in which andrew checks you out

Valentine’s Gift for @peanut-milk for the @aftgexchange.

The one where Andrew and Neil have their first official date( On Valentine’s Day no less. Blame Allison.)

“So, what did you get your monster for Valentine’s Day?” Allison asks, as she idly types away at her phone.

Anger bubbles up in Neil, “Allison, he’s not—“ he begins, but gets cut off by her.

“Sorry, I meant to say Andrew, your boyfriend. What did you get him for Valentine’s Day?” she gives a quick glance up at Neil, whose face appears slightly flushed at the remark. A smirk forms on her lips, “Don’t try and deny that. I won’t let you.”

Neil sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Nothing. Why would I?” At those words, Allison stops typing away on her phone and sets it down next to her. She arches a brow at Neil, “What do you mean ‘nothing,’ it’s Valentine’s Day, Neil. That one day of the year specifically designated by capitalism to celebrate your love with your partner. Which is Andrew, in your case.”

Love. He lets the word wash over him. He doesn’t know if that’s the word he’d use. It’s a word too overused all around him but too underused in his own life for it to mean anything to him.  He doesn’t think any word is fit to describe what he and Andrew have and yet—

Keep reading

It’s Sunscreen Season!

Beach season is upon us, Northern Hemisphere! We wish you sun-filled, happy days, and healthy, sunburn-free skin! Here are some tips for choosing a sunscreen for your summer.

Sunlight is composed of electromagnetic waves and is our primary source of ultraviolet radiation, which has a shorter wavelength than visible light and carries more energy. UVA, UVB, and UVC are classified according to their wavelengths. Short wavelength UVC never reaches the Earth’s surface, but UVB and UVA do Medium wavelength UVB rays can enter the skin’s superficial layers and long length UVA rays can penetrate into the deeper layers. UVB in small amounts actually helps us make vitamin D, which enables our bodies to build and maintain strong bones. However, prolonged exposure to UVA and UVB can damage DNA, age your skin, and promote the development of potentially deadly skin cancer. Sunscreen protects your skin either physically by deflecting UV rays with an inorganic blocker like zinc oxide or titanium dioxide, or chemically by using carbon-based compounds to absorb UV photons that are then harmlessly dissipated as heat.

So, what differentiates one sunscreen from another? When we choose a sunscreen, we can compare application method, the SPF, and the active ingredients. Sprays can be convenient to put on, especially when you’re wet, but a recent study found that most people don’t apply a thick enough layer to get full protection. And the possible health risks of inhaling sunscreen compounds from a spray cloud might make you consider reaching for that bottle of lotion instead. Opt for a sunscreen with an SPF of at least 15, although 30 is better. SPF is a nonlinear scale of how much UVB radiation is needed to give protected skin a sunburn. SPF 15 does a pretty good job by blocking 93% of UVB rays. You get a slight increase as SPF goes up, with SPF 30 blocking 97%, and 50 blocking 98%. SPF is based on the quantity of solar exposure. So how much time you have before you start to burn really depends on a long list of factors, including your genetics, and when, where, and how you spend your time in the sun.

Even though US marketed sunscreens have been deemed safe by the FDA, scientists are still researching the effects of many active ingredients on the human body. So if you’re worried about potential irritants, look for mineral-based formulas with zinc oxide or titanium dioxide. Even though they may go on a bit thick at first, they’re less irritating than carbon-based chemical sunscreens. These mineral-based sunscreens are preferential for the environment, too. If you plan on catching rays while splashing in a river or the ocean, keep in mind that carbon-based chemical sunscreens can harm marine life. Research shows that carbon-based chemical sunscreen ingredients, like oxybenzone, butylparaben, octinoxate, and 4MBC contribute to a stress condition called coral bleaching in corals, which are living creatures. 

So you’re now ready to make an informed choice when picking out your next sunscreen. SPF is clearly labeled on the front. On the back under “active ingredients,” you can find whether zinc oxide, titanium dioxide, and those coral-harming components are present. Taking a bit more time to check can be well worth it for both you and the environment.

