i just followed two of these people like three days ago... how did that happen

I Don’t Think Jacob’s Captors Let Him Go By Accident

by reddit user nowwegotcha

Jacob became one popular dude during my sophomore year of high school, two years ago. In the middle of the year, he just showed up. His family had moved him away from their old home, but his reputation somehow got loose in the hallways.

At the age of twelve, Jacob had been kidnapped from his home in the middle of the night. His parents had been apparently drugged by an unknown person, and their son had been stolen. No one even called the police until the parents woke up. No witnesses, fingerprints, ransom notes, nothing.

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Oh my God, we're so sorry we blocked your doorway. Now go get your ear muffs.

I’ve had a long respectable career in game development. A couple of years ago I’ve abandoned it for a cushy corporate job, and now spend most of my days missing gamedev.

This story takes place about 10 years ago at the apex of my career.

I was the lead on a AAA project. Our parent company, for which videogames was just one of many lines of business, was going through changes. We had to move offices three times in one year. Second of the three moves, always intended to be temporary, put us into the basement of an older building long occupied by satellite departments not involved with development.

The basement we were given had been empty for years, save for the most distant office. You entered the basement through a dimly lit staircase. Then, after you snaked through a horror-movie-like maze of corridors and interconnected small rooms, you’d eventually arrive at the farthest room of all.

A golden plaque was on the door.

Trademark Compliance Department.

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Disobey

Request: If your doing requests I have a Steve thing that came into mind. It’s pretty much just smut, inspired by lyrics from the song ‘tied down - James young’. Specifically “So please can I be selfish with your body, cause I don’t think I can share you with nobody” and “When I have you, I’m gonna brand you with my lips, so all of the world will know that your mine now”. -however you want it is fine with me :) -also sorry for bothering you :E I just couldn’t resist 

Words: 3,973

A/N: Smut warning. I also haven’t had the chance to edit I’m sorry

Originally posted by urmychilicheesecake

“Y/N!” You ignored Steve yelling at you through the earpiece. Grabbing the gun off one of the Hydra agents, you checked to make sure there were enough bullets to get through the next hallway. Four bullets.

“Y/N there are too many agents in that room, forget the extra intel we got what we needed,” Steve spoke through sternly again. You ignored him once again, holding the gun up, finger on the trigger, ready to fire at any given moment.

“Sorry Cap, we can’t just walk away when we know there’s more information that we could use.” You whispered through the earpiece. You rounded the corner, gun aimed high, shooting once, effectively taking out two Hydra agents that were rounding the corner together. One would think not to walk right behind the other.

“Y/N. Get out of there and start heading for the Quinjet. Now.” You rolled your eyes. You continued making turned until you found the door that led to the information you were looking for. You jiggled the doorknob, hoping that there was a small chance that it wasn’t going to be locked. You backed away from the door, contemplating whether or not you were going to shoot the lock and fight however many people were in there with two bullets or walk away like you were told. You raised your gun, thinking to hell with it, before shooting the lock once and kicking the door open, gun still raised. To your surprise, the room was empty. You rushed to one of the computers, inserting a flash drive before hurriedly tapping away on the computer.

“I thought I told you to go to the Quinjet.” You turned around, holding the gun up out of instinct, caught off guard by how quiet Steve had been. There were deep frown lines on the edges of his mouth, his usual bright baby blues that typically reminded you of the sky on a sunny day were now a dark navy blue that reminded you of the deepest edges of the ocean. You swallowed, the tension in the room growing thick. Your heartbeat rose, waiting for him to yell at you. You watched as he tightened and untightened his jaw, something you know he did when he was annoyed. His broad chest rose and fell so lightly that if you hadn’t been studying him so closely you would think that he wasn’t breathing. His hands were in fists, knuckles white that you could only imagine were from how hard he was digging his nails into his palm. You didn’t know what to say.

You heard the computer beeping, you turned your attention from the very angry looking super soldier to the Hydra computer. You read the big green letters that popped on the screen.

Transfer complete

You let yourself smile a little bit, ejecting the flash drive before turning around to face Steve again. His eyes kept burning holes into you.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are we going to head back to the Quinjet?” You asked, praying to whoever was listening that didn’t sound as snappy as it sounded. He turned around stalking out of the room cautiously.

You trailed behind him, looking behind you to see one agent rounding the corner. You raised your gun and shot them in the arms, not lethal but definitely enough to knock them out. You looked forward again, hearing grunts and punches landing. You rounded the corner, hoping that it wasn’t Steve who was receiving such painful sounding punches. You felt your body relax when he saw that he had taken out six agents. He may have been a good fighter but he wasn’t perfect. When he turned around he avoided eye contact, but you saw the gash on his right shoulder. He kicked his foot down, causing the shield to fly up and allowing his arm to grab it before ordering you to follow him.

You started to move but one of the agents that were lying on the ground cocked his gun and aimed it at you. You froze, staring at his bloodied mouth curl up, watching his finger move slowly towards the trigger before hearing him fire. You closed your eyes and flinched, waiting to feel the bullet pierce through your skin. You opened one eye, looking at the wall to your right and seeing a very familiar shield wedged into the wall. You looked over to where the agent was lying, seeing him shot dead. Steve was at the other end of the hallway, eyes trained on the agent, a gun pointed at the dead body. You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, tears pricking your eyes. You swallowed again, blinking away the tears. You grabbed the shield, following him out of the building.

You raced to get on the plane, feeling it begin to take off once the both of you were on it. Steve had his back to you. You looked down to see the shield in your hands. Your fingers traced over the scratch marks and a fresh bullet mark on it. The black spot was warm, it caused a cold shiver to travel up your spine, thinking about what could have happened if the shield wasn’t there. If Steve wasn’t there. You turned and started walking deeper into the plane, looking for Steve. You saw Natasha and Agent Hill by Tony who was flying the plane. You kept walking towards the emergency medical wing, spotting Steve going through the cabinets in the room. You knocked gently on the door, catching his attention. He opened the door, looking at you silently before his eyes trailed to his shield. You handed him his beloved armor.

