would be about you.

Soon, you were hit by the harsh reality of things. Yoongi’s deep voice flooded through your speakers, but his guttural voice only made your heart ache. Yoongi rapped passionately about his one and only love, music.

It was then that you realized you there was no room for you in Yoongi’s life–or his heart. You could only be grateful that he shared a part of himself with you for the short amount of time that you dated.

In the end, you were happy to carry Yoongi’s child–if that meant having something to remember him by.

- Girl in Luv

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for Part 2. If you want to read more imagines by us, please send some requests! Check out our prompts page for ideas xx

anonymous asked:

Have you read any fics where Viktor and Yuuri are switched? Sorta like everything is the same except Yuuri is the legend and Viktor is the untapped potential? I'm not sure if I'm making much sense. Sorry.

Thanks for these requests! This is a great AU!


Role Reversal AU


body music (reverse au) series by fan_nerd, Teen, 31k
A series of fics where yuuri is 27/28 and is victor’s coach; victor is 23/24 and has idolized yuuri. role reversal au. LOVE! Must read!

Love is a Special Sort of Power by sushicorps (Inclinant), Gen, 2.9k (WIP)
27-year-old reigning world champion and soon-to-be-coach Katsuki Yuuri’s power of love is super effective! AWESOME fic!

Saudade by AdvisedPanic, Teen, 6.6k
After an injury at the GPS that prevents his 5th consecutive win, Victor vows to return to skating to reclaim his title. Katsuki Yuuri is a ballet danseur who suffered a similar injury years before and made a successful comeback. Yuuri choreographs and coaches Victor through his toughest competitive season yet, but as it will always be, they fall in love along the way. Great role reversal AU!

Strut by Panny, Mature, 15k (WIP)
All Victor had ever wanted was to skate on the same ice as his idol, Yuuri Katsuki, as an equal. All Yuuri wanted was to be a figure skating hermit and ignore the world. Thumbs up!

Constellations (Things You Left Unsaid) by DasWarSchonKaputt, Teen, 28k
Role reversal au, wherein Yuuri is a figure skating legend in the making - mostly made, or so they say - who decides to take a season off at the peak of his career, and Victor is the runaway international student from Russia who joins his university and cons Yuuri into becoming his coach. Definitely recommend!

Victor On Ice by Artdefines06, Gen, 19k (WIP)
Victor Nikiforov won’t be skating this season. What was Yuuri supposed to do now? Must read!

I Want to Skate like Him by IdunAurora, Mature, 27k
At age 27, five time consecutive world figure skating champion Yuuri Katsuki decides to retire. He has barely made it home to Hasetsu before he finds an eager and all too enthusiastic silver-haired Russian on the doorstep of Yu-Topia Akatsuki, demanding Yuuri to coach him. LOVE!

A Sequence for You by wisia, Teen, 4.7k (WIP)
Yuuri Katsuki retired from ice skating without any medals or breaking any records. It’s fine. He couldn’t have made it anyway. So, why was Victor Nikiforov asking him to be his coach? Highly recommend!

Allegro Appassionato! : A Yuri!!! on Ice Role Reversal AU series by Daughter of Vayu (aquaregia), Teen, 11k
There was a man who took the figure skating world by storm. There was a man who toppled the living legend, and was crowned as the Ice Prince. And the man disappeared, no one ever heard from him again. Until a video was posted on YouTube, and Yuri Plisetsky took off to Japan. Great role reversal AU!

On Ice, Yuri!!! by octothorpe, Gen, 4.8k (WIP)
Yuuri Katsuki’s winning routine always involved the following steps: receive the gold medal and bouquet, smile at the cameras, and graciously thank his supporters. Instead of participating in the after-podium charade, he finds himself at emergency step number four: take refuge in a bathroom stall to quell the beginnings of an anxiety attack. Can’t wait for more!


The awesome role reversal gif is created by @angelshawke! Check out their blog!

prompt: #8 “Don’t touch him!” 
pairing: destiel
tags: bullying tw, punk!cas, hurt/comfort, violence tw, high school au
a/n: why do I always write about alistair being a bully, where is my inspiration
for @envydean

“Alistair, please-”

“You think you can come away with begging, you little faggot?” Alistair scoffed as he pushed Castiel further up against the wall. 

He scraped Castiel’s back against the rough stone, not caring that the other whimpered and hissed. His jacket lay useless on the ground, covered in mud, so his bare arms scratched against the wall as well. A few guys stood around, laughing but not doing anything.  "I don’t fall for those pretty blue eyes, you know that right? I’m not a weirdo or a freak, like you.“

While Castiel thought Alistair was exactly those two things, he thought it was better not to say so, seen his situation. If he had a little more muscle, he’d give Alistair a few good punches in the face. He huffed, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

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Kousuke, u ok?