From the TED-Ed Lesson Which sunscreen should you choose? - Mary Poffenroth with animation by Rob Kohr & Travis Spangler

Additional artwork & info from the TED-Ed lesson Why do we have to wear sunscreen? - Kevin Boyd with animation by Andrew Foerster

Reconnecting (Dylan O'Brien x Reader)

A/N: this one is completely inspired by Dylan being in SA because I’m in SA rn

Warnings: angst, smut smuttty smut

Pairings: Dylan O'Brien x Reader, Andrew Garfield x Reader (Platonic)


“You don’t need me anymore.”

The words left your mouth as thought they were a simple fact, without implication or emotion. Dylan wondered how you could do that - how you could keep your voice so calm when your words had shattered his reality from where you stood, the table between the two of you acting as a physical and metaphorical barrier.

“How can you say that?” He asked, his eyes painted an angry red and his hands shaking. You sighed deeply.

“Because it’s true.” You replied simply, and Dylan continued to stare at you in shock. He made a move to reach out and grab your arm, but you side stepped him. “No. Come on. Don’t do that. You know it is. We’ve been over for a long time now Dyl. We’ve just been too scared to do anything about it.”

He let out a laugh that was anything but humorous. A hand flew to his head, where he tugged on his hair in frustration. “Is that what you think happened between us? That’s what you think we’ve been reduced to? Just a pair of morons who were once in love but now too scared to leave each other?”

His words felt like a slap to the face but you didn’t allow it to show. There was a long beat of silence and when he realised you didn’t have a response, smiled bitterly.

Suddenly, he slammed his fists down on the table so hard, it made you jump. “Answer me!”

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t give him a straight answer, not after hearing the way his voice broke. You couldn’t give him an answer, knowing deep down that you weren’t being honest with neither him nor yourself.

“That’s not what we are.” Dylan said quietly, his voice dropping to a sound barely above a whisper. He looked into your eyes with something truly desperate within his own. “You have to know that, baby. This can’t be it. I- I love you too much to let you go.”

Dyaln dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut. You wanted to run, to get as far away from his little apartment as possible. Because you knew that if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to hold your ground. If you stayed here any longer, your resolve would break and you would *never* be able to truly walk away.

“I refuse to believe that that’s what we’ve come to.” When he looked at you again, Dylan had tears streaming openly down his face. His eyes were bloodshot red and his fists gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles went white. He leaned further on the coffee table, as though he was barely keeping himself upright.

“We’re so much more than that.” He told you with such conviction, you believed it to be true. “We aren’t one of those couples who are gonna grow to resent each other regret it.” Before you could stop him, Dylan had crossed the table and taken your face in his hands, cradling it gently.

You didn’t realise you we’re crying until he wiped away a tear.

“(Y/N) we’re forever. We’re the old couple who sit bickering on the front porch but love each other anyway. We’re the ones people look at and think ‘are they still together’ because fuck yeah we are. We’re the couple that’s gonna dance to out song when we’re seventy and can barely move. Baby, we’re infinite.”

“That’s a nice story.” You said, wrapping your fingers around his wrists and pulling his hands off of you. “But it’s not ours - it can’t be. Our story ends here. I’m so sorry Dylan.”

And with those final words, you grabbed the handle of your bag and walked out of your shared apartment, closing the door behind you.

You knew he wouldn’t follow you out - he respected your choices enough not to.

You knew that he wouldn’t talk shit about you once you were gone - he loved you too much to do so.

And you knew that once you got on that plane to your new acting gig in London, he wouldn’t follow you because he thought that you didn’t love him any more.


“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” The flashes of the paparazzi’s cameras were enough to blind, even through the thick lenses of your sunglasses. It was inevitable. You had recently filmed a new movie with Andrew Garfield and it was set to be a booming success. As a result you had to deal with a ridiculous amount of rumors about your personal life and his.

