text me number

Pidge: hey Keith can I borrow your phone?

Keith: sure just a sec

Keith: 

I asked Roommate B to pick me up some chocolate ice cream while he was grabbing groceries. I gave him $5 and he brought me caramel instead.

I hate caramel. I have no way of returning this ice cream. It’s a petty thing to be annoyed about, but the one time he even sort of tries to be decent and considerate, he does it wrong…

4

So I was emailing a friend last night from work where I volunteer. And she had a story to tell me. I texted her a few questions afterwards just to clear things up a bit. She is giving me permission to post, and the friend who told her what happened also said it was okay, and that she didn’t mention the year just in case but you can assume when it was by “four years”. Also, she uses my birth name here, because I’m not out to everyone, just keep in mind. The blacked out parts in the second pic (third and fourth email) are about work so I didn’t want to include it. Names are protected for reasons, as I know both person A and B to some extent. *ignore any spelling errors. It was very late last night*

🐠 Fishblr Questions! 🐠

1. What was the first fish you ever owned?
2. What is your dream tank?
3. What is your favorite fish?
4. What was/is your most troublesome tank?
5. In your opinion, what is the best beginner fish?
6. What is your favorite fishblr blog?
7. Are there any fish that you dislike?
8. Planted tank or reef tank?
9. Favorite type of betta?
10. Favorite type of goldfish?
11. In your opinion, what fish should not be reccomended for beginners (but often is)?
12. Favorite species of shark?
13. What is the best brand/type of food?
14. Favorite invertebrate?
15. What would you do if you suddenly had an extra 200 gallon (757L) tank?
16. What would you do if you suddenly had an extra 10 gallon (37L) tank?
17. If you could remove any product from the shelves of a petstore (ex. Bettacube, ecosphere, fish bowls, etc.), what would it be and why?
18. Have you ever bred fish?
19. Gravel or sand?
20. Favorite non-fish animal?
21. Favorite fish fact?
22. What common myth about fish do you wish you could dispell? (Ex. Can live in bowls, 7 second memory, low maintenance, boring pet, throwaway pet, etc.)
23. Favorite type of filter? (Sponge, HOB, canister, etc.)
24. Do you start a siphon with a pump or with your mouth?

25. What do you think is the most beautiful fish?
26. What do you think is the most dangerous fish?
27. Best way to deal with an algae problem?
28. Natural or artificial decorations?
29. Saltwater, freshwater, or brackish?
30. How did you get into the aquarium hobby?
Ignore This Text

Summary: Sam somehow gets a favor out of Bucky, resulting in a very awkward confrontation with a local barista.
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Characters: Female Reader, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers
Word Count: 1,980

| Feedback is very much appreciated | Masterlist |

Every Sunday morning, at precisely 8:45, Bucky finds himself at a quaint, little cafe just a block away from the Brooklyn apartment himself, Steve, and Sam, who he finds utterly unbearable, live together. Like clockwork, he’ll wake up, argue with Sam about him eating the rest of whatever food Bucky was attempting to have for breakfast, Steve offering to go grocery shopping the umpteenth time that week, and with Bucky frustratingly storming out of the apartment subconsciously heading towards the cafe with the best muffins and no with Sam Wilson in sight.

Just like all the weeks before, Bucky’s feet hurriedly carry himself down the empty morning sidewalk as he groans in annoyance. This Sunday Sam had decided to finish off the carton of egg whites, that clearly had a bright blue sticky-note with Bucky’s name on it, and to use up all the hot water in the apartment. It seemed as if this man’s purpose on Earth was to make Bucky Barnes’ life more difficult than it had to be.

Keep reading

Yuri On Ice Decameron AU

I’m really sorry for this but

  • they all live in Florence and to escape the Black Death they hide in Michele and Sara’s villa
  • they’re all gay
  • since it’s like 1350 and there’s no internet they decide to pass the time telling each other stories 
  • everyone tells one story per day
  • everyone is “king” or “queen” for a day
  • that means that whoever is king or queen (or whatever the gender-neutral term is to substitute those is) gets to decide the theme of the stories that should be told that day
  • Yuuri’s theme is Eros
  • he tells the story of how a beautiful seductress abandoned the man she danced with all night
  • Victor lowkey cries because that’s what Yuuri did, except he doesn’t remember it because he was drunk on Tuscan wine
  • Yuri’s theme is Agape
  • Chris fails miserable to deliver a story about Agape because lbr he fills it up with sex
  • on the other hand he totally nails the Eros theme
  • Otabek wins the Agape day with the story of how a boy fell in love unconditionally with a beautiful, younger boy with the eyes of a soldier, and after being separated from him for three years he meets him again and tells him how he never forgot about him and asks him to be his friend because all he needs is to be close to him, until hopefully one day the boy will love him back the same way he loves him
  • Victor’s theme is Love&Life
  • he delivers a heartbreaking story of how the best dancer in the world kept dancing and dancing just to please his audience but has lost the ability to enjoy things for himself and felt no passion anymore, until a beautiful seductress made him feel something for one night and then abandoned him
  • he looks at Yuuri while telling this story and it’s awkward
  • eventually Chris continues this story for them, telling how the beautiful seductress didn’t abandon the dancer on purpose, but because she was put under a spell by an Evil Witch that made her forget everything

Someone please take this off my hands because I can’t anymore lol I just wanted to put it out there, if you have more HCs I’d love to read them <3

True Colors

Named after the song by the Weeknd bc I am trash. Thank you to @caspercassiecas for being my beta. This is my first fic on this account, and my ask box is always open for requests. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3606

Warnings: Smut, fluff, disgusting dude at a bar, reader has a dragon tattoo, sex related humor at the end.


“Y/N!” You heard Lin shout, and you sighed heavily, still holding the coffee that the man had sent you to get. You looked around for him, noticing that he was on the other side of the stage. The stage where the company was practicing.