Kousuke
When I got to the station I realized I forgot my wallet, so I had to go back home and just barely made it to rehearsals on time, but then I forgot my cell phone in the taxi, and since there was no time after all that I couldn’t buy any food, so yesterday I was super hungry since I didn’t even have a single cup ramen…

Translation by @nimbus-cloud

Shadow of the Stars

A Captain America and Winter soldier story

Jaylin Rogers has always struggled with being the daughter of Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, mostly because of her lack of freedom. After a failed attempt to do something about this, her life is changes forever when a shadow from her father’s past returns to haunt her.  

————————————————————–

CHAPTER ONE

It isn’t easy, being the daughter of super-soldier Steve Rogers – better known as the legend Captain America. Not at all.
First of all, it is never fun to always be “daughter of” and nothing more. You quickly learn to live inside a shadow. Your last name will always be far more important than your first, even though that’s the one identifying you.
Second of all, it is weird. I mean, he’s older than many (if not most) grandfathers, yet on bad days he might look barely older than 30.  And… let’s just say that as I got older, and the girls around me got older as well, those girls started to notice how “young” he was.
Third, I wasn’t super. At least, not nearly as super. Having only half of his genes meant I was maybe a bit faster and stronger than most people without having to work out 24/7, but being healthy, never getting a cold or beating all high school boys in sprint doesn’t make you “cool” or even likable.

They did say I look like him, with my blue eyes and blond hair. Mine are both darker, less… pure. As if my appearance was a confirmation I wasn’t as good as him - proof of being in a constant state of disappointment.
As a little girl, you quickly learn the other kids only want to play with you because they want to see your house and the stuff in it. Everyone always seems to look right through you. I can tell from personal experience it is pretty traumatic when other pre-schoolers get mad at you because no one is allowed to come home with you… Let me say: you learn to SHIELD yourself from other people… Sorry, that was bad.
But yeah…
Admittedly, there are some advantages to being spawn of the Steve Rogers; you never get bad grades on history tests and essays. Oh, you also have lots of non-related, vengeful aunts and uncles. With vengeful I actually mean the Avengers. They are cool, though dad tries to keep me away from that world.

Aunt Nat is amazing, and she’s actually my best friend. She taught me everything I need to know about being a girl, and I think dad still owes her for not having to deal with any of my “woman inconveniences”.
Then there’s Sam. He’s one of the nicest guys I know and probably the most normal one, too - even though he regularly soars through the sky with metal wings strapped to his back. He’s a good support in a world that is totally abnormal, despite your father’s attempts to make sure you don’t get caught in his own, strange reality. Sam understands how it feels to live in between those two worlds – the one where they worry about their grades, crushes, jobs and promotions, and the one where you’re in a constant state of vigilance, knowing no one is who they say they are. He’s the most stable part of my life; a sturdy pillar to hold me up.
One might think this connection and support would mean I’d be happy to see him when he picked me up after school. In reality it didn’t, because it meant dad was on another mission and hadn’t had time to say as much as “goodbye”.

‘If it isn’t the messenger,’ I grunted, pulling the car door open with a mean swing. Had I had my father’s strength, it would’ve been dangling in my hand, torn loose from its hinges.
'Hello to you too,’ Sam greeted me, leaning undisturbed upon the sleek car. It was a dark blue model, matching the navy blue jacket the driver was wearing today. It fluttered a little in the heavy wind, which also rustled through my ponytail.
I slumped down in the passenger seat and shut the door - not too carefully - all the while I kept staring straight ahead. ‘How’s the captain?’ I sneered.
Sighing, Sam got in, closing the door behind him. ‘He didn’t know he’d have to go, you know.’ That I knew, very well. Still, I looked out the window with a constant frown on my face. The keys jingled when Sam turned them to start the engine. The car hummed a pleasant, low rumble, and barely made a sound as Sam steered it towards the tranquillity of our home.
It would take us while until we would reach the niceness of familiarity. For now, I just watched blankly as teenagers laughed and complained while stepping into their cars, all happy to go back to their ordinary home and ordinary parents. All of them were quickly out of view, replaced by the many other aspects of mundane life. ‘You are such a little beam of sunlight, aren’t you?’
I was aware of Sam’s eyes glancing back and forth between the road and me, those brown eyes always full of worry. If I were to look at him, my angry mask would break, so I kept staring ahead. 'Humph…’
'That’s all I get? I come here, especially for you, and you don’t even smile. And I do like your smile so much, Jay…’ I could no longer resist; I gave him a sly look and met his kind and teasing expression. I smirked, laced with a genuine – though slightly unwilling – smile. 'That’s my girl,’ Sam smiled back. 'How was school?’
Ugh, school; I rolled my eyes. 'The usual. You know, I don’t see the point in testing how many presidents we can memorise, there aren’t that many.’ I breathed on the window and drew little stars, which vanished within seconds.
'Not everyone has super memory,’ Sam remarked.
I grimaced at him. 'I’m nothing compared to dad. Besides, what is the use of knowing all American presidents?’
'Says the daughter of America’s greatest patriot…’ Sam smiled at the road ahead.
'Exactly.’ I sunk a little deeper down into the seat, so I could only barely catch glimpses of the colours rushing past the car’s windows. ‘I can know.’
I watched as we drove into a quieter lane guarded by high trees, until we arrived at an electronic fence, which opened automatically when the cameras recognised our faces.
We lived far away from the city, somewhere surrounded and guarded by tall trees. Here, you never heard the constant noise of traffic, or the never-ending murmur of voices. Only here, I knew true silence, were it not for the evermoving branches with their rustling leaves.
'How was your day?’ I informed, hauling my backpack over one shoulder and closing the car door behind me, still a bit of annoyance packed in the gesture. Together, we made our way to the big, white house, oozing America. Made of wood, with a big porch, two stories and even an attic, perfectly maintained; exactly as you’d expect from Captain America’s home. Soft leaves crackled underneath our feet, giving a lovely, autumny atmosphere to this already idyllic picture.
'Also the usual,’ Sam held the door for me. 'Want waffles?’
I threw my bag on the kitchen table. 'Is that even a question?’
'What’s the magic word?’
'Please,’ I grinned. ‘Or else…’