“Come on (Y/N)! Smile for the camera!” One yelled.

“Congratulations on the engagement!”

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Have you and Andrew picked a venue yet?”

You continued to ignore them as you made your way through the airport. You’d arranged for your luggage to be taken care of to avoid mass hysteria and you knew that a car would be waiting outside for you, in a predetermined location.

When you got there, a huge grin overtook your face.

“I thought you were still in Australia!” You said happily, making your way over to the Ford.

“Wanted to surprise you, as all.” Said Andrew, looking just as glad. You laughed and thanked him as you got in the passenger seat.

You and Andrew Garfield had become good friends over the duration of filming. It wasn’t your first movie together and you knew for a fact that it wouldn’t be your last. Although the two of you had pointedly decided not to take your relationship further than the occasional fuck (Andrew was still hung up over Emma), you shared a close relationship with him.

Andrew understood what it was like to have to leave the love of your life. He knew that sometimes, you just needed someone to cuddle up to, or fuck you senseless until you forgot why you were upset in the first place.

You didn’t know what to call your relationship with Andrew, but you relied upon him a great deal to keep you going and vice versa.

“When was the last time you were in South Africa?” Andrew asked, eyes focused on the road.

“Um, about two years ago.” You said, pointedly deciding to forget how awkward it had been when you returned to see Julia and met Brit for the first time. “Last you were here was to film Hacksaw Ridge, right?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “There are some places I wanna check out before I leave. I’m leaving tonight for the Oscars on Sunday, and you’ll have to excuse me for saying I’m pretty exhausted from all the flying every other day with you.”

“Fuck you.” You said playfully. “I’m awesome to travel with.” The press tour for your movie ended in California where you would give your last interview together on Ellen before the premier and then it was over but that was only next week. For now, you were here in Cape Town.

“I beg to differ.” Andrew said. “But I will agree with you on the first part.”

You shrugged, not questioning it. Andrew would sometimes have these days when, out of nowhere, he’d become extremely in need of physical affection or emotional support. You never called him out on it because you were almost always the same.

“My place.” You said. “I wanna check out the new hotel.”

Andrew shrugged and agreed, but your new hotel wasn’t the first stop. He took you out for lunch, insisting that airplane food wasn’t real food because ‘For the love of God, (Y/N), it tastes like dirt!’ Afterwards, you went for a quick walk on the beach, during which your jeans became filled with sand and uncomfortable.

“I didn’t even get a chance to swim.” You pouted, walking in through the door that Andrew held open for you. He laughed as he removed his shoes.

“Well it was your genius idea to go in waist deep while fully clothed.” He said, pulling off his still wet shirt and throwing it in the hamper in one of the rooms.

“Do we have a pool?” You asked, walking further around the room. You reached the glass doors of the patio and smiled. “We have a pool!”

“Really?” Andrew asked, walking up to you. He had taken off his shirt and undershirt as well as his jeans, leaving him bare from the waist up with only a pair of black boxer briefs cladding his modesty. “Guess it’s your lucky day.”

You didn’t feel self conscious at all, having to taken your shirt out in front of him. He’d seen it all a thousand times before. You stripped down until you were standing in your undies and made a dive for the pool.

You went in head first and the water was the perfect tempreture. As you swam to the surface, you heard the unmistakable sound of Andrew screaming obnoxiously before feeling rather than seeing him canon ball in.

When you broke the surface, you were met with his grinning face.

“What?” You asked, a hand instinctively wiping at you face. Andrew laughed, not unkindly.

“You’re beautiful.” He said simply. You grinned, swimming the shirt distance between you two and resting your arms on his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, because as surprising as Andrew’s bursts of affections were, they were never random.

“She’s met someone.” He said with the utmost care in his voice, which made you grip his shoulders tighter. “I’m happy for her. I am. Truly. I just thought that it would be someone different. Someone who deserves her, you know?”