“Thank you.” You said quietly. You looked up at him again and saw that his fingers were tracing the same bullet mark that you were minutes ago.

“You’re not coming on our next mission.”  He said harshly, catching you by surprise. You blinked a few times, processing the words that just came out of his mouth.

“What?” You asked, more to yourself than him.

“You’re off the next mission.” He turned around again, setting the shield down by the door, looking through the drawers.

“You can’t do that!” You argued, angry that he thought he could control you and tell you what to do. He ignored your protest, eyes scanning the labels on the many bottles he had taken out.

“I’m going on the next mission whether you liked it or not. There is no reason for me to be taken off of it.” At your words Steve snapped his head towards you, standing up to his full height.

“You’re off the next three missions.”

“You can’t do that!” You exclaimed again, throwing your hands up in anger.

“I just did.” He muttered, pushing past you. You followed behind him, refusing to let this go by.

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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

splinter (m)

» pairing: jungkook x reader

» genre: angst, non-explicit smut / college au

» word count: 6,518

» description: Perhaps in their last moments together, the pieces won’t seem so broken. That maybe even with their jaded hearts they can salvage some replica of what it all once was. 

» note: there are mentions of cheating in this story

People love to talk about the ‘what ifs.’

What if they had just kept going, what if they had chosen a different path, what if things had just gone the way they had so desperately wanted them to? Humans torture themselves with these thoughts, all while urgently grappling at the threads of their memories that led to the fork in the road where things went awry. They ponder them tirelessly, wondering if they could’ve done something different, only to realize in the end that it didn’t matter because what was done was done. It was that simple, yet again, people still loved to talk, ponder, and torture themselves with the possibility of what if — However, in your personal experience, there was something much worse.

There was a sub-group of sorts to the what-ifs, called the ‘almosts.’ Almosts are burning flames of misery because they tease you by getting so heartbreakingly close to what you wanted. They were in your reach, resting on the tip of your tongue, only to dissipate before you could swallow it down and make it yours.

So yeah, you weren’t a fan of the-almosts. But what you were even less keen on was being in the same room as your almost, the thread of memories making the air thick as it wrapped its way around your throat.

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Silly Kitty | Seokjin

Pairing: Seokjin x reader
Genre: Hybrid!AU, fluff, if u squint there’s a tiny bit of angst
Words:
21.7k+
Warnings: this is 21.7k of pure fluff god is dead and we killed him
Notes: I started out following the request and then it just got out of hand, I couldn’t stop myself oml this fic has been haunting me for WEEKS. also i deviated a lil from the request im sorry i love u I hope it doesn’t disappoint!!!!

Request:
just lots and lots of fluff I guess?? I love Jin so much but I don’t see a lot of love for him. Oh! Maybe something along those lines?… How about… desperate hybrid jin, stuck on the streets, who starts following the first person who shows him affection and them just not knowing what to do, doesn’t know the first thing about having to take care of more than just themselves? - jin anon

Originally posted by bwiseoks


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anonymous asked:

andreil in a hospital?

One of the things Andrew has recently grown more comfortable with is touch. He still doesn’t love it, won’t accept it from most people, but thanks to the cats he’s less likely to jump or default to his knives if something brushes against his legs.

Which is good, because even though the apartment is empty other than them and King definitely prefers Neil, she’s snaking between Andrew’s legs anyway. He stoops slightly to brush her back with one hand—he doesn’t indulge them the way Neil does, but Neil isn’t here to see it, and the cats can’t talk, so ultimately, no harm done.

He needs to stop thinking about Neil so much when Neil isn’t here. It’s a normal occurrence—they both live in Chicago, but they play for rival teams, so their schedules aren’t perfectly lined up. Neil is in Washington this weekend for a game, and Andrew has a home game against Kansas City.

Andrew’s phone vibrates—undoubtedly a text from Neil. He opens it immediately and thinks about how unlikely he is to ever admit to anyone how much he misses Neil. Except for maybe Neil himself, and only if he was on his deathbed or something.

Neil’s text reads, good luck tonight! and is accompanied by a selfie of him and Dan. Cute.

*

The game is a brutal one, even from between the goalposts. Andrew takes a nasty hit during a brawl early on but doesn’t get benched until the second half, when a fourth ball clatters hard enough against his helmet to leave his vision swimming.

He resolutely does not check the score for Neil’s game—he’ll find out via phone call as soon as it ends anyway, or else a reporter will ask him about it as they leave or someone will announce it to the entire court (crosstown rivals and all that)—and so it’s not until his phone suddenly explodes with messages and tweets that he knows something has happened.

A call breaks through it—from one Dan Wilds, who is currently with Neil, which must have something to do with his phone being swamped with notifications—and he manages to answer it before it, too, disappears into the mess.

“What is it?” he says.

“Andrew? You good?”

He hates niceties and small talk, especially when they get in the way of his finding out necessary information. “Where is Neil?”

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it’s a comfort thing || dylan o’brien (!!)

author: @broodybell
pairing: dylan x reader
word count: 3,738

warnings: nsfw aT ALL THIS IS SO SINFUL I’M NOT EVEN SORry

authors note: i was gonna keep this fluffy, but we all know it’s pretty impossible for me to not write sin for dylan, so here you go!! also i apologise for how dirty this got. fUCK. and thanks to my bby @sabrinas-wolves for helping me with this and the puthey… and this is dylan pov

summary: dylan finally comes home after months away for filming. him and reader can’t keep their hands off each other and dylan learns how reader kept herself satisfied when he was away. 


my baby: text me when you’re on your way home so i can start dinner xo

dyl pickle: will do xx

I shove my phone back into my pocket with a smile and rub my hands together eagerly. It had been five months since I’d been home, which also meant five long, agonisingly lonely months since I last saw Y/N. Admittedly, I’d much rather be home with her right now, either fucking the shit out of her, or holding her close to my chest as I wash her hair in the bath tub. She always loved corny shit like that. But unfortunately, I wasn’t. I was in my dressing room, waiting with T-Pose to be interviewed with Ellen DeGeneres.

