ugh i had to remove some frames to make this work

I Am Spider-Man ;; Peter Parker Soulmate AU

request: but I think you could do a really cool soulmate AU with Peter,,,,but like, with a twist??

A/N: i loooooooove soulmate AU’s so tysfm for requesting this i’m crying on the floor. PS ending may or may not be shitty

summary: peter and his best friend find out they’re soulmate

warnings: mild language and slight angst


“I hate it.”

My tattoo that is. The lady totally did this on purpose, she decided to write a random sentence on my torso’s side instead of the one that had been delivered. She’d probably had enough of my nervous jabbering, but what can she expect? This is 1) my very first tattoo and 2) the words my soulmate will say me. From time to time I’m caught up in disbelief that my soulmate will be saying these words to me. If I ever meet my soulmate, whoever they are, and they say the words inked on my body, I will run in the opposite direction and never look back. My soulmate has to be a major lunatic, and I won’t put up with it.

“Well what does it say?” Ned asks, closing the thick textbook he was reading and focusing his attention on me now.

I scoff and shake my head, placing my hand over the spot it was tattooed on, “Not telling, why would I? That’s how failed marriages occur, ya know?”

Ned laughs, and I smile sheepishly, slowly removing my hand and resting it with my other one on the picnic table. MJ sits next to Ned, reading one of her many one thousand page books, seeming uninterested in the topic of soulmates. I was growing bored as well with the talk of my tattoo, I had gotten so many questions yesterday about it.

Everyone did on their 16th birthday, kind of like the new version of getting your drivers liscence: getting your soulmates words. Of course I got my liscnece first I mean I was dreading going to the tattoo parlor. At least I got to pick out the font it came in. I chose Times New Roman being the essayist I am.

“So, your tattoo?” Peter takes a seat next to me, out of breath from running across campus to meet up with our little group after school. I hear Michelle groan, stating that she wouldn’t be back until a month before getting up to trudge away.

Once she’s out of earshot, I shrug, “Um, yeah.”

Peter turns excitedly, straddling the picnic bench with one leg on either side of the seat, “Come on, how’d it go? I know you won’t tell me what it says, but how was it?”

“Peter,” I chuckle, rolling my eyes and nudging his shoulder softly with my hand, “you know how it goes, you’ve already gotten yours.”

He nods, but pulls me back into the conversation, “Who tatted you? Was his name Jonathan, I got a Jonathan last year.”

I shake my head, grabbing my apple core and walking over to the nearest trash can, Peter follows, “No, her name was Felicity or something. I dunno.”

“Hm, okay.”

“But seriously, Peter,” I toss the apple core away and turn to him, a stern look on my face, “it is the worse ever. Whoever my soulmate is, I am doomed.”

“What do you mean?” Peter let’s out a breathy laugh, following me as I walk back to Ned.

“They’re gonna say the stupidest thing to me, and like, ugh!” I sit down resting my head in my hands, mumbling through my fingertips, “Are there any redo’s?”

“I’m afraid not.” Ned chuckles, his shoulders falling up in down as he laughs.

I pucker my lips to the side and sigh through my nose. Peter placed his hand on my shoulder and I lean into his touch, so soft and warm. Lately we had both been getting closer, in terms of friendship and proximity both. Talking more about normal teenage things like crushes and video games and having less jabber about how to solve number five for homework. Peters hand is removed from my shoulder quickly though as a soft “uh oh” leaves his lips.

“What?” I frown, looking up at him.

“Hope this isn’t your soulmate because the guy headed in our direction always makes sure to say something stupid.” Ned mumbles under his breath, opening his textbook to a random page and pretending to read it.

A finger pokes my shoulder harshly like a child touching a dog for the first time with their jabby little fingers. Slowly, I turn to be greeted by the worst human in mankind I have met so far. Peach fuzz, polo shirt, cocked up eyebrow and all, I come face to face with Flash Tompson.

“Hey, Y/N.” Flash smirks, his voice sounding as if he had spent weeks on trying to make it sound as suave as possible.

“Go away, Flash.” I grumble, my eyes half lidded hoping to make me look as unamused as possible so he can get the message without me having to pronunciate it.

“How was your birthday?” he asks, obviously ignoring the message, “No big party?”

“I didn’t want a big party.” I bluntly state, shrugging my shoulders, “Don’t like them, I don’t really like people with big egos either.”

“Oh, I hate that.” Flash sits next to me, causing me scoot closer to Peter which lead me to be stuck in between a rival sandwich.

Peter scoffs, nodding his head and placing his hand in between my shoulder blades and resting it there comfortably. Flash frowns at the two of us, but continues the conversation none-the-less.

“What about your tattoo? Does it say,” Flash pauses to clear is throat, “Your eyes are blue, like the ocean. And baby, I’m lost at sea.”

“Wow Flash,” I fake a gasp, placing a hand on my chest, “I don’t know how to break this to you, but, your not my soulmate and I don’t have blue eyes.”

Peter laughs and Flash squints his eyes, focussing on my own, “Are you sure? Because-“

“Flash,” Peter reaches behind me and sets his hand on Flash’s shoulder, “she has hazel eyes.”

“Leave me alone, Parker.” Flash mutters through gritted teeth, “Well does it say… You know, sweetie, my lips don’t just kiss themselves.”

“Flash stop,” I hold a hand up and shake my head, “you’re getting all of these wrong because I’ve already met my soulmate.”

“What? Who?” Peter and Flash say in unison, a frown set on each one of their features, I peek at Ned who sat across the table from me, trying to cover his grin.

“Yeah,” I nod, looking at Flash, “your dad. I’m so lucky, you know. Mr. Tompson? My soulmate. I’m the luckiest gal alive!”

Flash abruptly stands up and frowns at me, “Not funny, Y/N.”

I watch him storm off, snickering at his reaction, “See you later tonight! Your dad invited me to have dinner!”

Ned, Peter, and I all burst out laughing. We all knew how to push Flash’s buttons, but I was the only one brave enough to push them so often and then have Flash come crawling back. After all, he’s had a crush on me since freshman year, constantly talking to me about stuff I didn’t want to hear and asking me pointless question I didn’t have time to answer. After so long, I just to decided to put up with it and have some fun. I’m surprised he hasn’t caught on yet, we all are.

“Ok, I’ll see you guys later, and maybe see you Saturday at 9:30.” I point to Peter, picking up my books and backpack.

“What? Why?” Peter frowns, a small smile of curiosity finds its way onto his face as I give Ned a quick hug.

Walking over to hug Peter, I grin, “I have a date and let’s hope it goes decently.”

“We shall see.” Peter smiles up at me, his eyes bright and dreamy.

I could’ve swore I could have melted right then and there but, miraculously, I walked steadily over to my bike and pedaled home, only swerving a couple times when my mind drifted off to Peter again.


I didn’t want to show up outside of Peter’s apartment at 9:30, I really didn’t. But, not everything goes my way and I know that, I’ve been told plenty of times from my mother. This had to have been the worst date I have ever been on though, and I knew that before I have to leave so I could get home before curfew, my eye makeup I had worked so hard on to impress my date would be smeared and runny.

Peter opens the door and I immediately pull him into a hug, my arms wrapped tightly around his waist as I pressed my forehead into his shoulder. I felt his arms wrap around my small frame, his hand rubbing up and down my spine in a way to soothe me.

“I’m sorry,” I sniffle into his t-shirt covered chest, “it was awful.”

“May!” Peter calls, walking us towards his room with me still between his arms, “Y/N and I will be in my room!”

A muffled “Peter Benjamin, I know you’re responsible but you’re also going through hormonal changes so please make good decisions!” responds and I can feel Peter get hotter as I chuckle lightly at May’s choice of words.

We make it to his room and he closes the door behind him before leading us to the bottom bunk of his bed. I kick of my sneakers and drop my purse next to them before laying down on the wrinkled bedsheets. Peter follows, wrapping his arms securely around me again, and pulling me into his chest. With my ear against his chest, I listen to his steady breaths as he inhales and exhales.

“So,” Peter sighs, smoothing our my hair, “wanna tell me what happened?”

“We went to the movies.” I mumble, playing with the fabric on his sleeve.

“Oh, we’re already off to a bad start.” Peter says, I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“And he tried to talk during the movie and, you know me, that’s my biggest pet peeve.”

“Horrible, just awful.” Peter pushes the hair off my shoulder and placed his hand on it, rubbing back and forth with his thumb.

“He doesn’t put butter on his popcorn!” I groan, snuggling closer to him.

“What?!” Peter gasps, craning his neck to look down at me.

I laugh a little, looking up at my best friend with the warm eyes. Nodding I reply, “Yeah! And guess who ends up paying for it?”

“No.” Peter frowns, puckering his lips in disgust.

“Yep,” I roll my eyes, twist the fabric of his shirt between my fingertips, “me. I pay for his popcorn that doesn’t even taste good.”

