I LOVE YOU ALL BUT YOU FRUSTRATE ME TO NO END

“3 Weeks”

requested // yes

requests are open // request here

AN // This is pure filth and I’m sorry

TW // Smut, profanity

“Sexual-Frustration. Noun. (countable and uncountable, plural sexual frustrations) A state of agitation felt by an individual whose sexual satisfaction is considerably less than desired”

3 weeks. It had been 3 weeks since he last touched her. It’s not intentional, he’s just been so busy he’s barely noticed and to be fair neither had she but her body had.

For the first week she was fine, content with his fleeting lips on her forehead as he rushed out the door are the tired kisses he gave when he got home late. She was okay with only feeling his hands on the small of her back as he reached over her for his razor as she brushed her teeth. She was fine. The second week was manageable, yes his fleeting lips left her flustered and his tired kisses left her wanting more and sure when his hand brushed over the small of her back it left goosebumps in it’s wake but she could ignore it. She was fine. So why tonight, on the 3 week mark, is she so temperamental? Why has she been short with him all day and why couldn’t she focus on anything at work?

She’d been home from work for about an hour when he walked through the bedroom door. He’s mad at her, she yelled at him this morning for reasons he was unaware of. She’d dodged his phone calls all day and ignored his attempts at finding out what was wrong. Yet he still notices her staring at him when he walks into the room, can see her sat on the bed with her now closed book and her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes follow him around the room, he can feel her watching him and that’s when it clicks. 

He turns and walks to her like a predator who’s found his victim, his hands pulled her clothes off slowly and then parted her thighs as she watched him with wide eyes. He’s not touching her, not how she needs him to, not where she needs him to. He’s leaning over her with that goddamn smirk on his face as his fingers lightly trace her inner thigh.

“Saw yeh staring. This what’s got you so frustrated? Pretty girl missed my hands on her huh?” 

She can’t respond, she doesn’t need to. He knows her answer, can feel her answer.

“Missed y’too, missed how your body reacts to me like the earth does to lightning. Missed how you arch into me, as needful of me as I am of you. Missed this.

She still doesn’t answer, it’s as though his touch leaves her speechless. Her body is too busy welcoming the feeling of his hands on her skin to reply, too busy forming goosebumps to form words.

“S’my pretty girl not gonna talk to me? She not even gonna moan for me?”

He’s asking for it now, almost teasingly, he can see what he’s doing to her yet he still wants to hear it. He wants to hear her.

“Harry I…”

“What baby? Can’t please you if I don’t know what you want”

And she’s trying, trying to tell him what she needs, trying to ask for more but she just can’t. She’s overwhelmed, he hasn’t touched her for weeks and it’s too much yet not enough all at once.

“H please

“Please what poppet?”

He’s making her beg for it. It’s like he’s punishing her, for being moody with him, for not just asking him to touch her, for making him work it out for himself.

“Please touch me, need you to touch me”

“But I am touching you gorgeous”

She almost sobs, she’s so desperate and he’s toying with her. A moan escaped her as his hands moved to her pubic bone. It was all too slow. The moan was more dissatisfaction than the opposite but still it evokes a teasing glint in his eye.

“Am I close sweetheart? M’I close to where you want me?”

All she can do is nod, he’s so close but he’s not there.

“What about here? is this better?”

His hand is flat against her mound and his thumb is rubbing softly just above the top of her clit. Her eyes are wide and watery as she silently pleads with him to give her what she’s so desperate for.

“Oh no, that’s not what you want is it sweets? No, you want me here”

His thumb finally touches her nerves and it has her gasping like it the first time she’s breathed since she saw him walk into the bedroom. He’s barely done anything but yet she’s arching her back and gripping his arm and he’s enthralled with it, with her, he’s only rubbing her in slow circles and she’s writhing.

“More…”

“What was that my love?”

He’s not teasing her anymore, not trying to make her beg, he was just so wrapped up in watching her squirm that he couldn’t comprehend what she was asking for.

“Please H, need more”

“My sweet girl wants more huh? Wants me to make her cum?”

She’s breathless, the rasp in his voice driving her insane. All she can do is say “please” like that and his name are all that’s in her vocabulary right now. Her please makes him smile, she’s completely as his mercy and he loves it. He slips his fore and middle finger into her while his thumb presses steady circles into her clit and she’s whimpering and to him it sounds like heaven. He knows her body like he knows his own name, he knows what makes her tick, so when his fingers touch the most sensitive spots inside of her and she lets out a cry he just smiles, her body is his and he knows how to use it. She can feel her stomach tightening and her heart beat in her throat.

“So close”

“Yeah? Is my pretty girl going to cum for me? Gonna let me watch you break?”

Her eyes are squeezed shut as she nods, he can see tears threatening to spill and he’s proud. His fingers stop moving and instead they press on her softest spot, the spot that makes her scream. The pressure there coupled with his thumb on her clit is too much, she’s hypersensitive and he’s using it against her. Both of her hands grip his wrist as she lets out a sob, his head snaps up in worry just to be stunned with the image of his girl completely wrecked because of him and he swears it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. His free hand moves to cup one side of her face as his thumb brushes away her stray tears, something so innocent compared to what his other thumb is doing to her.

“That’s it sweetheart, cum for me, that’s my good girl”

His lips are on her cheek as she cums, her hands leave his wrist to grip his shirt tightly in her fist. Her body is stiff and her eyes are shut, tears are still streaming down her face but she’s silent. He’s watching her completely fall apart and he can’t believe he’s gone 3 weeks without seeing this, why was he depriving himself of such a beautiful sight? She’s shuddering as she comes down, her eyes still closed but the death grip she had on his shirt slowly being released as he lays her back against the bed.

“Are you okay my love?”

A shaky breath leaves her as she nods and opens her eyes to look him

“I’ve missed you”

It’s a quiet confession that he would’ve missed had he not been solely focused on her. It makes his heart ache. How he could ever leave this perfect girl, his perfect girl, without his touch for so long is beyond him and he’s making a promise to himself to never leave her without him for that long again, never going to deprive himself of her again. 

iwasapruneratfaverolles  asked:

PLEASE TELL THE CHILDREN THE STORY OF MS. STUBELS

Grace fuck, why would you invoke her name like that???

Okay, fine, gather round children, buckle up because we’re going on a bumpy ride back to everyone’s collective least favorite place: 7th grade.

Some background: I went to a very small Catholic school. One class per grade (we were the largest with 19 kids), everyone knew each other whether they wanted to or not. Despite basically every teacher and faculty members insistence that we were The Best And Most Special Class In The School and that everyone loved having us, the longstanding 7th grade teacher Mrs. O’Hara decided to retire in the summer of 2008, meaning the school had to find us a new teacher for the upcoming year. This would be like, the first new teacher in the school in a while, and as she was getting the ‘best class’, it was viewed as a Big Deal. Somewhere in like July or August we got a letter announcing Mrs. Stubel, and it came with a list of books to pick for the summer reading, and that was basically all the information we had.

So…the first day of class. She seems nice enough. Very…ditsy, I guess? It was very easy for her to get herself off topic while talking. She constantly paced around the room, never staying in one spot for longer than a second, complaining she has restless leg syndrome. Which like, I’m sure she did, but she was in the middle of introducing herself and then went on a 20 minute tangent about restless leg syndrome without anyone prompting her. It was almost like you could see her scattered thoughts flying around her head.

So anyone, she eventually gives somewhat of an introduction- she had only taught in public schools before, and kept worrying she ‘didn’t know’ how to teach in a Catholic school despite the entire class insisting literally nothing was different, you just teach the curriculum, twice a week we have religion class with Sister Mary King, that’s literally it (she still talked over us in worry), she told us about her kids, she told us about her obsession with Emily Dickinson, stuff like that.

And then she hands us this worksheet.

She’s like, “Oh, these are just some basic questions for you to answer! Just so I can get to know you guys better!” like in lieu of an icebreaker game, which is fine, but…the questions. The questions were all “What is your most haunting fear?”, “What is your deepest regret?”, “Have you ever experienced the pain of loss?”, “What was your worst injury?”, “What was your worst nightmare?”, all questions like that, and then on the back she wanted us to draw a gravestone and write out what we wanted our epitaph to be.

We were twelve year olds, mind you.

Oh my God and one girl missed the first day because of her grandmother’s funeral, so when she came the next day and saw what the teacher was insisting she do for homework, she almost had a panic attack? And the lady still made her do it? Literally who wants to think about death anymore at a time like that omfg.

Okay, so then we get to the summer reading book reports, right? Now, she had given a list of maybe, 20 books that you could pick from, read it, and then present an oral report on it. You had to have notecards and you had to be able to answer questions from the class at the end. All in all, I’ve had worse projects.

So, on this list, she apparently put Madeleine L’Engle’s entire book series on the list…only she did not make it known that this was a series and not multiple stand alone books, so when reports started up it caused mass-panic of kids trying to put together plot points and make connections on what the hell they had read.

I was the only kid in the class who had chosen to read “A Wrinkle In Time”, and that has since lead to a series of events that…really actually scares me, I’m still incredibly freaked out, I’m not going to get into it right now because it’ll take away from the current story, but just know that I’m not above wondering if it only happened because I read the book for Stubel.

Anyway, so like, I got through the report okay. The class asking questions about it was fine, but the teacher kept asking questions that didn’t make sense, like, at all. My friend Angie has always had super neat handwriting and Mrs. Stubel got like, obsessed with her notecards and asked if she could borrow them for something. When we got our grades back a few weeks later, Angie had points taken off for not having notecards.

And then her teaching just…didn’t happen. She’d never stay on a topic, she’d always get herself distracted! We were not learning anything. And like, this wasn’t a class of advanced smart kids that loved to learn. By all accounts we should’ve been thrilled. But it got out of hand. It got to points where we had to start teaching lessons to ourselves, asking teacher from other grades for help, always coming home in tears, complaining constantly to our parents and the principal because this woman wasn’t teaching us anything. There were two kids who asked her multiple times for extra help, and she told them each time to ‘talk to me after school’, but then she’d leave immediately after school so they wouldn’t be able to talk to her. They finally brought up the issue in the middle of class and she had a breakdown, yelling about how nobody ever thinks that maybe the teacher has a lot of work to do, and maybe she’s entitled to taking off early, but when we tried to argue she shouldn’t schedule meetings and then break them off in the name of relaxation, she stormed out of the room and tried to get the principal to give us detention. (Which, like, our school didn’t even do, and she was the only one in the wrong during this situation) We are still in September at this point, and already at least ten kids have parents considering transferring them to another school. (And remember, there was only 19 of us, and most of the class had been together since preschool, so that was a big deal).

Then, she starts coming in with all the weird bruises. All the Moms™ immediately started gossiping that her husband had to be beating her, and that’s why she was so screwy in the head. But the way she talked about her husband made it seem like he *might* be dead, and we actually did witness her fall and smack her head into a doorknob once, so no one really knew what to believe. (Also, I’m not trying to imply that abuse would make someone crazy or ‘damaged’ or anything, this is just what was being said. I think they were trying to turn her into a more sympathetic character, because if you feel sorry for her you don’t have to hate her for frustrating your kids so much, and Hate Is A Bad Emotion.)

Also…this woman and Emily Dickinson.

She talked about Emily Dickinson every chance she could get. None of us knew who Emily Dickinson really was before she got there and you could see in her mind it was a capitol offense. She found out the curriculum didn’t have room to cover her (because like, we had a text book), and was way too upset about it. She started reading her poems whenever she found the time (usually somewhere in history class), and always gave us very detailed accounts about her dressing up as Emily and reading her poetry at the library.

Now, two things to note here:

  1. The library did not hire her to do this. She would literally just get in the mood, put on an Emily Dickinson costume that she made by herself, drive to different libraries, and just read poetry out loud to everyone there until someone eventually asked her to leave.
  2. The way she described these events…her tone, the look on her face, her posture…you could just tell that she was getting some sort of sexual gratification out of this? Like dressing up as Emily Dickinson in public and reading her sad poems is really what got this lady’s jollies rocking? Got her all hot and bothered? Which is…a lot, but why would you tell a bunch of seventh graders about it holy shit. What about that sounds like a good idea! What about that turns you back on!

So anyway, we learned a lot about Emily Dickinson against our will.

One of the Davids™ was reading a book for pleasure- which shouldn’t have been a shocker, a lot of kids always had books on them, but Stubel got really interested and asked if she could borrow it from him. He was like ‘sure, after I finish it?’ but she took it that day. He asked her for it back for like five weeks straight.

And…the strudels.

Okay, so the school was trying some dorky thing to promote ~togetherness~ or some virtue or something, I don’t remember the specifics of why, but each class had to make a huge themed poster and hang it on the wall outside the classroom. Which was like, whatever, not the most thrilling project but at least it allowed us to be productive vs just sitting there as the teacher runs about the room rambling about her family vacation from four years ago. Mrs. Stubel decided we needed a quirky nickname and after like three days of deliberation we were christened “Stubel’s Special Strudels”!

(points for alliteration or whatever, but no one actually voted for that and what exactly do strudels have to do with Catholicism? It became a big running joke amongst the kids)

Also, in case you were wondering, she didn’t explain the assignment correctly to us- so every other class had like these beautiful, artistic, well-themed and put together posters, while ours was just…literally a bunch of shit thrown together on paper. Nothing fit with each other, it was literally embarrassing to look at.

But then…she wouldn’t drop the strudel thing. Like she kept bringing it up. She got really into strudels and would just tell us random shit about them. Finally, someone jokes that we should get strudels one day for a party (like instead of a pizza party), and she’s Freaking Out and On Board. She really wants to buy us strudels and have a breakfast party now. She talked about it for like two days straight.

So like… you know in school when you would have a pizza party, usually the teacher would buy it? That’s how they always happened in my experience (not counting the last day of 10th grade when some kid had pizza delivered to the school for lunch but it didn’t get there until math class lol). But especially in grade school? Like if it wasn’t a PTA made party that’s super organized, the school would buy the food, right? Right?

Yeah, so she was like, if this is happening you guys need to give me the money. Just give me the money and then I’ll pick them up on my way to work!! And after some arguing some kids are on board. Strudels should only cost a couple dollars right?

And she’s like, oh no, I’m gonna get them from this high end bakery near my house so it’ll be special, but they’re not cheap and it’ll be a big order! I’m gonna need like fifteen dollars from each of you!

And at this point I’m just like…lady. Come on. 

But she keeps insisting. She’s not gonna go until every student in class pays up.

And I’m like…I’m poor. I don’t even like strudel.  And some of the less-naïve kids are siding with me.

And then she pulls that “you guys are just spoiling all the fun for your classmates” shit, like the naïve kids who already paid up, so it gets to the point where we just gotta cave and give her the money.

(I ended up stealing it out of my Crazy Bitch Aunt’s wallet so it’s whatever, I guess.)

And then of course, shockingly enough, every morning she was met with “where are the strudels?” and every morning she went wide eyed, slapped her forehead and yelled in embarrassed horror “I totally forgot! Tomorrow, guys, I promise!”

Honestly, with how scatterbrained and confused she always was…like to this day I can’t tell you with 100% certainty whether she hustled us or was just actually forgetting about the damn pastries, I choose to lean towards the hustled us side because that’s just the type of people I’m used to, but if I found out it was innocent forgetfulness I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.

She couldn’t handle more than one person talking at a time. Like, we’d have break periods, or group work, or something and all the talking made her go wide-eyed and batty. She’d look overworked and anxious and would be darting around the room trying to do work or something but she couldn’t focus and she’d yell at anyone who tried to talk to her directly. I remember one time she was using this boys desk for something so he asked “where am I supposed to sit?” and she snapped “Sit on the ceiling for all I care!”. And this kid was the Class Clown™ , so he immediately grabbed a chair in one hand and started climbing the bookcase to try and reach the ceiling. She’s standing right next to this and doesn’t even notice. He got all four chair legs planted on the ceiling and was trying to somehow maneuver his way into the chair (I really don’t know what the plan was exactly- he was really tall and it was a small building, so I think he probably had the idea that if he can get his body upside down and in the chair, and stretch out his arms like a hand-stand to hold onto bookcase, he could arguably sit on the ceiling.) but he slipped. Crashed into my desk and the two desks next to me, knocked over the book case, broke the chair in half and hit the desks with enough force to knock them down lower. It was hilarious. Everyone was loosing their shit cracking up (he was fine) and it still took Stubel like five minutes to notice his lying out across the desks right in front of her eyes. She was pissed but how did she miss any of it in the first place? She was barely being helpful in whatever it was she was trying to do.

This was the year the Phillies were going to the World Series, and all the grades were having a Phillies Rally in the cafeteria so a news crew was coming to the school and each class was supposed to come up with fun little cheers for them to broadcast. Multiple cheer ideas were presented to her and she vetoed all of them, someone even suggested just singing the damn eagles theme song with replaced words and calling it a day but she vetoed that too, she was very adamant that she could come up with a cheer all by herself and it’ll be the best one (whoever had the best cheer was winning like an ice cream day or something idk). And then like…literally five minutes before the rally she just hands us signs with the letters and was like ‘we’re just gonna spell out Phillies it will be cute won’t it my strudels???’. We were the weakest class there, predictably. I think we lost to the kindergarteners. There might still be a video online of me yelling “ i “ passionately at the top of my lungs. It was online bc our cheer was so bland the news crew cut it out of the broadcast.

I literally can’t say enough about how she never taught us anything. She’d be going on some tangent about how she doesn’t understand the science behind skiing, and I’d be like “Okay yes but please can you just tell me where Romania is on a map???” And she’d start fights whenever someone actually wanted to learn. It was so easy to get her angry but so hard for her to stay on topic. Kids started teaching the class themselves! Like seriously, she’d be rambling and one of us would just go up to the podium, open the teacher’s guide textbook and just start reading out loud and talking over her. By the time she noticed we’d be halfway through a lesson. And we understood it better than when she tried! You know something’s wrong when pre-teens are more qualified for a job than an adult who supposedly went to school for this.

We were in the church having run-throughs for our upcoming Confirmation and she almost set the church on fire…fifteen different times. In less than half an hour. How hard is it to hold a candle?

Okay, and here’s when stuff starts kicking up. It was October 28th, a Tuesday, and it was our last day of school that week because they were having parent-teacher conferences the rest of the week. So we were just hanging out, watching movies in class and reading (lord knows we weren’t learning), and Stubel calls me over to her desk.

So like, she had given everyone little bags with candy for Halloween, but I get up there and she hands me an extra one. And she’s like “Molly I know your birthday is tomorrow and I bought you a present but I left it on my coffee table this morning by accident! So just have the candy for now!”

And I’m like….”Ma’am I’m like, the sixth birthday this year. You didn’t give anyone else presents?”