You groaned, sprinting across the stage, ducking and spinning around dancing people. You somehow managed to get across without spilling the coffee, handing it to Lin and smiling before you heard your name called again.

“Y/N! Come meet Diggs! He was sick yesterday, so you didn’t get to meet him!” You heard Christopher shout, and you groaned again, sighing heavily. You looked over, trying to find where Christopher was standing.

“You guys are lucky I do sports.” You muttered, Lin cackling and patting your shoulder.

“Yes, we are. You’ve got a busy second day ahead of you, kid.” Lin laughed, and you groaned, running back across the stage, doing a slide on your knees between a dancer’s legs and ending up at Christopher’s feet, scrambling up.

“Sorry, I learned yesterday that if I time it right, I can get across the stage without being hit.” You explained, brushing yourself off before smiling widely at Christopher and the tall man beside him.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Daveed Diggs, Daveed Diggs, Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N is our new intern since Jessica quit the other day.” Christopher introduced them, and you smiled warmly, shaking Daveed’s hand. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Phillipa calling out for you.

“Y/N!”

You made an apologetic face, wincing.

“Sorry, it was lovely meeting you, Diggs. I’ll catch you later.” You waved, weaving between the dancers once more, yelping when one grabbed your hand, spinning and dipping you. You went along with it, doing a couple dance steps with him before he let you go and you ran off to find Phillipa.


You were backstage, delivering Leslie a tea before he had to go on. You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes as you knocked on Leslie’s dressing room door. You heard a muffled ‘come in’ and opened the door, absently tugging on your hair with your free hand. You poked your head in carefully.

“Hey, Leslie, they didn’t have chai, so I had to get you vanilla, I hope you don’t mind. If it’s an issue, I can run down to the corner store really quick.” You greeted, voice rough from how much you’d spoken that day. The three men in the room turned to you, all smiling. Anthony stood, opening the door for you fully. Daveed waved and smirked from his spot on the couch. Leslie was leaning on his vanity, smiling widely at you.

“It’s no issue, thank you, Y/N. Have you met Diggs? He was out sick yesterday when you were here.”

“Yessir, I have met Diggs. Though I’ve been bouncing around all damn day so I haven’t had a chance to properly speak to him.” You laughed, handing Leslie the tea and smiling at Anthony, who appeared to be struggling with his collar, which wouldn’t stay down.

“Anthony, do you need some help?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head slightly. He looked up and smiled brilliantly.

“Yes, please, actually. I can’t get it to stay down.”

You clicked your tongue, muttering under your breath as you reached a hand to your side, pulling a safety pin out of your jeans. You carefully stuck it in the fabric of Anthony’s coat, pinning it down.

“Alright. Anyone else need anything while I’m in here?” You asked, eyeing Daveed out of the corner of your eye. You noticed his eyes on your legs, moving around your body. He caught your eyes and you raised a brow.

“Coffee would be nice.” Daveed murmured, and you nodded.

“Any specifics on how to make it?”

“I like mine how Lin takes it.”

“Lin takes any kind of coffee I give him.” You snorted, tugging at your hair again as you left the room, sighing heavily.


The Next Day

You were helping one of the dancers through a run, copying his movements effortlessly.

“Y/N! Need you!” You heard Daveed call, and gave the dancer a sad look, jogging off to Daveed’s dressing room, knocking on the door and waiting for the signal to come in. You jumped as Lin opened the door, putting a hand over your heart.

“Jesus! Lin, you almost put me in cardiac arrest.” You scolded, furrowing your brows as you slipped in.

“Sorry, Y/N. I was just leaving.” He laughed, waving as he shut the door. You turned your head, spotting Daveed by his vanity. Your mouth ran dry. He was in a tight black t-shirt, one that outlined every single one of his muscles, and a pair of jeans that fit just right on his hipbones. You forced your eyes to his face, smiling.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with the Lafayette bun. I can’t seem to get it right today.”

“Uh, yeah, s-sure.” You stuttered, blushing bright red. You mentally cursed yourself, walking over and carefully pulling his hair up, forming it into the bun.

“You’re blushing. Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” He practically purred, and you flicked your eyes up to look at him in the mirror, still putting the hair tie around his hair.

“Yeah. Just a little warm in here.” You lied effortlessly, finishing the bun and smiling at him in the mirror.

“Need anything else?”

“The cast is going out tonight, Lin wanted me to see if you’d come. He had to run to set before he could ask himself.”

“He could’ve shot me a text. But yeah, I’ll come.” You murmured, pulling a pocket notebook out of your jeans and scribbling down your number, tearing it out and setting it on his vanity.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t have my number. Text me the location and dress code tonight, please.” You murmured, walking out of his dressing room.


You almost fell out of the shower trying to grab your phone in time to answer the incoming call. You stood, dripping on the floor, pressing the phone against your wet cheek.

Hey, it’s Daveed. I’ll come pick you up. Tell me your address and wear somethin’ nice, aight?” He greeted, and you made a humming sound.

“Will do. Uh, I live in the Deerfold Apartments on eleventh, number 112. I’ll have to buzz you in.” You answered, running a hand through your still soapy hair.

You sound out of breath. You feeling alright?

“I was in the shower when you called. Almost fell trying to answer.” You laughed, listening to his own warm laugh radiate through her speakers.

Alright, I’ll let you finish your shower. See you in about 30 minutes.” He said, and you hummed. The call ended. Or so you thought.

You put your phone down, stepping back in your shower. You went back to your singing, belting out the lyrics to old rock songs at the top of her lungs, running conditioner through your hair. You quickly washed your body and shaved, turning off your shower. You grabbed the towel you kept by, sighing at the puddle of water on the floor.

“Dear god that’s so much water.” You said to yourself, drying off quickly before putting the towel on the floor to soak up the water.