“Let me know his adress and trust me, I’ll swing down there and web him up.” Peter says casually, eyes widening at the words that just left his lips.

I lift my head up before getting into an upward position, “What?” I chuckle, a confused frown set on my face, “Web him up? Peter what are you-“

“I am Spider-Man.” Peters blurts, his face red with embarrassment.

Now it’s my turn for my eyes to grow wide. I scoot away from him, in total shock. My hand places itself over my tattoo, clutching the material of my shirt. My mouth hangs open and I stay frozen. Was this actually happening?

“Please say something, Y/N.” Peters eyebrows tilt upward, placing his hands on his knees, “Do something, do anything.”

My breaths are uneven and my palms are sweaty. Quickly, I raise from his bed trying to find my balance. He sits on the edge as I wobble on my feet, legs feeling like jelly. His face is full of worry, biting his lip out of nervousness. I fiddle with hem off my shirt before pulling it over my head.

“Y/N! What the fuck?” Peter slaps his hands over his eyes to the block the view of my chest only being covered by my bra.

“Peter!” I laugh, lifting the side of my bra up to expose the ink underneath it, “Peter Parker, open your eyes now!”

I grab the wrist of one of his hands and yank it away from his eyes. Slowly, he opens one, peeking at my body. My finger points at the tattoo. His other hand drops to his lap as his lips part, staring at the ink mesmerized. Lifting his hand, he traces the skin with his cold fingertips.

“Oh my God.” he laughs, a grin forming on his lips that reach forward and press a kiss to the skin saying I am Spider-Man. He stands up and lifts his own shirt, showing me his torso, “You probably don’t remember but, you said this to me a couple days after my 16th.”

I smile, looking at the words across the side of his rib cage. Scoffing, I shake my head and place my fingertips over my smile, “I didn’t actually say that, did I?”

“Yeah, you did. I’m pretty sure you were slap happy.” He smirks, patting the sentence reading What if he had spaghetti noodles instead of hair? He places his hands on my waist and pulls me near, “So, since we’re soulmates, I can do this, right?”

Slowly he leans in and presses his lips against mine. I kiss him back, wrapping my arms behind his neck, lifting my foot in the air. Hesitantly, and regretfully so, we pull away and stare at each other in awe.

A smile finds it’s way onto my lips before saying, “So, you’re Spider-Man and my soulmate?”

The Temp

Letha has been Idol Im Jaebum’s temporary makeup artist for the past two years and after years of him toying with her, things finally reach a breaking point between them.

Originally posted by saranghaeyojw

[song inspiration: Ed Sheeran - Shape of you]

info: Jaebum x oc
genre: smut, oral, fingering, dirty talk, light choking, slight dom!
word count: 5.1k

For two years, two insanely long years I have been Idol, Im Jaebum’s “temporary” makeup artist. Two years of endless awful pick up lines, suggestive comments, devious looks, “harmless” touches and just straight up eye-fucking me. Part of me honestly thinks I’m still around because he doesn’t want another artist anymore. I mean, who would let him get away with those things, if not me? Probably no one.

I was older than him by a few years and was technically his elder, even though my culture didn’t do honorifics. I respected it and always used it with people older than I, unless directed otherwise. I gave all the boys the choice of using it if they chose to and they all always referred to me as Letha noona or simply noona. But not Jaebum, he never did if he couldn’t help it. I was either Princess, Kitten, Leth or on rare occasions, Letha. Of course, he only used Kitten or Princess in whispers, when no one was listening or we were alone.

He was good looking and charming, there was no denying that. I had a hard time not getting beat red when he’d use one of his nicknames on me or shamelessly teased me. And he obviously knew that it affected me or he wouldn’t continue to do it.

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Chamber of Secrets - Part 21

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Summary: After the Avenger’s falling out, you were put in charge of putting Bucky together. Under King T’Challa’s orders, you were given a month’s time to create a new arm while simultaneously figure out how to get the triggering memories of his past out of his mind. As the time goes by, you found yourself confiding in him, despite his frozen state.

A/N: So I reread this series last night and holy shit this has got to be the slowest slow burns ever. I’m so sorry lmao. Also, I know I haven’t been linking the previous part and next part in each chapter because takes so much time so I’m just going to put the series masterlist on each chapter from now on. 

Series Masterlist

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  • Poly!Hamilsquad x Reader
  • Modern
  • Requested by anonymous
  • Request: Maybe because it’s currently Pride Month you could write something maybe Poly!Squad x reader?
  • Request: Hey there friend could you do a hamilsquad poly fic x reader where it’s just lots of fluff and adorableness
  • Request: Hellooo could you do a hamilsquad poly fic??

A/N: It’s the ship that you guys wanted more of. I didn’t think I’d be able to write this ship but apparently I can. So heres more Poly!Hamilsquad. It’s got more of Alexander than the others but I think it’s because he the most affectionate in my opinion. Also, I really, really wanted to make the scene with Thomas like the Olive Garden/Breadstick meme. But I didn’t. Lastly, but certainly not least, HAPPY PRIDE MONTH TO ALL MY FOLLOWERS. Whether out or not, whether a member or the community or just an ally, fill the world with music love and (of course) pride!

Word Count: 4,508


You knew about your friends’ relationship with each other. You knew about it for a while. You knew about even before you moved in with them. It didn’t bother you. You biggest problem with living with them is they had a tendency to get to affectionate with each other. They were pretty good about not making you feel awkward but every now and then, two of them would get too cuddly. Usually clearing your throat and glaring at them made them stop.

Living with them made you hate being single though. Seeing all their lovey-dovey interactions made you want to be in a relationship again. So with the help of some of your friends, you got set up on date with someone named Samuel Seabury on Saturday. John came knocked on your door as you were getting ready. He quirked a brow at you as he noticed you were all dressed for a date. “You going somewhere?” He asked. You hadn’t told them you were going on a date yet. You knew they wouldn’t mind, but they would pester you about it for awhile.

“Uh yeah, I have a date today.” You told him.

“Oh, with who?” He asked as he leaned against the door frame.

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So Much for Essay Writing

Pairing: Peter Parker x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 795

Summary: 4. “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.” and 5. “I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.” ALSO I left the age a little ambiguous, so you could imagine them in either high school or college.

Requested by @secondxreality​ - Thank you so much for requesting because hot damn once I got started I had other ideas and I’m so excited about writing again! 

Peter had been hanging out with you while you worked. You had thought it would be a study date so you could both get work done. Things had not gone according to plan. He either had a lot less work than you, or was just not doing it, because he certainly wasn’t working on any homework. What he was doing was everything in his power to distract you from your work.

“Peter, stop it.” You swatted his hand away as it hovered in your field of vision.

“No. I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.” He said, pressing his finger into your cheek. Again.


He removed his finger and threw up his hands. When you couldn’t see him in you peripheral vision anymore you let you shoulders relax and you thought you were finally safe. Able to finish your essay in peace.

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Friends – Part 2

previous part // next part // all parts

A/N: This is so long I apologize but I want to settle a lot of things in the beginning, also I had to cut it at the part I was most excited to write because of the length fhdfjdjbjf

Summary: A knock on your door may seem like the most uninteresting thing that can happen in a passing day, but it actually isn’t. Especially not when the knock belongs to a boy who brings you on exciting adventures and opens your eyes to things you had never appreciated before

Word count: 2,1k

(cr. onqs)

Birthday Boy

You felt your head pounding the next morning. Dreading to open your eyes and face the light glimpsing through the curtains, you stayed still and felt the pounding getting stronger and stronger. You started to wonder if it wasn’t just in your head, because when you listened more carefully – the sounds got sharper. More knocking at the door. You dragged yourself out of bed, only to realise you were in last night’s clothes and had failed to remove your makeup before going to sleep. Following your memory, you had two glasses of wine and three shots of vodka the night before – well, at least you thought that was the correct amount.

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Look At You~ --JB

Okay so the lovely @thewriterandthereader requested this JB smut of me and I AM FINALLY posting it! I hope you like it! Thank you for being my first request ^^


It was around 9PM when you got home from work. You sighed, another night when you got home later than planned. As you took your shoes off, you heard soft music coming from your bedroom. Oh? Was Jaebum home? You smirked to yourself picturing your man waiting for you.

You walked towards your bedroom to find Jaebum sitting on the edge of the bed humming along to the song he was listening to. It was your favorite song, Song Goes Off by Trey Songz. You watched him quietly until the song ended. His voice was always something you needed after a long day of work, but tonight you wanted more. You wanted him.

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anonymous asked:

So Qui-Gon's been sending bounty hunting Kenobi gifts. Do they ever start exchanging letters? Or just one of them sending letters, so they get to know each other more? An exchange of gifts and a few face-to-face meetings don't seem like a lot to build a relationship on. (Unless that's Kenobi's intention.) I just want to see them talking and working together despite the difference in worldview and temperament, to be honest. (Unless, of course, Kenobi chooses differently.)