And she goes “Oh, I know but this is a special secret surprise. I just know you’re gonna love it! Do you wanna stop by my house later this week to pick it up or should I just give it to you Monday after school?”

And like…In writing this sounds like a non-threatening exchange, and like, it was, but I felt so uncomfortable holy shit. I’m looking over my shoulder and shooting my friends SOS signals. Something about this felt so weird in my gut omfg. I told her thanks and I’d just see her Monday.

So we flash forward to Wednesday- my 13th birthday, the day the Phillies won the world series, and also the day my mother innocently strolled into the school for her meeting only to be met with screaming, the sound of heavy destruction, and the school secretary Mrs. Daily running at her in a panic, waving her arms and yelling “YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED YOUR MEETING IS CANCELLED GET IN MY OFFICE NOW!”

So my poor mother, who thought she could handle this whole meeting in a few minutes and barely be an hour late for work, is now barricaded in the front office with the school secretary, as the noises from down the hall get louder and louder. The woman explains that they had gotten so many complaints about Mrs. Stubel that this morning, when she got to the school, the principal Sister Patricia called her in and said “Listen, we need you to be professional and still have the parent conferences, but we have to let you go. We just don’t think you fit in well here, and the kids need to come first and feel comfortable in their school.” and like, I’m paraphrasing because I wasn’t there, but we all know she was very polite and professional about it.

Mrs. Stubel, however…was not.

She flipped her chair and stormed out of the office, and locks herself in the seventh grade classroom. She started wrecking the shit out of that place, screaming obscenities and the top of her lungs, they had to call the cops on her! She was locked in there for almost an hour! And let me just give you a nice little list of everything she did in that classroom:

  • Smashed three windows.
  • Threw everything off her desk and carved swear words all over it.
  • Got cleaning fluid that she knew would damage the chalk boards, smeared it all over.
  • Cracked the chalk boards by repeatedly smashing chairs against them.
  • Wrote swear words all over the walls and on desks
  • Went into students desks, ripped up their books.
  • Stole my glasses. (which were in my desk bc I only used them in class at the time)
  • Threw some desks around.
  • Carved swear words into the boards. (there was so much carving I’m assuming she just had a knife on her person, which has to lead to the question, did she have a knife on her while she was in class with us?)
  • Physically ripped the hooks to hang backpacks on out of the wall.
  • Knocked the closet door off it’s hinges.
  • Ripped up all the books in the bookcases and threw their pages all around the room.
  • Wrote lewd phrases inside student’s desks.
  • Broke multiple chairs.
  • Used her podium as a battering ram against the wall that’s in front of where the backpacks go. (the wall won but Damage Was Inflicted)
  • Set a fire in the trash can.
  • When the principal and other teachers started trying to get in, she tossed her rolling chair at the door to scare them off.
  • She was screaming curse words at the top of her lungs the entire time, and cursing the school and the kids and the principal and the church in general, and the school building was small, so all the parents and the smaller children that had to come to the meetings (who were locked in their respective classrooms in fear) heard everything.
  • So much more? But it’s 4:30 in this morning and this list is already long.

So my mom is in the front office and deadass the

entire police force

shows up, running down the hallway to the classroom yelling at her to stop, and it takes a while for them to get her out holy shit. They knocked down the door and she tried to escape out of one of the broken windows! But they got her and dragged her out.

So of course, in such a small school with very involved parents this shit spread like wildfire. The entire town knew within the day. The poor principal called the newly retired old-seventh grade teacher and was like “So we…need some help” and the lady was like “I already heard I’ll be there Monday” omfg. I remember I got a text from one of my classmates saying “if your birthday wish was for us to be set free from the beast I love you” omfg.

So, we eventually go back to school on Monday and everyone’s buzzing. The principal has us go to the cafeteria and she ‘delicately’ explains the situation, and that the old teacher is coming out of retirement for us, the school has a restraining order against Mrs. Stubel now and that she’s sorry we had to deal with this mess. Our classroom had to go under some heavy reconstruction before we could be let back in there, so for like two weeks we alternated between the cafeteria and the preschooler’s classroom, we had no books or anything, just provided loose-leaf paper and pens. It was like, surreal, but everyone was just so happy to be rid of her and to be in the presence of a competent teacher omfg. We eventually were able to get back into our usual classroom.

  1. It took a while for things to go completely back to normal, though. After the big spectacle she made, for weeks after she was fired we were all very scared of the possibility of Mrs. Stubel returning to the school with a gun in hand. It was always a topic we whispered about at lunch with wide eyes and shivers. Like…genuine nightmare scenario.
  2. About two weeks after she was fired, a boy in the back of the classroom gasped loudly during SSR, and when we all looked at him, he whispered in anger “She never gave us our freakin’ strudels!”
  3. About three months after she was fired, we were lined up at the door to go to Library when a few of us looked through the windows and saw something darting through the trees. It was fast and we couldn’t make anything out, so we let it drop. When the class and teacher returned half and hour later, the book she had borrowed months before from one of the boys was sitting on his desk. It was just laying there, the room was silent, nothing had been disturbed…but I have never seen a book look so threatening. People were freaking out. Someone kept insisting that she turned the book into a bomb. No one figure out how she got in the school, and no one could figure out how she got it on the right desk, as we had switched the seating arrangement since she had last been there.  
  4. A full six months after she had left, it was nearing the end of the school year and our class was dicking around during our last computer class. Someone found a website (that we weren’t allowed to be on) that pulls up any police records attached to whoever’s name you enter, so someone decided to search Mrs. Stubel as a joke. We ended up finding out she had like six DUI’s.

Aaaaand that’s the story of the horrendous teacher I had for two months in 7th grade. One of my favorite party stories but tbh she still haunts me™ .

{PART 27} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; As death enters the room to claim a soul; so does life. Who shall live and who shall die - as you begin to wonder…is this really the end?

“And as he looked upon her face amidst the madness, he saw everything he held close depart his world; while she slipped into the next”

|| Warning: This chapter contains mentions of blood and some scenes that readers may find upsetting ||

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

{Part 1} // {Part 26} {Part 27} {Part 28}

Keep reading

Taken for Granted (pt 3)

As Namjoon closed the door behind him, he stood by the entrance, snickering to himself. “Her? Liking me? Wahh” he said silently to himself. He wasn’t sure what it was he was feeling now, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “As if I’d like her?” he said again to himself.

“Hyung what are you doing by yourself there?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“Huh? Oh nothing” Namjoon said, flustered.


(One week later)

“Hey guys, Y/N isn’t coming today! Looks like it’s just us tonight” Jin said, filling his voice through the dorm.

“Awh, whyyy” Taehyung asked, coming out of the living room.

“She said she’s sick” Jin said with a frown.

“Let’s go there then! We can bring her food” Taehyung said, excitedly.

“Yah, if she’s sick she should just rest. She can’t be taking care of you guys too” Jin scolded.

Taehyung walked back to the living room with his head held down. He was looking forward to watching the movie you two had discussed a few weeks ago, but it looks like it would have to wait another week. 

Namjoon meanwhile, listened to everything silently from the dining table. “That’s weird, she never falls sick…” he said to himself. 

“What’s that? Couldn’t hear you” Hoseok said, sitting across from him,

“oh, no it’s nothing” Namjoon said.

Keep reading

You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend: Part 2

A/N: This is a filler chapter. Meaning, this is much shorter than part 1. Do not feel dishearted, there will be a longer, more detailed part 3. 

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio.



“Are you ever going to speak to me?”

Y/n freezes as she hears Harry’s voice ask her the question she’s been dreading to answer.

It’s been two weeks since she’s heard that voice. It may sound rougher now, more stern and harsh than it normally is as it growls behind her at the counter of Lexi’s bar, but it’s still the first time she’s heard it in two weeks.

After her sober confessions to a very tipsy, slumberous Harry, Y/n had to understand what it truly meant to move on.

At first, she thought she would still be able to be around him as she searched for ways to rid her feelings. She distracted herself, mostly. She would interact more with Savannah than she would Harry, and even started picking up new habits whenever she felt her emotions creeping in. Anything that reminded her of him was disregarded entirely so that the only time he was able to consume her thoughts was whenever he was near her.

For the first couple weeks, she was holding up quite well, considering the circumstances. She was able to contain her emotions and take her mind off of the raging heartache that kept burning in her chest.

But it wasn’t much long after that night when Savannah and Harry finally became official, and if Y/n wasn’t anguished before, she surely was then. She was forced to witness the transition of their relationship in hindsight. What was once casual flirting and innocent touches turned into secretive giggles and loving hand gestures.

It was as if her heart broke all over again. What seemed to be almost completely mended was destructed all at once. The chase between Harry and Savannah was over, and reality set in that Harry was happy and in love with someone that wasn’t Y/n.

Watching them together was Y/n’s most devastating nightmare, and the thought of that alone meant she couldn’t mentally handle being alone anymore. With all of the emotions built up inside of her, being alone for Y/n meant enduring the pain and suffering she didn’t want to feel anymore. She just wanted it all to end, everything.

The earliest hours of the morning wrecked her the most. With only the moon illuminating the room and the radio silence throughout her house gave Y/n no choice but to be alone with her thoughts. She wasn’t loved, and no matter how many nights she’s tried to convince herself that this wasn’t the end, it was.

She had to let Harry go, completely this time. She gave up on him entirely because she couldn’t keep loving him when he didn’t love her. Not anymore, not like that.

She keeps her back to him as he heaves heavy breaths, eyes sending daggers and teeth clenched from his crippling frustration. 

“It’s Thursday, I see,” Harry grumbles before giving her the chance to answer, jaw locked as his fingers grip harshly around a stray, unfinished glass of alcohol. “You never work Thursdays. ’S this where your Friday shifts went?”

There’s an unpleasantly rough tone in his voice that makes Y/n’s breath hitch in her throat. She’s never witnessed this side of him, filled with anger and exasperation. He’s always been so soft and gentle, never having the heart to speak down to someone. But here he is, eyes dark with anger and words spewing venomously from his lips.

And as much she hates to admit it, she can’t blame him for being so angry with her. She knows she means the most to him—even if it’s not in a romantic sense—she’s become such an important part of his life. Ever since they met, she took in the truth about his past, understood the feelings and thoughts he’s carried all through his years, and was able to provide him with anything she was able to when he needed her most. She was one of the very few people he trusted and felt most comfortable with in his life. She was irreplaceable, he’d always tell her, nobody could compare to her. She meant everything.

And then, she left him. She distanced herself so far away from him until it was as if she was never apart of his life. She ignored him and all his attempts to reach out to her again. It hurt her tremendously, knowing that what they had together was completely and utterly helpless, but she never questioned how Harry felt about it. She did what was easiest for her and never thought about it twice. She left him so that he can be happy, but as he stands so tensely and confused before her, she can’t help but blame herself what’s happened between them.

She nods her head softly, still refusing to look up at him as she gathers all the used glasses in front of her, making herself seem distracted so she doesn’t have to make much effort into speaking to him.

“I—uh, yeah. Friday nights were getting hectic and I couldn’t keep up with the late hours. I thought Savannah told you.”

It’s a lie. A shitty, impulsive lie that Harry almost finds humorous. Of course, Y/n switched her Friday night shift. She felt as if she had no choice. She couldn’t bare to look at him with Savannah another goddamn second, and he thought of spending Friday nights with Harry without being alone with him and going to the 24-hour movie theater together was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

“She did,” he clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing as he watches her scramble around the bar, “didn’t have to, though. I knew she was lying.”

Y/n’s actions halt for a moment, a feeling of dread flowing in her veins before she goes back to cleaning off the bar, disregarded his statement completely.

Harry knows Y/n’s been avoiding him, she hasn’t exactly made it as subtle as she thought. Their entire friendship changed, and Harry knows he wasn’t the one ruining it.

The morning after Y/n drove Harry back from the bar, all he could really remember clearly was falling asleep with Y/n. There were other bits he remembered, but that was really the only moment that came to him when he woke up. And he was confused when he woke up alone because, in all honesty, he was looking forward to waking up next to her. It was all his drunk mind thought of, and that terrified him.

When Y/n started distancing herself from him, Harry kept wondering what he had done wrong. She was fine with Savannah, keeping up with their lives as usual. But she was different with Harry—closed off, in a way, and it made him feel something he’s never felt in his life before.

He was confused, to say the least. Because when he was kissing down the bare chest of the woman of his dreams, he couldn’t stop daydreaming about Y/n, and how he hasn’t heard her voice and how he hasn’t felt her in so long.

He had Savannah wrapped around his finger, yet he still felt as if everything about it was wrong. He changed when Y/n left him, because even when he was around the most loving company, he felt alone.

He was helpless. As much as he tried to love Savannah, Y/n was always in the back of his head. She was there, all the time, trapped in his mind with no escape route. 

At first, he was confused—upset and lost without Y/n. He didn’t know life without her would feel so lonely, so empty and incomplete. It was strange, not knowing how to live his life without her. He’d never expected her disappearance to be such a hindrance to him, but it was. Oh, how it was.

Then, he was angry—angry because as many times as he tried to get her to speak to him again, she never came back. She was gone, forever.

Now, he’s hurt. So damaged by her leaving his side, so incomplete and destroyed without her with him anymore. His heart is heavy with sadness and he couldn’t let himself feel this way anymore. 

He needs her, no matter how wrong and pathetic it sounds, he needs her. 

“So you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, or am I gonna have to force it out of you?” he seethes, nose flaring as he tries to steady his uneven breath.

Y/n shakes her head ignorantly, a flash on innocence in her eyes as she does so. But she damn knows well what he’s talking about, and her oblivion drives him crazy.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking ab—“

“Oh, fuck off with it!” Harry spits, slamming his closed fist down on the wooden counter.

He doesn’t seem to care about how sudden the bar falls silent, or the glisten of fear in Y/n’s eyes when she finally looks up at him. All he can seem to care about is how much pain he feels, all over. All he can think about is how now, after the last two weeks of not being able to understand why he cares so goddamn much, he’s finally able to feel some sense of sanity being in front of her now.

“You know what you’re doing to me, Y/n! You know damn fucking well what you’re fucking doing and—“

“Harry, please.” Y/n whispers and she isn’t sure as to whether or not she’s begging him to lower his voice or begging for him to understand.

“And it’s not fair!” he cries out, tears of frustration overflowing from his eyes as he grips tightly onto his hair.

His breaking point is approaching, he feels it. He feels it with every breath he takes and every word that emits from his mouth. His heart twists and breaks as he expresses every feeling that’s been consuming him for the past two weeks. He needs her to know what she’s doing to him, needs her to know how he feels in this moment.

“I did nothing to you and you keep pushing me away and that’s not fair because I don’t know how to live without you. Isn’t that something?! I don’t know what to do without you, and you know that!”

Suddenly, his head falls in his hands as he begins to sob. Complete heart-wrenching sobs, making his chest tight and breathing shallow.

Y/n reaches her hand out for him, her fingers clasping harshly around his wrist. Her own eyes start to brim with tears as she watches him sob below her, his body shaking with undying cries. She swallows harshly when he grabs ahold of her hand, bringing her palm against his forehead. His lips reach to kiss her wrist softly, quickly refraining from keeping them there longer.

To touch her, for the first time, is every answer he needs. She’s the only one to make him feel this way—she’s the only one to drive him to the brink of insanity and resurface him back to clarity. She has power over him he never understood until now, after he’s lost her.

“I don’t know why it hurts this much, Y/n,” He cries, his eyes squeezing shut as he inhales sharply, “I’ve never been more confused in my life.”

She chokes on her cries as she nods her head softly, her free hand reaching up to rake her fingers through his hair. Her lips shake from their craving to touch him, watching as he weakens beneath her. 

She’s missed him, in the most desperate of ways. She’s missed every part of him, and every atom in her body yearned to feel him again. Whether it was to feel the warmth of him from a distance or to feel his skin ignite her, she wanted every part of him against her. If she wasn’t with him, she was missing him, and craving him with every breath she took. 

Her lips press tentatively to his forehead, her breath fanning through his hair as she does so. The action is quick, leaving just as quickly as it comes, but it carries sentimental meaning for the both of them.

Harry frowns, his heart thumping in his chest. He looks up into her eyes, filled with concern and sanity as she maps his features.

“It’s been ever since me and Savannah got together.” He mumbles, eyes watching her face as it pales slightly at his words. “You haven’t spoken to me since.”

Her eyes flutter shut as he speaks, finding it completely pointless to try and make him believe otherwise. He deserves to know, one way or another, and even if it’s now, she feels like she’s already lost him. There isn’t much she’d be losing now, anyways. He was never hers.

“Please leave, Harry.” She whispers.

She backs away from him, her touch leaving him was like a gunshot to his chest. It’s a feeling he’s felt all too much that he can’t bare to feel again. 

His heart breaks as he watches her begin to cry, her usual glistening eyes now filled with tears of sorrow. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tentatively takes a step closer to her.

He’s desperate, and he doesn’t care how weak he seems. He’s desperate to see where he’s missed it all along, to know how long he’s been making her feel this way. He’ll never forgive himself for all the pain he’s caused her, for all her nights alone when all she wanted was to be with him.

He could have done so much to change this. If he had just listened to his heart from the beginning, this would all be different now. If he hadn’t been so blind, they would both be happy right now.

“Love, I—“

“Don’t.” she whispers, her voice cracking as she speaks, “Please, don’t.“

She isn’t exactly sure what she’s saying—isn’t quite sure what she’s begging him not to do. Maybe it’s the nickname he’s always called her that makes her stomach twist a bit more, or how he’s trying to make her feel better that makes her eyes sting with a fresh new wave of tears, or how he looks at her now the way he never did before that makes her throat tighten around a sob. Whatever it is that makes her beg, she can’t  handle it anymore.

“I’m trying, Y/n,” He whispers, “please.”

“Please just—“ her eyes flutter shut as she speaks, “just leave me alone.”

Harry lets out an unsteady breath, his green eyes brimmed with red as he watches her begin to sob. 

He nods, because he can’t let himself keep doing this to her. If he keeps trying with her in her current state of mind, she won’t be able to think properly. She’ll be a wreck, more so than she is now, and he can’t find it in his heart to do that. Even if it means fighting for her.

“It’s not worth it, you know.” He whispers, his eyes staring lovingly into hers, “Being with her, it’s not worth it if it means losing you.”

Who cries the least?

Of the four main characters on Steven Universe, it’s pretty obvious that Steven and Pearl cry pretty frequently. Steven’s a sensitive meatball and he’s a child, and Pearl is … let’s just say emotional and a little fragile. But most people who haven’t watched carefully would probably assume Garnet cries the least since she’s basically the poster child for stoicism. But that isn’t true.

Amethyst cries the least.