“Yo, you’ll be home soon Dyl, chill.” Hoech teases with dancing eyebrows and I scoff playfully at him. My knee continues to jitter up and down and I pat a beat onto my thighs. “Ty, I just miss her man.” I groan, rubbing my hands over my face in attempt to rid her from my thoughts, but it was no use. The thought of her withering beneath my body was doing questionable things to my sanity, and I was honestly beginning to have trouble hiding it.

My phone vibrates from my pocket and I dig through my tight jeans to retrieve it, my eyes scanning over the new text that displayed across my screen.

my baby: oh forgot to say, have fun in the interview baby. i’ll be watching… in that matching lingerie set you like ;) xx

My eyes widen, my pants suddenly becoming extremely tight as I imagine her sprawled across the couch, white lace adorning her curves as she- “Dyl, we’re on!” Tyler snaps me from my thoughts, my throat suddenly very dry and my hands clammy. I quickly stuff my phone back into my pockets, wiping my sweaty palms into my jeans and standing from my seat.

I awkwardly adjust my pants, digging into my boxers to quickly pull my hard on up and into the waistband of my pants. I follow Tyler out of the dressing room and through a long hallway until we make it out on stage, loud cheers emitting from the crowd. I smile happily, waving to the audience before I greeted Ellen with a peck on the cheek.

Tyler and I flail onto the couch as the cheering slowly dies down and I suddenly feel awfully nervous. In my last interview, I was asked verb personal questions in which my answers were taken out of context, twisted, and published online- which, ultimately caused a lot of drama.

“My two favorite boys. How are you both? I understand you’ve only just got finished filming for Teen Wolf?” Ellen asks, lifting one leg to rest on her other thigh. I nod my head with a smile whilst Tyler answers her question. I keep a smile on my face, laughing at some things Tyler says until he’s finished talking.

Ellen’s attention turns to me as Tyler leans further back into the couch, arms outstretched over his head as he looks to me with a grin. “It must be very hard for you though, right? All this time away from home?” She asks with concern and I sigh with wide eyes, nodding my head in confirmation.

“It’s great, you know, working on set with everyone. But five months is a long time from home and it does get very difficult.” I nod, Tyler watching me and nodding in agreement at my statement. “Is that why you take your pillow with you?” Ellen questions, a series of photos of myself carrying the blue pillow close to me. I chuckle at the photos; most of them taken after I’d been on a flight or even just walking around on set.

“It’s funny you say that, actually. It’s not my pillow.” I laugh, Ellen’s eyebrows raising quizzically. “Did you just steal someone’s pillow on a plane?” She laughs, and I laugh with her but shake my head from side to side. “No, it’s my girlfriends. We have this thing that when I leave for filming; I’ll take her pillow and she keeps mine.” I shrug my shoulders, smiling at the memory of Y/N coming up with the idea.

It was a smart idea. It was a sense of home I had with me when I was away, and also a piece of her. I remember how she told me she’d always sleep in my clothes when I were away because it felt like I was holding her. So when she started sleeping with my pillow when I’d left, she didn’t feel so alone and felt more like I was with her.

The audience awe at my confession, a small blush creeping onto my cheeks and the excitement to rush back home to her suddenly grows stronger. “That is awfully sweet. Do uh, do you guys FaceTime or Skype while you’re away?” Ellen asks, her smile growing when I nod my head. “All of the time. A lot of people say that we’re still in that honeymoon phase, despite that we’ve been together for almost five years now.” I chuckle, Tyler slapping my chest as he smiles at me.

Before I met Y/N, I was what Tyler called a man-whore. I’d sleep with girls but had no intentions of being there when they woke up. The last serious relationship I had was with Britt, I was falling hard for her but she treated me like shit. It wasn’t until I met Y/N at Tyler’s birthday six years ago and I saw how poorly her boyfriend treated her. It opened my eyes about my situation, and eventually I left Britt. Two months later, Y/N was having trouble with her boyfriend. Tyler and I went to pick her up so she could stay with us until they worked things out. They never did, and she never left - only when we decided to get a place together, three years later.

“The pillow idea is very sweet, actually.” Ellen coos, and I smile at her, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s a comfort thing.”

The rest of the interview flew by, and I don’t know if that was due to the fact that I had zoned out after talking about the pillow, or because my excitement to see my baby was so powerful I managed to speed up time. Before I knew it, I was climbing out of the taxi and dragging my bags toward the front door of the house. I dig my fingers into my jeans, pulling out my keys and quickly unlocking the door, throwing my bags inside before I follow and slam the door behind me.

“Baby!?” I call out, kicking my shoes off and throwing my keys into the glass bowl on the table. I smile at my surrounds, warmth coating me at the feeling of finally being home. “Dylan!” Y/N’s sweet voice calls out to me, my smile immediately growing. She races down the stairs, her silky nightgown slipping open as she jumped into my arms, her legs around my waist, arms around my neck and her face nuzzled into my chest. I squeeze her body closer to mine, as I hold her from her middle. “Fuck, I missed you.” She groans, her head moving from my chest and I finally take a close look at her after so long.

Her hair was pinned up messily and her face free of makeup, but I swear I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. Her smile was the light of my life, seeing that gorgeous smile could make the worst day better in the blink of an eye. “I missed you too, baby.” I smile, my eyes beginning to water and she pouts at me playfully. “Dyl, don’t cry. You’re home now. And I would say dinner is served, but you didn’t call to say you were on your way home. Do you want to order pizza?” She asks, the soft pads of her thumbs gently rubbing beneath my eyes to dry them.

I hold her wrists in my hands, nuzzling my cheek into her small hands and stroking my thumb against the back of it. “Pizza sounds good.” I smile, nodding my head slightly. A wave of tiredness washes over me and I yawn loudly into her hand. “Do you want to go take a nap? We can order food later, it’s only 7?” Y/N asks, noticing the tiredness that was written all over my face. “Can you take a nap with me?” I ask, and her smile grows. She nods her head, turning and walking away, but I grab hold of her hand- “Wait just a second.”- and pull her back to me, her chest smacking into mine. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, I was holding her soft face in my big palms and pressing my lips against hers.