You pulled your hair into another towel, twisting it up and whistling as you stepped on the other towel, singing once again. You picked up your hairbrush and phone, starting on Lemonade, Beyonce’s new album. You picked up the towel and your dirty clothes, walking out to your bedroom, singing at the top of your lungs.

You can taste the dishonesty,
it’s all over your breath,
” You sang, tossing your phone on the bed. You continued singing, putting your dirty clothes and both towels in your hamper. You quickly brushed out your hair, accidentally tripping over a pile of clothes and letting out a loud string of curses. You heard quiet laughter, popping up and trying to find the source of the sound. You scrambled to your phone, finding that you were still in a call with Daveed.

“Diggs! Why didn’t you hang up?!” You exclaimed, turning bright red.

I heard you singing and wanted to stick around to see if you’d sing a song from the show.” You heard his familiar voice crackled through the phone.

“Jesus Christ.” You groaned, knowing you’d never live this down.


You buzzed Daveed in, walking back to your bedroom and stepping into your dress, pulling it up. You struggled with the zipper, getting it up about halfway before you heard a knock on your door. You sighed, walking over to your door and opening it. You gave Daveed a slightly awkward smile.

“Can you zip me up, please? I can’t seem to get it.” You asked, and he laughed, nodding his head. You turned, holding in a shiver as his warm hands ran up your spine, zipping the dress. You felt his fingers lingering, brushing along the dragon tattoo at the base of your neck.

“Nice ink. Do you like dragons?”

“No, I hate them.” You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and stepping into a pair of heels, grabbing your jacket and purse.

“Alright, let’s motor.” You smiled, spinning your keys around your finger. He nodded, stepping aside to let you out. You locked your apartment, linking your elbow with his and letting him escort you.


You laughed at the story Lin was telling the people at the table, sipping your wine. Daveed was digging into his steak, being quieter than usual. Anthony was on your other side, casually sipping his wine as well.

“Hey, D, you doing okay?” You asked, voice quiet. You glanced over at him, raising a brow. He smiled, nodding.

“I just can’t cut this damn steak.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head and sipping your wine again. The waiter walked over, setting down a wine glass and a note in front of you. You raised your eyebrows. You glanced at the table, making sure they weren’t paying attention before you spoke.

“Oh, I didn’t order this, sir.” You said, smiling up at the waiter.

“It’s from the gentleman in the blue shirt at the bar.” The waiter smiled, and you nodded, looking at the glass of wine and flicking your eyes up to the guy at the bar, who smirked and waved at you. You opened the note, reading it and suppressing a disgusted face. You pulled your notebook and pen out of your bag, scribbling down a note back and chugging the wine. You handed the note and empty glass to the waiter, smiling.

“Tell him he has awful taste in wine, but thanks anyway.” You requested, and the waiter read your note and laughed, nodding his head.

“Yes, ma’am. You have a strong voice in your writing.” He commented, and you smirked.

“I’m aware. Thank you very much.”

You sipped your previous glass of wine, looking over at a call of your name.

“So, Y/N, what did blue shirt guy say in his note?” Lin asked, and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I should’ve known better than to think that would’ve gotten past you. I thought it would be a nice note, but it was vulgar as all hell.” You muttered, shaking your head and glaring at the note.

“What did you say back?” Renee laughed, and you shrugged, smirking.

“I said that he was a pussy for saying it in a note with wine instead of to my face, and if he really expected that to work or get him laid, then he was more idiotic than I thought at first glance.” You answered Lin, who snorted loudly, cackling.

“Wait, lemme see his note! Y/N, you gotta show me!”

“Lin, read it out to us!” Oak laughed, and Y/N giggled, passing the note to Lin. He cleared his throat, getting out his most dramatic voice.

Hey, I really like your dress. I think I’d like it better on my floor, though. I like your lips as well, and I sure would love to see them wrapped around my 11-inch cock, come take charge of me, honey, I can show you a good boy,” Lin read, and you listened to the table burst out into loud laughter. Anthony gave you a sympathetic look, and Daveed swallowed his piece of steak before speaking to her.

“Are you even into being the dominator, Y/N? I get a more vanilla vibe from you.”

You raised your brows at him, laughing softly.

“And I think that’s my cue, sorry, guys, I have to wake up early and run around all day tomorrow.” You spoke, avoiding the question as you slipped on your coat, digging your wallet out of your purse and handing Lin $20 dollars, paying for your food. You waved as you walked out, blowing a kiss at them.


You stretched up, grabbing a pack of powder creamer from the cabinet, dancing to the singing you heard from the stage. You stirred it into the cup of coffee that sat in front of you, singing along softly. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you felt a pair of hands on your hips.

“Did I scare you away last night, baby?” Daveed whispered in your ear, and you shivered.

“N-no, Daveed.” You replied, shivering at the feeling of his breath on your neck.

“You gonna answer my question, baby girl?”

You had to forcibly suppress a moan, subconsciously grinding your ass against his crotch. He laughed quietly, pressing a small kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You released a shaky breath.

“I don’t like to dominate, I like being dominated.” You muttered, and he bit into your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise and draw a moan out of you.

“Can’t fuck you here, baby girl.” He murmured, and you whimpered.

“I’ll swing by your place later.” He murmured, and you nodded desperately, grinding against him once more before he pulled away, smirking at you as he walked away, leaving you panting and blushing at the counter.


You buzzed Daveed in, practically bouncing as you walked off to your bathroom, checking your appearance one more time, perfecting everything. You heard him knock, walking cautiously over to your door and opening it, stepping aside to let Daveed in.

“You can take your shoes off by the door, and, uh, hang your jacket on the free hook.” You greeted, blushing bright red.

“You’re cute when you blush, baby. If at any point you want me to stop, say ‘red’ okay?”

“Got it. Red. Okay.” You murmured, nodding. You blushed impossibly brighter when he grabbed your hips again, tugging you against his chest. He crashed his lips down onto yours and you moaned into his mouth, circling your arms around his neck and grinding yourself against him.