That isn’t to say Amethyst isn’t emotional. Garnet is certainly the least outwardly emotive, and many of Amethyst’s negative emotions manifest in outbursts of anger–being loud, being destructive, lashing out. She just doesn’t accompany her breakdowns with tears most of the time.

Let’s take a look here. Obviously there have been times when everyone’s losing it and there are tears, like at the end of “Bubbled”:

(And we won’t talk about this one because it’s “Say Uncle”)

But it’s interesting that sometimes when everyone else is turning on the water works, Amethyst’s eyes are dry.

In “So Many Birthdays” Pearl cried rivers, Garnet had a little trickle going, but Amethyst was just redirecting her frustration onto Garnet because she didn’t know how to fix Steven.

Most of the time Garnet cries when she’s worried about someone else.

And sometimes she might just be crying behind those glasses when we don’t know. There’s even evidence of it once in a while.

But time and time again, Amethyst has good reasons to be very emotional and yet she stops short before crying. She redirects herself into angry outbursts or collapses into sullenness. Consistently.

Big emotional moments for Amethyst include “Tiger Millionaire” (no tears):

… “An Indirect Kiss” (no tears):

… “Maximum Capacity” (no tears that we see anyway):

… “Reformed” (no tears): 

… and “Cry For Help” (no tears).

Of course, “Cry For Help” was also a big deal for Garnet, and she had an angry outburst there too:

But then in the next episode, she’s so conflicted over her internal struggle that she becomes even more silent than usual, with Ruby’s intense emotion being chilled with Sapphire’s fatalistic denial, and once it’s too much for her, she doesn’t cry … but they do.

In contrast, Amethyst has an arc with multiple episodes leading up to her feeling more and more damaged and worthless, hating her nature and her limited abilities, but she doesn’t cry until she’s FINALLY pushed to the brink in “Earthlings.”

“What was I supposed to look like?”

“You didn’t need me at all.”

“Busy making egg salad.”

“Now I’m the worst Crystal Gem.”

“You almost won with a rock!”

“So it’s true… .”

“Us worst Gems stick together, right?”

But besides this, of course, Amethyst did have the one notable emotional outburst that came with tears. And that’s “On the Run.” She went through sarcastic mocking, sullenness, and literal violence before she got to the point that she could cry, but she did get there. And then cried for approximately the entire last two minutes of the episode.

Amethyst can cry. It’s just that other responses come more readily, and she defaults to those before tears finally come. Garnet, though … Garnet doesn’t cry easily, but crying doesn’t seem to happen for her only when she’s been through everything else. And that makes sense, because she’s got to have all that emotion Ruby has in there somewhere, and it’s not just anger we’re talking about. Ruby is extremely demonstrative with her emotions, including love and joy, even though she can really only focus on one at a time. As manifested in Garnet, Sapphire doesn’t hold Ruby’s emotion in check; she just modifies how it is expressed. It’s still there. Garnet is the feeling between them. She even says so in a song. 

I’d be willing to bet she gets teary-eyed behind her shades more often than we’d ever know.

You know who’s only cried once, though? Peridot.

You know who never cries? Lapis.

Why does everything turn into wolfstar smut?

Originally posted by maria-tries

  • Maybe some time around the age of 16 Remus’s transformations stop leaving him weak and hollow
  • In fact, they start to have the opposite effect 
  • Not that Remus notices; as usual his brilliant mind is always quietly occupied
  • But Sirius notices
  • Merlin Sirius notices
  • It starts with his shoulders, he can’t help but eye the way they sit a little broader when Remus stands up straight 
  • Then it’s his forearms, Sirius can see the tendons stand out a little when Remus lies on the sofa and holds his book above his head. 
  • After the next full moon, it’s his biceps - they start pushing against his shirt when he leans over his potions essay, and Sirius’s mouth all but drops to the floor
  • Suddenly it’s hard to be around Remus, literally, without feeling a tightness growing in his trousers
  • The boys sit opposite each other in the library for hours, an endless pile of homework and exam prep leaving them caught in a dizzying cycle of work, eat, sleep
  • They all need some relief, but fuck Sirius needs a very specific kind of relief
  • Exams are so close, and he has to focus, but just a look at Remus could flick a switch in his body
  • Even his hands, somehow his hands look bigger, stronger
  • Sirius starts biting down hard on his lip each time his eyes drift to his boyfriend in class, or the library, or the common room (okay, just about everywhere)
  • But after half a day his bottom lip becomes red and puffy
  • Instead Sirius finds himself disappearing to the toilets to splash cold water on his face more often than he’d like to admit
  • When Remus’s arm winds protectively around him as they walk down a busy corridor, he has to bite back a whine
  • And when Remus strolls out of the shower one morning, a towel slung low around his hips, Sirius just sits and stares 
  • Because his chest, Christ his chest has transformed
  • And it was all Sirius could do not to go over there and beg Remus to deal with his painfully hard arousal, right there in front of James and Peter
  • And when Remus caught him, eyes roving greedily across his bare skin and freshly tousled hair, he just stared right back and winked
  • Sirius rolled over in bed and bit down so hard on his pillow he could have torn it apart
  • This day was particularly torturous, and it didn’t help that the summer heat had Remus loosening the top few buttons of his shirt
  • Or that, in transfiguration, his hand had been resting high on Sirius’s thigh the whole time Frank was explaining petrification. 
  • Or that, as they walked to the library, Remus slid Sirius’s bag from his shoulder and slung it easily across his own, winding an arm around his waist 
  • By time they sat down Sirius was almost at breaking point, his frustration had his heart beating overtime and his head cloudy 
  • He cast his eyes down, trying desperately to ignore his boyfriend’s newly broadened shoulders, or his tight, hard chest
  • Or the way his arms looked when he stretched out like that, fuck
  • Sirius’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood up, muttering half an excuse about the bathroom 
  • He didn’t feel connected to his feet as they carried him through the library, eyebrows furrowed and head fuzzy
  • He didn’t notice Remus until his fingers were locked around his wrists, and his whole body tugged sideways
  • Sirius’s soft moan of surprise was muffled by Remus’s lips, which collided with his before he could even gather his surroundings
  • Remus’s hand travelled to Sirius’s neck, his thumb pressing gently into the soft skin, while his other grasped at his hips
  • Sirius thought his legs would give way at any moment 
  • Just as abruptly as it began, Remus drew away, focusing his burning eyes on Sirius
  • “You keep disappearing.” He murmured “And you won’t look at me.”
  • He pressed a thumb to Sirius’s puffy bottom lip “You’re not telling me something Sirius.”
  • Again, Remus’s hand slid back to Sirius’s neck, a gentle pressure aiding the fuzzy euphoria Sirius felt at his touch
  • Tell me.” He growled. 
  • When his face blurred back into view, an almost delirious Sirius saw Remus’s expression harden
  • “I can take it.” He said, lowly
  • Sirius frowned, still breathless, resisting the urge to buck his hips into Remus’s warm, gorgeous body 
  • “It’s you.” He murmured, looking down
  • Suddenly, inexplicably, he felt ashamed
  • “You’ve changed and I can’t - I can’t cope. It’s not that I didn’t like you before, I love you whatever you - what ever you look like - and you were always gorgeous, but now you’re just, you’re just kind of perfect and it’s just” Remus’s proximity making Sirius almost incoherent.
  • “…it’s just your shoulders got bigger, and your arms, and I can’t stop, I can’t focus and I know you just want to work and there’s no time for it so I was trying not to bother you but fuck Remus.”
  • “What?” Remus’s hand tilted Sirius’s chin up, forcing him to meet his confused gaze. 
  • Sirius shuttered under his boyfriend’s newly bulky frame
  • “You’re not…” Remus frowned. “I thought you liked someone else.”
  • Sirius nearly choked. “What?” He spluttered.  
  • “Remus” He snapped, taking control and pushing himself closer to the boy. “I can’t focus on anything but you. I can’t study, I can’t sleep, I can’t look at you in class without…” Sirius groaned and pushed his hips against Remus, using his hard arousal to illustrate his point. 
  • Sirius pressed frantic kisses into to the soft skin on Remus’s neck. “And when you came out of the shower today…”
  • Sirius’s sentence ended in a gasp as his back hit a smooth, cool wall. Remus’s warm mouth was at his neck, his hands pressing down his sides, their bodies flush against each other
  • “Why didn’t you tell me?” Remus growled. “Why didn’t you let me help you?”
  • Sirius only moaned in response as Remus’s thigh found its way between his legs, pressing teasingly against him
  • “Sirius.” Remus growled again. “Why?”
  • “You were…busy.” Sirius groaned, feeling Remus grip his chin. 
  • “Look at me.” Remus ordered, his eyes burning. “I am never too busy for you, Sirius Black.”
  • Sirius looked at his boyfriend, panting. His hips bucked into Remus, and he tried to connect their lips again, but he felt a strong hand push him back, denying him.
  • “Now, say it back to me.” Ordered Remus. “I’m never too busy to fuck you, say it back.”
  • Sirius shuttered, Remus telling him what to do was just, fuck
  • “You’re never too busy to fuck me.” Sirius’s need was turning his voice into a desperate whine, but Remus didn’t move.
  • His eyes burned into Sirius’s, and his voice was low and threatening. “Next time you need me, you’re going to tell me, okay? You’re going to say: ‘Remus, I need you to fuck me now.’ And I’m then going to fuck you, okay?” 
  • Sirius’s eyes almost rolled upwards, his whole body was trembling.
  • “Remus,” Sirius managed to whisper, somewhat calmly. “I need you to fuck me now.”
  • Sirius shuttered as he felt Remus grip the back of his thighs, easily lifting Sirius up and pressing him against the wall, his legs now hooked around his waist.
  • “Good boy.” Remus whispered.
Harry Styles Vocal Health on SNL

Hello!  So first and foremost I wan to put out there how much I love Harry and his voice.  Dear god it’s SO COOL and unique.  I love how when he’s in good vocal health he has all these different textures to it- the gruffness of his chest voice, the purity of his falsetto, the power of his belt.  When the studio version of SOTT came out I couldn’t sing his praises enough.  His voice sounded SO HEALTHY.  He was making such good choices!!!  Everything was relaxed and well supported.  He let the song build naturally.  He MUST have gotten some solid vocal training over his break because that isn’t something that can just happen over night.  I was very impressed and very proud.  I was also a bit nervous to see if these changes would hold when he started performing live….and…..it looks like I had good reason to be nervous.  

Here’s the thing. There are a few reasons I’m so hard on Harry in particular when it comes to poor technique. First, compared to the other guys, his technique is the only one that’s actually physically DAMAGING.  Could the other guys benefit from proper training?  Sure.  Of course.  Every singer can.  Even those who have been singing for years still should train on a regular basis.  But the other boys’ bad habits are just that- bad habits.  They aren’t going to do long term damage, not the way Harry’s are.    The second reason is BECAUSE I know he can do (AND HAS DONE!!!!!) so much better!!   I know he’s CAPABLE of so much more and so yeah, I’m hard on him because of that. And finally, I know exactly what he’s doing physically and exactly what’s going through his mind because I have the same exact bad habits and I can see him using the same exact thought process as to why he slips into these again.

Harry is the Ultimate Performer. He wants nothing more than to put on a good show for everyone, even if that means sacrificing his own vocal health.  Now, that’s isn’t a HUGE problem…until it KEEPS happening.  Which is what happened with OTRA.  And possibly might be happening now, although that remains to be seen.  One performance of one song slips into an entire show of this slips into two shows of this slips into the entire tour and wham, you’ve got nodes.  I think the biggest problem with Harry’s performance last night is he doesn’t trust the material or HIMSELF to sell it the way it is.  He feels he needs to overcompensate and big Big and Bold right from the start and that song is not built to be sung that way.  He started at a level that he couldn’t sustain throughout the entire thing and had nowhere to go.  That’s when he ran into trouble.  

As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew it wasn’t going to go well.  Don’t get me wrong, he sounds fantastic in the beginning…but like I said, there was nothing for him to build upon because he already started it at too high a height. His voice sounded raspy to me too, raspier than usual.  That can be caused by a few things- he could have been dehydrated (you can’t sing right if you don’t pee white!), he could have been tired (we know he’s a morning person and that show is pretty late for him), he could have strained his voice at the concert the night before, he could have over rehearsed, he could have smoked a bit.  I don’t know what the cause was, but he didn’t start off the evening in the best vocal health, especially for a song that’s very difficult to sing.  I also think he KNEW that so again, he tried to overcompensate for that by pushing.  

There is so much tension throughout his whole body, particular his shoulders on up.  I’m sure a lot of that is due to nerves.  I’ve said it many times before and I’ll say it again: the SNL stage is one of the hardest venues for artists to play.  There’s something particularly rough about it.  He’s also always had problems tensing up his face when he sings, but it what was particularly striking to me was that he did it during the falsetto parts.  That should have been EASY for him to sing.  That’s something light and relaxed.  Almost a break from the tension of the rest of the song…and yet he looks like he was in pain.  Which makes me wonder if he WAS in pain.  it’s hard to tell, but it almost seems like the second time he does it he pushes it more to a mix than a pure falsetto. 

It’s notable to me how relaxed the second syllable of  “bullets” around 2:44-2:48 is compared to the rest.  THAT is what the whole thing should have sounded like.  it’s relaxed and he’s got a great vibratto on it that comes straight from the diaphragm there- compare that to how tight “bullets” are the second time he sings it in that phrase at 2:58ish-3:04.  Why did you change what you were doing, sir??? In fact, to me it seemed like he KNEW it sounded good the first time and did his cute li’l dance and then came back to it feeling like “yeah I got this…” and then tightened right back up again.  because he didn’t trust himself.  

Thennnnnn the bridge happens.  And this is what i mean by he had nowhere to go.  THIS should have been his first belt it out moment.  but he pushed too hard too quickly and his voice just…wasn’t there.  It was tired.  The first scoop up to the first “we” was off key because of it and I think he knew it which made it even worse and MORE tense to the point where he just didn’t have the vocal agility to flip into his fasletto again for “learn”.  And then we’ve got the “it’s just what we know” which was just a poor choice.  I have a feeling he nailed that MULTIPLE times in rehearsals and mannnnn if he was in good vocal health how killer would that have sounded!??!!?  But instead, we got what’s called harmonic distortion which is SUPER VERY YIKESY AND A BIG SIGN OF HOLYSHITYOU’REDOINGDAMAGE (i sincerely hope he has an appointment with an ENT this week and gets scoped to check that out).   This was another instance of him trying to put on a great show and overcompensate for what he probably felt was lackluster vocals (which for the record WERE NOT THAT BAD.  I’m picking it apart because…well, it’s what I do.  and i don’t think I would have had too much of a problem if it weren’t for the super damaging choices he ended up making).  

From there he’s thinking “Oh shit that was bad…I REALLY fucked up…better step up my game and make the end better!” and once again tries to overcompensate and push a voice that’s already been pushed to the brink.  there just wasn’t more in there for it to give.  He couldn’t sustain it.  He had already given everything that there was go to give.  

When it comes to ESNY, it was a much better performance.  I think it’s partially due to the fact that it’s an easier song to sing and partially due to the fact that he was playing guitar so he wasn’t as much in his head (Side note: CAN YOU BELIEVE HE FINALLY BLESSED US WITH HIS GUITAR SKILLS?????).  His belty part towards the end wasn’t as good as it could have been, but I think that’s just due to the fact that his voice was kinda shot and that’s the best it was going to be.  It wasn’t TERRIBLE and obviously it could have been better, but I am curious to hear the studio version to see if there’s more belting that he just wasn’t comfortable with last night.  I could have done without the facial affectations because it just adds more tension and tension is bad, kiddos  But I think it’s a stylistic choice and I’m trying to pick my battles here.  Additionally, as we’ve seen in gif form his li’l neck vein was popping out so yeah he was tensing up pretty good there…but again, it wasn’t as terrible as it could have been since the song itself isn’t as taxing vocally.  

All in all, the performances were great, especially if you’re not as picky as I am. I know this was his first time singing live in well over a year and SNL is high stress and it’s his first time out there ALONE.  I’m curious to see what happens on Graham Norton and if he improves his technique. I’m also really curious to see how he’ll be on tour as well. I do wonder if he’ll lower the key of SOTT so it’s not as taxing.  No one would really notice and it would make things a little easier on him. It’s just frustrating because I know he has it in him to do it well.  We’ve HEARD him do it well.  But he just doesn’t trust himself enough to do that and that kind of breaks my heart a little.  Thankfully, he’s young and has time to learn.  He can still break these habits and make new, healthier ones and learn to trust himself more.

BUDDY.  YOU GOT THIS.  YOU HAVE AN AMAZING VOICE.  YOU ARE A FANTASTIC SONGWRITER.  YOU HAVE GREAT TECHNIQUE WHEN YOU PUT YOUR MIND TO IT.  YOU ARE A KILLER SHOWMAN WITH A TON OF CHARISMA.  PLEASE TRUST THESE THINGS AND STOP PUSHING YOURSELF BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU DAMAGE ANYTHING.  

Love,

B <3 

GoTG Meet Avengers


Peter stares, watching them all a little blankly. By his side, Tony has his head in his hands. He’s been groaning for the past twenty seconds.


“So… you went on a ten-year murder spree where you joined a terror organisation of your own free will in order to kill Tony, who wasn’t even responsible for the death of your parents in the first place- and then decide that just Tony isn’t murderous enough for you, and go for the rest of his team for some reason, too?”

Across the room, Wanda bristles. “It wasn’t like-”

“And then your team leader let you on the team you were trying to murder? Almost immediately after the one single fight you helped them with?” Gamora interrupts. Her eyes are cold and dangerous. 

Steve opens his mouth to defend himself, but Drax cuts in. “And you,” he gestures harshly at clint, “you were willing to abandon your family and get yourself arrested, just so you could involve yourself in a matter that did not concern you anyway?”

“You think I wanted to be arrested? That was all Tony-” Clint begins, but Drax roars, and Clint rears back, eyes wide and hand reaching for the bow at his hip.

“TONY STARK DID NOT FORCE YOU TO BREAK YOUR LAWS! I WAS PUT IN JAIL BECAUSE I FOUGHT FOR MY FAMILY, NOT-”

“Drax, stay calm. These people are breakable,” Gamora warns, although she is staring at them all as if she wants nothing better than to let Drax get himself worked up over them. 

“You know, Tony has only been giving you his view on everything that happened,” Steve counters. He’s looking at Tony like… like he’s disappointed in him, and that’s enough to get Rocket yelling angrily.

“Oh, so you sayin’ you didn’t tear the team he invested his time, his love, his effort into, apart- all so you could save a guy that Tony had offered to rehabilitate in the first place anyway? Or what about the fact you didn’t tell him that your best bud murdered his parents? That a lie too?” He snarls, and on his shoulder, Groot’s arms are slowly growing, pricklier and heavier- he can feel the weight on his shoulders.