Her eyes fluttered closed and slowly, she melted into the kiss; her arms wrapping around my neck as I held her by her waist. She hums against my lips, fingers teasing my hair and my hands slowly leave her cheeks, finding their way to the back of her head, my fingers tangled into her hair as I press her harder against me. I tug gently at her hair, a soft gasp slipping from her parted lips, and I take the opportunity to slither my tongue into her mouth. She groans at the action, her wet tongue massaging my own and a low whine emits from her lips.

“I thought you wanted to take a nap?” She mumbles, her words muffled by my mouth and my hands leave her hair, running down her waist until they knead her ass through the silky material of her robe. Y/N whimpers, her back arching, ass pressing harder into my hand and her chest presses closer against mine. I hum back in appreciation, squeezing her ass harder and sliding my hands beneath her robe. “But I want you more.” I growl, my hands resting beneath her thighs as I lift her from the ground.

She wraps her legs around my waist, my hands around her ass. Y/N tugs at my hair, lips messily crashing together as I carry her up the stairs, our sloppy kiss never breaking until I kick the door open, throwing her onto the bed. She lays on her back, leaning on her elbows. Her hair was sprawled out around her, her rode wide open and I stare down at her hungrily. Not wasting another second, I tore my shirt off my torso, unbuttoning my pants as they slide down my legs and I step out of them; the tent in my boxers growing.

She wiggles in the sheets, the sweet melody of her giggle erupting from her lips as I crawl between her open legs. Her hands tangle into my hair, pulling me closer to her with a smirk on her face, slowly pressing her lips against mine. I roll my hips into hers, a sexy whine echoing through the room as Y/N bucks her hips up and into mine, loving the feeling of my hard cock pressing against her panties. The harder I pressed myself into her, the wetter my boxers became, her arousal seeping through her lace. With both my hands on either side of her head, I move one down to her shoulder, my finger gently tracing over her skin as I slowly nudged her bra strap down along with the soft silk of her robe.

My lips soon followed, and I pressed featherlight kisses to the skin my finger previously touched. The back of her head fell into the pillow, her back arching into my chest as I continued to roll my hips into hers. I groan as the sudden wetness on my boxers seethed through the fabric and lubricated my cock. “Fuck, you’re absolutely dripping.” I growl, another whine leaving her lips and I pulled away from her. She looks to me with furrowed eyebrows, watching as I climbed off the bed. Her eyes train onto the aching tent in my boxers and the darkened patch of her wetness, her cheeks flushing crimson.

I tug my boxers down, a relieved sigh falling from my tongue as my cock sprung free. “Hm, baby.” Y/N whines, wetting her swollen lips as she watches me wrap my hand around my wet cock, pumping myself as I watched her absentmindedly roll her hips against the air. I release my aching erection, crawling back onto the foot of the bed. I lean over, looping my fingers into her panties and slowly pulling them down her silky legs and setting them beside me. “God, I missed your pretty little pussy, baby.” My attention fixated between her legs, the way it glistened with arousal in the dark.

I slid toward her, snaking my arms around her thighs as I pried them as far open as possible, my breath hot on her heat and she whimpered in frustration. I dip my face between her legs, my stubble scratching against her thighs and her fingers grip at my hair, her chest heaving in excitement. I look up to her through my lashes, our eyes meeting as I wink at her before shoving my face into her pussy. Y/N moans filthily, back arching and eyes fluttering closed. I flatten my tongue between her folds, teasing her entrance as I lick a stripe up to her clit, groaning at the sweet taste of her arousal. She inhales a sharp breath as I suck her clit into my warm mouth, rubbing my tongue against it as she rolls her hips into my face.

“Fuck, Dylan. That feels s-so fuc-fucking good, baby.” Her filthy moans and words caused my cock to twitch against the sheets. I release her thighs, one hand travelling down my body and I grip my cock, grunted in satisfaction as I pump myself to the pace she rolled her hips. My other hand travels between Y/N’s legs, my index finger swirling between her folds, collecting her juices and she whimpers loudly. I pull away from her pussy, my chin dripping with her arousal and her back collapses back into the bed. I crawl further up her body, my hard cock sliding through her folds, my tip grazing against her sensitive clit and she gasps.

“Open your mouth, baby.” I speak, my voice low and eyes hooded. I lift my finger to her mouth and push it past her parted lips. She clamped her mouth around my finger, sucking her wetness off it and swirling her tongue around my digit. “Oh, fuck. You’re so sexy.” I whimper, gently rolling my hips into hers, revelling in the feeling of my cock sliding through her folds. Y/N hummed around my finger, as I pull it out of her mouth and press my lips against hers feverishly.

With my lips still meshing with hers, my hand leans over the bed, opening the bedside table drawer. I disconnect our lips, looking over to the open drawer in search of a condom, but I find something else. My cock twitches at the sight, my eyes darkening as lust and desire consumes my every emotion. I grab the rubber in my hand and pull back to her, my face hovering over hers. “Did you find a condom?” Y/N asks, her voice a low whine and her hands run up and down my chest.

I stare down at her. “I found a lot more than a condom.” My voice was rough as I tried to contain my excitement. Y/N furrows her eyebrows at my words, her eyes following my hand that was by her side and when she notices what I was holding, her cheeks darken red in embarrassment. “Is this what you’ve been using to get yourself off whilst I’ve been gone? Huh? Using it and pretending it was me fucking you. Were you screaming my name, baby?” I ask, my eyebrow raised and she nods slowly, swallowing thickly. A pang of arousal shoots through me at the thought of her fucking herself with an inanimate object.