I watched Sam take everything he needed, prepare the batter and begin making the waffles. He did it with the ease of a man who’d done it a hundred times before – which was about right, to be honest. I loved Sam’s cooking.
'Nat’s with him?’ I asked, walking towards the fridge where I took a bottle of glacier water (it had become my favourite after a joke of Natasha and Tony had stuck around).
'Yeah, though they didn’t need me, for some reason.’ Yet again I was amazed at how little Sam seemed to care about that.
'They need you to babysit,’ I chuckled, nudging him as I walked by. 'Even though I don’t need it, I appreciate it.’
Sam glanced back at me. 'I’m happy to hear that.’

'Mmm,’ I hummed a while later as I poured maple syrup all over my waffles, 'you’re such a good mommy bird.’
'I will take that as a compliment,’ Sam said the moment my phone buzzed.

Dear Jaylin,

I’m sorry I had to leave again, so soon after my last mission.
Sam promised me he’d take care of you.
I trust you will behave.

Love,
Dad

When I read “I trust you will behave,” I grimaced at the screen. How old did he think I was? It was frustrating; while other people often thought I was quite a bit older than I actually was, my dad still seemed to deem me no more than a foolish little girl. It was especially frustrating because I had always felt different, maybe even older, than most children surrounding me. It had often crossed my mind this might be another result of my father’s genes – how they even interfered with how I grew up, refusing to grant me as much as a normal childhood.
'Sometimes I feel like I should date someone dad really dislikes,’ I mused abruptly. I imagined myself coming home with the biggest jerk I could find and shivered.
Sam’s cheeks rose as he took a sip from his large mug filled with strongly smelling coffee. 'I would be worried, if I didn’t know you have more pride than your dad.’
'Sadly, yes.’

Hey, Natasha…
Forgot something…?

I waited. Dad usually send his messages late, but Natasha didn’t; she knew exactly how I felt about their sudden disappearances and the radio silences that usually followed. It’s how I got to hate surprises, as surprise never held a pleasant meaning for me, only that my father had to save the world again.

I’m really sorry
I was really busy
I’ll make it up when we’re back…?

Even these texted words were hasty. Still, they seemed genuine enough.

Sure
Keep him safe, will you?

I was aware It wasn’t much of a message, but it was all she would need; Nat knew me too well to think I’d stay mad at her.

'So,’ Sam said, when I had finished eating, and I had put down my phone, ‘are you going?’
'Going where?’
Sam raised his eyebrows. 'The gala. I saw the flyers.’
Flyers? Some brightly coloured papers seemed to hang before me. Curly font spelled out the date of a gala (or a masked ball) for all students. Apparently, it was going to be quite fancy. Now I thought about it, I recalled many people at school excitedly discussing the event. 'Oh, that… No, I don’t think so.’
'Well, it’s more than a month away,’ Sam said confidently, like he was certain I would change my mind. This self-assuredness annoyed me.
'I’m really not going,’ I stressed. 'Definitely not.’
My guardian shrugged. ‘It might be good for you to go out. Be around people your own age.’
It was time to deploy my most efficient method to avoid topics I dislike: walking away.
‘Then let me go out,’ I smirked. ‘And as I am the same age as myself, I’ll be around people my own age, too.’ Before Sam could react, I sprinted to my room.

After changing into my workout clothes – shorts and a tank top –, I put in earbuds and let music fill my ears. Running never failed to calm me down. I didn’t get tired easily, so sometimes I ran for hours on end without realising it. I was happy for the immense woods in which I could jog, without people staring at me or annoying me. So, today, like I had done many times before, I let myself absorb the sound of the music while my mind went blank. My heart beat steadily. My blood flowed rapidly. My feet stomped regularly against the soft dirt.
Just running, only running.