“I think everyone needs to calm down, here-” Sam begins, but Gamora silences him, knuckles cracking as she steps forward.

Sam, wisely, takes a step back.

 “You do not get to talk- not when you chose to put your trust in a man you met for three seconds, whilst he was breaking into Tony’s compound, over the actual Avenger and team-mate himself,” she hisses, hands thrown up into the air as she turns to face all of them now.

“You sicken me. I may fight and argue and be frustrated with my team- but at the end of the day, they are still my family. They are still the people I would trust without a second thought,” she shoots a glare at Sam, “who I would always tell the truth to, even if it hurts,” Steve looked at the floor, jaw set in a grim line, “and who I would never, ever ask to be on the same team as a woman who subdued them to their worst fears and tried to kill them. I would rather die.”

She spat on the floor, and then turned away. “I am going back to the ship. You may continue your discussions if you must, but I am finished. I will only kill one of them if this continues.”

“That would be a shame,” Drax says quietly, his voice low and threatening.

Tony, who spent the majority of the conversation absolutely silent, speaks up at that point. “Hey! Drax used sarcasm!”

No one laughs. He goes back to holding his head in his hand.

Peter just looks slightly sick. His hand is wrapped very, very tightly around Tony’s.


“You know that post of text that Tony showed us a few weeks ago? He called it a… a me-me? With the breadsticks and the asshole date?” Rocket pipes up after a few seconds of silence, gun still spinning ominously in his fingers. “I think it’s time for us to shove Tony in our spaceship and say we have to go, right now, immediately.”


Despite everything, Tony lets a huff of laughter escape at that. Peter- seeming to suddenly snap out of his horrified trance- nods his head approvingly, beginning to tug on Tony’s hand. “Yes. I agree. Wonderful though this diplomatic meeting of teams was, I’m afraid we have urgent business to attend to. We have to… show Tony… something awesome.”

“Yes. LOVE, AFFECTION AND VALIDATION!” Drax roars again, curling an arm around Tony’s shoulders and placing the most violent and angry kiss possible on top of his hair.

“Later, losers!” Rocket calls out, sticking his middle finger up behind him and then turning to punch Tony’s thigh gently before scarpering back to the ship.

Groot hops down from Rocket and then latches on to Tony’s forearm, clambering up his arm until he was resting on Tony’s shoulder instead. Tony glances over at him and grins happily. He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for Groot.

“hey,” he whispers, as the tiny tree alien quickly began to grow a few flowers, and then plucked them off his hand and tucked them into Tony’s hair. “I am Groot,” he whispers right back in reply.

Tony smiles, rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t worry about them- I left them behind a long time ago.”


Steve hears that. He looks at tony for a long time, his eyes a little sad and regretful.


Tony just stares right back, and then raises his eyebrows and shrugs, adjusting the beginning of the flower-crown Groot was making for him.

“Call me the next time it gets too much for you guys to handle,” he calls out after them, as Peter and Drax both steer him hurriedly back toward the ship and away from his old team.

Groot giggles on his shoulder, and then places another flower behind his ear. “I am Groot!”


“I agree,” Tony says, just as Peter nods his own approval, gently bumping their shoulders together. “Let’s go and play Space-Tag.”

First Time for Everything

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: smut, language, hilarity

Summary: (inspired by this post by @missjackil ) Sam’s never had a blowjob, so you take it upon yourself to convince Sam to let you give him his first ever blowjob.

Send a message or leave a comment! Feedback is always appreciated!

Dean loved to brag. He bragged about everything, from the perfectly executed execution of the monster on their latest hunt to how many beers he’d outdrank his brother by. Usually the latter ended with him toppling onto one of the two beds, slurring his way into a sleep that would last for a good twelve hours. Sometimes he bragged about the blowjob he’d gotten from the pretty bar waitress, betting Sam that “he’d probably never gotten a better blowjob.”

And it was true.

Sam hadn’t gotten a better blowjob because he’d never even gotten a blowjob.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

prompt: isak comforting and taking care of even during one of his depressive episodes in their new apartment xxx

Anonymous said: Skam prompt: Isak looking after Even during an episode, maybe?


It never feels like Isak’s looking after Even when he’s like this.

Not really, anyway. It feels more like…helping him out. 

Even can’t bring himself to make breakfast? Okay, Isak can cook some eggs for the two of them, even if he can’t make them as well as Even does. Even feels overwhelmed at the idea that it’s his turn to wash the dishes? Well, there’s probably some dishes still left over from Isak’s turn, anyway. Even can’t handle going to school? Isak can let the school know and pop over to his teachers to collect any work Even’s missed. He genuinely, really, absolutely, doesn’t mind. He knows that as soon as Even feels better, he’ll pick things back up. Until then, Isak is there to help him out. Which is okay. Things are okay. Things will be okay. 

One day, Isak finds himself walking home from school and, despite himself, he can’t help walk that bit quicker knowing Even is home, alone, feeling low and a little hopeless.

He steps inside and heat hits him like a punch to the face. Because Jesus, their flat feels like a fucking sauna. They’re entering the summer months anyway, and they have so many large windows that it kind of turns their place into a greenhouse when the sun’s out. But it’s more than that. Isak’s fingers trail over the radiator and find it almost boiling to the touch. He frowns, switches the heating off, and walks into his and Even’s bedroom.
Even is curled up in bed, duvet splayed on the floor, t-shirt and hair damp with sweat. Isak swallows hard, because it just isn’t a nice sight. Even just looks so small like this. 

At some point, Isak’s legs remember how to work. He opens their window as wide as it will go before climbing in bed, next to Even, pressing a kiss on his cheek to wake him up.

“Are you trying to cook yourself alive, or?” Isak murmurs, laughing a little nervously, trying not to make his worry abundantly clear. 

It takes Even a little while to respond, but eventually, he opens his eyes. Looks at Isak before his eyes dart away quickly as he rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling. 

“I tried turning it down, but…” His voice is small, raspy, and his eyes are teary and tired and God, Isak just wants to make it all go away for him. “I couldn’t figure it out, so.”

“I’ve fixed it,” Isak murmurs gently, threading a hand through Even’s hair. It’s a bit gross; greasy and sweaty, and if Isak’s honest, Even hasn’t showered in days and the whole room stinks because of it. It’s alright, though. Isak doesn’t mind that much.

“I just.” Even swallows hard, tired eyes fluttering shut, looking on the verge of tears. And Even’s cried over less when he’s been like this; out of frustration and exhaustion and, well, depression. Isak learnt a long time ago that comforting words can’t always do a huge amount when Even’s like this. That the best thing he can do sometimes is simply sit there and be with him.

“Hey,” Isak murmurs, turning Even’s face to look at him, making their eyes meet. Even’s eyes are a little dulled, a little less light, a little less starry. They’re heavy, exhaustion radiating from them, but they’re still Even’s eyes. Wonderful and perfect and Isak loves them just the same. “Minute by minute, yeah?”

Even swallows again. “Yeah,” he says quietly, and Isak smiles a little, brushing his thumb over Even’s cheek, then his mouth. He closes the distance between them and kisses him, soft and undemanding and reassuring. Just letting him know he’s there. Even’s mouth tastes a little bitter, teeth unbrushed and lips dry and chapped, but Isak wouldn’t want any other lips but these. Even’s. Even, who is the brightest and kindest and most beautiful person Isak knows, even when he’s low like this. 

“How about a shower?” Isak suggests tentatively. 

After half a minute of silence, Even nods, pulling himself out of bed with heavy limbs and tired eyes. It’s progress, though. Good progress. 

Isak fixes the shower so it’s the colder side of warm - they’re both boiling from the heat of the flat - and when Even gets undressed, Isak picks his clothes up. Says, “I’ll join you in a minute, I just need to put the washing on.”

Isak collects the rest of the dirty clothes from their bedroom which - okay, their bedroom is a tip, but Isak’s never been particularly tidy and maybe it does go to shit a tiny bit when Even isn’t there to remind him to pick his clothes up. But whatever.

He strips the bed linen, too, down to the pillow cases, and crams everything into the washing machine before returning to the bathroom. Even is under the shower, rubbing the shower gel over his body kind of numbly and methodically. Isak undresses himself, steps in the shower with Even, and smiles up at him. Kisses him once, softly and gently. Another day, another mood, kisses in the shower can be messy and hungry and desperate. But not in times like this. Times like this, the kiss is nothing but a reassuring hello, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Noses brushing against one another, foreheads together, deep breaths and closed eyes. Standing under the jets of water and melting into one being. And Isak just can’t help thinking that if something as simple as love could make Even happy, then he’d be the happiest boy in the world. 

Keep reading

Mouth o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s no good with his words but he sure is good with his mouth.

Request? Yes:

some harry face sitting action maybe?

Author’s note: This is a continuation of “Mess o’ Mine.” I would suggest reading that first, if you haven’t already. I thought this was gonna be the end but then I fucked up so… there’s also a part 3. Hope you enjoy! I did!

Part 1: Mess o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine


You’ve been running through the events that have occurred, confused at the escalation and the outcome. No issues have been resolved, and there wasn’t really a conversation or discussion. You don’t know any more than you did when you heard Harry singing your poems. Has he used your writing in more songs on his album?  Has he read your whole journal? God, you hope not. One poem is bad enough.

Harry hasn’t been around, hasn’t tried calling for the two weeks since he showed up on your doorstep. You’ve flipped the channel whenever he shows up on your television and scrolled at record speed when he’s popped up on your social media feeds. Maybe you should feel relieved and cleansed of his toxicity, but you don’t. Instead, you feel a little broken, like your stomach is splintering into pieces, and your mind still feels split open. Not only that, but you can smell him, feel the weight of him on top of you, taste the foreign flavor of his mouth. This isn’t what you need.

A whole other wave of confusion has rolled over you in terms of your relationship with Harry, if there still is one. The two of you have crossed a line without any prior thought or contemplation. Years upon years of friendship have been threatened, and you’re not even sure how it happened. Why did he kiss you? How did the two of you end up in bed, naked between the sheets? If you were confused about it before, trying to figure things out has only worsened your introspection.

Keep reading

Mischief and Babygirl // A Stiles Stilinski Roommate AU Smut

Prompt: Imagine two people being in a situation where they can’t stand each other and are forced to live together. They hate each other with every fiber in their body and are always mad about the smallest things. But, what they didn’t know was that they had made an online friend and had grown very fond of each other and started dating online with each other. When they decided to meet up and see one another for the first time, they find themselves in a very shocking and unexpected situation.

Relationship: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Mutual Masterbation, Dirty Talk, Sexting, Nudes, Oral (male on female), Fingering, and Swearing.

Word Count: 6,829

A/N: This is definitely one of my favorite one-shots I have written. I really hope y’all like it, too. It’s another round of me and @celestial-writing just putting ideas together (love you)! Also, how fucking hot is angry Stiles tho???

And guys, I put this thing so you can now read your own name instead of (Y/N)!! If you’re not on my blog, you just have to click the little box which will take you there and BOOM, now my fics have become 100% personal for you! (Unfortunetly, doesn’t work on mobile)

Your name: submit What is this?


Immediately letting out a shout as anger boiled up inside of her for the millionth time today because of the same freckled boy, (Y/N) grabbed the empty jug of milk out the refrigerator and trudged towards the dining room table. There sat her four roommates and greatest friends in the world, well everyone except Stiles Stilinski that is.

“Stiles!” She yelled, throwing the empty bottle in his lap and startling him. “I swear to God, if you ever leave anything empty in the fridge again, I will kick your sorry ass!”

“Sweetheart, you couldn’t kick this ass no matter how hard you tried.” Stiles scoffed and took the bottle off of his body to place it on the table.

“You wanna bet?” (Y/N) threatened.

“Funny.” He laughed which only made the young woman even more furious than she already was.

Stiles immediately jumped when she harshly slammed her hand down on the surface in front of him, leaning her face so close to his that they were only inches apart.

“Never doubt a woman’s capacity to destroy someone.” (Y/N) stated, her voice harsh enough to make him gulp. “We do know how to perfectly get rid of blood stains after all.”

“Damn, Stiles.” Scott chuckled from his seat on the table. “If I were you, I’d go buy a lifetime supply of milk right now just to protect myself.”

“Nah,” Camile disagreed and everyone could hear the smile in her voice. “What they need to do is sleep with each other already. The sexual tension between you two is really tiring.”

“I’ll say.” Madi groaned. “I’m the one who’s room is right next to theirs and, God, the fighting is non-stop. Just have sex already, please? Not for the love of God, but for my sanity!”

“(Y/N) wishes she could get into my pants.” Stiles smirked, a grin playing on his lips as their eyes locked.

“Oh please, Stiles.” She scoffed, standing up straight again. “As if you actually had something in your pants that interested me.”

“Ouch.” Scott cringed and a devious smirk made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips when she noticed Stiles get offended by her comment. “I’d leave her alone after that one.”

Stiles angrily skid his chair back, its legs screeching against the tiles, and stood up. As intimidating as it was to have him look down into her eyes due to how much taller he was, (Y/N) stood her ground and didn’t dare shy away.

Out of nowhere, Scott picked up the butter knife he was using for his bagel and unexpectedly begin to swat the air in between the two young adults.

“What'cha doing there, Scott?” Stiles asked, their eyes now staring at their fellow roommate.

“Trying to cut the sexual tension between you two, but damn it’s too strong.” He laughed, the two other girls in the room laughing loudly along with him.

“Screw all of you.” (Y/N) huffed, walking away from every single one of them and going up the stairs to her room in anger.

As much as she hated to admit it, Scott was unfortunately right. There’s no doubt about the sexual tension within (Y/N) and Stiles and, yes, both of them have yet to confess that they’ve thought about being with each other on more than one occasion. But, even though she does have a secret crush on him and would love it if Stiles got under her bedsheets, the way he gets under her skin frustrates (Y/N) more.

Reaching the first floor of the house the five of them rent so they don’t have to live in crappy dorm rooms, the furious girl walked inside of her bedroom and shut the door behind her. The sound echoed through the halls and the four left downstairs all jumped at the sudden sound. Scott, Camile and Madi instantly glaring at Stiles.

(Y/N) immediately laid down on her messy bed and grabbed her phone from her nightstand. Tapping on the instant message app, she began texting her online friend. I wouldn’t exactly say that they were just online friends because it’s so much more than that. They’ve been texting each other anonymously for about a year now and couldn’t get enough. Neither one of them have ever shared a picture of their faces because they want to focus on personality and not appearance. All the time that they’ve spent texting, both knew for a fact that they really liked one another. Which is why the two are beyond nervous for their first blind date tonight.


Babygirl 💋 [12:45 pm]: Today is the day I commit my first murder, Mieczyslaw

Mischief 💚 [12:45 pm]: Roommate again? 😂

Mischief 💚 [12:46 pm]: Well, where do you want us to hide the body?

Babygirl 💋 [12:46 pm]: Should we just bury him out in the woods?

Mischief 💚 [12:46 pm]: Nah, that’s a dead end. The cops would find it too easily

Mischief 💚 [12:46 pm]: What we need to do is go to the zoo and when no one’s looking

Mischief 💚 [12:47 pm]: We throw his body in the lion’s den

Mischief 💚 [12:47 pm]: There’s no crime if there’s no evidence

Babygirl 💋 [12:47 pm]: You know, sometimes your intelligence really scares me

Babygirl 💋 [12:47 pm]: You’re too much of a fucking genius!

Mischief 💚 [12:48 pm]: Just a genius?

Mischief 💚 [12:48 pm]: Nothing else? 😉😏

Babygirl 💋 [12:48 pm]: And really fucking sexy

Babygirl 💋 [12:48 pm]: Especially when you talk cop to me

Mischief 💚 [12:49 pm]: Well, in that case…

Mischief 💚 [12:49 pm]: All units proceed with caution

Mischief 💚 [12:49 pm]: We have a 180 on our hands here

Babygirl 💋 [12:50 pm]: Fuck

Babygirl 💋 [12:50 pm]: The things you do to me…

Mischief 💚 [12:50 pm]: What kind of things, baby?

Mischief 💚 [12:50 pm]: Tell me everything you’re thinking 😉


(Y/N)’s entire body sparked with immediate desire the second she finished reading his message and she could already tell her panties were slowly getting wetter by the second.


Babygirl 💋 [12:51 pm]: Well, for starters

Babygirl 💋 [12:51 pm]: I can’t wait till our date tonight because I’ll finally be able to feel your lips on my own

Babygirl 💋 [12:51 pm]: I’ll get to feel your hands all over my body

Babygirl 💋 [12:52 pm]: The friction of our skin sliding against each other taking over all of my thoughts


Stiles Stilinski shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he continued to read the dirty texts his online friend was sending him. The excitement for their blind date tonight getting stronger than ever and Stiles honestly couldn’t wait until he finally came face-to-face with the girl that completely takes over his thoughts. Well, second girl that is. The first being his favorite roommate (Y/N) (Y/L/N). He knew that he irritated her beyond belief, but he couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked everytime her eyes glared at him with such fury that it instantly became sexy or how her lip would snarl in anger and how much he desperately wanted to bite down on it.

Their relationship was an addictive game of Cat and Mouse and both parties enjoyed every second.


Mischief 💚 [12:53 pm]: Fuck, baby

Mischief 💚 [12:53 pm]: What else?


“Do you have ants in your pants or something?” Camile questioned the smirking young man and Stiles’ head immediately snapped up at the blonde. “Stop moving so much in your seat, dude.”

“U-Uh…” Stiles stuttered, feeling like he just got caught doing something very naughty. Which wasn’t exactly far from what was going on on his phone. “S-Sorry.”


Babygirl 💋 [12:54 pm]: I can’t wait till your mouth attaches to my neck

Babygirl 💋 [12:54 pm]: Then slowly keeps going down and down…


“Why do you keep grinning at your phone like that?” Madi asked, tearing Stiles away from the intoxicating text.

“He’s talking to his internet girlfriend.” Scott smirked. “They pretty much sext daily.”

“We do not sext daily!” Stiles complained at the same time that (Y/N) sent him a picture of her body in just her underwear, showing him exactly what he would be touching tonight. “Fuck.”

“What’d she send this time?” Scott laughed, the three curious twenty year olds trying to peak over Stiles’ phone to see.

“None of your business, Scott.” Stiles scolded, getting up from his chair and trudging away towards the staircase. “Or anyone else’s for that matter!”

“Make sure to clean yourself up afterwards!” Camile yelled.

“You’re disgusting!” Stiles shouted back, a holler of laughter taking over the dining room. “Go to hell!”

“Only if you’re there, too!”

Once Stiles reached his bedroom, he entered his safe space and shut the door behind him. By the way their texts were leading up to something more, he knew for a fact things were about to get hot and heavy and he didn’t need anyone passing by his room to see him in a very vulnerable state.