Collapsing down on his couch, Qui-Gon sighed and ignored the flashing of his comm for just a few moments, rubbing a hand over his tired face. Force, the mission had just been one disaster after another, from Anakin getting dosed with aphrodisiac, to the princess trying to overthrow the queen to the entire planet almost throwing themselves into anarchy.

Basically, everything had been on fire.

And personally he blamed his padawan.

Qui-Gon sighed again before finally getting to his feet and opening up his messages. Summons by the council, a message from Dooku, message from Madam Nu, Message from Yoda…huh…OWK?

Qui-Gon stared at the unfamiliar comm sender before opening it.

Fuck you. Its impressive. Thank you. Kenobi.

His eyebrows rose before he started chuckling. “He’s rude even in his messages. At least he liked the tempered knife…” Qui-Gon mused before typing in a reply.

Rude, but you’re welcome. I hope it helps you out in your work though spare me the details. Feel like talking?

He sent of and went to take a shower and get ready for the council meeting where he would have to explain just what the hell happened with his padawan.


“Okay, why are you sending me things Jinn?” Obi-Wan glared at him through the holo.

“Because I wanted to. I rather like you.” Qui-Gon confessed with a small smile. “Is it unappreciated? I can stop.”

The bounty hunter looked away. “…The boots are…nice.”

“Just nice?”

“Don’t push it Jinn. They’re better then the ones I had, proper leather and of quality.” Obi-Wan huffed, arms crossed over his chest.

“Well then…perhaps we can start anew then, hello Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon smiled gently to him.

“…Hello Qui-Gon.” The omega made himself more comfortable, sitting down and Qui-Gon did the same.

“How are you? You look well.”

“…Good, thank you. You?”


“It looks painful.” Qui-Gon’s brows furrowed. “Have you put bacta on it?”

“I can’t afford it right now.” Obi-Wan grumbled, rubbing at his bruised eye gingerly. “It will heal.”

“…Do you want to learn how Jedi heal themselves? You have the Force, I’d be more then happy to teach you.” The Jedi offered with a quiet voice.

“How?” Obi-Wan’s blue eyes sparked in interest.

“It would require meditation.”

“…Ugh, of course it does.” The other groaned and Qui-Gon smothered a small chuckle he didn’t think Obi-Wan would appreciate. The other was still sulking a bit and Qui-Gon took that time to study him while Obi-Wan was not looking at him. Except for the bruise, the copper haired omega looked good.

He looked feed, warm and groomed. Last he saw him he had seemed skinny.

“…Healing without bacta would be a useful skill.” Obi-Wan suddenly announced and looked back at him. “Alright, teach me to meditate.”


Qui-Gon blinked, looking around his quarters as Anakin made a straight beeline towards the fresher for a long longed for shower.

Something felt a bit…different. Not bad but different and it took Qui-Gon several moments before he spotted what it was.

In his window sill among the other potted plants stood a new pot in a dark blue color with little stars dotted on it like a constellation. Qui-Gon sat down his bag and moved over to it, stroking the fragile looking plant in the pot with a fingertip.

A night bloom, rare and hard to grow. It would only grow underneath the light of stars and moons and removing it from its native soil often killed the plant. The entire plant was black with curling leaves to protect the treasured inside, not yet blooming for Qui-Gon but he had seen them before, the flower inside it would be white and glow faintly to encourage the nighttime insects to visit it with a divine fragrance. Until it bloomed it would be considered an ugly little flower honestly.

Qui-Gon picked up a little card sitting innocently beside the pot.

Saw it and thought of you. Don’t look to much into it, its ugly. OWK.

No mention of the problems Obi-Wan certainly must have had procuring the plant. No mention of the difficulty of keeping it alive and adapting it to its new soil and environment.

Stroking the leaves gently, Qui-Gon stood at the window long enough for Anakin to step out of the fresher in clean clothes. “Master I’m d-are you alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, quite fine. Make some tea would you Anakin? I have a message to type…”


“Greetings Obi-Wan, are you growing your hair out?” Qui-Gon blinked at the holo, eyeing the tail the other had pulled back.

The omega grumbled but nodded. “Its a karking load of work but I need it for my next mission.” He huffed and sat back in his chair.

“Hmm, I see. Well, it suits you very much.” Blue eyes took in the others features, the way a few strands escaped and framed Obi-Wan’s strong face. He could almost imagine how the copper strands brought out the color of the others eyes even now.

“I…really?” Obi-Wan blinked, clearing his throat. “Oh…hmm…” He thoughtfully played with the tail of his hair.

“Yes. But that’s just my opinion. If you find it to much work, you can always cut it.” Qui-Gon didn’t want the other to do something rash. And Obi-Wan wasn’t the type to grow his hair just to please someone else.

“…But you like it? You…you think it looks nice on me?”

“I think it frames your face rather handsomely Obi-Wan. And I can imagine the color of your hair brings out your eyes. Yes, I do quite like it.”

“Hmm…a honest compliment.” Qui-Gon blinked at that then hummed in return, wondering how many had paid Obi-Wan genuine compliments without trying to get into his pants at the same time.

“…We’ll see about it, I might keep it.” Obi-Wan finally settled on.



“Mhmm…I imagine business is good for you?”

Obi-Wan scowled at him, the long braid resting freely down his back which settled Qui-Gon’s nerves. It meant that Obi-Wan was somewhere safe if he was letting the braid out of his bun.

“I guess. I’m limiting which side I work for after all.”

“Because of me?”

Obi-Wan looked away, scowling ever harder.

“…Obi-Wan, thank you.”

“Don’t…read so much into it Jinn. I just…enjoy your holos and gifts, that’s all.”

“I’m sure.” Qui-Gon smiled softly.

PLL 7x18 Choose or Loose - Thoughts

- One of the best episodes of the entire series. Not just season, but series. Intense from start to finish. 7B: the season of NO DAMN FILLER. Well, aside from Jenna’s dress and Addison… but my gosh it feels good to tune in to episodes weekly where it’s just intense from start to finish. 

- TWINCER VIBES!!! Right after I post this, I’m going to go edit my Twincer theory post. We got so much in this episode. “Spencer” hooking up with Toby AND had a scar on her. Why would Spencer have a scar? We would know about a dangerous event Spencer did. But no. That has no explanation. Our Spencer does not have a scar. Also, “Spencer” was dressed in full black, almost like she just took her hoodie off and is wearing the underlay (like Aria was). Also, “Spencer” gave the girls new phones. Last time that happened, it was Mona giving Hanna a new phone, and Mona was A. I will DIE if Twincer is actually present right in front of our eyes, like attending the group meetings. And overall Spencer just wearing different clothes across the episode.

BIG EDIT that’s what happens when I stay up late to watch the episode.. I forget the basics. Happened last week too. Spencer got the scar from the windshield when Archer was killed, or from the gunshot wound. I think I got a bit ahead of myself with the Twincer theory stuck in my head!

- “Spencer” says to Toby “you know what its like to be the outsider. Removed from friends and family”. What made her say this? Nothing was said or done in this episode to prompt our Spencer to say this. Twincer?

- Mona Mona Mona. Ok, she comes in with answers regarding Aria. Good on her. But, there comes a point where “she’s Mona” isn’t gonna cut it. HOW did she find out it’s Aria? You saw her in the Brew holding an envelope… ok?? And?? Anyway. If they spent time explaining that, there would’ve been less time for the rest of the episode. Whatever, I get it. But it did slightly annoy me that the way they worked out Aria is involved is because Mona worked it out without telling us how.

- Mona is not AD!! She probably killed Charlotte.

- I liked the way the story with Aria’s betrayal paned out. Guys, I couldn’t even handle seeing arguments within the group over someone being an A minion… imagine if a liar was ACTUALLY AD. This episode just confirmed for me why, throughout all the years on here, I’ve been so against the theories that a liar is A. I don’t think there’s a lot of evidence and clues nor would it make sense but mainly I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

- They were VERY angry at Aria but honestly they had the right to be. Aria wasn’t just sending meaningless “I’m watching you” texts. She actually did shit. Bad stuff. And in my mind I was WAITING for Spencer to go up to her and apologise because Spencer, of them all, should get it. And she did!! I was so happy. That was good logical choices for these characters.

- Wait so is Marco gone for good? I was not shocked he took the case off. To me that shows he cares about Spencer and doesn’t have the guts to arrest her, which means all of Spencer’s condescending talk to him worked! Good one Spence.

- Welcome back Tanner. I love her. Tanner gets shit done. Her return brought me right back to 4A when she made a quote that 4 years later I still love - “I want to find out what it is about those 4 pretty girls that attract so many corpses” (or something like that). 