Chapter Two

Real Good Man

Prompt: You and Seth have one child and you’ve been talking about having another. So you go to visit him on the road by yourself and he’s excited for some alone time. But the real reason you are visiting is that you think you’re pregnant and want him to be with you when you take the test. Anon. Fluffy with a little bit of Smut.

@lip-sync @emmarablack @lunaticfringe216 @amberhere-hi @thatonegirloncealways @queenreignsempire @debeauxmots @kittencutie245 @ilovesamizaynn @banrioncethlenn @screamersdontdance @redalternativefirefly @filthy-parade @welshwitch5 @nickysmum1909 @msgem @uberduber-loulou @cutester @charlitflair @harleyquinnnikki @lclb12 @imagines–assemble@wrasslin-rollins @xenofi

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8

★ Karamel Appreciation Week ★

Day 1 when I started shipping them

Oh my gods, what a wild ride. So I went outside for a walk after dinner, the weather was cloudy but fine. Ahead of me was bright and crystal clear. Then I turn around and it’s pitch black–It was all so sudden. In a few moments the wind was picking up rapidly and it howled with such intensity. Then it hailed so hard and everything went dark. The wind was almost knocking me over as I ran. I couldn’t see a thing. Ice was hitting my face and boy, did it hurt. To make things even more intense, a flash of white appeared and thunder boomed! 

Gosh–I barely made it home. 

Is it wrong to think of the experience as exciting? Is this what Skyrim feels like? Any minute I felt like a Frost Dragon would appear, literally. 

2

Gif is mine

imagine getting drunk with rossi in a bar (with a smut ending of course) 

Requested by Anon~


“I had fun tonight.” You managed to breathe out before Rossi came in for another sloppy kiss. Between the taste of alcohol still on his lips and the feeling of his beard scraping across your sensitive skin, your head was in a whirl. Never mind the fact that his hands were exploring on their own accord.

Rossi didn’t answer at first. He just kept you pinned against his door; the two of you barely made it out of the bar, much less to his home. But he finally broke the kiss, and you two were panting heavily. “So did I.” He replied.

You flashed him a smile, pulling on the lapels of his coat. “I’d be up for some more fun.”

And Rossi didn’t need any other indicator. He nearly dragged you towards his bedroom, and the two of you laughed the whole way.

Not Yet - Misha x Reader - Part 2

Word Count: 831

Warnings: Angst, slight fluff… I don’t really know.

Catch Up: Masterlist

You had been staying at your parent’s house for a few days now, each day slowly killing you inside. You wanted to see Misha so bad, but you needed to hold your ground. He did something way out of line, he broke your trust and needed to earn it back.

While helping your mom with the dishes one night after eating dinner. You had planned to go up to your old room after and do some reading. But the echo of the doorbell stopped you. Your father insisted he’d get it allowing you to finish up putting away the dishes.

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Saturday Submitted Recs #2

These are fics suggested to me throughout the week that I post in a large collection. Make sure you send fic recommendations BEFORE SATURDAY, otherwise they’ll show up on next week’s list. I close the inbox around Friday 9PM GMT so I have time to read through suggestions and put together the entire list.
Thank you to everyone who suggested fics for this week! 


even Time by DiAnna44 9k
After minutes, hours, days, weeks, Victor finally pulls back, but that passion, that fire, that love that usually exists within his eyes are filled with disgust, with sadness, with horror, and if Yuuri was anybody else, he might have mistaken those feelings to be aimed at him, but Yuuri isn’t anybody else, and has been with Victor for months now, almost a year, knows him almost as well as he knows himself, and Yuuri can see that Victor is disgusted with himself.
homophobia/slur cw

2nd fic cannot be verified because the author’s works/account violates something from the guidelines.

I Want to Skate like Him by IdunAurora 27k
“Coach me, Yuuri-sensei, please!”
At age 27, five time consecutive world figure skating champion Yuuri Katsuki decides to retire. He has barely made it home to Hasetsu before he finds an eager and all too enthusiastic silver-haired Russian on the doorstep of Yu-Topia Akatsuki, demanding Yuuri to coach him. Well, it’s not as if the Japanese legend has been able to get 23-year-old Viktor Nikiforov out of his mind since the young man enchanted him at the GPF banquet in Sochi months earlier, anyway. Also, Yuuri’s smirks should be illegal. Viktor is certain he has spent more time imitating a tomato than he has been skating.

An Honest Accident  by undermyumbreon3k
After Yuuri completes his Short Program in a figure skating competition, he finds that he didn’t exactly finish it perfectly. Victor tries to comfort Yuuri and help him work through the embarrassment.


dear true love by cityboys WIP
Victor is a writer pretending to be on a break; Yuuri is a pianist pretending to not be on a break. They meet, somehow, in the backwaters of Saga Prefecture, Japan.