“Fuck, Daveed, bedroom.” You managed when you broke free, pointing to your bedroom door. He nodded, grabbing the undersides of your thighs and picking you up, walking toward your bedroom, leaving kisses on your neck. He tossed you on your bed, tugging his shirt off and unbuckling his belt. He smirked at you.

“Take off your clothes and hold out your wrists, baby.”

You were quick to comply, pulling your clothes off in record time and holding out your wrists for him. You moaned a little when you saw he’d finished taking off his clothes while you were distracted with yours. He pulled his belt tight around your wrists.

You moaned when he trailed a hand down, running a finger along your slit. You tossed your head back, bucking your hips up when he pushed two fingers into you, curling them just right and rubbing your walls. Your mind went blank, moving your hips to meet his fingers as he thrust them in and out of you. He ducked his head down, sucking at your clit, drawing a damn near scream from you. You were impossibly close. Though, to be fair, you’d been close since he’d kissed you.

“Please, sir, please, let me,” You babbled, mindlessly begging.

“Can you take three, baby?”

“Yes, sir, please,” You moaned, arching your back up sharply when he pushed another finger into you, keeping you right on the edge. You started begging again, whimpering when he held your hips down with one of his hands, stopping you from moving.

“Cum.” He ordered, and you practically screamed his name as you obeyed, back arching, fingers reaching out in your bonds, mind going completely blank. Before you had time to recover completely, he was inside of you, hitting your g-spot immediately.

“Daveed!” You moaned, dragging out the syllables in his name. He wrapped a hand around your throat, biting hard into your shoulder as he pounded into you. You felt his other hand gripping your hip so hard that you knew you’d have his fingerprints branded onto you for weeks. You moaned again when he bit hard on your breast, then moved his hand and bit into your neck again.

“You’re mine now, baby girl, no one else can fuck you like this.” He growled into your ear.

“Yes, sir, yours.” You moaned back, gasping for breath as he slowed down, almost sobbing.

“Say it, baby. Who’s are you?”

“Yours, sir! Please!” You moaned, trying to buck up and get him to go faster again.

“Who’s?”

“Yours, Daveed! Fuck, please!” You sobbed, then felt him unbuckle the belt around your wrists, then start up again. You threw your head back once more, raking your nails up his back. You knew there would be marks the next morning from your nails, and that made you moan more, scratching up his back again, then burying your hands in his hair, pulling. He groaned, nodding his head.

“Good girl, Y/N, fuck. Cum for me, baby girl.” He groaned out, and you let your orgasm take over again, seeing stars. You felt him bite hard into your shoulder, possibly drawing blood, as he came. All the muscles in your body went slack, and you winced at the oversensitivity as he pulled out of you, taking the condom off and tying it, tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, smiling at you.

“Where’s your bathroom, baby, we need to clean you up.” He asked, voice soft. You groaned, lifting your arm and pointing to a door, sighing when he picked you up. He walked into your bathroom, making a pleased noise at the sight of your bathtub, setting you down on the counter and running you a bath.

“I’m tired, Daveed.” You muttered, whining as he picked you up again, sitting in the bath with you between his legs, leaning against his chest.

“I know, baby, let’s just get you cleaned up and then I can take you to bed, okay?”

“Mm, okay.” You murmured, letting him wash you off. You let your eyes slip shut as he shampooed and conditioned your hair, washing your body gently. You felt him moving around as he cleaned himself, then as he pulled the plug to drain the water. You felt him leave the tub, drying himself off, before picking you up and drying you off, carrying you to your bedroom. You sighed, tossing the towel around you into the hamper in your room before he laid you both down, pulling the blanket up to you and wrapping his arms around you.


“Hey, Y/N, what’s with the turtleneck? It’s super fuckin hot in here.” Anthony called, and you spun around, smiling at him.

“That is subjective, Ant. I think it’s really cold, actually.” You lied, shrugging. He raised an eyebrow.

“Or you got laid last night.”

You didn’t respond, the color draining out of your face.

“Holy shit! Guys! Y/N got dicked down!” Anthony shouted, and you pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning.

“Yes, I did. Is there a reason why my sex life is so exciting to you, Ant?” You sighed, putting a hand on the hip that wasn’t bruised all to hell and glaring at him.

“Lemme see what the guy did, Y/N, I know you have a tank top under that damn turtleneck,” Anthony said, and you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“Lin! Make Anthony go away!” You shouted, Lin looking over and laughing at the two of them.

“Do you even remember the guy’s name? Did you get his number? Are you gonna hit him up? I saw you walking weird earlier but I thought you just pulled a muscle, was he that good?” Anthony shot off, and you groaned, sighing.

“Hi, baby. He bothering you?” Daveed asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and gently pecking you.

“Holy shit.” You heard Lin say, then heard Anthony and Oak burst out in laughter.

“Jesus Christ, we knew you liked her! Lemme see what he did to you, you gotta show me now!” Ant cackled, and you made a grumbling noise, looking up at Daveed for permission. He gave a single nod, and you sighed, tugging your turtleneck off and allowing them to see the plethora of bruises on you. Including the scabbed over bite on your shoulder, claiming marks.

“Jesus Christ, Diggs, you don’t hold back.”

“He would’ve but I didn’t tell him to. Is your curiosity sated?” You snapped, glaring. Anthony and Oak held up their hands in mock surrender.

“Well, now we won’t have to ask why you’re walking funny.”

“Shut up.”

A Little Like Whiplash

(based on this, part two of this, Russian translations under the story itself) 



Jonathan isn’t generally a judgemental person. He likes to think that he sees the best in most people, even if they don’t deserve it.

For some reason, he’s never been able to do that with Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian bombshell that nobody knows or cares to know because he’s terrifying and has a tendency to be an asshole.