- Spencer did make a good point: why is Tanner so quick to assume the worst of the girls, when Tanner did learn and witness firsthand that there have been people trying to bully and harass the girls? In this case, the girls are guilty, but Tanner doesn’t know that… why can’t this be another framing, like last time? I believe the writers did a small error in character judgment. Tanner shouldnt be assuming the worst of the girls even amongst all the evidence. Someone frickn built a dollhouse for them once. If I were Tanner, I would consider that something similar is going on. Again, it isn’t - the girls did kill someone - but Tanner doesn’t know that. 

- Loved the element of a timer throughout the episode. That was a formula for a successful episode from 701 so it was a nice addition.

- I thought it was nice that no one said “Hanna you killed him, you give yourself in”. I kind of expected the writers to take that easy route. But, they didn’t, which is good, because that wouldn’t be true to the characters. I loved that scene where they all talk about each of their own contributions that lead up to that. Sure Hanna pressed the accelerator but how did they get there? All of them.

- Oh Aria. Your keys are in the trunk. Good luck driving off without having to open the trunk again. I think my car would start, as long as the keys are detected to be IN the car, but maybe it doesn’t work if they keys are in the trunk? PLL logic, idk. 

- I don’t know about anyone else but Aria’s phone calls with AD didnt make me cringe for once. Unlike the FaceTime calls. I thought the calls were actually creepy. But I’m probably the only one.

- You all know I’m here for the mystery and not the romance but my gosh did I appreciate the ships. All of them. The ending montage of all ships was just beautiful. I got a bit teary! (Because I know in 13 days this is all gone.) I don’t think a scene with the ships has gotten to me like that for probably years. No, definitely years. They nailed that. 

- NEXT WEEK!!! FFS CAN THEY STOP SPOILING THEIR OWN SHOW IN THE PROMO. I would’ve DIED if they told us who killed Charlotte, without having expected it! Now I know it’s coming and it won’t be a massive shock when they reveal it was Mona Oh and the “who’s coming for you” scene is being played next week.. 90% chance it’s just a dream. Ugh. Because who is possibly coming for Ali ?? They’re all in trouble? And why would she call herself Mrs Rollins? I can see them taking the easy way out and calling it a dream.

- Overall, honestly that was a 10/10 episode. Screw answers, they’re coming in 2 weeks. Heck, some even next week. Just judging it based on what it was, that was PLL at its absolute best. A LOT of mystery, and even good romance. Less than 2 weeks to go!

Femme Glissante Chapter 5

Bucky x Reader

Warnings: violence and mild language.

Words: A lot. I’m a wordy and descriptive writer. Sorry, not sorry.

Description: You are an “freelance acquisitions specialist,” basically a thief for hire and a master of misdirection and disguise. But what happens when a metal armed man crosses your path during a job? Can you escape? Will you ever see him again?

WAIT!! You have to start at the beginning!!
Chapter 1

(Like last time) If this gets 100 notes, I’ll post the next chapter EARLY!!!

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Request (2)


“Y/N will you quit.” Joe said pushing you away from him. “Please I’m trying to work.” 

“You’ve been working for ages Joe” You pouted, crossing your arms as you looked down at your boyfriend who was hunched over in his chair, laptop propped open on the desk in front of him.

“Yes I know, I have deadlines that need to be met. Just give me a few hours and I’ll be done.” 

“You said that yesterday and here you are, still sat in front of your computer.” 

Joe turned around to look at you, sending an apologetic look your way. “Love I know, I’m sorry.”

“You will be.” You mumbled before leaving the room.

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“You just make things so hard sometimes.” (Becca x MC -Jey-)

Hey, guys. This is the first fic I have ever written. Ever. In my entire life. It’s a bit lengthy too, so I’m sorry if it bores you or if it’s not up to your guys’ standards. Hope you guys like it though. AND PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK :( I wanna know how I can improve my writing. Thanks guys. *I forgot to add* This is also my entry for the Play Choices Femslash Week, hosted by @hanaslee (which just ended HAHAHA but here’s a late submission anyway.)

It had been so boring today. Classes were bleak, the professors just droning on and on about whatever uninteresting topic they were talking about. Having no one to rant to about this also wasn’t helping, and Becca somewhat found herself missing Madison’s company.

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Something More? [part ii]

Originally posted by intokai

Synopsis: Timing is everything and maybe some things just aren’t meant to be. You yearned for someone you never let yourself think you could have, and it seems just maybe you’ll never have him.

Genre: Fluff/Angst (Possible future smut)

Pairing:  Baekhyun x Y/n or Jongin x Y/n

Warnings: Cursing

Word count: 3,665

Status: Ongoing 

Chapter One

“Ah yes, get back so you can decide between one Supreme shirt and the other Supreme shirt right?” You tease, running away quickly as he chases you out of the cafe, a wide smile on his sweet face. Guess you should decide what to wear, like Baekhyun said it’ll be nice to unwind before the exams and those boys knew how to throw a good party, you can just stay with Baekhyun, Kyungsoo and Yixing. It’ll be a good night…right?

You told yourself the party wouldn’t be that bad, you knew Baekhyun, Yixing and Kyungsoo would be there to laugh with, the relentless teasing would probably make the entire night more enjoyable. You knew you’d love the dancing and the free food, what’s not to like? You were being silly about this, lying on your bed in your underwear with your hair and make-up done just staring at the lilac dress hanging by the door. Overreacting is one of your flaws is what your mum would say, sometimes you just had to push yourself and find out what the issue was. Right, this will be fun. It will.

With a push you leaned up on your elbows, setting your shoulders to reluctantly slide the dress on when a distinct knock sounded through the door. You immediately jump up and rushed to get the dress over your hips as a familiar voice whined “You better be dressed y/n, let me in would you?” Shoving the zipper up you breath deeply. Well at least he didn’t bang the door open like he usually did, Baekhyun really didn’t understand personal space at times. More than a few times he’d been too close to seeing you in…well nothing. 

 You walk over and opened the door, a smile already tugging at your lips as you lean against the frame replying “I am ready, I’m surprised it took you that long to choose between two shirts” Baekhyun poked his pink tongue out as he waltz into your room, throwing himself down on your bed as you looked over at him with your arms crossed. He also had a bad habit of making himself at home wherever he went, your room was almost a second home to him at this point. 

“Two shirts and I still look this hot” Baekhyun winked, stretching and looking you over as a smile breaks over his face, “You look pretty by the way, you’ll have all the attention tonight.”

 You flush at his words and tug your neckline up, annoyed at yourself for your reaction. Why did you feel so shy suddenly! Forcing yourself to laugh you grab his toned arm and hauled him up, ignoring the fact you definitely felt his bicep a little longer than you should have. 

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spiritedopal  asked:

Hey~ a short story! How about.... BillDip, and... pink?^^

Ah soulmate AU, AKA the bane of my existence. Well it took me four tries and I’m not sure if it’s soulmate-y enough but it’s the best I can do. Hope you enjoy anyway.

Dipper sat by himself on the roof of the Mystery Shack staring at his wrist instead of the stars. He’s known since the first summer, if he’s honest with himself, but it took until this summer to come to terms with it.

He hadn’t noticed while they were in Stan’s mind, too busy with their mission to look at the inside of his left wrist. He didn’t even notice it afterward when he’d talk about Bill. It was when he made the deal with the demon that he first noticed.

Clutching Bill’s hand, he saw his wrist light up in the shape of a triangle. Then he was yanked out of his body. Curiously, both his body’s wrists stayed lit the whole-time Bill was in control, the left having the triangle but his right wrist was lit like a pine tree.

Seeing this was what made Dipper realize a few things he didn’t want to be a thing. There was much going on however, and he hadn’t had time to dwell on it then as stopping Bill had been paramount. During his recovery in the days after it was all that was on his mind.

He never told his sister. He’s pretty sure she knows anyway. Dipper ran his finger over the triangle. It’s constantly lit now that Bill lives in the shack and sleeps on their sofa. Dipper’s 18 now and he brought Bill back first day of summer.

Honestly, bring Bill back powerless and in a human body is probably worse punishment then being sealed in a statue. The now ex-demon had a meltdown when he came back that involved lots of yelling and ended with him curled on the ground crying and stressing that his eyes were leaking.

He didn’t know how to be human or deal with such a wide range emotions. He wasn’t used to being affected by physics and didn’t know how to solve problems without magic. He didn’t know how to do anything.

Dipper had to help him walk back to the shack because he was an entirely different size, shape, and weight than he’d ever been. When Bill took his offer to help him off the ground both their wrists lit, Dipper with a triangle and Bill with a pine tree.

Bill had stared at it. It was clear to Dipper that, before this point he had had absolutely no idea about this. He had had no idea he and Dipper were supposed to be soulmates. Bill couldn’t proses it then, though he now had an idea as to why Dipper would bring him back now.