On My Love by RikoJasmine WIP
For the second time, the Sochi Grand Prix Finals arrive, and with it a reborn Yuuri Katsuki. “Viktor,” Yuuri thinks over the pounding of his heart, the crowd going silent as the music begins. “I’ll show the world what you meant to me.” Yuuri often thinks of his life as Before and After Viktor Nikiforov, the marking point being the day Viktor swept into his life and turned his world upside-down. After many years together, an accident leads to Yuuri suddenly waking up in the Before—back in Detroit, before the GPF, before he ever knew Viktor as anything other than his childhood idol. As if it had all been just a dream.

another girl in another time by cityboys 11k
According to the multi-verse theory, there is another Sara out there who has her life together. In this world, though, she’s just a high school senior with detention to attend, a prom to contemplate and a twin to reconcile with. 

of eros and of dust by cityboys 2k
It’s nostalgia, maybe, or Phichit’s kind, knowing smile, or just an unconscious need to talk about it—but he starts talking as the pedestrian lights turn green. About the Eros routine, about Victor, about the ring, about skating.

when the walls come down by cityboys 2k
Being with Yuuri, sometimes, is like a game of tug-of-war. 

your love is my turning page by cityboys 4k
Victor and the hours he spends waiting, reflecting and figuring things out.

sight of the sun by cityboys 6k
It’s still new, reaching inside himself and finding nothing but love there, and a yearning for life—for the rest of his own life—that’s never been this sort of present before. It’s still new, just like the band on his own ring finger is still a wonder, just like seeing Yuuri’s own band has not stopped giving Victor such a dizzying rush of emotion every time he sees it, days after the wedding. Wherein their honeymoon brings Victor face-to-face with a lot of firsts in his life.

2nd fic from the first ask could not be verified because the author’s works/account violates something from the guidelines. 

World’s End Holiday by komagayda
For whatever reason, for whatever unknown reason, the moment that clock hit zero Yuuri Katsuki was entirely alone. 

Recommended from Private Messages

You’re Not Alone by Symbio WIP
When Yuri’s biggest secret comes out, he’s devastated and pretty sure his career is ruined. But with support and understanding from Victor and Yuuri he faces the media backlash. He’s determined to let nothing get in the way of the quickly approaching season but it seems the world is throwing obstacle after obstacle at him.
transphobia cw 


That’s all for this week. If you suggested a fic and it’s not on this list, it will be on the next one! 

A reminder (also in the FAQ): From now on I’d appreciate it if people sent in ONE fic suggestion per ask, since I didn’t clarify in the last post. Send multiple asks if you want to recommend more than one fic, but it makes it easier for me. Thanks!

anonymous asked:

Hey! Could you write something about McCree, Symmetra, and DVa coming home after a long day and surprised by their s/o who cooked up a huge meal for dinner? (note: the s/o is not the best cook but is trying really hard)

McCree

Jesse sighed as he entered the worn apartment and hung his signature cowboy hat on the coat rack - same with his serape. He was so tired from the day, he barely even recognized the smell of home-made cooking that entered his nose. When he did come to his senses enough to notice, he raised a curious brow.

“[Name]?” he called into the kitchen, leaning on the doorframe. There was no answer, only a noise of dishes clattering. He leaned down to remove his boots before entering the room. “[Name]?” he repeated, softer now.

He was surprised to find his s/o standing by a set table, an apron over their clothes as they greeted Jesse with a smile. A remnant of soap from washing dishes was attached to their cheek, but they didn’t seem to notice.

“Welcome home,” they said happily as they pulled back a chair, signing for Jesse to sit down.

It took a moment for Jesse to take it all in. His s/o had cooked dinner for them both while he was away, clearly. The strange part was that his s/o didn’t actually know how to cook. As he looked at the table, though, it was clear they had put in a lot of effort.

It was only when Jesse noticed the silence seemed to be getting to his s/o that he spoke.

“Well darlin’, if I woulda known what kind'ov'a treat was waitin’ for me here, I woulda come home sooner,” he stated with his mouth drawn into a smirk as he approached the chair. He stopped before he would sit down, and smoothly brushed the speck of soap off from his s/o’s cheek with his thumb. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

As Jesse sank into his chair, his s/o tried not to blush madly at the cowboy’s antics as they circled to the other side of the table. Their thoughts were a mess now, and it showed as they tried to speak.

“Ahh, erm, I don’t… That is, I don’t usually,” they started, trying to gather themself mid-explanation, “but I thought I should start, since you’re the one who always has to cook.” They fumbled with their fork for a moment, and Jesse watched, endeared.

“Ya don’t hav'ta, darlin’, but you should know it’s appreciated,” he beamed as he grabbed his own fork and knife, looking down at the well cooked steak his partner had made. Jesse was starving, and it smelled really good.

“The food’s not just a decoration, you know,” his s/o reminded with a smile. Jesse didn’t need to be told twice, and he started cutting down the meat. Though he didn’t really think about it, there seemed to be a tad of nervousness on his lover’s features.

As he bit into it, chewed, then swallowed, it quickly became clear why his s/o had been nervous. There really wasn’t as much of a taste to the food as one would wish – it was apparent they’d been overly careful with any spices. Yet, Jesse lifted his gaze to meet theirs, grinning widely.