He has the distinct impression that Yuri, despite clearly not being a scholarship kid (he’s wearing designer everything, and he drives a Maserati; there’s no way that he came to Portland State for any reason other than that he wanted to), would rather be anywhere but here. He sleeps through the two classes that he shares with Jonathan, and for some reason, the professors allow it. If he was a bit less of an antisocial shit, though, Jonathan would probably have a crush; for all his faults, Yuri is one the most attractive person that he’s ever seen outside of magazines with his immaculately braided, waist-length hair and pouty lips and perfect eyeliner (Jonathan is sure he’s the only one that’s noticed that last bit; the subtlety of it is the reason it’s so damn perfect).

The first time he ever actually says anything, it’s one of those days that the professor decides, for whatever reason, not to show up for class. Until the fifteen minute limit passes, the class hums with a low buzz of noise. Yuri, predictably, is asleep.

Jonathan has a few friends in this class, Anthony and Thomas, and they’re chatting quietly about the baseball game on Saturday. Somehow, the topic shifts to that one asshole that’s always sleeping through class.

“Fifteen minutes!” The girl by the door calls out, and the class gets up.

“I’m just saying, why pay for the classes if you’re just gonna sleep through them?” Anthony says, shouldering his bag and heading for the door.

There’s a snort from behind them. Veronica. Jonathan really doesn’t want to deal with her right now; she’s even worse than Yuri, if only because she isn’t quiet about her disdain for the rest of them. “You know they only accept applications from people like him because he’s part of a minority, right?”

When she sees Jonathan’s raised eyebrows, she mistakes his irritation for curiosity. “Come on, don’t tell me you can’t tell. He’s a goddamn fairy.”

He’s wondering if outing himself here and now would make the situation better or worse when there’s an angry “Huh?” from behind them. The loud bang that follows terrifies all of them, but particularly Jonathan, Veronica, and the other two. Jonathan hadn’t even noticed that Yuri was awake, much less that he was nearby. Now his foot is against the wall, not even an inch from Veronica’s head (flexible, Jonathan can’t help but think). The look on his face pumps shards of ice through Jonathan’s veins.

“There is nothing wrong with being gay,” he growls.

His voice is different than Jonathan would have expected; maybe it’s a bit stereotypical, but he’d expected a low tenor, rather than a mezzo baritone, and his accent is there, but not nearly as thick as Jonathan expected. He stalks out of the room dangerously, and the entire class just stands there in shock for a moment.

Next week, when Veronica stops coming to class and he hears that she’s been expelled, Jonathan is sure that it has everything to do with the rich guy sleeping two seats behind him.

“Jonathan, there are only three people in your group for the upcoming term paper,” the professor says, jolting Jonathan out of his thoughts. It’s true; he, Anthony, and Thomas are planning on working together, since there were an odd number of people in the class. Now that Veronica is gone, that’s not true anymore. “I’m assigning Yuri to your group.”

Fantastic, Jonathan thinks, glancing at Yuri.

He looks up blearily and mutters something in the most snide, sarcastic voice Jonathan has ever heard– yoroshiku onegaishimasu –before dropping his head back on his arms. That didn’t sound like Russian, Jonathan thinks, packing up to leave.

Thomas nudges him. “Dude!” he whispers. “He speaks Japanese? What the hell? And I think that was supposed to be polite, but it sounded like an insult.”

“He can also hear you,” comes from behind them. Yuri has apparently given up on sleep since class is over, and has his phone in his hand. The one that isn’t texting reaches behind him and tugs on something that releases the bun he’s sporting today, letting the waist-length braid fall down his back. He leans his face in one hand and stares at his phone boredly. “You three aren’t the most oblivious people I know, but you’re definitely in the top twenty.”

Jonathan doesn’t know what to say, really. The hottest, laziest guy in class is in a group with him for a paper that’s worth twenty percent of their grade, and their first conversation has gotten off to the worst start possible.

“So,” Anthony says awkwardly. “When do you guys want to meet up?”

“I’m only free on Tuesdays. Yuri, I’m pretty sure you only have class twice a week? Maybe we can meet up for lunch,” Thomas says, trying a friendly approach.

“I can’t meet up on my days off. I have training. It’s a paper on the Japan’s involvement in World War II and how it affects today, right?” Yuri asks, still looking bored.

“Yeah. What do you mean? Do you practice all day on every one of your days off or something?” Anthony sounds mildly teasing, but there’s an undertone of disbelief there.

Yuri looks at Anthony, as if he can’t believe he would ask such a stupid question. “Um, yes? What else would I be doing?”

None of them really has a response for that. Yuri doesn’t look like the athletic type, really. He’s lean, almost willowy; not skinny by any means, since there’s definitely muscle there, but it’s not the build Jonathan would expect from an athlete who practices as much as Yuri claims to.

“Anyway, I’ll deal with the history part,” Yuri says, standing up and stretching. Jonathan tries not to stare at the thin strip of skin that appears when he does. What? He may be an asshole, but Yuri is gorgeous. He’d have to be dead not to notice. “I’ll have it to you by… Tuesday, right?”

“I can do Tuesday,” Jonathan says, not really sure what’s happening anymore.

“So can I.”

Yuri blinks and glances at the table searchingly. “Right,” he says, picking up a sticky note he’d left there and scribbling something down. “Here’s my number. Text me your emails and I’ll send you my part of the project. Bye.”

He walks out of the room, phone already at his ear. “Beka! Vy prikhodite na obed segodnya?

Jonathan looks at Anthony and Thomas, not totally sure what just happened. “So who’s going to pick up the slack on his part?”

That’s not actually necessary, it turns out. Jonathan sent Yuri his email out of courtesy, but when he rolls out of bed on Saturday morning, he finds four pages of 12 point Times New Roman font on Japan’s involvement in World War II, complete with instructions to let Yuri know if there’s anything else that they want him to do (but he won’t be doing the whole damn thing, he doesn’t have time for that).