“Andrew Garfield not liking Emma Stone’s knew boyfriend.” You said teasingly, “Who’d have thought?”

“Oh, shut it.” He said, looking down at you. The words went unspoken, but you knew what he needed. “Are you comfortable with this?” Andrew asked and you nodded, knowing that with being back here your recent dip into loneliness, you needed it too. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” You mumbled, leaning in close towards him. From here, you could see how tall he was. He was standing on his flat feet and the water barely reaached his upper arms. You, meanwhile, were holding on to him to stop from drowning.

“I need this too.” You told him, running a hand over his shoulders before pulling him in close. Without hesitace, you tilted your head up and met Andrew’s lips in a heated kiss.

He let out a sigh, his hands moving to your thighs to lift you up and wrap your legs around his waist. You moaned into his mouth as he walked you backwards through the water until he had you seated on the second step, kneeling down between your legs with the water flowing around you.

You pressed your lips to his heatedly and felt his tongue swipe against your lower lips. Feeling teasing, you kept your lips just the way they were and sucked onthe tip of his tongue when he tried to force his way in.

“Tease.” Andrew said, pulling away to catch his breath. You didn’t get a chance to replied because he had grabbed your ass roughly, causing you to let out a moan of surprise. He seized the opportunity and slid his tongue into your mouth before your lips had even connected.

“You love it.”


Three hours later, you awoke to find yourself cold and alone, lying naked on your bed. Memories of your time with Andrew flooded through your mind and you smiled slightly, hugging the sheets to your body.

You couldn’t, however, help but feel a wave of loneliness wash over you. Here you were, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, waking up alone and with no one to share it with. Sure, you had Andrew but it just wasn’t the same.

The last five years of you life had been lonley, despite your success. Of course, you did have a few boyfriends here and there, but never anyone real, never anyone you’d truly felt a deeper connection with.

Never anyone like Dylan…

You forced the thought out of your head and stood up, making your way to the kitchen. You were staying at the One&Only Cape Town hotel, where you had the most magnificent view of the ocean from your window. Right now, with the sun slowly setting and the reflection of the stars on the water, you felt completely at peace.

A small something of white caught your attention from the corner of your eye. It was a note on the fridge. Walking up and reading it, you realised it was from Andrew.

Sorry, had to run. Talking to J.J. about my contact. Meet me tonight at the Era Night Club (call a fucking Uber you lazy shit) and look pretty. Bringing friends.


Reading the note once more, you shrugged and glanced at the clock. It was almost 8 and while Andrew didn’t specify a time, you knew he probably wouldn’t expect you before 10 or 11. Going on an impulse, you quickly cleaned up a bit and put on some clothes, deciding to go shopping.

The centre wasn’t far from where you were staying but you called an Uber anyway. In the rush of Andrew getting you here, you hadn’t bothered to pick up a rental, so that was your only means of getting around.

It was there, in that tiny little Colette store, that shit hit the fan.

You were going through items on the rack, looking for something to possibly wear tonight. Your hand stopped on a cute black number, and you grinned, humoring yourself and pulling out the leather dress that left very, very, very little to the imagination.

Holding the piece over your body, you looked up at the mirror, which ran along every wall and almost dropped your basket.

Standing there, staring at you with the most shocked look on his face, was Dylan O-fucking-Brien.

For a long moment neither of you spoke. You stared at him, watching a range of emotions flicker across his face (you were almost certain the same thing was happening to you) before he plastered on a smile and approached you.

Immediately you lowered the dress, wondering if you still smelt like sex from earlier. Dylan stood in front of you, smiling gently and you heart rate began to pick up, panic overtaking your body.

“Hey.” He said calmly, hands tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. You smiled back, a bit nervously.

“H-Hi.” You replied, taking a moment to look him over. Obviously he was older, considering the last time you had seen him was almost three years ago, but it wasn’t that. He looked tired, sick even. “Are you okay?”