“Well, if I’d known that you’d learn to cook when we were goin’ out the first time, I woulda married ya on the spot, Sugar~” he teased, earning a crimson blush from his lover as soon as that was said. They stuttered something that couldn’t be made out, eyes firmly on the table, before coming up with a coherent response.

“…It, err, it’s not too plain, is it?” they said, wishing to redirect the conversation. Damn this man and his Southern charm.

“Honey, I’d eat anything you cooked me,” came the eased response in between bites. His s/o sighed and looked up, remnants of a blush still there.

“So it is.”

“Still eatin’ it, though,” the man grinned. He was never the one to turn up his nose to a dinner made for him. Especially one made by someone as adorable as his s/o.

“I’ll make it spicier next time,” they soon responded, some of Jesse’s smile catching onto them, too.

Symmetra

She knew something was going on when her s/o texted her during work.

Don’t stay overtime, I have a surprise for you!

Satya disliked surprises, so she was naturally worried upon receiving the text. Luckily she could make an educated guess on what the surprise was about. Her s/o had done the same thing several times now.

As she returned to their apartment, she left het coat and shoes in the closet, making sure there was no dirt on the floor with a quick glance. Then she proceeded farther, nearly running into her s/o as they met in the hallway.

“Welcome home – your surprise is in the kitchen!” her s/o greeted, stepping aside and waiting for Satya to pass them. She did, with a slight smile and a roll of her eyes.

“Don’t tell me, you’ve been cooking again,” she guessed easily, and her s/o let out a short chuckle.

“You’ll see in the kitchen, won’t you?” they reminded, following their lover until they reached the room.

Satya immediately noticed the dimmed lights and the candles all around the room, some of them giving off a fresh scent. They were all neatly positioned on the table and any other counter available, illuminating the dishes of food her s/o had made.

“Surprise!” they exclaimed happily.

“It’s not much of a surprise if I know to expect it,” Satya mused in response, then placed a kiss to the corner of her s/o’s mouth. “Let me go wash my hands first.”

A couple minutes later both of them were seated at the table, and Satya was staring at her plate. Her s/o was slightly impatient, glancing between their lover and their own food.

“It took me a while to make,” they said, filling the empty air. Satya gave a soft hum in response. The food looked suspiciously attractive – it was constructed beautifully, unlike anything her s/o had done before.

She took a bite of it, only to find out what she’d feared. Her s/o had completely sacrificed the taste for a beautiful appearance. She swallowed slowly, seeing that her lover was staring.

“You’ve gotten better?” she offered kindly. Her s/o sighed and showed a brief smirk.

“I ordered something from your favorite restaurant just incase,” they said as they got up to take something out of the fridge. “It appears I still need a lot of practise.”

“Hmm, I can help you, as long as you promise not to make a mess,” Satya chuckled, not arguing about having something else.

D.Va

There was a note on the door of her bedroom. It was a pink post-it note, and someone had written on it with a blue marker:

Come to the backyard!

It was strange to find such a note, and Hana couldn’t exactly recognize the handwriting. However, she complied, dropping her bag into her room before following the note’s directions.

When she reached their backyard, she instantly saw that her s/o was sitting near the pool. There was a cloth under them, separating them from the grass, and all kinds of food laid all around it. Hana’s lips twisted into a wide grin, and she waved to her s/o.

“[Name]! A surprise picnic? No way!” she exclaimed excitedly as she made her way to the blanket, seating herself down onto the empty spot. Her s/o’s smile matched hers.

“I knew you’d be back from training at this time, so I thought I’d surprise you,” they immediately explained, surprised when Hana leaned in for a brief kiss and almost cut them off.

“You are the best,” she stated before grabbing a sandwich and instantly taking a bite. This was exactly what she needed after a long day. But as she kept eating it, she noticed there seemed to be something wrong with it. “Umm, [Name]? How much mayo is in this?”

“Ahh, crap! Did I put in too much?” they cursed, rubbing the back of their head regretfully. “I’m still new to this cooking thing.”

It wasn’t hard to guess everything else on the blanket was of the same quality, and Hana paused to look at it all, thoughtful. She looked back up at her s/o, seeing that this was getting them down. That wasn’t acceptable, of course.

“You know what? One sandwich is not enough!” she said as she picked up another, finishing her current one as quickly as she could. Her s/o was surprised yet again.

“Hana, stop, don’t eat it…!” they chuckled, trying to steal the yet-to-be-eaten sandwich from her hands, only to have her dodge. “If it’s bad, we can just get pizza,” they reasoned.

“No! I want to eat absolutely everything you’ve cooked, all the way from the sandwiches to that cake! And I bet I’ll enjoy it all,” she stated firmly, a coy smile on her lips as she bit into the bread.

After a moment of disbelief, her s/o released a sigh. They were still smiling, just like her.

“Alright, you win. But if you get food poisoning or something, it’ll be your own fault,” they argued weakly, only causing Hana to eat in a more rapid pace.