Mischief 💚 [1:02 pm]: I can’t wait to touch you, baby

Mischief 💚 [1:02 pm]: I’m literally counting the seconds until I finally get to lick your stomach

Babygirl 💋 [1:03 pm]: Fuck, Mieczyslaw

Babygirl 💋 [1:03 pm]: What else are you gonna do to me?

Mischief 💚 [1:03 pm]: My tongue is gonna keep going lower until it reaches the place you want me the most

Mischief 💚 [1:04 pm]: Then, I’m going to slowly circle it around your swollen nub

Mischief 💚 [1:04 pm]: I’m gonna wrap my lips around you and suck so hard you’ll be cumming in a matter of seconds

Babygirl 💋 [1:04 pm]: Oh God, Mieczyslaw

Babygirl 💋 [1:04 pm]: Keep going

Babygirl 💋 [1:05 pm]: I’m almost there


In the short time that Stiles spent arguing with his friends downstairs and texting her the dirty things she so desperately wanted to read, (Y/N) had removed her clothes, taken a picture of herself for him and began working on her own body thanks to how hot he’d made her. She started out by moving her hand slowly around her clitoris before using her other hand to pump two fingers inside of her soaking wet core. Even though she really liked Mieczyslaw, she didn’t exactly know what he looked like so, as shameless and dirty as it was, (Y/N) thought about the first sexy guy she could think of. That handsome man being, none other than, the exact same person that was currently thinking about her as he quickly unzipped his jeans and pushed his hand inside of his boxers to get a hold of himself.


Mischief 💚 [1:06 pm]: Fuck, that’s so hot

Mischief 💚 [1:06 pm]: Send me a picture

Babygirl 💋 [1:07 pm]: Attachment


Stiles cock twitched when he noticed that she hadn’t sent him a picture, but an actual video instead. Rubbing himself with one hand, Stiles used the other to press play on the video with eagerness laced in his blood. The footage began to roll and the boy licked his lips in anticipation. Stiles groaned and increased his pace on himself when he realized it was a video of the girl fingering herself for him, her sexy moans almost pornographic. It consisted of a full view of her body, her breasts perky for him as her finger moved fastly inside of herself. In a matter of seconds, (Y/N)’s legs began shaking to indicate she would be soon falling over the edge and that’s exactly what happened. Hearing the girl moan shamelessly and watching her entire body shudder as an overwhelming orgasm​ hit her, it didn’t take much for Stiles to also reach his.

His legs shook and his eyes shut, Stiles’ head falling back on his pillow, at the same time that hot cum shot out of his tip and immediately landed on his stomach. He imagined it was (Y/N) that had jerked him off and it was enough to make his high last longer. Stiles didn’t even mind the sticky release on his skin, all he could think about was how much pleasure he was currently in.

As soon as (Y/N) finished cumming and sent Mieczyslaw the footage, the girl had got up from her bed with satisfaction in her veins. She walked over to her closet and put on a robe before walking out of her bedroom to go to the bathroom and take a much needed shower. The second she passed by Stiles’ bedroom, however, desire and lust flooded her entire body when she suddenly heard him moaning uncontrollably.

“Hey, Stiles!” She shouted, knocking on the door and startling Stiles in the process. “Stop watching porn and go read a book!”


~


“(Y/N)!” Stiles yelled angrily, his fist pounding against the bathroom door. “Get out already! I have to leave soon!”

“So do I!” She shouted back, not caring about wherever it was Stiles needed to go to. “And I have actual hair to wash here!”

“Just don’t wash it!”

“I’m going on a date, idiot! I have to be completely clean!”

“For what?” Stiles questioned, sarcasm laced in his voice. “It’s not like he’s gonna go out of his way to sniff your hair!”

“No, but he’s definitely gonna be able to smell it when his head is snuck in my neck as he pounds me into oblivion!”

It was a simple comeback, but it did manage to sting Stiles’ heart in jealousy. Slamming his fist against the door one last time, the young man let out a frustrated grunt before walking away to his room.

(Y/N) gladly took her time to finish prepping herself in the shower until she finally decided to step out of the bathroom. Needless to say, Stiles was furious at the young woman but she couldn’t find a single bone in her body that actually cared. She wanted to look, smell and even taste her best for her date tonight and no man was going to stop her. (Y/N)’s been waiting for this special night for too long to worry about what other people had to say.

Which is why the young woman just walked right by Stiles without even giving him the chance to scold her. He stared in awe as she entered her bedroom, noticing how good she looked with her face flushed from the hot shower and the droplets of water running down her skin. Stiles’ mind immediately picturing himself licking the water off of her naked body and he felt slightly guilty.

The both of them got ready at the same time and the rest of the house watched in amusement as they simultaneously shared the bathroom, arguing the entire time. (Y/N) would try to look at herself in the mirror to put on mascara and he would get in her way to fix his quiff or just as Stiles would wet his toothbrush with the running water because (Y/N) was finishing up brushing her own teeth, she turned off the tap.

“You’re unbelievable.” Stiles groaned, shaking his head and opening the tap again.

(Y/N) didn’t say anything, she just blew him a kiss that was nothing shy of sass as she left the bathroom to finish her look in her bedroom. She had already fixed her hair and put on all of her makeup, so all she had to do next was take off her robe and wear the gorgeous black dress she specifically bought for tonight. Once she sprayed herself with her favorite perfume and was ready, (Y/N) walked down the staircase and approached her other three roommates in the living room.

“Well, how do I look?” She asked and they turned their heads to take in her outfit.

(Y/N) was absolutely gorgeous and it was no surprise everyone’s jaws were dropping at her breath-taking beauty.

“Like a queen.” Scott gawked, a genuine smile lighting up on (Y/N)’s lips.

“It’s not too much?” She questioned, spinning around for them.

“Hell no.” Madi smirked. “Whomever you’re seeing tonight is one lucky guy, my friend.”

“Good.” (Y/N) answered.

Just as she was grabbing her favorite coat from the rack, Stiles had reached the last step of the staircase and laid his eyes on the incredibly stunning woman before him. He immediately stopped in his tracks as his eyes grew wide at the sight. Her hair was perfectly done and a part of him wanted to run his fingers through it but the other part of him knew that if he did it would ruin the style and that would be a crime. Her makeup was simple, however the bold red lip definitely grabbed his attention and he wanted to smudge it with his own. (Y/N)’s long legs went on for days, Stiles already picturing them wrapped around his waist. However, what caught Stiles’ eyes the most was the alluring dress tightly hung against her beautiful curves. It made his brain spin in his head and jealousy crashed all over him at the thought of her being dressed like this for someone else.

“Do you really think you should be wearing a dress like that?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat and (Y/N) spun around to gaze at the source of the sudden voice.

“What is that supposed to mean, Stilinski?” She retorted, her manicured hand settling on her hip.

“That dress is too revealing.” He scolded. “It’s definitely not first date material.”

You’re not first date material.” (Y/N) scoffed, slipping her coat on.

She didn’t want it to be true, but the young woman could’ve sworn she saw a small glimpse of hurt in his eyes. But, it was soon gone before she could really check.

“Have fun on your date.” Stiles stated harshly as he walked past her and opened the door. “I hope he’s an ass.”

Before (Y/N) could even respond, Stiles was out the door and slammed it. The rough action surprising her and making her feel not only guilty but heartbroken that she caused that. (Y/N) loved the hate relationship she had with Stiles, but she also knew she wanted more. The two constantly fought because they were so alike. Stiles loathed how quick and sarcastic she was, but at the same time loved that only she could handle bickering​ with him. (Y/N) despised that he always managed to point out the things about her no one ever noticed, but loved that Stiles actually paid enough attention to see them. It was a complicated game they played, but the two were masters at it.

“Do you ever get tired of the way you treat each other?” Scott spoke up from the couch and (Y/N) turned around to look at him, the hurt still evident on her face.

“Sometimes.” She answered softly.

“Shouldn’t you two just stop?” Scott asked. “It’s obvious that you do all of this because you’re into each other.”

“Shouldn’t you three stop butting into our love lives?” (Y/N) retorted, no longer sad but now angry at the entire situation. “It’s Friday night and you’re sitting on the couch. Go out and have fun!”

“For your information, we are going out.” Scott scoffed and the two other girls nodded.

“Good.” (Y/N) stated as she opened the door and walked out. “Get to it!”

Even though he wasn’t in the best mood, Stiles pushed down all of his feelings for the girl he lived with to focus on the girl he was about to meet. She has helped him get her mind off of (Y/N) on more than one occasion, even though they did have the same name, and he was ready for her to do that again tonight. He thought about all of the incredible times they’ve spent chatting before pulling into the restaurant they picked and parking in the first space he could find. Once he locked the jeep behind him, Stiles headed towards the main entrance and nervously waited for the girl he talks to more than his own family.

With the anger still flooding inside of her, (Y/N) left her car and arrived at the restaurant. She no longer wanted to go on this date because she knew that all she will be able to think about is the spastic boy she lives with and never leaves her brain. It doesn’t matter how distracted she gets, Stiles is always there in the back of her mind.

The second (Y/N) looked up from her heels clicking against the pavement, her heart stopped inside of her chest. With every step she took towards the main entrance, her heartbeat would increase more and more. There, in front of her, was Stiles Stilinski. The exact person she was trying to get away from.

He was so focused on what was going on inside of his mind that Stiles hadn’t noticed her until she was literally right beside him and (Y/N)’s perfume made its way into his nose. Stiles’ head snapped towards the source, his eyes growing wide when he noticed it was (Y/N) herself next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked, entirely confused. “Did you follow me?”

“I have better things to do than follow you, Stiles.” (Y/N) scoffed. “I’m meeting my date here. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I also have a date.” Stiles smiled smugly and certainly didn’t fail to notice how it effected her.

“So, we’re both having dates at the same place?” (Y/N) stated, in awe of this awkward situation. “Wonderful.”

“Where’s your date anyway?” Stiles questioned. “Shouldn’t he have picked you up?”

“It’s a blind date.” She explained, folding her arms against her chest which made her cleavage pop out even more and Stiles awkwardly tried to gaze elsewhere. “What about your date? Weren’t you supposed to pick her up.”

“I’m also having a blind date.” Stiles retorted.

Neither one of them put together exactly what was going on between them. Both standing in the tension heavy entrance, desperately looking at whatever person that would arrive and hoping it’d be their online friend. Little did they know, their dates were standing right next to each other this entire time.

They waited for a good thirty minutes before (Y/N)’s feet started to hurt from standing so long in thin heels and she sighed.

“I think we both got stood up.” (Y/N) stated in a hurt voice.

“No, my date wouldn’t do that.” He shook his head, pulling his phone out of his pants. “I’m texting her.”

“Yeah, me too.” (Y/N) agreed, zipping open her clutch to grab her phone.

She couldn’t help but look over to his text from the corner of her eye. He was messaging someone nicknamed “Babygirl” and (Y/N) felt insanely jealous when he watched him type in “Hey, baby. Are you still coming?” She didn’t even know who this babygirl of his was, but she knew she already hated her with everything (Y/N) had inside of her. Of course she was into Mieczyslaw, but she secretly wanted to be on a date with Stiles instead. She just wanted to have one encounter with him that didn’t consist of fighting.

(Y/N)’s thoughts were, suddenly, interrupted when her phone vibrated in her hand. The girl realized she had received a message from her blind date and already scoffed thinking about whatever poor excuse she was going to read explaining why he wasn’t here.


Mischief 💚 [8:32 pm]: Hey, baby. Are you still coming?


(Y/N) didn’t even think before immediately dropping her phone on the floor in complete shock, her heart going down with it. It fell in her stomach in surprise as she finally put all of the scattered pieces together. She quickly turned around to Stiles, who was already looking at her in astonishment from how she just randomly dropped her cellphone with the screen now entirely shattered.

For the longest time she didn’t say a single word, all (Y/N) did was stare at the beautiful boy she lived with that also happened to be the person she’s been secretly texting back and forth. Stiles didn’t know what to say or do either, from how odd she was behaving, but he mentally prepared himself to drop everything and drive her to the hospital in case she needed it.

“Y-You’re real name’s Mieczyslaw?!” (Y/N) exclaimed, shouting the first thing that popped in her mind.

“What?” Stiles furrowed his eyebrows, confused now more than ever.

The young man wearing flannel watched as she bent down to grab her phone again and, without giving him the slightest explanation, stuck her phone screen out for him to read what was written on it. It took a little bit for his brain to process everything, but when it finally did he felt as if it had just exploded.

(Y/N) expected Stiles to say something, but was completely surprised when he stuffed his phone in his back pocket and grabbed her face with his hands. Before she could understand what was going on, Stiles crashed his lips against hers with such passion and fervor, (Y/N) almost fell. But it wouldn’t matter if she did our not because Stiles would’ve caught her anyway with how he wrapped his hands around her waist.

All of the anger, frustration and rage they ever felt towards each other was channeled into the kiss and started to slowly slip away as they began to be replaced with desire, need and, dare I say, love. They always felt attached to each other no matter how upset they were until only now realizing that all of it meant love. Stiles and (Y/N) loved each other so deeply and it wasn’t just sexual tension. They truly got to know each other incredibly well over the time they spent talking online, sharing so much information that they felt closer to each other than to anyone else in their lives.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” Stiles confessed, panting as he touched his forehead with hers.

“So have I.” (Y/N) blushed and Stiles leaned in again to place another addictive kiss on her lips.

As they kissed, Stiles slid his tongue across her bottom lip and asked for an entrance to which (Y/N) happily granted. The two didn’t even fight for dominance, they just explored each other’s mouths and enjoyed every discovery. Their tongues would brush together and neither one of them had enough self control to hold back their satisfied moans.

(Y/N) broke the kiss and Stiles’ lips moved to her jaw. He created a trail of wet and hot kisses that drove the girl crazy. It didn’t matter they were in public. (Y/N) could already feel herself getting wetter and wetter by the passing second. It was when Stiles’ mouth attached to her earlobe, his teeth grazing the skin as his tongue caressed it, that she knew she desperately needed more of him.

“Stiles,” She whimpered, his tongue sliding through the shell of her ear. “Do you really want to go on this date or do you just want to get out of here?”

“We can go back to my place?” Stiles smirked.

“I’d love that.” She laughed breathlessly.

“But, I do have to warn you.” He smiled against her heated skin, now sucking a bruise into her neck. “I have the world’s most annoying roommate. She really knows how to get on your nerves.”

“Hmm,” (Y/N) grinned playfully. “Sounds like she really gets to you. Should I be jealous?”

“Absolutely, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, then, damn.” (Y/N) smirked, a light blush painting her cheeks. “I hope she doesn’t mind us crashing her apartment. I tend to be loud.”

“Fuck.” Stiles groaned, pulling his mouth away from the several different bruises he created to stare at her. “I’ll meet you there.”

The next thing she knows, Stiles is placing one last kiss on her lips and eagerly rushing away towards his blue jeep. A smile etched across (Y/N)’s face at how adorable he looked, happily climbing into his car and immediately turning it on.

The ride over to their house was full of adrenaline and excitement. Everytime they would have to stop at a red light, Stiles would look over to (Y/N) in her car and smugly lick his lips. Which would flush her entire body with more lust than it already was sporting, her core aching in need. Once they arrived and were both finally out of their vehicles, Stiles pinned (Y/N) against the front door and reattached his tempting mouth on hers. She gasped at the sudden act, but Stiles just swallowed it into their kiss. Their lips molded together as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling (Y/N) in even closer.

“What was that for?” (Y/N) asked, her lungs fighting for air after breaking the kiss.

“Because I needed to feel your kiss again.” He confessed.

A blush crept up on her cheeks and a grin made its way onto his lips. (Y/N) reached up to reconnect their mouths, tongues finding each other as she tried to zip open her clutch and grab the house keys. Stiles gently bit down on her lip and she fumbled with the zipper, his touch too intoxicating to have her focus on anything else. That’s when Stiles grabbed her hand and settled it on his lower back, a shameless moan falling from (Y/N)’s mouth when he lowered it even more. Both smiled into the kiss the second he guided her hand over his ass and squeezed, (Y/N) giggling when she realized his copy of the house keys were in his pocket this whole time.

Stiles took his hand off of hers and put it back on her waist as she slipped hers into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out the keys. The moment they were in her hand, the freckled boy broke their kiss and swiftly turned her around so she could open the door. Stiles’ mouth and teeth were sucking another hickey on her shoulder blade and (Y/N) felt weak in her knees. She didn’t know how, but she managed to unlock the door and turn the knob.

An animalistic instinct washed over Stiles and he immediately pushed the front door open, rushing the two inside. Before (Y/N) could even say anything, the young man hitched one of her legs around his waist and shoved her against the now closed door once again. She squealed when he did and Stiles chuckled against her lips. Both of their bodies dripping with lust as he rubbed his clothed bulge against the inside of her thigh, (Y/N) moaning in the process. Her hands were now wrapped around his neck, her fingers caressing his heated skin, and Stiles kept one hand on her waist as the other slowly slipped under the skirt of her dress to grab her practically bare ass. (Y/N) was wearing the smallest thong she owned and it definitely made Stiles’ cock twitch in his boxers.

“Shit, I’m seriously considering just fucking you right here.” Stiles moaned, his lips brushing against hers.

“Please do.” (Y/N) whimpered, Stiles feeling her heartbeat against his own chest.

“Please don’t.” A familiar male voice suddenly spoke up and the two lovers immediately snapped their heads towards the source.

Scott, Camile and Madi hadn’t left their​ positions on the couch since the two went out. The scene was absolutely comical from how shocked and frozen the three were. Scott had the tv remote in his hand as it pointed to the screen, his eyes wide. Camile kept a bowl of popcorn on her lap and held a single one up to her mouth, but it paused just outside of it as she stared in shock. Madi, however, wasn’t as astonished as the rest due to the mischievous grin she was wearing.

(Y/N) immediately tried to push Stiles off of her in embarrassment, but he held his ground and stayed right where he was. She couldn’t believe that they hadn’t even noticed they weren’t alone when they arrived.

“I have no problem still fucking you here.” Stiles grinned and, as turned on as she was, (Y/N) covered her face with her hands in humiliation. The girl let out a squeal when Stiles placed his mouth on her collarbone and began assaulting it with his tongue.

“Stiles!” She whined.

Out of pure respect for the girl he was holding and not because he cared that there were other people in the same room, Stiles placed (Y/N)’s leg down on the floor and took a step back from her. His hands were raised in surrender, but his eyes were still gazing at her in a cocky fashion. (Y/N) cleared her throat to rid herself of the embarrassment and slowly walked towards the staircase, Stiles watching her intently.

“Excuse me.” She stated to the three on the couch before looking over at Stiles with the lust still pooling in her pupils.