Except for a few grammatical errors, there’s almost nothing wrong with the work. Jonathan is floored. Maybe this is why the professors let Yuri sleep through class. It’s disrespectful as all hell, but from the way he writes, it’s almost like he doesn’t need to be there at all.

When he’s awake and recovered enough to send a reply, he does. He lets Yuri that there’s nothing wrong with the work, and that he’s looking forward to class on Wednesday. He’s not, but it’s the polite thing to do.

Apparently, Yuri doesn’t planning on extending the same courtesy. “Can’t make it,” he says again, looking bored as he taps away on his phone.

This time, Jonathan actually speaks up. “We could meet up after you’re done with practice or something. It actually works out better for me and Anthony, since we have class on Tuesday.”

“That would work, I guess, but I’m going to be in Japan on Tuesday.” The tone of Yuri’s voice doesn’t change, despite the bomb he’s just dropped.

Why the hell would anyone just up and leave for Japan in the middle of the semester? No matter how rich Yuri is (and he’s definitely rich; they may not know anything about him, but he’s definitely a rich Russian of some sort) it makes no sense. He’s going to miss at least three days of class even if he’s only going to be in Japan for one day, which Jonathan highly doubts. He doesn’t care how pretty or smart this kid thinks he is, there’s no way for him to pass his classes with the way he acts.

“Then cancel it.” He doesn’t even realize that he’s saying the words until they’re out of his mouth, and by then it’s too late.

The look that Yuri fixes on him is as dangerous as it was that day with Veronica. “Fuck you.”

Jonathan backpedals. “I didn’t mean–”

Yuri’s phone rings, cutting him off. The ringtone in itself is enough to cause all three jaws to drop; it’s some classical thing with a boys’ choir singing in what sounds like Latin. Yuri sneers at them, and Jonathan can’t help but think he may have fucked up pretty bad. “Just send me whatever part you want me to handle for the presentation and I’ll do it. Tell me to cancel my trip again, and I won’t do my bit. I’ll still pass without this stupid project.”

He gets up and stalks toward the door, picking up the phone. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way to the parking lot now. Shit! Would it kill you to wait a minute and a half, Dad? I said I’ll be there in a minute! Katsudon, get your husband off the goddamn phone when he’s driving. Do you want to die?”

Yet again, there’s this feeling of not really knowing what’s happening by the time Yuri is out of sight. I’ll still pass without this stupid project, he said. That’s almost impossible, unless he has an A in the class. Which he shouldn’t, because he sleeps through it. His participation grade alone should have dropped him to a B unless he’s gotten A’s on every single assignment. There’s no way.

“I need a drink,” Jonathan mutters, and there are murmured agreements from Anthony and Thomas both. “You guys want to go to Shizuku?”

“I’m down.” Anthony says. “Hell, I’ll pay. My treat, after all of that bullshit.”

It’s not even ten minutes to their favorite restaurant by car, but they figure it’ll be easier to walk. There’s no point in driving three cars to get to one place, and none of them are keen on getting their cars out of the student lot right now, since it’s nearly rush hour.

It takes them about thirty minutes to get there, and it’s blessedly empty when they do. There are only a few occupied tables. Still, it seems louder than it usually does, Jonathan notices as they’re waiting to be seated. There’s one table in particular that seems to be making more noise than the rest of the restaurant combined. That makes sense, he thinks, eyeing the back of a silver-haired man’s head. There are a lot of them. At least six, it looks like.

Posmotrite na kotenke, Beka! Eto tak milo! Posmotrite na svoikh malen'kikh lapakh i khvoste.” That voice… it sounds way too happy to be him, but given how the day has gone, Jonathan wouldn’t be surprised.

The silver haired guy moves slightly. It looks like he leaned his face on his hand. “Yurio, don’t be rude. You and your friend aren’t the only people at this table, you know. Richard and Estephania are here too, and they don’t speak Russian.”

“It’s fine,” the person on silver haired’s left says. She has long, dark hair that swishes when she shakes her head. “It’s funny to see Yuri so excited about something for once.”

Jonathan gets a partial view of someone with dark hair and a very serious face. It’s almost scary how quickly he realises that he’s being looked at, and he looks Jonathan dead in the eye. The man nods once, then looks away without acknowledging him further.

“Beka? What are you looking at?” A head of blond hair comes into view, and Jonathan finds himself looking directly into the eyes of Yuri Plisetsky.

I fucked up, Jonathan thinks immediately, watching the mirth drain out of Yuri’s eyes almost instantly, replaced with irritation.

“Johnny? What is it– Oh, shit.” Anthony hides behind a menu.

“If you’re stalking me, I swear to god I will shove my silverware up your respective asses,” Yuri says, looking dead serious. “I have more than enough stalkers.”

That’s cause enough for Jonathan to pause and wonder what he means, but then the strangest thing happens. Instead of looking even remotely alarmed, the way any normal person would, the three people with their backs facing toward Jonathan, Anthony, and Thomas all turn at a totally normal, unhurried pace. Two of them, the silver haired man and the Asian looking man next to him, are even smiling.

“Hello!” the silver haired man says, waving. “Are you Yurio’s friends? Here, come sit with us! We’ve never met any of his friends from school before.”

Who the hell says something like that after hearing him call us stalkers? Jonathan thinks, feeling out of his element and way too overwhelmed. There’s really nothing to do but accept, so the three of them walk to the table as a group.

“Ya dumal, chto u vas ne bylo druzey v Amerike,” the serious man says to Yuri quietly, probably trying not to be heard.

Yuri looks murderous. “Ya ne.”

There’s a split second war between Thomas, Jonathan, and Anthony as to who is going to sit next to the scary serious guy. Jonathan loses. It’s fine. He’ll take scary serious guy over angry Yuri Plisetsky any day.

“My name is Otabek. Yuri is my best friend,” scary serious guy says, holding out a hand.

Jonathan takes it hesitantly, but Otabek’s grip isn’t anything but polite. “Jonathan. That’s Thomas, and that’s Anthony. We take American History with Yuri.”