“Are you mad, daddy?” She asks slowly, noticing my sudden change in facial expression and her hand slowly creeps between our bodies until she finds the dildo by her hip. “No, kitten. Daddy’s not mad. In fact, daddy wants you to show him.” I smirk, her jaw slacking as she stares up at me in disbelief. “Be a good girl, show daddy what you did when he was away. Show daddy how you fucked your tight little pussy with it.” An uncontrollable moan shamelessly slips from her lips, her hand tightly gripping on the rubber beside her. My hand travels between our bodies, wrapping around her hand and guiding it between her legs.

She adjusts her grip on it, and I guide her hand up and down, her wetness lubricating the rubber and she moans in satisfaction. “Come on, baby. Show daddy.” I whisper, releasing her hand and pulling away from her completely. I crawl off the bed, taking her panties into my hand and sitting back in the armchair that faced the foot of the bed. I watched as Y/N touched herself, my cock throbbing at the sight of her pretty pussy smothered in her own arousal, and I wanted nothing more than to eat her out for hours, to taste her sweetness on my tongue again.

“Fuck.” Her soft whimper caught my attention, but my eyes remain gazing at her tight pussy and the way she rubbed the rubber cock between her folds. I growl at the sight, my grip on Y/N’s panties tightening before I carefully unbunch the delicate lace in my hand, holding the crotch in my palm before grabbing my cock. The wetness of her panties worked as a sweet lubricant as I began to pump myself, watching her whimper and moan. “Does that feel good, baby?” I ask her teasingly, eyes never leaving her pussy as she continues to rub herself. She hums in response, slowly dipping the rubber cock into her tight cunt and I whimper at the sight, watching as her back arched off the sheets and a filthy whine left her lips.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy.” I growl, pumping my cock faster with my bottom lip tugged between my teeth and I watch her intently. Her grasp on the dildo had tightened as she relentlessly fucked herself with it, long whines spilling from her lips and she thrusted her hips into her hand. “I want you to pretend that’s my cock, baby. Imagine it’s me fucking your wet pussy, hitting all those deep spots as I play with your clit.” I growl, turning myself on even more. Her legs begin to shake, her hand thrusting the cock into her relentlessly and a filthy whine sounds through the room. I tear my hand away from my pulsating cock, dropping her panties to the ground.

I stomped toward her, snatching the dildo out of her pussy and she shrieks in pleasure. I leave it on the bed, crawling between her legs and pressing my lips against hers harshly. She whimpers at the feeling, her legs wrapping around my legs and she pushes me off her, causing me to roll over to my side of the bed. “You fucking ass, I was- I was ab-about to cum.” She breathes frantically, trying to catch her breath and I smirk at her, watching as she straddled my waist. “But daddy didn’t say you could cum, did he?” I retort, authority laced in my voice and she pouts down at me.

My cock slid between her folds as she teasingly rolled her hips against mine. “Daddy, I want you to make me cum.” Y/N whimpers, her legs already beginning to shake. “Ride me.” I growl, her eyes lighting up with excitement and she steadies herself onto her knees, my cock standing at attention as she slowly sinks down on my length. I hiss at the feeling, her tight walls stretching out as I filled her. “Fuck, daddy you’re so big.” Y/N whines sexily, my hands gripping at her hips as I thrust up into her.

“Shit, kitten. You’re so tight, god you feel fucking amazing.” I cry out, snapping my hips into hers at a merciless pace, grunting at the feeling of her tight walls clenching around me. “Dylan, oh Dylan, that feels so good. Don’t stop!” Y/N screams, her legs shaking either side of me as her perky tits bounced at each thrust. I could’ve came at the sight, but I wanted nothing more than to feel her finish all over me. “I’m so fucking close, daddy. I’m gonna cum!” Her voice was raised, face contorted and I swear I’d ever seen her look so beautiful.

“Cum for daddy, cum all over my big cock, baby.” I encourage, thrusting harder and faster until her walls clenched around me, her warm arousal coating my cock and a pornographic moan screamed from her lungs. My eyes widen at the noise, my release following as hot spurts of cum shot through her and she slowly stopped rocking her hips against mine, lifting herself off me and crashing into the sheets. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, or heard.” I swallow thickly, turning to the sleepy girl as a lazy smile tugged at her lips. “Sure was, daddy.” She teases, my smile growing as I pull her into my arms.

“Can we take that nap now?” I ask after a few minutes of silence had passed. I wait for an answer, my head shifting to look down at her. Y/N was cuddled into my side, eyes slid shut as her soft breaths gently blew over my chest. I smiled down at her, sitting up slightly to pull a blanket over us and her grasp on my torso tightens subconsciously. I smile down at her, tugging the covers over us and relaxing back into her arms. My lips gently press against her hair, a satisfied, yet tired sigh leaving my lips.

“I love you, baby.” I whisper, holding her as close as I possibly could. “I love you, too, Dylan.” Her weak voice spoke and my eyes slowly fluttered closed with a content smile tugging at my lips.


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FP Jones/Andrew’s Family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 12 - Final Part(For now)

Originally posted by fyeahriverdale

AN: So we’ve come to an end until Season 2 comes out. I will continue to write FP and Riverdale imagines so if you don’t already please follow me for more. I am so in love with this fic and all of you have been so kind about it, I hope to continue it next season and I hope you stick around for that. Love you all!

(Part One)(Part Two)(Part Three)(Part Four)(Part Five)(Part Six)(Part Seven)(Part Eight)(Part Nine)(Part Ten)(Part Eleven)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s old sister and you have a thing for a certain serpent

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews

Word count: 3,947

Warnings: Well, FP is clearly older than the reader in this fic, 

The following few days that came after the discovery of the true murderer of Jason Blossom was a whirlwind of events. Clifford Blossom killed himself and was busted for hard drugs, the Blossom house and company was completely ransacked by the sheriff’s department, Cliff Blossom’s funeral (if you could even call it that), the Cooper’s reuniting and you constantly fighting with yourself to go see FP. 

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zazzhowell  asked:

ok so dan being all whiny and phil being busy playing a game or something so he grinds on phils thigh until he cums? bonus points for daddy kink💕

This probably isn’t what you meant by whiny but hey go hard or go home. And ofc I added some daddy kink. Getting me not to is the hard part.