“I know you wouldn’t poison me~” she sang, winking as she picked up a cupcake into her free hand.

–Mod Evie

Hunger: Part 1

[WARNING: Mentions of cannibalism]

My mother had always been such a sweet woman, at least, in the eight years that I knew her. When I was sick she’d make me chicken soup and let me cry unlike my father who said that boys aren’t supposed to, that it made them weak. I was glad he was barely ever home, it left my mother and I alone and we were much happier without him.

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Post-it Poems

@pickingoutchinapatterns

So I fully intend to do one story that includes all of these words but I thought of this idea and couldn’t resist. Enjoy this beautiful sappyness. 
(edited by @alittlemissfit of course)


As Scully packed up the apartment that she’d barely made herself at home in, she found herself distracted by things she’d either hidden away when she moved in or that she’d gotten from her mother’s house.

She would find keepsakes from when she was a kid or old pictures of her siblings. She would find old case files that she’d chosen to keep for one reason or another.
But she hadn’t taken a pause in her work until finding a simple wooden box. One that held quite a few memories.

Running her hand over the lid she wondered if she wanted to open it.
The small cedar box held old notes from Mulder. Poems that he’d given to her over the years, written out in his messy scrawl on post it notes. The tradition started when she was dying of cancer and continued for most of their life together.

Scully rifled around through the post-its and found the first one he’d given her. It wasn’t dated or signed but she knew it was the first from the moment she saw it. She’d found it sticking to her nightstand one day after a nap.

The note read:

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
- Matthew Arnold

At the time it made her cry, hold tight to her pillow to soak up her tears. When Mulder came back later that night she kissed him, was grateful she still had the strength to hold him. She’d run her hands under his shirt, down to the sizable bulge in his pants.
He’d taken her hands and held them between them before she asked him to make love to her, convinced it would be their last chance. Every day she’d felt weaker and weaker and when he looked into her eyes he’d been unable to pull away. They moved slowly together on the hospital bed in the dark room and she’d tried to hold on to every moment. Wanting to remember each detail during the pain to come.
When she recovered they didn’t discuss it. He would occasionally kiss her on the cheek or forehead, say something that made her smile or melt, but they steered clear of heavy discussions, talking about things like love.

Searching for the next note Scully found it sticking to the bottom of the box. After Emily had died she closed herself off, from Mulder, from her mother, from everything. And he let her, until one day a few weeks later she found a post-it on the window of her car after work.
The sad words read:

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.
- Oscar Wilde
I’m here when you’re ready- M

She cried after reading it, cried like she wanted to at the funeral. Before she knew what she was doing her car was in front of Mulder’s building.
She didn’t have a plan but walked up to his apartment and when he opened the door she flung herself into his arms. He held her until she fell asleep, and in the morning she left before he woke. Again, they didn’t discuss it.

Remembering all the words unsaid, she came upon another note in the box. This one she’d found in her briefcase after she’d rescued him from the Bermuda Triangle. When he was lying in the hospital he’d told her he loved her. She had tried to take it with a grain of salt but at night she’d find the words echoing in her mind, seeping into her dreams.
After he was released from the hospital she found the note. It had read:

S, I meant what I said-
I have been here before,
  But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
  The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

You have been mine before,—
  How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow’s soar
  Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.

Has this been thus before?
  And shall not thus time’s eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
  In death’s despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?
- Dante Gabriel Rossetti

That time there was no rushing over to see him. She had worked up the nerve to bring it up one day until she saw him standing close to Agent Fowley in the hallway, having a hushed conversation.
She’d tucked the note away and felt like a damn fool for a long time after.

She didn’t open up to Mulder again until after his brain surgery, and shortly after received another tender note. It had been inside a file folder holding their latest X-file, one that had come across her small desk. The poem was scrawled on the front and back of the post-it note.

To Scully-
There is a lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleas’d my mind;
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I love her till I die.

Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice, my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet I love her till I die.

Her free behaviour, winning looks,
Will make a lawyer burn his books;
I touch’d her not, alas! not I,
And yet I love her till I die.

Had I her fast betwixt mine arms,
Judge you that think such sports were harms,
Were’t any harm? no, no, fie, fie,
For I will love her till I die.

Should I remain confined there
So long as Phœbus in his sphere,
I to request, she to deny,
Yet would I love her till I die.

Cupid is winged and doth range,
Her country so my love doth change:
But change she earth, or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.
- Thomas Ford

The words filled her but she didn’t go to him. Instead Mulder came to her. As she sat on her couch reading the note for the fifth time, he knocked on her door.

She opened the door and they simply looked at each other for a moment before she moved forward. Taking his face in her hands she kissed him, practically devoured him. They wound up stumbling into her apartment and into her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind.

That night he spoke poetry aloud to her, and the next morning she pulled open the top drawer of her nightstand, showed him each of the notes he’d given her before handing him a pen and a stack of post it’s.