“My name is Victor, and this is my husband Yuuri! Not your Yuri, we call him Yurio,” the silver haired man says. The Japanese man next to him blushes, and Jonathan supposes that he’s the other Yuuri.

“I will shove my knife shoes so far up your ass, Nikiforov, that you won’t be able to sit for a year,” Yuri warns.

“Yurio is our son. We’re so glad Yuri is actually making friends at school, I was worried for a while. I’m sure you know how tricky he can be sometimes,” Victor continues, ignoring the incredibly violent threat as if it happens every day. What the hell did Yuri even mean by knife shoes, anyway?

“You shut the fuck up, old man!”

It doesn’t surprise Jonathan in the slightest that Yuri has two dads; it explains a lot about the whole incident with Veronica earlier this year. What he is surprised about is the fact that Yuri’s dads seem so… nice.

Jonathan isn’t sure if that’s pleasant or terrifying.

“Victor and Yuuri are my figure skating coaches,” Yuri mutters, sounding like he’d rather be doing anything but this.

“Wait, you’re a figure skater?” Thomas asks, looking intrigued; seriously, how that guy manages to be so laid back all the time is– wait, what?

“Is that what you keep missing meetings to practice?” Jonathan asks. Suddenly it all makes sense: the lean muscle, the crazy flexibility and precision it would require to nearly kick someone in the head, the whole random flight to Japan.

The entire table erupts into laughter, even the Hispanic woman and the other man that they haven’t been introduced to yet.

Yuri turns bright red, looking both flustered and annoyed. “Oh, fuck off, all of you. Especially you, Katsudon! You have no right to laugh after what happened with these two.” He points aggressively at the two people Jonathan and the others don’t know.

The Japanese man, Yuuri, is the first one to manage to stop laughing. “I’m sorry, Yura. I’m laughing because I know how you feel.” He turns to Jonathan, Thomas, and Anthony, still smiling brightly. “He actually medalled at the Olympics last year. He’s won gold for Russia several times, as well.”

Jonathan isn’t the only person at the table with his jaw dropped. The waitress comes by and sets waters in front of the three of them. Even when she leaves, he still can’t figure out what he’s supposed to say. He’s pretty sure that earlier today, he just told an Olympian medalist to cancel a trip to what was probably a competition at the last minute. He wants to die of embarrassment, even if he had good reason.

“He probably didn’t mention it because he’s too angry that he let that Canadian get gold and he only got bronze,” Victor teases. He slings an arm around his husband. “Still, my son and my husband on the podium at the same time! It’s any man’s dream. I’m so proud!”

There’s a scraping noise on the table. When Jonathan looks down, he sees that Otabek slid over a phone with the screen open to a news article about men’s figure skating and yep, there’s Yuuri. And that’s definitely Yuri, but he looks… different. Happy. Jonathan looks from Otabek to Yuri to the article, then back to Otabek. He knows he’s panicking, because there’s nothing he can really say to make himself feel less awkward but maybe someone calm like Otabek can help him out.

Otabek gives him a thumbs up.




Translations (let me know if I need to fix any, I don’t speak Russian) 

yoroshiku onegaishimasu - Japanese - I look forward to working with you (yes, he’s being a sarcastic little shit here)

Vy prikhodite na obed segodnya? - Russian - roughly translates to “we’re still on for lunch today?”

Posmotrite na kotenke, Beka! Eto tak milo! Posmotrite na svoikh malen'kikh lapakh i khvoste. - Russian - Look at the kitten, Beka! It’s so cute! Look at its little paws and tail.

Ya dumal, chto u vas ne bylo druzey v Amerike - Russian - I thought you said you don’t have friends in America.

Ya ne. - Russian - I don’t.

unfollow me because i don’t think pewdiepie is a nazi ✌️✌️✌️

I don’t know anything about numbers but I put Wonwoo’s number (10001) into a binary translator and the decimal came out to 17.

Food for thought.

2

there’s a good reason these tables are numbered honey, you just haven’t thought of it yet // panic! at the disco

Ass ID

Genre: smut, fluff.

Summary: Phil and dan run into each other at the grocery store and phil recognizes dan as his favorite pornstar via his ass

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warnings: none that I can thinking of? Cursing?? As per usual. A small moment where phil thinks dan wants to stop?

Ass ID :

“Please, god please Phil, yes, you fuck me so good! Hmph, god love your cock, so good to me.”


4 hours earlier ;


“Cereal, milk, brea- oomph!” I stumble back and quickly grab the closest thing to me which happens to be a boy about my age, steadying us both. He looks familiar and I cock my head to the side, not so subtly checking him out, where do I know him from?

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking at where I was going.” He smiles, deep dimples digging into his cheeks and god, I know those dimples. Fuck, he’s so cute.

Without thinking, I stick my hand out, “Phil, sorry for running into you.” I feel my face heat up a little as he puts his hand in mine.

“Dan.” He turns around, spotting a loaf of bread on the floor behind him and bending down to grab it, and that’s when it clicks. If you had asked me two weeks ago, that’s I’d be recognizing my favorite porn star from his ass, I would have laughed in your face. But here I am, in the grocery store next to the star of all my wank fantasies, DanIsNotATop. Jesus Christ, only I could end up in this situation.

He straightens up and turns to me with a smirk, “Like what you see?”

I blush furiously, “I’m so sorry, this isn’t at all what I’m like, uh, I- nevermind, I’ll just be going now.” I quickly turn around and head in the opposite direction of the bread, great.

“Hey! Wait up!” I curse my luck as Dan catches up to walk next to me.

“Excuse me if this is forward, but you’re hot and I’m free all day.” I gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

The dimpled boy blushes, “Yeah, that was probably weird, I mean, we’re in the middle of a grocery store for god’s sake. Sorry, I’m a little too forward for my own good sometimes.” I’m so shellshocked that it seems my brain and mouth have stopped communicating and the words fall out of my mouth before I can think it through.