Anyone who tries to tell you that humans don’t go into heat clearly hasn’t met Daniel Howell. Years ago, Phil would have said the same thing – that it’s reserved for oestrous cycle animals and that men who claim to have anything along the lines of a “sex addiction” are just fishing for excuses to sleep with the nanny. Then when he met Dan, everything he thought he knew about human sexuality went out the window. It’s not that Phil’s boyfriend is an overly sexual person all the time – in fact, for most of the year he struggles to keep up with Phil’s rather standard libido. Dan has a tendency to run himself into the ground and survive off as little sleep as possible, which tends to wreak havoc with his sex drive. That’s not to say that they don’t normally have sex, because they do, but generally no more than two or three times a week. Usually, it’s just some nice vanilla loving with Dan’s back on the bed and his legs around Phil’s waist, or, if he’s not too tired, sitting in Phil’s lap and riding him as they lazily make out. They’ve both come to the agreement that handjobs aren’t even worth the effort, but there’s the occasional blowjob thrown in when they’re bored or don’t have the time to go all the way. What they have is probably considered the average sex life for two people who have been together as long as they have. And then there’s that one week a year when all this information becomes void and null.

The only way either of them can describe it is a form of heat. It hits Dan every year without fail, always around the same time. He falls into this sexual frenzy where it’s all he can think about – he can’t sleep, he can’t work, he can barely eat. The only two options available in his mind are fuck or be fucked. Every little touch against his skin is oversensitive – even the fabric of his clothes brushing over his skin gets him desperate and panting. He tends to spend the week indoors in only his underwear for a lax attempt at modesty. When he’s not actually naked and fucking, that is. He probably comes more times in that week than he does for the rest of the year combined, and when it passes he sleeps for three days straight, waking only to drink water and use the bathroom.

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Uncle Gerry’s Family Fun Zone

by reddit user Red_Grin

This is a lengthy story but it is worth it:

I didn’t know Will could draw, I remember thinking as my friend’s hand quickly moved across the page. And then I looked more closely at Will’s impromptu sketch, and I immediately regretted it. I tried to unsee it. I shifted my attention to other things around me, anything at all that wasn’t ink on the page: the blur of Will’s hand, the beads of sweat gathering at his temples, the gentle autumn breeze creeping through the crack of the window.

Don’t look at the page. Just don’t look at it.

But I knew I had to. So I looked. And it was worse than I expected. Much worse.

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Enigma

Enigma (m)
Words: 4.3k
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre/Warnings: Sub!Jungkook: (one shot) smut, language and dom!oc
Summary: Jungkook is your quiet and rude manager. At least to everyone else. To you, he’s your baby boy in the bedroom.

(gif: credit to owner)


You were sitting in your office, diligently working when your friend and coworker, Joy, knocked as she opened the door. “Y/N~”

“Hey,” you smiled excited to have a break for a moment. “Come on in, have a seat.”

“So, where were you last night? We all went out for drinks.” She asked as she sat back in one of the two chairs in front of your desk.

“Well, I had some company…” 

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Nectar of The Goddess

Originally posted by theonewhoprotested

@permanentcross I told you it was coming soon, hopefully this will make a good little miniseries

“Bet yah taste sweet,” He purred in her ear before cleaning off one of his fingers and letting out a groan of his own. “Oh yah do love, best thing ‘ve ever tasted. Even better than those drinks yah make me. Although, guess it should be huh, after all it’s the nectar o’ the goddess. Why don’ yah go head and taste it.”

He held his other finger to her lips and Y/N seized the opportunity she saw. Her lips closed around his finger and she sucked firmly, running her tongue around it as she rocked her head back and forth slightly. Harry knew that if he fucked her right now that he was going to climax way too quickly, he had to prep her more, needed to get her all ready for his cock and build up her orgasm.

“Want to truly taste yah love. Got to taste the nectar o’ the goddess from the source.”

or

Y/N is a bartender who makes all sorts of drinks for Harry, but Harry’s favorite drink is Y/N’s juices

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Let's Pretend (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Epilogue ❤️

A/N: Here it is you guys! The Epilogue! *cries historically* I just wanted to say thank you to all of you who’ve stuck with this story! It’s my first series and y'all are hella awesome for all the positivity!! 😭❤ Please excuse any misspelling! And most of all, enjoy! - Delilah ❤

Warnings: Mentions of sex. Fluff. 

Series Masterlist

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Can A Snake Be Sweet? // Sweet Pea x Reader - Part 2

Part One

A/N: I just want to thank everyone for the love part one go? I was so nervous to publish it and you guys really helped subside my nerves! This one was difficult to finish because i had a million different ideas, and once i started writing one out another popped up into my head. I honestly was more than halfway done with a part two idea i initially had when i decided to write this one out instead at like three in the morning and did the final touch ups like an hour ago so i hope i made a good decision and you guys enjoy this follow up. 

Summary: It’s been a week since [part one] and she has been avoiding Sweet Pea at all costs and he definitely doesn’t appreciate it but oddly enough the careless young Serpent leader cares enough about her to go after anyone who may hurt her. 
Word Count: 3366
Warning(s): Swearing, violence, and a little fluff.

A whole week Y/N had gone without affiliating herself with a specific gang. She was doing well for herself and many around Southside High were impressed by the former Northsider’s ability to keep people from harassing her. 

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called out from across the empty hallway. She turned around the see Sweet Pea rounding the corner and walking towards her. 

She just simply shook her head and rushed into her chemistry class, she felt bad with how many times she’d just walk away form him without a peep but she told herself that he was no good, that Jughead wouldn’t have told her to stay away for no reason. 

Sweet Pea’s knuckles slammed against the nearest locker as he watched her nearly run into her class. He was known for his irrational anger and for some reason Y/N’s ability to just brush him off was an extra flame to that fire. 

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Words Aint Enough

It’s finally here. 
The one shot was inspired by this song by Tessa Violet: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWAAFCZeIKM

Plot: Y/N never asked him to commit himself to her, but when Harry flirts with someone else it breaks her heart. 