Dipper never could imagine Bill scared or awkward or nervous. He never thought Bill as the quiet type or an easy crier. Until now anyway. Dipper supposes that’s what happens when you take a super powerful magical being then remove what gives them any type of power over anybody and place them in a world they don’t understand. 

Bill still has stubborn pride and a sharp tongue but after his first black eye where he found he doesn’t heal immediately anymore he decided pain wasn’t fun anymore. Now he says cutting things but if people get mad he retreats, usually behind Dipper.

He’s identified Dipper as safe. The Pines won’t hurt Dipper and Dipper won’t hurt him. Dipper’s the only one who’s nice to him. Mabel tries but she’s still uncomfortable. Ford won’t be in the same room as Bill and Stan’s threatened to punch Bill so many times Bill stays away from him.

Dipper brought Bill back so he’s in charge of the ex-demon which is reasonable. Bill doesn’t like being alone and in the beginning, he couldn’t be alone. Because of this they’ve spent a lot of time together.

Dipper’s found it’s not as terrible as one would expect. Bill likes kid’s shows and Disney movies. He likes comedy horror like Scary Movie but they had to turn off The Ring partway through. He also likes mystery books but not scary books.

He burned the book Coralline in a trashcan after reading half of it and Dipper woke up with Bill in his bed for a few nights afterwards because he had bad dreams about it. Same thing happened after The Ring incident. 

Bill still doesn’t understand what the big deal about sharing a bed is. For someone who’s supposedly watched humans for centuries Bill has learned very little to nothing about them except how to manipulate them and he can’t even do that anymore.

Dipper didn’t really understand why Bill couldn’t handle scary things until Bill explained it. It was the third night Bill had snuck into Dipper’s room but Dipper had waited up so he could get some answers.

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Pillow Talk

It was the sharply exhaled swear word that awoke her. Bulma shifted under the mountain of cream colored downy comforters, turning to face Vegeta (who had stubbed his big toe on the corner of the dresser) with bleary-eyes. It was three in the morning she foggily registered. And as she slowly became more awake the more miffed she got. Why had her husband had come in so late?

“And where have you been?” She asked, sleep still thick in her voice.

Vegeta just grunted, choosing to ignore her as he shimmied out of his training clothes.

Normally, Bulma would have enjoyed her muscle-clad brooding husband getting naked, but after being awoken so suddenly it just left her angry. “Humph. Have a nice time? Good to know you’d rather be lifting heavy things by yourself than spending time with your wife.” She tried again, this time letting her irritation get the better of her. Still, Vegeta didn’t respond. He just shuffled off to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and then turned on the light.

Huffing, Bulma flopped onto her back, arms crossed over her chest. The gentle whoosh of the shower started behind the bathroom door followed by the smell of his shampoo. ‘It smells good,’ she thought. He had hated every single one she’d ever bought him, so she’d just made her own in the lab. It was earthy smelling, funnily enough: crisp like a winter wind, smokey like a fire and herbal like peppermint. She’d just left it in the shower one day, and when he came out wearing that scent around him like a cloud she’d just about buckled over from joy among other things. He never mentioned it, but the fact he washed with it everyday let her know how much he liked it.

The water ebbed and Bulma could hear him moving around the bathroom; The clink of his toothbrush, the opening and closing of a drawer, the crack of his neck as he rolled it. Each sound so familiar to her now. It had taken her a long time to convince him to share a bed with her, in fact he’d only started sleeping in it regularly after they’d gotten married. She’d questioned him about it once, and found his answer surprisingly old fashioned,

“Only a husband and wife share a bed.”

Never mind the fact Trunks had already been born. But Bulma could appreciate the sentiment.

The light in the bathroom clicked off, and Vegeta stepped naked into the dark room. Bulma watched his silhouetted form make its way to the bed, lifting the covers and crawling into bed beside her. He smelled wonderful, his body still slightly damp from the shower. He was dead still, and probably could have passed for asleep if Bulma didn’t know him better. She slid down further under the covers, turning on her side to face him, “Hey.” She whispered.

He grunted.

“Why’re you being so quiet?” She prodded.

Vegeta sighed, “I was trying to be respectful and let you sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Bulma blinked. Wait. Her Vegeta was…being thoughtful?

He shifted, hand finding her bare hip under the copious amounts of blankets she slept under and squeezed lightly, “Go back to sleep. God knows you need every minute of beauty rest you can get.”

“Oh, har har very funny.”

Vegeta chuckled and she could practically feel his smirk.

“Seriously though,” she whispered, snuggling closer to him, “why are you still awake? You never train this late.” There was a long pause, and Bulma rolled her eyes, “forget it.” She huffed, starting to roll away onto her other side.

His fingers tightened on her hip and she stopped moving, “I was…thinking.” He said slowly, cautiously.

Bulma felt her heart began to pound. Vegeta was actually trying to communicate? What the hell was going on? Old fears of him leaving began to rise, why else would he be so willing to talk? Why wasn’t he talking anymore?! Why was his pause so long?!

“…you’re sweating.” Vegeta grumbled, removing his hand from her and making a point to wipe it on the sheets.

“You’re making me nervous!” She hissed, “I have no idea what is going on in that Saiyan brain of yours!”

“Woman would you shut up?! I’m TRYING here.”

Bulma snapped her mouth closed, trying to keep the insults she had ready to escape contained. Vegeta sighed, his fingers finding her ribs now, brushing against her again, “I’ve just had a lot on my mind. Training helps me think. I…needed to work some thoughts out.”

BA-BOOM went her heart, “Uh-huh…” she breathed.

Vegeta shifted, his strong arm drawing her closer against him.




He sighed, “I…don’t know quite how to say it…”

Something hot began building behind Bulma’s tightly closed eyelids, ‘Don’t cry!’ Her mind screamed, ‘Don’t show him weakness! You can do this without him-’

“…I want to have another child.”


Her heart stopped. Palpitated. Stopped again. And then took a nose dive straight into her lower intestine.

Vegeta huffed with irritation, “Well?”

Normally Bulma was a quick thinker, a genius of not only creating marvelous inventions, cracking codes and physics, but she was also pretty quick with a one liner for her surly alien husband. For some reason though, the connections in her brain were not functioning. The only thing she could manage to respond with was, “Guh?!”

“Tch.” Vegeta clicked his tongue then rolled onto his back and crossed his arms, shutting himself out from her, “Forget it.”

Bulma quickly sat up, staring bewildered down at him, “Who are you and what have you done with Vegeta?”

“Hmph.” Though the room was dark she could still see the hot blush across his cheeks, “Nevermind.”

“No no no!” She insisted, clambering on top of him now much to his irritation, “Say it again.”


“Vegeta,” Bulma said softly, her small hands framing his face. He stiffened, but didn’t try to move away so she figured that was a good sign, “look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings-”

“You didn’t hurt anything.” He snapped, but his tone reflected otherwise.

“Mmmhmmm,” a smirk played on Bulma’s lips, “of course. My mistake.”

Vegeta averted his eyes, “Whatever. Forget it.”

“No,” she said, fingers now tracing one of his thick black eyebrows, “don’t you think I’m to old for another baby?”

“Well, you’re old that’s for sure.”


Obsidian eyes slid finally slid back over to met her hot gaze, and Vegeta smirked.

Ugh. He was teasing her Bulma realized. Trying to change the subject. Avoidance thy name is Vegeta. “Listen here bucko,” she poked him on the chest, “I’ve already had the pleasure of pushing out one of your babies and let me tell you it was no picnic! And where were you for that? Out traversing the galaxy training. Like always! If you think I’m going to do that alone again you’re mistaken! And I think I look damn good now, you should be happy to have a wife that still looks this young after giving birth-”

“I know.”

His quiet reply caught her off guard. Vegetas’ arms finally uncrossed themselves, large hands gripping her hips, almost painfully as if making a point, “I… was a terrible father. And husband. I’m not a good person Bulma.”

Bulma was effectively rendered speechless, and even more so when he continued, “As leader of my people it is essential that I do what is best for their wellbeing. As I no longer have a planet to rule, that is you and Trunks. But…” her husband faltered, dark eyes closing, “I want to make sure that my legacy will live on… my peoples legacy.”

Sighing, Bulma laid down on top of him, her nose buried in the crook where his neck met shoulder, “Vegeta, babies aren’t just about procreation. You have to like, take care of them you know. They’re hard work.”


“Plus, it’ll take time away from your training, and my work. I’m running the company now, you know that. And Trunks would be so much older. It’s kind of unfair for him don’t you think?”


Bulma sighed, “I just don’t think it’s a good-”

“Is it that you don’t want another child with me?”

Startled, Bulma raised her head. He was staring at her, eyes hard. “Wha-what? Vegeta no!” She insisted, “you’re taking this way out of context.”