He certainly picked up what she was putting down as she began walking up the steps, Stiles hot on her trail. (Y/N) yelped in excitement when Stiles unexpectedly smacked her ass with his hand and they rushed even faster towards her bedroom.

“Go get that ass, Stiles!” Madi exclaimed.

“Use a condom!” Camile shouted after her.

Right as Stiles shut the bedroom door behind him, Madi turned around to grin at her two friends on the couch and both of them groaned. Searching in their pockets, Camile and Scott handed their fellow roommate twenty bucks each. Immediately regretting their bet on the two lovers upstairs that just yesterday were fighting. The bet consisted of when they would eventually hook up, Madi declared it would happen this month as Scott and Camile bet at the end of the year. Needless to say, the two lost.

(Y/N), yet again, was pushed up against a door and she quickly figured out that Stiles definitely has a door fetish. Not that she was complaining or found it weird in any way, it was actually one hell of a turn on. Their lips were back in sync together as Stiles reached behind her back and slowly unzipped the gorgeous dress (Y/N) was wearing, her breathing increasing at the contact. Once there was nothing left to unzip, Stiles let go of the zipper and proceeded to take off the straps of her dress. As soon as they were down her arms, he completely let go of the fabric and the dress instantly fell to the floor. Unfortunately breaking their kiss, (Y/N) stepped out of it pooling at her feet and Stiles’ jaw dropped when he took in her body.

The young man was already familiar with how she looked thanks to the countless times​ they’ve shared photos of their bodies through text, but he had never seen her in the flesh before and it was amazing to him. (Y/N) was wearing the most sexy set of matching purple underwear, his favorite color that he once told her. (Y/N) watched with hooded eyes as his own drowned in more lust than his pupils were already swimming in. Stiles licked his lips and the small action sent waves of desire straight to her pooling core.

(Y/N) was the first to break their trance as she brought her hand to the fancy flannel he was wearing for the date and began to unbutton it, she didn’t go as slow as Stiles did because she desperately wanted it off. The next thing she removed were his pants and they were finally in just their underwear together.

Stiles suddenly kneeled in front of her, surprising (Y/N) in the process, and pulled down her panties without saying anything. The second they were gone, the young man lifted one of her legs and hitched it over his shoulder. He looked up at her and placed tempting kisses on her stomach before licking her skin with his warm tongue, just like he’d promised earlier. Her body shuddered and she waited patiently as he trailed his tongue until it reached her core, already swiping up the slick folds. The small action alone made her hips twitch and she couldn’t control her moans when Stiles circled her swollen clit. He kept the motion going as he brought a finger up to tease her entrance. She whimpered of course and, the sound was so beautiful to him, he decided to give in. Stiles pushed two fingers inside of her, groaning at how tight she was, and gently pumped. It started out slow at first, but because of how responsive she was being as she moaned uncontrollably and her hips bucked continuously, Stiles decided to pick up his pace. (Y/N)’s eyes were shut as she concentrated on the pleasure and her core clenched around his fingers the second Stiles’ wrapped his lips around her nub and sucked furiously.

“F-Fuck, Stiles.” She moaned, knowing that her release was near. But, unfortunately for her, so did Stiles and he immediately pulled away.

Smirking up at the shocked glare he was receiving from her, Stiles licked her juices off of his lips and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Normally, she would’ve been outraged to be denied of her orgasm but the way he looked right now took over her thoughts.

“I only want you cumming around my cock, tonight.” Stiles grinned, standing in front of her again and, before she could come up with a witty response, he yanked off his boxers. She was at a complete loss of words as she gawked at his delicious erection. The pulsing in her core increasing with unbelievable desire.

Stiles hitched her leg around his waist and positioned himself in front of her entrance, gazing into her eyes. Without breaking the contact, Stiles gently pushed his dick​ inside of her core and they both moaned at the new feeling. He desperately wanted to close his eyes, but wasn’t willing to take them off of hers as he thrusted. (Y/N)’s hands were settled on his back, the heel of her hitched leg digging into his ass to keep herself in place as one of his palms were flat out on the door and the other held her waist. The pleasure inside of her that was still around because Stiles was just eating her out tingled in (Y/N)’s body and, by the way she buzzed, she knew she’d be cumming soon.

Stiles increased his pace and the spring in her stomach coiled, indicating she was near. Her nails were digging into the skin of his back and Stiles would’ve winced if he wasn’t so turned on by how sexy she looked. Her eyes shut were and her head rested on the door as her unsteady breath let loud moans slip through. Stiles spread her legs more and began hitting her in a deeper and new angle, (Y/N)’s spring breaking as a result. Stiles immediately bit down on her shoulder, the feeling of her core clenching around him and her juices squirting on his cock too overwhelming.

But, he held onto his orgasm even though it was already knocking on the door. Stiles wanted this to last as long as possible and he actually managed to hold it. At this point, he was now pounding into her and (Y/N) whimpered at the extreme contact. Her body was still sensitive from releasing, but even though it was too much, she loved it.

Unclasping her bra, Stiles took it off and latched his lips onto her breast. His tongue flicking her nipple and caressing it. The second Stiles bit down on her perky bud and pulled, (Y/N) came for a second time tonight. And this time, Stiles allowed himself to as well. Her warmth clenched around him once again before his hips stuttered and he released hot cum inside of her, both moaning crazily. Their highs lasted longer than they’ve ever had and when the two were finally back in reality, Stiles stopped thrusting and placed a kiss on her lips.

“The way you annoy me every day drives me so fucking crazy, but you know what effects me more?” Stiles suddenly spoke up. “The way I smile at how you always put your milk in the bowl before your cereal or the way my heart beats faster whenever you laugh at something on your phone and time stops. But, most importantly, the way I feel like I’m flying everytime I’m around you.”

The words coming out of his mouth were making (Y/N)’s heart flutter so hard, she was sure it would eventually break her ribcage.

“Even though we bicker, I adore it because it reminds me of old married couples. And that’s exactly what I want us to be, a couple.” Stiles continued. “Because no matter how mad I get, I know that I’m deeply and irretrievably in love with you.”

“Stiles,” She smiled, looking at him with heart-eyes. “I love you, too.”

Stiles and (Y/N) have had countless fights in the time they’ve known each other. The two have shared millions of glares, angry shouts, eye-rolls, and fits of rage. But the thing was, they both loved each other in each and every one.

deal | pt 2 (m)

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon

word count: 6,848 

warning: pure filth you’re welcome

part one | part three


Jungkook is no longer tender, his lips ravish your body in such a way that it has you believing that the powerful kiss you had shared earlier that evening was nothing but a mere brush of flesh upon flesh.  Hands don’t hold you like priceless porcelain, instead it’s with a vice like grip that he clings to the skin of your hips almost as if he’d cease to exist if he let go.

Keep reading

Naruto’s Fatherhood

Okay, I’ve been seeing this whole idea going around for a while and felt the need to address it. A main point in the Boruto movie/series is that Boruto is frustrated with Naruto for not being around due to his Hokage duties. This leads to many fans assuming that Naruto is a bad father by choice. Let’s begin.

Naruto was inaugurated as Hokage after his kids were born. They were both young when this happened, so why is this relevant? Because Naruto had more time on his hands to spend with them, being a father, as he continued chasing his dream. What does this mean? Boruto and Himawari have experienced Naruto’s fatherhood before and after him taking the title of Hokage. 

For children who have consistently been ignored by a parent, it’s safe to assume that by the time they are 11 or 12, they’ve become accustomed to it. Why then, would a child who is accustomed to being ignored and neglected, be so upset about that fact when it’s all they know? Let me remind you all of this scene here at the end of The Last: 

Does this look like a bad father to you? They both attack him, and he receives them with open arms. He suggests a snowball fight, giving in immediately to their request. Children who’ve been ignored wouldn’t feel so carefree as to run into their parent’s arms, demanding that the parent play with them. Is it really that difficult then to make the connection that Naruto, who wanted nothing more than a bond, a family, someone who would receive his love and reciprocate it, gave his kids all of the free time that he had? This brings me to conclude this:

When all of that changes after Naruto becomes increasingly busy in his new position as Hokage, Boruto doesn’t understand how to cope with these feelings because he’s never felt that way before. This is the best explanation for his behavior then. He’s openly upset because he feels as though Naruto suddenly forgot about them, because he’s not getting the same attention he once was. Let me point you to this scene here, in Boruto the Movie where Boruto is looking at all of the photographs in Naruto’s study. 

In all of the photographs leading up to the one farthest right, appearing to be the most recent, Naruto is present and they all appear incredibly joyful. This only solidifies the idea that Naruto had been a wonderful father up until his Hokage inauguration. 

Naruto, on the other hand, has finally achieved his lifelong dream, and being someone who puts everything they have into everything they do, he works hard at his job because it was he who worked so hard to create the peace that he now has the task of maintaining. Is he perfect? No. Naruto has never had to balance family life and work life. He’s always been alone, never having to consider others in his decisions. It’s not difficult to understand then, that Naruto genuinely wouldn’t have understood the implications this would have for his family.

Naruto has never learned how to be any type father, good or bad. He has no example to follow or deviate from. When you’ve never experienced something for yourself, how are you to act upon the situation when it arises? At some point, Boruto brought up his feelings to Naruto in some way, probably through an angry outburst. So how does Naruto handle it? He over-exhausts himself, trying to make everyone happy by maintaining his shadow clones all day in order to get the maximal amount of work done possible and keep his kids from totally hating him. For someone who has desired nothing more than the acknowledgment of those around him since day 1, this behavior makes sense. 

I mean, the disappointment he feels when he’s messed up again? He’s trying his best with nothing to guide him. He sends Boruto congratulatory e-mails, he gives him a pep talk, he wants Boruto to feel acknowledged. Is this the best way to go about it? Maybe not, especially compared to the attention he must’ve given his kids before his new position. But, I sincerely doubt that Naruto is a bad father, nor does he want to be one. It’s a difficult situation for them. The new Boruto series is currently set before the Boruto movie during their academy days, so this must be during the onset of Naruto’s run as a Hokage. Therefore, that scene in today’s episode where he goes straight to bed after coming home is probably before Boruto brings his frustration to his father’s attention, so Naruto is probably unaware of the way his kids are feeling. 

However, Boruto quickly comes to understand Naruto and his struggles when he witnesses him fight the Otsusukis during the movie. Faced with the prospect of losing his father completely, his eyes have been opened to some of the difficulties Naruto faced in his youth. He decides that Naruto shouldn’t have to face more difficulties from the people he loves the most. He comes to terms with the situation by the end of Boruto the Movie, eventually accepting that this is the situation that they are in, and that he’s going to have to make the best of it. 

And if his own son can accept that this is Naruto’s new fatherhood, I don’t see why you guys can’t. 

TL;DR, Naruto’s fatherhood definitely has some bumps in the road, there’s no denying that. However, his intentions as a father are clear, and those are that he loves his kids and wants them to be happy, like a GOOD father would.

WHAT A.D. STANDS FOR

CREDIT FOR THIS IDEA GOES TO @theplltheorist
The overall idea of what A.D. stands for IS NOT MINE - credit as above! I repeat, the idea of what A.D. stands for is not mine! But, since I loved the idea so much I’m going to explain it in my own way and give my own clues that I found myself.

I’m fully convinced that A.D. stands for Advocatus Diaboli, which is Latin for Devil’s Advocate. Here was our clue:

Oh and at the end of 714, what do we hear in the final song? Devil, devil. These are the main lyrics they make us listen to, on full blast. Devil, devil!

Another occasion of a song about a devil playing, is in episode 401: “The Devil Within” plays. It plays during a scene with Black Widow:

More devil references in the above scene. Is a ‘devil’ endgame?

So there are clear devil references in the show. But what does it all mean? Advocatus Diaboli?

The job of a devil’s advocate is to prove that people are not saints, and actually, they have flaws. There is someone out there in Rosewood who is so obsessed with these five pretty girls, but absolutely cannot stand the idea that they come across so perfect, when in reality, they create their own problems through lying. Throughout the series we’ve seen A’s obsession with the girls - stroking Aria’s pink hair, making dolls of the girls, eating popcorn while watching the girls on TV… the list goes on. A.D. finds these girls so pretty! But they’re not pretty on the inside. They create their own problems and they need to own up to it.

Advocatus Diaboli wants to expose the truth behind these five pretty girls. Why do they keep getting into terrible situations but somehow come out the other side clean?

  • Aria killed Shana, got away with it.
  • Hanna (and Emily?) killed Noel, got away with it.
  • Emily killed Nate, got away with it. 
  • Hanna killed Archer - got away with it. Or did they? A.D. was close with Archer and is working to punish the girls for this, starting with ‘the finger’.
  • Aria is in a relationship with her teacher - well she’s not the innocent perfect girl everyone sees on the outside.
  • Hanna stole sunglasses - she shouldn’t be Rosewood’s it-girl.
  • Spencer kissed her sister’s fiancé. Why is Spencer considered Rosewood’s greatest achiever and role model student?
  • The list goes on of problems the girls create themselves but somehow manage to get away with it.

This is the whole theme of the show: these girls are not perfect. They actually create their own mess, and A.D. is obsessed with exposing the fact that they’re not as pretty on the inside. I remember one quote from Hanna: “I don’t even know why I just lied”.

You know what is really making me believe in this theory? WHO THE HELL WROTE THIS? This was NOT Andrew’s diary - the writers wanted us to think it was his, however he was revealed to not be Charles, so it makes no sense for Andrew (an innocent person) to have written this. Somehow, A.D.’s diary stumbled into Tanner’s hands while she was investigating Charlotte (further highlighting the relationship between Charlotte and A.D.)

The girls indeed are Pretty Little Liars.


Followers of my blog know I am obsessed with the idea of Bethany Young being A.D. (You can read posts entirely dedicated to Bethany here and here.) I believe this idea of A.D. standing for Advocatus Diaboli works perfectly for Bethany.

She never ever draws her face properly. Is it possible that she was the Black Widow as mentioned above (when The Devil Within played, again hinting to Advocatus Diaboli) and her face deformity is precisely why she sees the girls as so pretty; these girls have what she will never have - a pretty perfect face, and she’s frustrated that everyone sees these girls as so perfect, and so she becomes the Advocatus Diaboli/Devil’s Advocate to expose their flaws. Perhaps, she was caught in the fire of The Jenna Thing too, which caused her face deformity, making this more personal too for her to attack Spencer, Aria, Hanna, Emily and Alison. They did cause that fire.

Is this our true Uber A/A.D.?

Far too young to die

Request by @mr-robot-x : How would Jeff react when the reader dies in the accident instead of him. Clay and Justin support him.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, i listened to soooo many sad songs while writing this and idek how many times i watched my baby Jeff’s death scene and cried. Two of my friends read this and they cried. WE NEED TO PROTECT MY BABY, HE IS TOO PURE FOR THIS CRUEL WORLD

PLAYLIST

  • Saturn - Sleeping at last
  • If I die young - The band perry (iconic song in my opinion)
  • My immortal - Evanescence
  • People help the people - Birdy
  • Moments - One Direction 
  • The whole playlist for 13rw


Jeff’s POV

It was never supposed to happen this way. It should have been me! If that stupid stop sign wasn’t down and if I wasn’t drunk maybe things wouldn’t have ended this way.

*flashback* Y/N POV

As you got ready for the first party of the year, settling on a black romper and flats, you get a text from Jeff.

”be there by 20:30 x”

As you finished doing your hair, you heard your parents and who you presumed to be Jeff. As you walked into the kitchen it was as if he could sense your presence because he turned to you and flashed you a smile that was reserved only for you. You stood next to him and he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a loving kiss on your forehead. The drive to Jessica’s house was in a comfortable silence, with you humming to the tune of whatever song was on the radio and Jeff focusing on the road and having his hand resting on your leg.

You both stayed together for the duration of the party, as usual. You decided it was best that you not drink seeing that Jeff decided to play beer pong and someone will have to be the designated driver. You saw Clay and Hannah together and it looked like things were going well. Anyone could see that they liked each other if you paid enough attention. It seemed like the two were just waiting for the other to make the first move. Jeff was really doing a good deed by helping Clay, and from what you’ve heard, Hannah deserves happiness after everything the people at this school has put her through.

It was getting late, so you decided it be best that you and Jeff leave before he gets too drunk, knowing that he will regret it tomorrow morning. As you drove, Jeff filled the silence, “We should go for breakfast tomorrow”, he spoke. You smiled at him, “How about lunch? I don’t think your hangover is going to let you leave bed before 10″, you looked at him and laughed. But you were cut short by the sound of screeching tyres and crash, and everything suddenly went black.

You could hear a voice scream your name, no wait two voices. “y/n wake up, baby please just move, open your eyes. Do something so i know you’re okay please.” Jeff. “Jeff we have to get you out!” said the second voice. “NO! She needs to be okay Clay!” Clay, it’s Clay. You tried, you really tried to move but it was like you were stuck in cement. You wanted to just wrap your arms around Jeff and tell him that everything was going to be okay. That’s when you heard the sirens, the ambulance, Jeff still calling out your name. It pained you to hear him call and you not being able to do anything. It all sounded so distant, it sounded like it was happening miles away from the place you were. But what you heard next didn’t feel distant, it felt like it was being screamed into your ear. “Driver, female, late teens, time of death: 00:26.″

*present* Jeff’s POV

It’s been three days. Three days since I lost her. As I walk into school, everyone looks at me with sympathy and there’s road safety posters plastered everywhere. Are you fucking kidding me? “follow the rules of the road”, “road safety isn’t a joke.” Maybe if the fucking stop sign was up she would still be here. 

“Jeff, wait up”

“Clay, uh-hi”

“I’m not gonna ask how you’re holding up, but you’re my friend and I need to know if you’re gonna be okay at school.”

“I don’t know anymore, there was this part of me hoping she would be there waiting at my locker like she usually does, standing there with open arms ready to tell me it was all a nightmare and that she wouldn’t leave me.”

“Hey listen, everything becomes too much, just tell me and we can put our lessons on hold.”

“No, no don’t do that. She believed in me Clay, she always believed I would would get my grades up and play again and I can at least do that for her.”

“Jeff you know I’m always gonna be here okay? Just don’t do anything you’ll regret, just talk to me okay?”

“yeah thanks Clay”

*2 months later*

She would be proud, y/n would be proud. I got my grades up and coach is going to let me play again. I just wish she was her to see this. “And now stepping up to the plate, Liberty High’s golden boy has returned, Jeff Atkins!”

As I walked onto the field I felt like everything was coming together. I took my position, ready to use all my built up anger and frustration and hit the ball. That’s when I heard it, I looked into the crowd to see where that voice came from but no one was there. I shook it off and got into position again, then there she was, the biggest smile and cheering me on from “her spot” in the crowd and i froze, the bat falling to my feet as i stood there staring at the place she would always stand during my games.