She asked him to write the one he’d just recited while pillowed on his chest, cuddled close to him and reveling in the afterglow.

Pulling that note out from the box she smiled, recalled the husky tone his voice took on as he spoke the words, kissed and nipped at her breasts.

Have you beheld (with much delight)
A red rose peeping through a white?
Or else a cherry (double graced)
Within a lily? Centre placed?
Or ever marked the pretty beam,
A strawberry shows, half drowned in cream?
Or seen rich rubies blushing through
A pure smooth pearl, and orient too?
So like to this, nay all the rest,
Is each neat niplet of her breast.
- Ovid

At the time she’d laughed in delight at the mischievous look in his eyes. He rolled her nipples between his fingers while reciting it by memory and she praised him for efficient multitasking.

Reaching for the next poem, she was overcome with the sadness she’d felt back when she first read it. Mulder had left it for her the morning he left, three days after William was born. It was stuck on the top of the pile of post-its that still sat in her drawer, but it had taken her a week to find it. When she had she’d held it tight to her chest and cried. The tear stained paper read:

I’m sorry that I have to leave.
I love you.
-M
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Scully felt the tears gathering in her eyes but blinked them back. Kept sifting through the other notes in the box: From time to time she’d find them in her office at the hospital or hidden in her suitcases when they were on the run. She kept the box all these years and she’d kept them all.

Not hearing the door open she was startled when Mulder’s arms wrapped around her, circled her waist.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, laying a kiss on the top of her head.

“Your post-it poems,” she answered, leaning back into his chest as he looked at her in surprise.

“You kept all of those?”

Putting the box down she turned in his arms. Laying her hands flat on his chest she smiled, looked up into his eyes.

“Of course I did. Every single one.”

His eyes watering Mulder pressed his lips to her forehead. Pulled away after a beat  just enough to speak.

“Now that I have your face by heart, I look
Less at its features than its darkening frame
Where quince and melon, yellow as young flame,
Lie with quilled dahlias and the shepherd’s crook.
Beyond, a garden. There, in insolent ease
The lead and marble figures watch the show
Of yet another summer loath to go
Although the scythes hang in the apple trees.

Now that I have your face by heart, I look.

Now that I have your voice by heart, I read
In the black chords upon a dulling page
Music that is not meant for music’s cage,
Whose emblems mix with words that shake and bleed.
The staves are shuttled over with a stark
Unprinted silence. In a double dream
I must spell out the storm, the running stream.
The beat’s too swift. The notes shift in the dark.

Now that I have your voice by heart, I read.

Now that I have your heart by heart, I see
The wharves with their great ships and architraves;
The rigging and the cargo and the slaves
On a strange beach under a broken sky.
O not departure, but a voyage done!
The bales stand on the stone; the anchor weeps
Its red rust downward, and the long vine creeps
Beside the salt herb, in the lengthening sun.

Now that I have your heart by heart, I see.”

At some point as he spoke Scully curled her head into his neck, listened to the rumble of his voice. Reaching her hand up she stroked his cheek that was covered with a day’s worth of stubble.
They stood in silence for a few minutes until Mulder pulled her back from him, looked into her eyes.

“Let’s go home Scully.”
She nodded, holding the box into one hand and held his with the other.

They had movers coming to get the few boxes that remained of the half-life she’d lived in the bare apartment. But she knew that she would have left all of the rest behind to be with him.


(-final poem written by Louise Bogan)

Amity’s Angel

It started out as itching. Or, come to think of it, maybe it was the deep ache he’d become so used to as to just ignore. It was hard to tell when his whole body spent twenty four hours a day tense and stressed, ready for a fight.

Even if that was the start, though, he dismissed it, and so it was the itching that he first noticed. 

It was on his back, right over his shoulder blades, where he could just almost reach, if he used one arm to pull back the other. It wasn’t a single point, either, but two lines, and even if he could stretch to meet the middle of one, he nearly dislocated his arm trying to reach the top and bottom. Eventually he gave up, just rubbing his back against furniture and walls when he thought no one was looking and getting used to sleeping shirtless, on his stomach.

But it kept getting worse. He was never like his mom or Jazz, begging for back scratches from the whole family until someone finally gave in, but his resolve was steadily breaking.  It was starting to feel like something was clawing its way out of his back, getting worse and worse until he could barely focus on school behind the itch against his shoulder blades.

When the bell finally rang, he barely made it home before he was locking the bathroom door and tearing off his shirt to look at his back.

He expected it to be irritated, maybe red from the scratching, or some kind of rash, but two tiny, bony, protrusions jutting awkwardly from the edge of his shoulder blades was not what he was expecting.

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Tony Perry: She’s Like a Bullet Through An Ocean

Request:

Warnings: Blowjobs lawl

Word Count: 793

Featuring: Tony Perry of Pierce the Veil

Your name: done [Insert your name here to change the fic!]

A/N: Ha this took waaaaay too long to write. I’m sorry. I didn’t to to what extent you wanted the pet names to go, so I did my best.

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