His eyes narrowed, “If you don’t want another child by me then tell me.”

Bulma groaned, dropping her head down onto his chest, “Oh my God this is not happening.”

“You’re my Queen,” he said softly. This caught her attention. Raising her head back up she caught him looking at the ceiling, expression unreadable, “you’re the only one I would even wish to have children with.”

She waited for the punchline, the quip, the insult.

It never came.

The silence between them grew, became heavier with each beat of her heart.

“You mean it?” Bulma whispered, hot tears stinging her eyes.

Still silent, Vegeta gave a gentle squeeze on her hip.

Sniffling now, Bulma kissed his cheek. This earned her a wary grunt, but he didn’t push her away. “So, I’m your queen?” She teased, wiggling her pelvis suggestively against his groin.

“That’s what I said, right?” He grumbled, “that’s what you agreed to when you made me go through that horrendous ceremony.”

“Hmm,” she hummed against his throat, pleased when she felt his cock begin to harden against her, “as your queen, you have to do what I say right?”

“Hardly. As the King, I have ultimate say.”

“Well, in some countries women outrank the men.” She said airily, fingers traveling down his bare abdomen and taking hold of his now very erect member.

Vegeta hissed through his teeth, “Not in this house.”

“This is MY house remember,” she whispered in his ear, “that makes me the boss.”

Vegeta grunted, thrusting himself through her loosely gripped fingers, “You wish.”

Bulma raised herself back up to straddle him, eyes drinking in the naked Saiyan below her. He was a fine specimen, all hard muscle and power. But now she saw something else that had only recently began to bubble unwillingly to the surface; humanity.

True, he was her husband and the father of their child. But until the last few years he’d pretty much ignored the two of them. His words and actions now however spoke something different. The change had been slow, but now he seemed almost content to spend time with her and Trunks, despite the grumbling and sometimes hostile nature he displayed he would almost always give in to her or their sons demands. Bulma took this as a way in which he had avoided arguments, but maybe it meant something different after all.

The corner of Vegetas lips pulled up into a predatory grin as she stared down at him, “See something you like?”

Despite her initial reaction to quip back, she gave him a tender smile, “Yeah, I do.”

His smirk slowly melted away, a blush starting in its place, “Wha-woman why are you staring at me like that?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Well, obviously-”

“No Vegeta,” she leaned down, touched her lips against his and whispered against his mouth, “let’s have a baby.”

His reaction was immediate. He flipped her over, arms trapping her beneath him, eyes piercing into hers, “Do you mean it? Don’t lie.”

Bulma smiled again, then raised her nightshirt over her head, “Are you just going to tease me or are you going to fuck me?”

Vegetas smirk grew wider, “I’ll have you begging my Queen.” His lips were on hers then, fingers ripping off the panties she had on. She was vaguely aware that she liked that pair, but what his hands were doing to her now quickly made her forget why she even bothered wearing them in the first place.



I have NO clue where this came from. But I like it. Should I add more?! Decisions!!!!

Ducklings Part One

I saw a video about ducklings last week and sure enough, this happened. I doubt it will be more than two maybe three parts. Not my best work but it is after all just for fun. :) Sasuke and ducklings? Yes please.

It was a ridiculous situation. 

He stared at the rain pouring down and the puddles growing on the side of the leaf strewn sidewalk. A river had formed, small but powerful at the curb and sitting in a huddle together were what appeared to be dirty little balls of lint. Except for when they moved, and occasionally a small duck bill fluttered weakly in the half light of evening. 

God damn it.

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Viktuuri Sickfic

WARNING(S): descriptions of vomit, nausea, diarrhoea & stomach issues below !!!

Breath hitching, Viktor lurched forward as his stomach rebelled, causing him to heave up another mouthful of vomit.

It wasn’t even dawn before stomach pains had awakened him from a dead sleep. He’d laid still for a few minutes, willing the pain to ease, instead his stomach had lurched and sent him scrambling to get up into the woods for a more appropriate place to expel one’s stomach contents.

So here he was, bent over bracing himself against a the toilet as he continued to be violently sick. Holding his stomach with one arm, as the other held himself over the toilet bowl.

Gasping as the latest episode ended, although the nausea hadn’t, Viktor still bent over the toilet over trembling from his exertions. He didn’t want to move just yet with his stomach still doing flips and he had yet to gain his bearing back from the previous episode.

“Viktor?” Yuuri called as he rapt his knuckles against the door.

A retch followed by coughing spell was the only answer Yuuri thought he was going to get until a level yet hoarse voice called back, “Ah, Yuuri. I’m sorry to wake you.”

Immediately the heaving sounds resumed causing the younger of the pair to shift from one foot to the other, hating that his fiancé was so ill and wanting to do anything to ease the others discomfort but not wanting to encroach on the other’s privacy if it’s only make things worse.

A lull in the retching had Yuuri speaking again, “I was already awake. Can you let me in?” He explained, hand gripping the door handle but he wouldn’t turn it without premisison.

Panted breath met his ears after the gagging ceased, a beat of silence before any response came forth, “Oh, do you need the restroom? Give me a moment.”

“No, I’m worried about you. You sound really sick.” Yuuri answered back, leaning up against the door as anxiety coiled within his chest.

“I-” A cough turned retch interrupted him, the churning of his stomach unrelenting, swallowing down another gag, Viktor tried again, “I’m okay, but the door’s unlocked.”

Turning the knob Yuuri stepped in; momentarily stunned to exactly how miserable his fiancé was. Viktor kneeled before thes toilet, curled forward as his arms braced against the rim. A slight tremble visibly shaking his lithe frame. Viktor couldn’t acknowledge the other at his entrance, eyes closed tightly and jaw clenched as his throat convulsed to keep the next wave at bay for long as possible.

“Oh, Vitya.” Yuuri breathed, his tone bleeding sympathy and a kindness that had Viktor own breath hitching.

Casting a glance underneath a pinched brow over to Yuuri, though his features paled severely a moment later that had him grimacing and returning to his previous position. Breath catching, then deepening as he tried to breath through the nausea.

“I’ll text Yakov to tell him we won’t be at practice today.” Yuuri offered as he crouched beside his love, a hand immediately coming up to rub the other’s back.

A nod was all Yuuri received, all Viktor was capable of at the moment. Yuuri hadn’t expected a response, from the looks of it his partner didn’t have much control over his actions currently, illness taking over.

A shape inhale brought Yuuri’s gaze snapping up from his phone, the other’s head dipping instinctively as a heave drew his shoulders forward with the force of it. Retching heavily several times before actually spilling his stomach contents into the bowl.

“There you go.” Yuuri encouraged, “You’ll feel better once it’s all up.”

Coughing thoroughly to clear his throat, Viktor ran the back of his hand over his mouth. Pressing it against his lips, frame trembling slightly from being so physically ill, to vainly ward off the lingering nausea. Removing it only to spit excess saliva that collected in his mouth and the sour taste that stuck to his tongue.

Queasiness quelled to a more controllable level, Viktor reached up to pull the flush lever and slowly lean back to rest on his hunches. Eyes closed against the reoccurring dizziness and unpleasant upset still warring within his stomach. Nausea twisting within his gut, causing unrelenting cramps to grip at the muscles there.

“Think you’re finished?” Yuuri asked gently, knowing Viktor wasn’t very vocal when it came to asking for help when he truly needed it.

Viktor merely shook his head, lips pressed together tightly and eyes closed against the mounting nausea. Then his stomach flipped and lunged back towards the toilet. Retching horribly, bringing up more bile than anything else, lapsing into a fit of dry heaves after. His body mercilessly working to expel every last ounce left in his stomach.

“Ugh, I feel miserable.” Viktor moaned, a reprieve from the nausea didn’t mean his stomach settled any, still cramping and knotting.

“I bet.” Yuuri agreed, then shifted his position to glance at Viktor’s features, “Want to sit back for a bit? Relax?”

“Still feel sick.” Viktor replied thickly, hiccuping softly once the words were out.

“Okay. That’s okay.” Yuuri assured, running his hand along his love’s shoulder blades soothingly, “We can take it slow. I just want you to be comfortable.”

Viktor hesitated, breathing deeply for a few moments then nodding his consent. Yuuri gently helping him lean back and rest against his frame as he sat against the bathtub. Even though Viktor was taller, he easily fit between Yuuri’s legs and folded nicely against his chest.

“Mm.” Viktor hummed, taking great comfort from simply having Yuuri with him.

Idly running his fingers through his husband’s sweaty hair, glad he could offer a bit of comfort despite Viktor still being horribly nauseous, the older skater leaned into each of Yuuri’s touches. Whether it be him trailing his fingers through his hair or rubbing along his back as they cuddled the best they could on the tile of the bathroom floor.

A low groan from Viktor had Yuuri pausing in his menstruations, leaning his head forward to scrutinise the other, worry creasing his brow as concern over how badly Viktor stomachache was getting , “Still doing okay?”