Dylan’s smile faltered slightly before he stood up a little straighter. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He said lightly, and you too fixed your posture. “How’s it been going with you? Heard you’re dating that Garfield guy.”

“We’re friends.” You smiled, but it felt absolutely fake. You hated this; hated how this was some kind of battle of wills where neither could show any weakness. “How are you and Brit doing?”

Again, his smile faltered but returned stubbornly. “We’re awesome. I mean why wouldn’t we be? It’s not like I don’t need her anymore.”

You physically winced, both at his words and at the tone with which they were said. Low fucking blow, you thought. Immediately, regret filled you ex’s eyes and he cleared his throat. “Sorry, that was-”

“It’s fine.” You said because you honestly didn’t give a fuck. You couldn’t meet his eye when you spoke again. “I’m happy for you, Dyl. I’m really glad you found someone.”

You put the bag and dress down, spinning on your heels and making a b-line for the door. “(Y/N) wait-” you heard Dylan call out after you, but you very pointedly ignored it.

When you finally stopped walking to wipe your eyes, you were already outside of the mall. You looked ahead at the calm, settled ocean outside and screamed into your hands.


By the time Andrew rolled around, you were back in bed, snuggling up with Mr Pickle, your stuffed Teddy, and cleaning out a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.

“I thought I told you to meet me at the club,” he said, walking through the doors. You looked up at him and immediately he was at your side. “What happened?”

“Ran into Dylan today.” You said, voice sounding bitter. “Had a lovely little chat.” Andrew didn’t say anything; he simply wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you in close.

You clutched onto him like a lifeline and began sobbing into his shirt. Andrew stiffened. “Imma kill the bastard.” He promised, tucking you in closer and gently drawing circles on the small of your back.

“I- I’m sorry,” You said, face still buried into his chest. “I’m being stupid. Haven’t seen the guy in three years and the first thing I do is make a sodding fool of myself.”

“Hey, shh,” Andrew cooed gently. “Come on love, don’t say that. You panicked.” He pulled back, wiping the tears under your eyes with his thumbs. “It’s okay now. You’re here, and safe and you never have to see the bloody moron again. Understand?”

You nodded quietly, and Andrew pulled himself completely on the bed. You shifted so that your limbs could entwine and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

Suddenly, you remembered why he was here in the first place.

“The club.” You said, sitting up. Andrew laughed.

“We’re not going.” He said and you gave him an odd look. “Not with you so heartbroken.”

You thought about it for a minute, remembering that you only had tonight and tomorrow morning left to spend with Andrew before he left for the Oscar’s. “I wanna.” You said. “I want to go, to get my mind off of things.”

He looked hesitant. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Come on.” You said. “This is your last and only day here, and I know you’ve spent all of it sight seeing. One last stop before tomorrow night.”

He watched you with a careful expression before sighing and nodding. Untangling himself from your cuddle, he stood at full length and helped you up.

“Go on then.” He said. “Get dressed.”

You shot him a scandalized look, pretending that you hadn’t been crying moments ago. “With you standing right there?” He grinned, but you could still see the hesitance in his eyes.

“Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before.” You gasped loudly and he chuckled. “Okay, I’m going. Hurry up.”

He left and you paused, wondering what to wear for the evening. Quickly, you eyes the Victoria’s Secret shopping bag with the Gucci one next to it. Well, a girl could always use a pick up.

Less than twenty minutes later you were dressed and looking gorgeous. You had on a tight, black dress that showed just the right amount of skin, with a set of sexy red VS underneath (for a bit of a confidence boost, you told yourself)

“Damn.” Andrew said when he saw you. He had straightened out his shirt and, now that you took the time to notice, looked absolutely delectable. “I should fuck you against the wall right now.”

Heat flushed over your face. “Maybe later, gorgeous.” You said, grabbing a clutch and bending down to pick up your wallet, knowing that it gave you friend a full view of your ass. “Let’s go.”