“Not surprising with your profession, I’m sure you gain a lot of confidence for that kind of stuff, what with everyone wanting to fuck you all the time.” My eyes almost pop out of their sockets, and I’m internally wishing for god to come and take me, for the ground to swallow me up, maybe even aliens abducting me would suffice. Of all the reactions, I do not expect Dan to start hysterically laughing.

“Oh my god! Well yeah I guess you’re right, aren’t you? So you watch me?” I nod dumbly, too surprised to even form words, probably a good thing at this point.

“Just have one question…when you say ‘everyone’ wants to fuck me, does that include you?” He’s looking up at me through thick, dark eyelashes and I’m swallowing before speaking up,

“Well, I mean, yes? Who wouldn’t wanna fuck you?” He giggles and I’m instantly endeared,

“There are a few people I can only hope don’t want to have sex with me, for example, my grandma.”

“Oh my god, Dan! That’s disgusting! Why is that the first example you think of?!” I let out a roaring laugh, my tongue poking out between my teeth and my hand coming up to cover my mouth.

When our laughter dies down he takes a step closer, getting into my personal space and whispering in my ear, “Offer still stands, if you aren’t secretly my grandma.”

I hum, “I guess I’ll just spend my night alone baking cookies then, too bad, I’d really thought this disguise would get me through.”

We giggle and I place my hand on his hip, traveling slowly to his back pocket and drawing out his phone before typing my number in, “Text me your number.” He does and I send him my address.

Leaning in till my lips brush against his ear as I begin to talk, breath hot and heavy, “7pm, don’t be late, princess.” I slip my tongue out to lick at the shell of his ear, watching goosebumps arise and feeling him shiver under my hands. I pull back, wink, and turn and walk towards the bread.


Current time ;


So that’s how I ended up in bed with the idol of my sexual delusions, being straddled by thick thighs, cock absolutely throbbing in my boxers. We had both already stripped to nothing but our boxers, or well, panties for dan. “Good god, Dan, you’re so hot for me, babe, gonna let me have you, yeah?” He nods eagerly into our kisss.

“Please, phil, touch me I want you to stretch me, please.”

“Mm, yes baby ‘course, c’mon let’s get you you out of those panties.” I flip us over, pulling off the black lace in one quick motion as dan lifts his hips up, before reaching for the lube lying next to me and popping the cap. Squirting a copious amount onto my fingers and warming it up between them, I kiss dan passionately distracting him from my hand wandering to his sex. I swirl my index finger around his rim before pushing in slowly, letting him adjust before thrusting it into him.

After a bit of stretching, I begin to search for his prostate, crooking my fingers at a different angle at every entrance to him, until I found it, well at least I think I do, since Dan lets out a series of pornstar moans (funnily enough) and pushed his ass back onto my fingers.

“Take me, I’m ready I promise, I swear it phil lease take me I’m begging you please!” Who could deny that? Certainly not me.

“I got you, baby, I’m gonna take real good care of you, don’t you worry.” I shed my briefs, grabbing the condom package next to me and ripping it open clumsily, about to roll it onto myself when dan’s hand comes up to catch my wrist, effectively halting my movements.

I look up, my eyebrows scrunching together. Did he want to stop? Before I can ask he shyly looks up at me, “Wanna do it.” I nod and hand over the condom, moving my hips closer to him so he can grasp my thickness, slowly pumping me before rolling the condom onto my shaft, grabbing the lube bottle, slathering it onto my length, and guiding my to his entrance. I push into the confining heat of him, groaning at the right grip, hovering over him, and breathing hot shallow breaths onto his sweat glistening neck.

“So good for me Dan, taking me so well, huh? Look at you, so nice. Such a pretty boy you are, princess.” A loud whimper escapes him, before he’s grinding back onto my cock.

“I’m good, I’m so good, you can move, move please please,” he rambles into my ear, pushing his onto into my hips, making my breathing stutter in pleasure. I pull out till only my cock head is inside him, before for slowly pushing back inside, watching his hole stretch so filthily around my thick rod, like I’ve daydreamed oh so many times before.

“So good on my cock, god, you’re so tight around me, fuck, dan shit,” I pull out, only to slam in a again and again, setting a hard and fast pace and angling my hips to slam into his prostate repeatedly, his legs wrapped tightly around my waist, face in the crook of my neck, fingernails absolutely tearing up my back, and groans falling shamelessly from both our mouths.

“Please, god please Phil, yes, you fuck me so good! Hmph, god love your cock, so good to me.” I can feel him tightening around my shaft, can physically feel him approaching orgasm, pushing me along as well. “C-close, phil, gonna cu-cum.”
I reach between us to fist his swollen cock, alerting him to my similar state, I’m losing pattern, heat pooling in my abdomen, before I feel Dan clench around me so fucking tight, my hips stutter and I can hear dan yelling his release as I spill into the condom, thrusting shallowly to ride out our orgasms.

“So fucking good, better than I ever imagined.” Dan giggles breathlessly, swatting my slick chest playfully as I gently pull out of him, careful not to hurt him, tie off the condom, tossing it into the bin, and falling onto my back beside dan. Our breathing synchronizes, sweat and cum drying uncomfortably on our naked bodies, and yet dan rolling over onto my chest, curling into my side, his arm draped around my midsection.

“This ok? I don’t usually get to like, uhm, cuddle? After sex I mean, so yeah sorry if this is weird, yeah.” I wrap my arm around him, holding him to my side when I feel him start to extract himself out of embarrassment.

“Shh, gonna sleep, yeah? S’nice. You’re warm.” And something feels right, as dan shifts to get more comfortable and then lays his head on my chest, his hair tickling my chin, legs tangled with my own. Something feels right, and I have a little feeling this won’t be the last time I find myself with an armful of tan skin and warm brown eyes.