Unable to answer due the an abrupt lurch from his stomach, Viktor scramble out of Yuuri’s hold, movements hurried and urgent. Acting quickly, Yuuri rolled up onto the balls of his feet to crouch behind Viktor as he did before, a hand coming up to rub along his back and the other cupping along his forehead; keeping his bangs out of the way and protecting his forehead from impacting the seat with each forceful retch the nausea pulled from Viktor.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Yuuri kept up a soothing mantra, knowing Viktor prefers noise to silence, “Just get it all up. You’ll feel better.”

Groaning openly, curling forward a slight at the stomach cramping sharply, panting heavily form excretion and the knotted nature of his abdomen muscles. Arms trembling from the weakness spreading throughout his frame, being so physically ill taking a lot out of him.

Completely drained, Viktor shifted to slump back against the bathtub with Yuuri’s help; knees drawn up with his arms resting on them, creating a convenient place to rest his forehead. His frame racked with minute tremors bred from strained, exhausted muscles. Head pounding and feeling viciously overheated, sweat beaded along his skin to drip rivulets down the sides of his face, giving his pale features a sickly wet shine, he simply breathed. In and out. Methodically, in an attempt to starve off the persistent churning of his stomach and lessen the severity of the cramps assaulting his middle.

Yuuri bit his lower lip before opening his mouth to tentatively say, “Viktor, I - I know you don’t like hospitals but-”

“No hospitals. Please?” Viktor was quick to interject, his voice hoarse but eyes pleading, “I usually never get sick. So it’s bad when it first hits. This is rather normal.”

Yuuri gave his fiancé a sceptical look, but nodded nonetheless, “Okay, no hospital. For now. But if you get any worse, I’m not hesitating.”

“Deal.” Viktor nodded.

“Think you’re okay to relax in bed for a while?” Yuuri asked, noticing his husband’s drifting state and knowing the bed would be more comfortable than the bathroom.

“Mm, think so. But I can make no promises.” Viktor miserably replied, trying to content himself to rest on the hard bathroom floor again.

“I’ll set a waste bin by the bed and some towels around just in case. And I don’t mind cleaning any messes. You’ll sleep better in a bed.” Yuuri countered, rising to his feet and coming over to help Viktor stand, holding his steady as he got to his feet.

“Let’s take it easy.” Yuuri held an arm around his fiance’s waist as they slowly made their way back to the bedroom and to the bed. “Wait here. I’ll get the supplies and you some tea as well.”

Viktor leaned against the headboard, relaxing the best he could despite his stomach still aching quite badly. Closing his eyes as he laid his head back as well, trying rest and ignore the churning within his belly. Yuuri would be back soon and then he could rest properly. He focused on that.

Only his stomach wasn’t finished torturing him as it gurgled audibly, his hand came up to rub at his middle in hopes of calming it down. A few moments passed, the ache then turned sharp, though it cramped fiercely along his lower abdomen. This had him sitting upright and scrambling off the bed towards the bathroom once more.

Slamming the door behind him, not bothering the lock, pulling at the hem of his sweatpants and letting them fall to his ankles as he sat on the toilet. Immediately a stream of liquid diarrhoea splattered into the toilet water below. Body then forcefully evacuating wave after wave of diarrhoea with minimal conscious effort on his part. Leaving him trembling at the loss of fluids, chilled yet sweating despite the even temperate of the bathroom.

Left panting now, feeling worse than when he came into the bathroom, stomach up in knots. He had to wonder how he could still feel so awful. And still feel so bloated, and as if more were to come.

“Viktor, are you okay?” Yuuri asked urgently from outside the door, having heard said door slam despite being in the kitchen and rushed back into the bedroom to ensure Viktor was okay.

A muffled groan answered Yuuri’s question followed by a tersely spoken, “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Anything further comment was drowned out by a sharp inhale from Viktor. His stomach cramping vehemently, near doubling him over his arms that lay tightly wrapped around his abdomen, and instinctively baring down, forcing the diarrhoea to expel with exceeded force. Burning as it made its exit and eliciting another muted groan from the ill skater.

“Oh Vitya,” Yuuri voice was saturated with sympathy despite being muffled by the door separating them, “You’re really not feeling well, are you?”

“My stomach’s a bit upset, yes.” Viktor answered truthfully as he caught his breath back, feeling his cheek heat up in embarrassment, knowing the younger skater had heard everything.

“Vitya. I want to make sure you’re all right.” Yuuri pressed, anxious over the welfare of his husband to be.

“I will be. It’s all right, yu- !” Interrupted once again by his bowels ; them cramping so severely he doubled over, continuous diarrhoea splashing loudly into the bowl for several seconds. More following in a splatter of liquid intermixed with grotesque sounding farts.

Groaning lowly, still bent double, arms pressed against his stomach in hope to dull the pain there. It doing little to abate the cramping, sick feeling still twisting within his gut.

“Vitya, I’m , I’m worried.” Yuuri’s anxiety was palpable in his tone, not wanting to guilt Viktor into letting him in but feeling desperate to be of use. Especially when Viktor was always there for him whenever he needed it.

“I didn’t lock the door…”

Not rising from his position, even when the door knob turned and Yuuri entered ; certain once his fiancé caught whiff of the smell, he’d cringe then depart with some excuse. Instead he felt a hand rest on his back, rubbing soothing circles against taunt muscles there. Relaxing a margin at the sensation, comforted more so than he thought at having Yuuri beside him.

Opening his eyes to peer to the side, seeing Yuuri having seated himself on the lip of the bathtub. Still rubbing his back, though his expression display a deeply felt worry and saddened sympathy at seeing his love so miserable.

“Hey.” Yuuri called softly at seeing Viktor looking at him, uncertainty clouding his beautiful features “Is this helping any?”

Viktor nodded, “It’s nice. Warm.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened at noticing the shivers coursing through his fiance’s body periodically, thus pausing in his menstrations , Yuuri quick shed his unbuttoned cardigan to place over Viktor’s shoulders. Adding an additional layer to Viktor’s own clothing before going back to rubbing along the other’s back.

Viktor smiled lightly at the extra show of kindness, then grimace at physically feeling his stomach churn and hearing an audible gurgle from it. Arms tightening around his mid section at the intensity of the cramps, dropping his head a slight to shield his eyes in embarrassment, just before an expulsion of semi solid feces began splashing violently into the toilet. It was most solid things Viktor had managed to pass all day, even tho it held the consistency of mush. Though he wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing, this or pissing out his ass liquid diarrhoea.

“That’s good. You’ll feel better once it’s all out.” Yuuri encouraged, not patronisingly, “And I want you to feel better.”

The round ending with an instinctual contraction of his stomach muscles, forcing the excrement to expel more violently into the toilet and proceeding a sharp pain coursed through his abdomen, causing a grunt to slip past his lips as a large amount gas intermixed with bits of liquid sped from his rear. Tampering off into a massive stream of diarrhoea pouring into the water below.

Then several minutes of nothing, nearly ten minutes of silence. Nothing passing nor any audible noises. Yet his stomach continued to cramp and twist, feeling knotted and still unhappy about whatever else was left inside. Though Viktor still felt the need to go, he had to wonder how there could be anything left.

“Are you done?” Yuuri asked, now concerned that Viktor merely didn’t have the strength to get up.

“I - I don’t think so. It still hurts. Still feel … too full, but nothing is moving.” Viktor’s tone sounded mildly distressed, Yuuri noting the telltale signs of the other man baring down. Feeling the tension return to his back muscles, as the other’s stomach visibly concaved and his form hunched over, expression hidden but the panted breaths telling much ; straining to expel whatever was left.

“Vitya, Vitya don’t.” Yuuri rubbed a bit more rushed like along his partner’s back, until he felt his fiancé relax with a forceful exhale and laboured breaths “You’ll only hurt yourselves. Maybe a belly rub would help more?”

Viktor nodded weakly, willing to try anything at this point so that he could be finished & go to bed. Leaning back a slight, elbows now propped up on his knees and his frame no longer doubled over but too exhausted to sit all the way upright. Then feeling Yuuri slip a hand between his arms to press gently into his stomach then moving it in a circular motion had Viktor dropping his head and moaning.

Yuuri froze at that reaction, “I’m sorry! Are you all right?”

“No, no it felt good.” Viktor corrected, immediately missing the contact of Yuuri’s warm hand.

Tentatively Yuuri returned to massaging circles there, pressing a bit more so in spots to hopefully kick start things or allow them to relax enough for viktor to rest a bit. Feeling the oddly bloated nature of his fiance’s stomach, Yuuri felt horrid that his Viktor was suffering so. Hating that he couldn’t take away this illness from him right then.