“Jeff! hey man what happened? you good?” someone said as they placed their hand on my shoulder, forcing me to move my gaze from the crowd. “She was there, I heard her voice and I thought I saw her Justin.” “Jeff she’s not there, I’m sorry.” “She was always at my games, she wouldn’t miss any of them. She was my lucky charm.” “Jeff there’s something you need to know about the night of the accident. I-uh Hannah said something after she died, but I can’t say anything. Sheri is the only one who can tell you what really happened that night….”


TAGS: @mr-robot-x @fandoms-allovertheplace @beckybadgirl @loisfrost @homicidal-lemon @interstellarirwin @lowkeyprincipessa @mouray7

You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend

Masterlist linked in bio 


Harry’s been drinking all night.

It all started off with Savannah, whom he went to Lexi’s Bar with a couple of friends. It was a tradition they all had that carried throughout the past couple of months. Because Friday night meant cheaper alcohol, and Y/n’ s closing shift.

They were all having a good time, Y/n serving them drinks and they all drank their week away. It was just a night of celebrating the end of the week, where stress could be left behind for at least a couple of hours.

Everything was great until Harry got too handsy. It wasn’t his fault, he thinks, they had been talking for months and he had no particular reason to refrain himself from wrapping his arms around Savannah, considering she’s let him do it many times before.

But tonight, she wasn’t going near him, which was a drastic change from her previous attitude with him earlier that night.

So now, he’s stranded at Lexi’s Bar past closing hours, tipsy out of his mind. Savannah left without a word, abandoning him at the bar with no other ride home. 

Jesus, Harry!” Y/n gasps, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest when she makes her way back to the bar. “What the hell are you still doing here?!”

Their friends had left a while ago, only Harry remaining slumped against the bar with an empty glass of Malibu. She wasn’t aware of his stay, in fact, it was her closing shift and the bar had closed twenty minutes ago. Only the slight sound of the radio and the clanging of dishes Y/n was washing could be heard throughout the scene.

He looks like a mix of frustrated and upset, a clear shadow of sadness in his eyes as he looks up at her. He frowns a bit, looking back down at the empty glass that’s fiddling in his hands as he lets out an almost inaudible sigh.

“Do you mind driving me home?” he asks guiltily, “Savannah was my ride but she’s not really speaking to me right now.”

Y/n furrows her eyebrows at the softness of his words, an evident tone of helplessness when he spoke. She nods her head slightly, reaching over to grab his finished drink.

“Gonna wash this real quick,” she mutters, “you can grab your coat, I’ll be right out.”

Harry nods while shooting her a small smile through his frown. He’s always been extremely appreciative of her efforts with him. He knows damn well no other person would be able to treat him the way she does. She put him first, always, and it had always been something Harry never fully understood. She went out of the way for him whenever he needed it most, without the smallest hesitation. And if he needed someone to talk to, even if it was about the horrendous traffic on his way to work, she was always there to listen to him.

He can’t lie, he feels guilty that it’s her closing shift and she’d have to be driving out of her way in order to take him home. But in all honesty, he had nobody else. Savannah left without a word after Harry tried desperately to get her attention, his other friends following shortly after in one car, leaving Harry stranded alone at the bar with Y/n still working. So, really, this was his only option.

When Y/n returns to the front of the bar, she remains silent as she grabs her coat off of the hanger. She looks at him from the corner of her eye, watching as his fingers rub harsh circles against his temples, a gesture he’s always done when he was stressed. He shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes tightly as he fixes the jacket hanging swiftly from his shoulders.

She bites her lip, curious eyes wandering around his slumped frame. Seeing Harry distressed makes her feel upset. Witnessing him at a time of stress was extremely rare, and something about it makes Y/n’s stomach drop. He was always so positive, always making sure the people around him were smiling. He has the type of personality others strive, because he’s so selfless and effortless at everything he does, it’s the part of him Y/n always loved and admired.

“What happened? You okay?”

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh, his nose flaring as he closes his eyes momentarily.

“Savannah’s just so confusing sometimes. I like her a lot, but she’s hard to keep up with. It’s like she’s into me one minute and the next like I’m completely wasting her time, you know? I don’t know what she wants from me anymore.”

Y/n nods, understanding completely what he’s talking about. Savannah often does this to him—to most guys, actually.Because of how different they both are relationship-wise, it’s almost impossible for Harry to adjust to Savannah’s ‘hard to get’ character. Harry prefers to not waste any time when it comes to dating. If he likes someone who reciprocates feelings, he immediately takes action. That’s how he always was with his past girlfriends, taking no time to start a relationship with them.

Savannah, however, loves the game. Being chased amuses her, almost makes her feel as if she’s worth something. Because of her undoubtable beauty and irresistibly charming personality, she always makes the man work for her liking. Her character always made guys frustrated but exposed them to an entirely different relationship. Her hot to cold attitude made men feel intimidated, yet motivated them to catch her. Because, undoubtedly, she’s the ultimate catch no guy could ever ignore.

It had always been that way, too. When Y/n and Savannah both hit puberty, Savannah was the irresistible one. Her figure curved at all the right edges, her tan complexion naturally glowing, and she started to expose herself to new people.

She wasn’t shy of anything. Any opportunity to take on a challenge called Savannah’s name. She was constantly seeking adventure and finding new people to get along with. Which, of course, wasn’t hard at all. Everyone liked Savannah, it was almost impossible not to.

Y/n, however, was the exact opposite. She was beautiful, but not ‘Savannah beautiful.’ She was paler, not a spot of makeup on her face. Her body was a bit more frail than hers, her curves not as extenuated. She was more introverted, as well, only speaking when she felt was necessary. The only way she was able to make friends was through Savannah’s courageous behavior.

And although Savannah and Y/n had an unbreakable bond since middle school, being Savannah’s best friend screwed up Y/n’s love life tremendously. It hurt Y/n a lot throughout her high school years. Being best friends with the most beautiful girl wasn’t easy for her, if anything, it made her feel less about herself. It’s the exact reason why she hasn’t dated in years. Because guys Y/n liked always ended up falling for Savannah.

Which is exactly what’s happening with Harry.


Y/n first met Harry when she began working at Lexi’s. It was her first Friday night shift during the summer. It was her first week after training, so she wasn’t quite used to the busy weekends and late hours, but she didn’t mind it.

She was rearranging glasses at the bar when Harry first walked in. Her breath hitched in her throat when she first saw him enter. She could have sworn her heart had jumped out from her chest in that very moment. He was beautiful, a different kind of beautiful, too. He was so effortless at it—the way he moved and the way he presented himself; he had confidence in himself without flaunting it.

He was wearing tight black jeans with a pink floral see-through button up, flowing loosely from his shoulders. His chest was in great view, as well, the cross hanging from his necklace dangling perfectly between his pecs. His hair was freshly cut, his face freshly shaved and had an aroma of a cologne Y/n wasn’t familiar with. It was unique, though, like him, and all-in-all made him more attractive than she already perceived him to be.

Her eyes went wide when he claimed the barstool in front of her, her actions coming to a halt as her eyes hawked over his every move. She genuinely forgot how to breathe, his physical features overwhelming her in ways she’s never experienced before. The world around her seemed to fade as she admired every part of him she could see.

He was just so breathtaking.

It wasn’t until one of the other bartenders dropped a glass onto the floor that Y/n was pulled out of her trance. She quickly shook her head, slowly coming back in touch with reality. Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to notice her presence yet.

She shook her head again before working to dry the remaining shot glasses. She just had to make it a couple of hours without completely embarrassing herself in front of him, that’s all she had to do.

Her eyes drifted slightly to him again when he lifted his right leg up against the unoccupied barstool next to him, leaning over before his fingers started working to retie his shoelace.

“The usual.” he spoke, eyes still cast downward.

Y/n looked around behind the counter, checking to see if he was talking to someone else. Considering she had just started working there a week ago and hasn’t served him yet, she was completely clueless as to what he was ordering.

“Uh..”

He looked up from his shoes, eyes diverting right into hers as a sense of realization reached his features.

“Oh, I see,” he giggled, “Sorry, love. I wasn’t aware there was a new bartender in town.”

His voice was both raspy and smooth in the most elegant way she’s ever heard. His accent was so incredibly thick she could visually see it by the way his lips moved. And his giggle, with the slight smirk he developed made her heart flutter in her chest.

Y/n nodded, smiling slightly at him.

“Yeah, just started a week ago. Nobody’s ever ordered ‘the usual’ before.” she joked, nervous laughter falling from her lips as she tucked loose pieces of hair behind her ear.

He grinned at her, his cheeks turning a bit peachy. He had to admit, she was gorgeous, and clearly had a great sense of humor. He could tell she was shy, though, by the way she wasn’t confident in her words and the way her cheeks flushed whenever he spoke to her.

“Cute” he muttered ever so slightly, Y/n almost thought she imagined it, “‘The usual,’ at least for me, is a Malibu Bay Breeze. Bit heavier on the cranberry juice, a bit lighter on the pineapple.”

Y/n nodded, muttering a quiet “coming right up” before gathering the ingredients. Harry watched her as she poured it all together, mixing the essential ingredients, admiring her gestures and movements whenever he said something that made her smile.

They talked for hours that night, getting to know each other. Y/n was mesmerized, completely and utterly captivated at how somebody like him could possibly exist. He was everything she’s ever dreamed of—there wasn’t any part of him she didn’t find alluring. This was the only time she’s ever spoken to him, yet she found herself feeling something she’s never felt before.

And the feelings only got stronger with time. Every Friday for four months, Y/n found Harry coming into Lexi’s earlier than he usually did, and every time he’d come she prepared him a Malibu Bay Breeze—heavy on the cranberry, light on the pineapple.

He stayed with her until closing, until the last light went off and the music went down. And after she was off her shift, he took her to the 24-hour movie theater that hardly anybody went to in those early hours of the morning. Instead of watching, however, they spent the entire movie goofing around with popcorn and sharing fond memories of their childhood.

To say Y/n had fallen hard for Harry was an understatement. She was completely and unconditionally in love with him.

The feeling he had given her never subsided—he never failed to give her a feeling of euphoria whenever he spent his Friday nights with her. And the more he opened up to her, and the more she opened up to him, the more it felt right. He felt right, no part of her doubted that for a second. He captured her heart and she knew there was no way in hell she was ever getting it back.

Savannah even began to notice her shift in mood ever since her Friday night shifts began. It was as if she turned into an entirely different person. She seemed more confident in herself, and Savannah started noticing the softest of smiles illuminating on her face every so often.

Y/n was the happiest she had ever been before, she swore she was on cloud nine. Y/n started to believe nothing could have torn her down. Nothing.

But then, it happened.

Savannah showed up to Lexi’s during Y/n’s regular Friday night shift. It was a little past midnight, arriving back from her aunt’s wedding—which Y/n would have attended if she didn’t need the money (and if it wasn’t during her shift Harry was a frequent customer in).

She ran in with a long eggplant purple dress, which had a long slit along the leg. Her hair curled in perfect waves that fell loosely down her shoulders, her makeup illuminating and extenuating her flawless features.

“Y/n!” She squealed, scurrying her way to the bar while nearly tripping over her six-inch heels.

Y/n saw Harry’s eyes widen at the sight of her. Of course she visited her when Harry’s here, and of course, she visited when she looked as beautiful as ever. Y/n knew the second Savannah walked in that it was over, every possibility of her and Harry building up to a relationship has been knocked down to the ground.

Y/n closed her eyes momentarily, because she started to feel every part of her heartbreak, and it was the most painful feeling she’s ever felt. Harry’s only seen Savannah for a couple of seconds and he was already looking at her in a way he never has with Y/n.

She gritted her teeth harshly, because how did she think this wouldn’t happen? This was always how it ended, and even if Harry ever liked Y/n enough to start a relationship with her, she wouldn’t be able to hide him from Savannah forever.

“Guess what!” she yelled once she found her way to the bar, leaning against it so she was as close as possible to Y/n.

“What?” Y/n smiled weakly, unable to rid the aching in her chest.

“The photographer at the wedding asked me to be a model for his pictures! And not only that, but he just started working for Top Shop, said he could talk to some people for me to make this work! Can you believe it?! Savannah Turk, next top model! Gosh, I’m so excited!”

Y/n smiled widely. It was always Savannah’s dream to become a model, and she could definitely pull it off. In all honesty, she was shocked she wasn’t one already.

“That’s great, Savannah!” Y/n gasped, “I can’t believe this! I’m so happy for you!”

They both reached over to hug each other, Savannah jumping up and down as small squeals fall from her lips. Once they let go, Y/n is quick to fix up Savannah’s favorite drink as she claims the barstool next to Harry.

Harry’s heart began to race as she scooted closer to him. She was completely breathtaking. He had never seen someone like her before, every part of her intrigued him. She drew him in, and there was no way in hell there was any chance of going back.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

Savannah let out a slight “push” as she waved her hand in the air.

“I know, Y/n doesn’t shut up about you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, but quickly refrained against her shocked expression as she let out a nervous laugh. God, they couldn’t know about her feelings, because she hadn’t told anybody about how she felt about Harry and certainly wanted to avoid talking about it while he’s practically gawking over Savannah.

Harry looked up at Y/n with a playful smirk resting perfectly on his face.

“Well, who else is going to get me through my Friday night shifts?” Y/n laughed.

Harry lifted his drink up to her, eyebrows lifting as he smirked at her, “And who else is going to get me through my loneliness, eh?”

Ouch.

Savannah’s eyebrows lifted, a wide grin on her face as she looked over to Harry. And by God, he surely was a sight to see.

“Oh, so ‘Friday night shift boy’ is lonely? Don’t know why Y/n hasn’t taken advantage of that yet,” Savannah smirked, “I know I would have.”


Y/n nods again, mustering up a sympathetic smile to him. She doesn’t want any part of Savannah’s games to make him feel bad about himself. None of what he’s feeling is his fault, and every atom in her body aches for him to know that.

“I’m sorry, Harry” she whispers, “I know how much that can hurt, you don’t deserve it.”

He gives her a soft smile, but it falls just as quickly as it spreads. His gaze falls to the floor, eyebrows furrowing as he shakes his head softly.

“I just can’t keep doing this with her.”

His soft and Bambi eyes look up at her in sorrow, a frown stretched on his lips at the strain his heart has endured.

“I don’t know what more I can do, Y/n.”

And as selfish as it sounds, the first thought that comes to her mind after the hopeless words leave Harry’s mouth is you can love me back.

Because, God, if he loved her, she wouldn’t keep him waiting. She wouldn’t keep him under the impression that he’s not good enough. No, Harry’s fulfilled every part of her wildest dreams, and she would never let a day go by without making him feel the way he deserves—loved.

Despite her selfish thoughts that she desperately wishes she could say to him, she pushes them all aside. Harry needs her, he needs her to be the friend that will be there for him in the latest hours of the night. He needs her shoulder to lean on, and she can’t deny the chance to help him through this and make him feel better.

She doesn’t respond to him, only slinging her bag around her shoulder and pointing her head toward the exit doors.

“We can talk about this later, yeah? Lets just get you home first.”


The ride to his house was silent, mainly consisting of the soft tune on the radio and Y/n’s hushed voice singing along. With the alcohol still buzzing inside Harry’s head, he didn’t mind the silence they shared. It was comfortable because Harry wasn’t in the mood to discuss his anticlimactic relationship with Savannah. He just needed someone to listen to him, to be there for him, and Y/n was his favorite company.

When they arrive at his house, Y/n is basically carrying Harry to his door.

“Yeah, alright, you—that’s right, you’re good” she huffs, the weight of his body making it a struggle for her to walk.

He isn’t drunk enough for her to completely guide him, but he is stumbling a bit and does find himself tripping over his own two feet a couple of times.  

Y/n giggles, shaking her head as she walks him through his front door. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have made you that many drinks. Thank God you weren’t planning on driving, that would have been a mess.”

Harry doesn’t have much time to respond before she sits him down on his couch. She runs her thumb along his forehead softly, wiping away some of the sweat before smiling at him softly.

"Gonna make you some tea, now.”

Harry shakes his head, his hand reaching to grab her wrist.

“Love, you don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head, “you’ve been making everybody’s drinks all night.”

She shrugs, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“I don’t mind. You’re upset, I want to make sure you feel better, alright? I know that Savannah does this to you and I don’t—“ she pauses, closing her eyes softly, “and I don’t want you to keep thinking that this is your fault.”

His heart swells at her words, his large hands reaching out to grip her small ones.

“Would you mind just—just lying down with me for a bit? I don’t want the tea, just need your company right now.”

Y/n frowns slightly, and she isn’t sad because she doesn’t want to be with him. What makes her sad is the intimacy of holding him would give her no chance to escape her feelings. Whenever she feels the heartbreak sneaking back up on her, she always finds a way to distract herself from the pain. Whether it was rearranging her bedroom, organizing the books on her bookshelf, or focusing on her work, there was always a way to escape the pain.

But it’s when she feels him—whether it’s the touch of his hand, or a rub of the shoulder—when she feels his skin ignite her and when she feels the warmth of is body against her, there was no running away from the harsh reality she’s been living in. There is no escape from the thought that she’s in love with someone she can never have because all she feels when she feels him is broken.

And it’s in these moments she finds herself being most selfish. Because he needs her now, holding him, reassuring him that everything will be okay. He’s going through the same feeling she is, and all she can think about is her stupid self and her broken heart, even when he needs her most.

She lays down on his couch first, which Harry finds particularly inviting. He lays with his head face down against her neck, legs tangled in between hers with his arms wrapped around her back. He loves cuddling with her. She’s just so soft, and she feels cozy, especially after he drinks heaps of alcohol. He hasn’t cuddled with her for a while, either, and holding her against him now already makes his shitty night somewhat tolerable.

“Thank you for being with me, Y/n” he mumbles against her collar bone, the fabric of her t-shirt moving against his lips. “And I’m sorry I made you drive me back.”

She giggles softly, her fingers brushing through his messy bed of curls. She feels him relax into her the more she rakes his hair, and he doesn’t hesitate to keep her motions going.

“It’s okay, didn’t have any other plans. Besides, I kind of miss being alone with you sometimes.”

He hums in response, pressing his cheek further into her neck. His eyes shut, his body relaxing to the sound of her heartbeat, which he feels thumping perfectly against his chest.

“S’good to me” he mumbles, “don’t know what I’d do without you, you know.”

Y/n feels her heart skip at the words he spoke against her, her whole body getting an overwhelming sense of despondency.

“Harry, I—“

“I think I’m gonna keep fighting for her” Harry interjects.