Warnings: None aside from mentions of Sex. But there’s no smut. 

…. now….

I was in love with him. Whole heartily and knees weakening in love. Even though we were destined to fail.
What Harry and I shared was special, a bond much stronger than anything else I knew. Or so I’d thought. From the moment we met he was magical to me and enchanting. I couldn’t get enough of him. He was addictive.
And I would always do my best to keep him.
I liked what he liked, learned to care for the things he cared about and felt proud whenever he discovered as a happy surprise that I enjoyed the same things he did. Harry liked me a lot. I hoped that maybe if I adapted more to his likings he would learn to see in me what I had long begun to see in him. A plan that couldn’t possibly work.
Times passed and my heart grew heavier. Far too long my infatuation with him received little response and though I had tried not to let it hurt me and had kept on telling myself that some of his love was better than none at all, it’d pained me. There was only so much I could take, but to my misfortunate I’d realized too late just how much I depended on him. Too much. So far too much.

Harry had contributed a lot to me staying oblivious to his lack of romantic feelings for me. So many times he’d stolen a kiss to my cheek, had held onto my hand or had pulled me in to sit on his lap for no apparent reason at all other than the fact that he’d wanted me to be near him.

„You’re like my puzzle,“ Harry had murmured into my neck one evening after he’d pulled me onto his lap.

I’d giggled. „Because I’m confusing?“

„No,“ he’d laughed against my back, „It’s because we fit so well. With you sitting like this… ’S nice, you know?“

I wish I would have had the guts to tell him right then and there.

My fingers had squeezed his before leaning back into him. „Yes, I know.“

Always being the more confident between the two of us, I’d assumed those sweet gestures were him taking the steps I never dared to. Steps towards us being more than close friends.

But I’d been mistaken about quite a few things…

The first kiss he’d given me had been what doomed it all to change. His game of stolen touches and unspoken feelings couldn’t be played for much longer without me going insane over how much my feelings tore at my heart. And what had instantly followed our first kiss was much more.
I remembered that morning so well. I had opened my eyes and found him asleep by my side. Unlike all of his other touches, which could have been excused, this hadn’t been an accident. Kissing someone all night and whispering words over adoration… Sleeping with them. That doesn’t just happen.
Especially not when you’re as sober as Harry and I had been when we’d stumbled into bed and into each other’s embrace.

As I’d lain there I allowed my hand to reach out and touch his warm skin gently.
Images of Harry’s face only inches away from my own had clouded my memory. His kiss, foreign as I’d never got to taste his lips before and then familiar at the same time due to how many times I’d been staring at his mouth. Every curve, extra soft section and particularly warm spot of his mouth… I’d got to know them.

The smile was impossible to keep from my gracing my lips. Harry… my Harry, was naked and asleep in my bed, wrapped up in my sheets while I was wrapped up in his arms. His chest was pressed against my bare back making me feel safer than I’d ever felt before and when I turned my head just a little bit I could press my lips to one of his many tattoos. Even his legs were intertwined with my own. There would have been no untangling us even if we’d wanted to.

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City of Love

Pairing: Teacher!Derek x Teacher!Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+, spanking, vaginal sex, oral (fem receiving, and male), no dk unfortunately

A/n: It’s very rare that I write fluffy Derek smut, but damn I do love it as well. This was a request, and I did alter the request slightly so apologizes but I just find this works <3 Thank you to @ninja-stiles for reading through this <3

Masterlist

Originally posted by iminlovewithderekhale


“Remember class, we’re meeting at the airport tomorrow morning at four am.” You announce to your class full of teenagers who were chatting among one another. You could tell they were excited about their trip to Paris, France but you could bet you were more excited than all them put together. It was always a dream of yours to go to Paris, you loved everything about the city.

When your principal asked you to organize a trip abroad for your class, you couldn’t help but choose the one place that fascinated you the most. You ran it through the school board, highlighting the array of activities that were available over in France; The Louvre, The Eiffel Tower and Disneyland. Six days away from Beacon Hills was everything you needed.

“Miss Y/L/N, what other teachers are coming with us?”

“Miss Martin and Mr Hale.” His name fell from your lips with a hiss, and the class giggle at your tone. “Right, have a good evening and I’ll see you bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow.”

Keep reading

Alright fandom, I’m about to bring up a topic that has pissed me off for way too long. Way back to one of my favourite arcs, Book of Circus.

A topic that has not only been something personal to me, but another reason that Sebastian Michaelis is one of the most disgusting characters and if SebaCiel was real, it’d be indeed a heavily toxic relationship. Also, a counter argument to everyone that brings this up as a point to hate Our!Ciel.

Today, I’m going to discuss my heavy belief and theory, that during this scene, Ciel was forced into a PTSD attack.

Look at the following three pictures.

PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) -  a condition of persistent mental and emotional stress occurring as a result of injury or severe psychological shock, typically involving disturbance of sleep and constant vivid recall of the experience, with dulled responses to others and to the outside world.

With this in mind, PTSD has to be triggered by something, not just when Ciel walks in and sees the exact duplicate of a room he was trapped in for a month. These three photos are so important because it shows exactly how this connected to that day. The doctor representing the cultists, Ciel is now forced to remember all those terrible memories, his traumatic memories scratching the surface. How heavily these two scenes correlate is so important.

Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?

At this exact moment in time, we lost Ciel, he was gone and reliving everything. The outside world completely falling apart to him, having no idea what happened anymore after this moment.

Now, showing the actual attack.

‘Stop it’.

‘Stop it’.

‘Someone’.

What do you assume from the black text boxes? To me, this appears to be happening in Ciel’s mind, he is now reliving this all over again until the end of the arc. I will go more in depth in that later.

Right now, he is calling out to someone right now, he wants someone to get him out of this hell hole, just like he did that day.

My point is, and I can’t stress this enough, he believes he is back there in the cage, and he wants out. He is gonna do everything to get out.

To make more sense of this before moving on to my next point of the actual PTSD attack, here are the symptoms of an attack.