Around a minute of continuous massaging, then Yuuri physically felt the gurgle that rippled through the others stomach. Vitkor breath hitching as he hunched forward more so and a massive splattering of diarrhoea hit the toilet water, liquid seemingly mixed with semi solid feces. Gas forcing it to expel all the harsher. it continuing for a good thirty seconds then tampering off into a load of gas echoing loudly into the bowl.

Pressing a single hand to his stomach, relief at finally feeling like he wouldn’t explode from his rear the moment he stood up yet oddly a different form of churning took him by surprise. Features paling at a sudden surge of nausea, his other hand rising to press against his mouth.

“Yuur- hurk!” Viktor dryly gagged into his palm, speaking jonlonger an option if he wished to ngo get sick on himself.

Yuuri though understood immediately and sprang up to snatch the small bathroom trash can from under the sink and thrush it into Viktor’s lap. Not a moment too soon as Viktor lurched forward with a wet retch, salvia dripping into the trash bin with the barest hint of bile. Then a rumbling belch had the silver haired skater lurching into the bin, bringing up a flood of partially digested food and bile. Barely a moment to take a breath before another heave forced its way up, a gush of pure liquid content splashed into the bin. Vitkor’s back arching with each following heave, bringing up more & more of his stomach contents until dry retching took hold of him.

Sweat collecting along his forehead, excretion and discomfort playing a role in that. Yet the dry heaves continued for another six or so minutes, sporadically jerking him forward to fruitlessly gag and retch over the bin. Mere strings of salvia and splattering of bile coming up, coughs racking his frame post each heave ; the acidic taste burning his throat.

“It’ll be over soon, it’s all right. Just breathe.” Yuuri kept up a steady stream of words, rubbing along his fiance’s back, “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

Coughing harshly to clear his throat, it burning horribly but at least the nausea seemed to have finally eased up. Even the cramping seemed to have tempered for the moment. Breathing heavily to gain his breath back, feeling a slight better now that his stomach was completely empty, though he now felt wrung out; exhausted and weak. Chilled yet sweaty. But grateful he was no longer losing it from either end.

Moving sluggishly to set the trash bin down, Yuuri’s hand came up to take it from him and set it beside the bath to be washed. He turned on the tap to do just that, but hearing Viktor clear his throat had him turning back.

“I think Im good for now.” Viktor’s voice was hoarse, cracking mid sentence.

“All right, let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” Yuuri directed gently, helping Viktor stand on wobbly legs and strip off his shirt.

Yuuri turned the tap to warm and waited for it to get to the right temperature before switching it to a shower. And helping Viktor step into the tub.

Gently guiding Viktor under the stream then making sure he was steady before stepping back, removing his shirt and boxers to join his husband. Keeping him upright and steady as they cleaned up. Then grabbing one of the big fluffy towels from the rack outside there shower and wrapping Viktor up in it, then sitting him on the closed lid of the toilet.

Leaving for only a moment before returning quickly with new pajamas for the both of them. Simple sweats and a t - shirt for himself. And Viktor’s favourite pair of pj pants with small poodles on them, and a t - shirt that embodied the Russian flag. Viktor brighten slightly at Yuuri’s kind thought towards him.

Quickly dressing himself and then helping Viktor do so, taking extra care when drying his hair ( no need in adding to his misery by letting him get a cold on top of everything else ) and even adding a pair of fluffy socks to the other’s feet. Wanting him to be warm and comfortable. Plus they too had a poodles on them. And the fever seemed to have lessened thus Yuuri was willing to risk it for now. He’d keep any eye on Viktor though throughout the night, just in case.

“Still feeling okay?” Yuuri asked, standing after putting the last sock on Viktor’s foot.

“Mmhm, want to sleep though.” Viktor murmured, eyes already halfway closed, he was exhausted and now warm; perfect sleeping conditions in his mind.

Yuuri chuckled lightly, relieved that Viktor was feeling better, “All right, come on. To bed we go.”

Viktor weakly wagged his eyebrows as he was helped up and back into the bedroom, this made Yuuri hummed a laugh, glad that his fiancé was feeling well enough to jest with him. Even if he was carrying most of he other’s weight, slowly making their way to the bedroom.

Yuuri held Viktor steady as he climbed back under the covers, making sure his love was situated before announcing, “I want you to drink something real quick before you sleep. Just a little. Please?”

“… Okay.” Viktor consented after a moment, not wanting to put anything in his stomach but wanting to help ease some of Yuuri’s worry, “For Yuuri.”

Leaning forward, Yuuri brushed Viktor’s damp bangs from his forehead to place a kiss there (secretly checking his temperature; glad to find it still only warm) not caring of the slight sheen of sweat there. Then stepping back, Yuuri offered a small smile, eyes filled with love for his fiancé, “I’ll be right back.”

Two minutes and Yuuri was returning with some green tea, sweetened with a bit of honey and some ginger. He tasted it before to ensure the ginger hadn’t spiced the tea too much and to ensure the right amount of honey to entice Viktor Ito drinking it but not sweet enough to upset his stomach again.

“Here.” Yuuri said as he passed the mug over to Viktor, ensuring the other’s trembling hand could hold its weight before letting go.

“Mm! It’s good!” Viktor praised after taking a small sip, then another slightly bigger one to appease his love, “You remembered I like my tea sweet.”

“It’s difficult not to when even your coffee has mounds of sweetener and cream.” Yuuri answered, smiling openly at Viktor, “I’ll let you have jam in it tomorrow, if your stomach is feeling better.”

“Ah, Yuuri, you’re spoiling me.” Viktor countered, taking another sip then setting it aside, not wanting to overdo it all at once, “I should fall ill more often.”

“I’d rather spoil just for fun then have you get sick to be spoiled.” Yuuri’s smile faltered, anxiety over having Viktor so ill returning, “I don’t like it when you’re sick.”

“Oh, my Yuuri. I’ll be all right.” Viktor reached out to take Yuuri’s hand, kissing the ring that rested on his fourth finger, “I’m Russian, sickness doesn’t stay long with us.”

Yuuri grasped at Viktor’s hand before he could pull away, leaning down to kiss his fiance’s knuckles, “I know. I love you.”

“And I love you.” Viktor murmured, voice thickening with exhaustion.

“Rest, I’ll be here.” Yuuri moved to let Viktor’s hand lay on the bed, but didn’t release it, his thumb stroking along the top of the other’s hand.

“Thank you, Yuuri, taking such good care of me.” Viktor opened his eyes to gaze at Yuuri, blue eyes meeting brown eyes, “Even though I’m sick and gross.”

“Never are you gross, sick yes, but never gross.” Yuuri reassured, knowing Viktor held insecurities deep down, “And I’ll always take care of you, Vitya. I’ll always be here. Nothing will change that.”

A light snore met Yuuri lovingly spoken proclamation, making the younger man grin at his sleeping fiancé. Glad to have him resting, even if it was during a tender moment. He’d just have to repeat himself in the morning over a light breakfast with his soon to be husband.

A/N: Im sorry if it’s bad. This is the first time I’ve written for Yuri on Ice and the first sickfic I’ve written. I sent this on mobile also so I’m sorry if the formatting is wrong.

(This is amazing! Your descriptions are awesome!)

goramidiot  asked:

Iggy stress baking while stuck at home waiting for an important phone call!! Adoption? Talcot? Give me all the Fluff

I kind of dropped the ball on this whole fluff thing. And made it a letter instead of a phone call. Oops? 1700 words. 

There is a letter waiting when Ignis returns home.

Letter does not seem like an appropriate word, however. The envelope is over-sized, large enough to easily contain several sheets of paper, the thick card stock construction strongly hinting at its official contents.

“It’s from the adoption agency,” Noctis reads when Ignis offers it, pushing back familiar feelings of frustration at not being able to discern the return address himself. Noctis tries to mask the note of concern in his voice, but Ignis has spent too many years interpreting the emotion that lingers behind the other man’s indifferent tone to miss it now. “You want me to stay until Prom gets back?”

Ignis shakes his head gently, “No need. I have work to do, after all.”

He can feel Noctis’s hesitancy as he lingers in the lobby, debating whether or not to press.

Ignis smiles gently, a gesture of reassurance he isn’t sure he truly feels. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Don’t let Gladio hear you say that,” Noctis replies with some humor, and Ignis indulges him a small laugh. The feeling of Noctis’s hand settling on his shoulder does little to chase away the anxiety that has settled in his chest, but he finds that he misses it’s reassuring weight when it’s removed a moment later. “Try not to worry too much.”

And he does try, attempting to focus his thoughts on anything but the letter that remains clutched in his fingers even after he’s entered the apartment, removing his shoes and flipping on all the lights in a series of familiar, automatic steps. For a brief moment, he considers calling Prompto, but the thought is quickly chased from his mind. No need to cause any additional stress.

He frowns, placing the envelope gently on the kitchen table before leaving the room.

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