His voice is slurring now, his half-asleep daze making his words all jumbled. But he knows what he’s saying, and Y/n knows, too, and her heart plummets. Her throat suddenly begins to choke on cries she wasn’t aware had come so quickly. It’s just another reminder, just another confirmation that Savannah always gets what she wants, even if Y/n wants it more.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna give up on her yet. If I like her, I gotta fight for it, right? She’d be well worth it, too.”

Y/n tries desperately to blink away her tears, and she’s forever grateful that the light is off in his living room when she fails to do so.

“I—I think you should do what you want, Harry” her voice shakes as she speaks, “I’ll be here for you either way.”

Harry holds her tighter, humming in response again, because he’s already falling asleep and finds no energy in him to answer her.

She wishes with everything in her that she can scream, scream at him for being so fucking stupid and oblivious to her love. And the worst part is that she can’t even blame him. She had an entire four months where she could have confessed her feelings, where she could have told him how in love with him she was.

But would it have changed anything? Would they have just ended up in this shitty situation anyway?

And it isn’t until Harry’s passed out on top of her, his breath spreading along her chest and his fingers rubbing her back in his slumber that Y/n realizes she could spend forever laying here with him, all wrapped up against his body. She could fall asleep like this every night, after a long day of work and empty wine glasses on the coffee table. She could see everything, everything she’s ever envisioned, with him.

And it’s in this moment she realizes that she can’t keep doing this anymore, either.

Her cheeks dampen with her tears, hands shaking in his hair. Never would she think she’d have to let him go, but seeing his face rest so peacefully on her chest, she knows she has to.

“I love you, Harry.” She cries, her fingers gripping onto the roots of his hair.

God, Harry, I love you so much.” she sobs.

If Harry wasn’t such a deep sleeper, she would have never dreamt of saying all of this. But he’s remaining asleep, lips parted as he snores, the alcohol in his veins making him almost immobile against her.

“You deserve to be happy, Harry” she whispers, “I shouldn’t hold you back.”

Her body is shaking, soft cries leaving her lips and endless tears streaming down her face. She doesn’t want to let go, she doesn’t want to stop loving him in the way she does now. Because even though it hurts, she doesn’t want to imagine a day without him.

But she has to. For him.

Her thumbs rub along his cheekbones, her eyes admiring his features one last time.

“And it’s because I love you—“ she pauses, swallowing thickly as her shaking lips press tentatively against his forehead, “that I have to let you go.”

OFF THE CUFF HOMESTUCK THOUGHTS #3: THE SELF PILE DOESN’T STOP FROM GETTING TALLER OR: THE PROBLEM OF DEAD MARIOS

DISCLAIMER

IMPORTANT THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

[CHECK THE TAG FOR MORE THOUGHTS]

So, a long-ass time ago, Rose and Dave had a conversation like this:

TT: After you go, what do you think will happen to me?
TT: Will I just cease to exist?
TG: i dont know
TG: i mean your whole timeline will
TG: maybe
TT: Maybe?
TT: Is there a chance it’ll continue to exist, and I’ll just be here alone forever?
TT: I’m not sure which outcome is more unsettling.
TG: the thing with time travel is
TG: you cant overthink it
TG: just roll with it and see what happens
TG: and above all try not to do anything retarded
TT: What do you think I should do?
TG: try going to sleep
TG: our dream selves kind of operate outside the normal time continuum i think
TG: so if part of you from this timelines going to persist thats probably the way to make it happen
TT: Ok.
TG: and hey you might even be able to help your past dream self wake up sooner without all that fuss you went through
TT: I think the true purpose of this game is to see how many qualifiers we can get to precede the word “self” and still understand what we’re talking about.

This is the most important sentence in Homestuck.

I am dead serious.

Well, OK, I mean, it’s pretty important for understanding some major Homestuck themes and shit or something like that.

Also, I totally should have said: Pre-Retcon Doomed Timeline Non-Dreamself Rose but ultimately about to become Dreamself Rose who semi-merged with Pre-Retcon Alpha Timeline Rose and Doomed Timeline Dave aka Davesprite AKA future Davepetasprite^2 or as we all call them around the office, Davepeta, had that conversation.

Maybe you begin to see what I’m going to talk about here.

One of the major frustrations a lot of people had with the retcon was that the characters we ended up with at the end weren’t the ones we’d come to love and know throughout the story. Was it even worth it, to lose the characters we loved to the tyranny of Game Over? The victorious kids, with the exception of John and Roxy, were other people, with other histories, other goals, and other choices.

Allow me to submit that that may be the whole point.

SBURB is cruel. We’ve known that for a long time. It’s cruel not as Caliborn is cruel, but as the cosmos is cruel, as a supernova is cruel. It wants what it wants, and doesn’t care about how that intersects with the needs of humanity. It wants to make universes through a complex game-playing method, and drags hapless, vulnerable adolescents along for the ride. And most of the time it doesn’t even succeed, leaving its champions to rot in a doomed timeline or similar! Skaia’s victory is an amoral creation myth where individual human beings are just the carved pieces on the chessboard. (I mean, the other ones. Not the carapacians.)

Again, let’s consider the theme of VIDEO GAMES vs. REAL LIFE.

Homestuck, let’s be real, is basically some postmodern horror timey-wimey Jumanji. For a generation way more familiar with pixels than cute little tokens It’s easy for teenagers and in fact, basically everyone, to fantasize about escaping their life and slipping into some game world forever, where they get to do awesome things and be a heroic person.

Homestuck makes that literal. Congratulations, everything you ever knew is dead. You will never see it again, except your internet friends, who turn out also to be your family and other important people. I mean, from a distance, SBURB sounds like an awesome game, right? You figure out who you are and get to wear a cool costume displaying that identity. You get to make anything you want and enjoy this hyperflexible mythology tailored to YOUR CHOICES. HS fans talk all the time about how cool it would be to play a real version of SBURB. That’s a big part of the appeal of SBURB fan adventures. They put you and your friends in the story. Or your favorite characters! It sounds like a fantasy come true.

The thing is, as fantastical as it is, it’s also really fucked up, and ultimately you and your friends are being used. By a giant frog to let it have its babies. By the universe. By a smug blue cloud thing that doesn’t care about you at all.

SBURB does not care about you at all.

The funny thing, SBURB features a mythology with so many layers and nuances and seemingly human motifs about growth and self that you might search for some grand ultimate meaning behind it, but it’s not even human enough to have a personality, to be something you can argue with or fight. It just is. It’s all the cruelty and power of a god without any of the dazzling personality. It’s empty. It just wants to make universes all day long, or fail trying. It is a great, weird tadpole-making machine that eats children.

One of the big ways it doesn’t care about you is its attitude toward the self. Humans and trolls and whatnot prefer not to be relentlessly duplicated. SBURB says, oh yeah, let’s make tons of copies of the player characters and use them for a lot of different purposes.

There’s the dreamself, an essential bifurcation of identity (you are now and were always the dream moon princex) that sometimes gets merged into god tier but sometimes doesn’t. There’s doomed timeline selves, who exist ultimately to augment an Alpha timeline whose Alphaness is decided very arbitrarily and frequently by Lord English. There’s the you who exists before a scratched session and the you who exists afterward, who are two different people but started as one baby in an act of ectobaby meteor duplication, your player self and your guardian self. Dead timeline yous fill up the dreambubbles made by the horrorterrors and get endlessly confused with each other. Any one of these could be the you experience being at any given moment, and which one it is entirely arbitrary. Don’t like being Dead Nepeta #47? Tough hoofbeast leavings, kiddo.

To top it all off, in Terezi: Remember, we learn that every single time we thought someone changed from one self to another, was resurrected or something like that, it was another act of duplication. For every time someone’s died, there’s another version of them waiting in the Dream Bubbles, surprised that they’re not the main character anymore. And we have no way of knowing which is which. Even John, good old everyman John, may or may not be the person who died three or four times. It’s really impossible to say whether we’ve been following the same person throughout our story, or just the illusion of the same person, like a horrifying cosmic flipbook.

The retcon is a return to this same theme. Ultimately, there’s very little new in the changes John makes to reality except that they drive the point home.

John’s friends all died. John and his friends won the game. These things are both true at the same time, except those things may not have happened to the same people. There was a happy ending. Hooray! For, um, some folks who may or may not be the ones we care about. In fact, it’s very confusing, because from Rose’s perspective, Roxy is dead but came back to life, and from Roxy’s perspective Rose is dead but came back to life, except also she came back to life as a weird tentacle catgirl of pure id and self –indulgence. So there’s that. Um. Which Rose are we rooting for again?

Or wait: is it none of them, because the first Rose died in a doomed timeline, hundreds of panels and a number of years ago?

There’s a tension here which one experiences between saying it’s okay because it’s still the same people, and saying it’s not okay, because it’s not the same people at all. This tension is exactly what we’re meant to wrestle with. To put it another way, Homestuck asks if identity can work in aggregate. Are all Johns John, all Roses Rose, and do they all share in what they accomplish? Or are the final victors only accidents created by the whims and needs of the frog baby machine?

What I’m saying, basically, is that the retcon, in the sense that it pointed out our confused relationship with these characters, was already here.

In interviews and questions put to him over the years, Hussie constantly compares HS and SBURB to other video games, particularly Mario, which he frequently returns to as a baseline of comparison that most of his readers will know. One answer, from a recent Hiveswap interview, is particularly revelatory. To the question of “Why do you kill off all your characters?” Hussie replies:

[…]HS is supposedly a story that is also a game. In games, the characters die all the time. How many times did you let Mario fall in the pit before he saved the princess? Who weeps for these Marios. In games your characters die, but you keep trying and trying and rebooting and resetting until finally they make it. When you play a game this process is all very impersonal. Once you finally win, when all is said and done those deaths didn’t “count”, only the linear path of the final victorious version of the character is considered “real”. Mario never actually died, did he? Except the omniscient player knows better. HS seems to combine all the meaningless deaths of a trial-and-error game journey with the way death is treated dramatically in other media, where unlike our oblivious Mario, the characters are aware and afraid of the many deaths they must experience before finally winning the game.

The big man hass the answer.

Homestuck is the story of those dead Marios.

Other works, like Undertale, have engaged with this topic as well. But one of the major differences between Undertale and Homestuck is that in Undertale, between “lives,” one’s consciousness is preserved. In Homestuck, it’s discontinuous, and the value of the overall trial-error process is called into question by the fact that you, the player, may not even get to experience the victory. What meaning does victory hold if that is the case?

So, to put it in a nice thesis format:

One of the central themes of Homestuck is the challenge of reconciling an arbitrary and destructive pattern of growth and victory with the death and suffering you experienced along the way. Homestuck asks: is victory worthwhile if you’re not you anymore? And would you be able to know?

What even is the self? Is there such a thing?

If you were left feeling somewhat disconcerted by our heroes’ tidy victory and departure to their cosmic prize, or by how which Rose gets the spotlight is so deeply, deeply arbitrary, there’s a good reason for that. You’re supposed to be.

The philosophical problem of Wacky Cat Rose is insignificant next to the bullshit of SBURB.

And don’t forget—John and Roxy’s denizens helped them achieve the retcon. Ultimately, the victory they achieved was mediated by the same amoral system of SBURB, and was a victory over an enemy, Caliborn, whose power was created, perpetuated, and ended by that same system.

Okay, so here’s where it gets contentious. There’s an argument to be made, which I’m not sure how I feel about, that some of the character development that could have been in post-retcon Act 6 was left out precisely to push this feeling and play up this tension. Note that this is not the same thing as saying that they were deliberately badly written, but that they’re deliberately written to make us uneasy.That Hussie deliberately played with the balance between making these retconned characters feel familiar and making them feel eerily different to leave us feeling uneasy with the result.

I’m not sure I like that idea. It smacks a little too much of that “everything is perfect” thinking that comes sometimes from the far Metastuck camp. Some of the differences may also be the result of flawed writing. (See: Jane and Jake’s character arcs, which I might talk about later.) And I want to be able to critique those flaws. Ultimately, I think we still needed more time and development to figure out who these new people were—even if our goal was ultimately to compare them to their earlier selves. And again, more conscious acknowledgement of the problem from our heroes—especially John, the linchpin in this last and biggest act of duplication—might have helped drive this theme home.

Still, I think the Problem of Dead Marios is one of the most fundamental questions of Homestuck, maybe THE biggest question. It’s essential to understand it to understand what Hussie’s doing—or attempting to do— in the retcon and the ending.

I don’t know that Homestuck offers us a clear answer to that question. There are some confusions around the issue, too. Where do merged selves fit in, exactly? Clearly they’re a big part of the discussion, because Hussie spends some time in Act 6, especially near the end bringing the identity-merging powers of the Sprites to the forefront. (See also: the identity-merged nightmare that is Lord English.)  Can we even come up with a clear answer to what it means when a dead Mario returns to life grotesquely fused with Toad? How does he beat the game? Does he tell himself that the princess is in another castle? Or what if he merges with Peach? Are they their own princess? How do they know if they’re in the right castle?

Um. Anyway—

Interestingly, it’s not all grotesque—spritesplosions suggest that personalities that are too different don’t stay together long, so a fusion might rely on some inherent compatibility between the two players. Erisol’s self-loathing, sure, but also Fefeta’s cheerfulness. Davepeta seems to be a way of bringing out the best in their players, a way of getting Davesprite past his angst and Nepeta past her fear. Honestly, I know a lot of people don’t like Davepeta as the ending of these two characters’ arcs, but I can’t help but love it. They’re the ultimate coolkid. Cool enough to know they don’t have to be cool. Regular Dave got there, too, of course. But was his retcon assist from John ultimately any different?

Then, of course, we come to Davepeta’s speech to Jade in one of the last few updates before Collide. Davepeta suggests that there is such a thing as an ultimate self beyond the many different selves one piles up throughout the cosmos. A set of principles that describes who you are that’s larger than any individual instance of you. Your inherent Mariohood. (Maybe this is comparable to your Classpect identity, which attempts to describe who you are?) Davepeta even tells Jade, strikingly, that one might learn to see beyond the barriers between selves. Be the ur-self, in practice, rather than theory. This would be incredible news for Jade, who wrestles with the issue of different selves perhaps more than any other character. (There’s a lot to say about Jade.)

Honestly, I wish this ur-self idea had been developed more, and I honestly expected it to be. It doesn’t fully come to fruition, I feel. (Same goes for Davepeta’s character. Ohhhh, ZING!) I’m not sure it entirely makes philosophical sense, especially with fusion—I mean, doesn’t Davepeta themself disprove it? Or at least complicate it? Like, are they part of the ur-Dave or the ur-Nepeta? They seem to imply they’re BOTH? Does that even work? Does that mean that Marieach is all the Peaches and Marios at once?

(In fact, Bowser/Peach/Mario are but the three manifestations of one eternal principle. Also, Bowser/Peach are the true power couple. Read my fanfiction plz.)

And what, say, of Dirk, who ultimately ends up rejecting aspects of his other selves? It feels like there’s a lot more you could say here, and I wonder if Hussie would have said more, if he’d had time. What’s weird is, none of our victorious kids never reach an ur-self (though to their descendants, they become archetypal to some degree), which one might have expected. They’re just individual selves who happened to get lucky. Does that make them representative of the whole? It feels like something’s missing here, or like something got dropped at the last minute.

Same goes for the idea of the Ultimate Riddle. You’d be forgiven for missing it, but there’s been this riddle in the background lore of SBURB that seems to have something to do with personal agency in this overwhelming, overarching system. Karkat called it predestination, saying something like “ANY HOPE YOU HAD OF DOING THINGS OTHERWISE WAS JUST A RUSE.” But others have interpreted it more positively. My favorite interpretation, from bladekindeyewear: the answer to the Riddle is that YOU shape the timeline through your existence, personality, and choices, even when it looks like it’s all predestination. Ultimately it’s your predestination, your set of events, based deeply on your nature, that you are creating. Someone like Caliborn can use his innate personality to achieve power; someone like John might be able to use it to achieve freedom.

I definitely expected something like that to be expressed more explicitly. Like, a big ah-ha moment that helps John or Jade or whoever understand how to escape Caliborn’s system. Something like that would have been very helpful for a lot of our heroes, actually, who’ve been pushed around by Skaia and SBURB together, in finding a cathartic ending.  Once again, I wonder if something was dropped or rushed because there wasn’t time to put it all in. There’s places where you can see hints of that Answer being implied, maybe? But it’s kind of ambiguous.

You can see how the Answer to the Ultimate Riddle ties into some of Davepeta’s ideas. If your personality, the rules of your behavior are a fundamental archetype that goes beyond each individual self, then the answer to whether it matters if one self of yours makes it through to victory is an emphatic YES. You are all of those people, and by winning one round with Skaia, you’ve won the whole game, despite all the arbitrary challenges and deaths it heaps upon you along the way.

This may strike some as too positive for Skaia’s brutality, or again, some way of excusing flaws in many characters’ arcs, or unfair things that happen to them. To be fair, I don’t know that Davepeta’s necessarily meant to be taken as authoritative or the voice of Hussie. They may simply be offering a purrspective.

Hussie not choosing to come right out and engage with the Ultimate Riddle leaves the question of Dead Marios and what they mean for the victorious versions of our cast very open. I like that in some ways—let the reader decide—but I can’t help but wish we had more to work with in making that decision. Plus, it might have brought the thematic messages of Homestuck all the way home to tie them more closely to our characters and their experiences—character development being one of the things most people found most lacking in the ending.

NEXT TIME: All that wacky gnostic stuff probably

xaldinlance  asked:

Are you fucking insane?! Ladynoir

This one gets a LITTLE sinn-ish… nothing serious or explicit but I figure I will still put some of it under a cut ^_~


“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t,” Chat said crossing his arms and leveling her with his most determined stare.

“Oh, I don’t know, how about because I don’t even know your actual name?”

“So we tell each other, it’s been long enough.”

“Are you fucking insane?” Ladybug hissed. “We can’t just-”

“Can’t just what?” Chat interrupted, “can’t just be honest with each other? It’s been three years Ladybug, and I for one am tired of putting my life on hold for some maniac and his color changing butterflies.”

“But the risks,” she tried weakly, even as her blood began to race when her partner stalked towards her.

“The risks will always be there. Why can’t we face them together?” he said softly, his hands reaching out to gently stroke up and down her arms.

“We already do,” Ladybug said stubbornly, “we have a great partnership just the way we are, why should be change that now?”

She knew why, of course she knew. It was her own fault after all. She had been the one to start this whole mess in the first place.

He leaned forward, ducking his head so that their eyes were level. She could see the conflicted feelings dancing in his eyes- frustration, hope, amusement, and pure unadulterated want.

She swallowed heavily.

“I am a pretty patient cat,” he said with a slight smirk, “but there are only so many times we can make out in back alleys and on darkened rooftops before we have to admit that this isn’t some mistake.”

Keep reading