Behavioral: agitation, irritability, hostility, hypervigilance, self-destructive behavior, or social isolation.

Psychological: flashback, fear, severe anxiety, or mistrust.

Mood: loss of interest or pleasure in activities, guilt, or loneliness.

Sleep: insomnia or nightmares.

Also common: emotional detachment or unwanted thoughts.

Now, I have put in bold the ones Ciel is suffering from AND signs that he has shown previous to this. Guilt and nightmares are the biggest examples of that.

Right now, he is having extreme emotional detachment and unwanted thoughts, with flashbacks fueling fear and severe anxiety. He is suffering much more than what he appears to be.

Now, here is my second point to this that involves Sebastian:

For anyone that wants to argue that Sebastian isn’t as bad, or he sincerely cares for Ciel. I’m about to throw those words back in your face.

Sebastian Michaelis is a demon, he does not give a single fuck about our!Ciel, sorry if I have to be the one to tell you this, but he doesn’t and this is the first example I’d give anybody to show them.

‘Young master, is there something you’re afraid of?’

‘You’re outside of the cage right now, my Lord.’

‘Call my name.’

Those sentences, are the biggest forms of manipulation I’ve ever seen coming from this demon. He didn’t break Ciel out of the PTSD attack, I’ve seen other people saying that, but that is far from the truth. I will show that through the next set of pictures. 

Right now, I want to explain what I believe to be Sebastian’s intentions. This goes if he understood what was happening or not. I start to believe more and more that he did, because focus on the look on Sebastian’s face. He is smirking, he seems more than pleased by the situation because he gains from it. He tells him to call his name, say it, because Ciel believes he is in the cage and has just called the demon to come and save him. Sebastian, being aware he wants to be saved, he wanted help, used him, his asthma and PTSD attack, and he did it to make not only their contract stronger but to make Ciel’s soul better.

Revenge, sorrow, pain, all these things that make Ciel’s soul the best that it is, the want to be stronger than his enemies, Sebastian knows this.

Sebastian used this for his own agenda, he didn’t do it because he wanted to help Ciel find himself, because he didn’t. All that demon wanted was to help himself with his meal, that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

When Ciel then acts out, screaming to ‘kill these guys’, you think he means the doctor and Joker right?

I’m afraid, far from it, saying Ciel is mixing his reality with the past, he believes he is telling Sebastian to kill the same people he already killed three years ago. He does not remember the reality before him. What he is seeing, is so much different than to what you and I were seeing.

The most important point in this post is:

Ciel had no idea who he was killing, he thought he was in the cage, he didn’t care who died, he wanted the cultists stopped.

CIEL WAS NOT AWARE HE WAS KILLING THOSE CHILDREN.

Another message (SebaCiel):

I don’t care what you ship, I really don’t.

However, if you look at this scene and sexualize it, I don’t mean ironically (joking is fine), I mean you truly look at this and think this is a great example of SebaCiel, I’m sorry, but you piss me off and quite frankly I feel you are not only spiting in Ciel’s face, but the people who suffer from PTSD.

Have you ever seen someone have a PTSD attack? It’s terrifying, it is one of the hardest things to deal with, pulling someone out of those memories and making them feel safe again-. It is difficult, and I’ll say it once more.

No, Ciel calling Sebastian’s name, did not break him out of his trance.

To romanticize and sexualize PTSD and his asthma attack is disgusting, and a pathetic way of filling your yaoi quota.

Off of that rant, I’m gonna move on to the last bit of this.

Burning the children.

As you can see, Ciel just denied the Queen’s orders.

Ciel just denied the Queen’s orders.

He’s never done that before in his entire career, isn’t that off to you?

Of course it is, because he in his mind doesn’t work for her yet, what Sebastian says to him is not processing to him. Sebastian isn’t aware of this more than likely, but I promise you nothing anybody is saying is entering Ciel’s ears and he is understanding it unless it relates to that day. When he says to burn down the place, he believes he is getting rid of the place that caused him aching pain and suffering for an entire month. Not just for him but his beloved brother.

Reliving these memories, Ciel wanted nothing more than it to go away.

Let me say again, Sebastian asking if he was ‘sure’ wouldn’t have helped at all. To open your mind a bit, here are the very few ways to help PTSD. Most of the time the person needs to take medication and probably go to sleep.

Therapies:

Cognitive behavioral therapy - A talk therapy focused on modifying negative thoughts, behaviors, and emotional responses associated with psychological distress.

Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing - Psychological treatment that reduces the stress of traumatic events through eye movements.

Exposure and response prevention - A talk therapy based on exposing feared or traumatic experiences within a safe setting in order to help reduce any associated psychological distress.

Medications:

Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI) - Eases symptoms of depressed mood and anxiety.

Now, these are modern treatments, which are very few to begin with.

You know what they had back then? Nothing. No, that is not a joke, PTSD was not recognized until 1980. So needless to say, Ciel was fucked, and the only and best way Sebastian could’ve helped would’ve been knocking him out after killing the threats. Not even quite sure if Ciel would’ve been okay after waking, or if he’d even remember what happened, which would’ve been best because now he has the guilt of killing all these children for the rest of his life.

To all the people that use this heavily as a point for disliking Ciel:

I’d just like to say, you don’t have to like Ciel, but don’t you EVER come at me with this shit and telling me how it’s his fault. He didn’t want to do that, if Ciel had been in his right mind and knew what he was doing, he would’ve never made the move he did.

He thought he was killing the cultists all over again.

After all the comments, discussion and controversy with this that I’ve seen, from fulfilling fangirl’s yaoi dreams to completely blaming Ciel for a serious mental disorder, I have to say-

The conversation around this entire situation in Book of Circus inside this fandom, is beyond disgusting to me.

Sorry for my amount of salt in this post, but this topic to me is personal, and I’m tired of it being treated not as seriously as it really is.

This is my theory, my opinions on Ciel’s PTSD, and I don’t believe he should be blamed for something he didn’t ask for.

I apologize for rambling, that’s it.