Andrew licked his lips but nodded nevertheless. The two of you set off to The Era and made it there within a few minutes. Immediately, Andrew led you to the front of the queue where you were let in, no questions asked.

The place was booming and full. The loud bass echoed in you ear as Andrew sat you down at the bar and ordered two shots of Tequila. Lights flashed purple and pink and blue, and you saw the way your teal heels glowed in the blue light of the club.

“This place looks awesome.” You told your friend as he handed you a shot. The two of you quickly drowned it.

“It’s supposed to be.” He yelled back over the loud music. “Dance with me.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be meeting your friends here?” You asked, and he smiled cheekily.

“Well, they’re not nearly as gorgeous as you.”

You grinned and stood, making your way to the dance floor and swaying your hips the way you knew he like it. Andrew laughed, but when he came up to you, his eyes were filled with lust.

You danced to the rhythm smoothly, loving the way your hips moved with his. Over the course of the next few hours, you had more and more to drink and soon you were on the dance floor once more, but it wasn’t with Andy.

“Wanna go back to my place?” The guy you were dancing with (James? Alex?) asked in a sultry voice. You grinned at him.

“No.” You giggled, completely pissed “I’m not supposed to go home with strangers.”

“Well I’m sure we can make an exception.” He said and suddenly his hands were roughly grabbing your ass as he made a dive for your lips. You protested against his mouth, but he either didn’t hear you or didn’t care as his tongue tried to pass your lips.

Suddenly, he was being pulled off you and your racing heart plummeted. “Fuck off.” A voice said, and fear filled your heart as a second man stood in front of you. You made a move to step back, to get away as quick as possible, but the man was faster.

He estimated your moves and quickly grabbed a hold of you, almost pushing you away from the crowd of people. You struggled against him, but he was too strong and held on to you too tightly as he pushed out of the back door of a club.

You blinked, doing your best to slow down your heart rate and have a rational thought. Your mind began to swin as you looked around, realizing that you were now in a back alley. You needed to get out, now.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, both from the unexpected question and the hand that now gently rested on your back. In the light of the alley way, you could now see the face of your attacker and let out a sigh of relief.

“Dylan.” You said, as if to confirm that he was real. With a drop of your head, you took a deep breath. “It- it’s you. You. I’m- it’s you.” The panic began to slowly leave your body as you squeezed your eyes shut, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up whole.

“(Y/N),” he placed a warm hand on your bare arm and suddenly, you realized just how cold it was. “What were you-” he cut himself off, seemingly thinking better than to ask. “Come on. Let’s get you home, okay?”

You nodded, eyes glued to your feet. You felt completely ashamed of yourself, and as your sobriety returned, so did your disgrace. The reality of the situation hit you hard, and you wished nothing more than to disappear, or maybe get hit by a bus.

“Did you come here yourself?” Dylan asked, his voice gently. Your head began to each and you didn’t meet his eyes when you answered.

“With Andrew.” You said simply. Dylan took a deep breath, and finally you looked up to see a mixture of anger and hesitance and, most dominantly, fear in his brown eyes.

“Where is he now?” You shrugged, but you were pretty sure he’d run away to get his rocks off with some red headed girl. “Forget it. You can text him. I’ll drive.”

You nodded and Dylan lead you back into the club. You couldn’t help yourself; quickly, you reached for his hand and gripped it tight, making your way through the crowd. The only indication that he’d even noticed was a small moment of hesitance before he carried on.

The drive to the hotel was deadly silent. You barely raised your head, too ashamed of what happened to say a word. Dylan had opened his mouth to say something twice, but nothing came out.

“One & Only.” Dylan announced when the car came to a stop. “Someone told me it’s really amazing.”

You looked up, opening your mouth to thank him before realizing something. “Shit.” You said instead and Dylan raised a brow.

“Not that.” A flush covered your face. “I left my bag at the club. I- I’ve got my phone, but my key card was in there. They’re gonna give me hell at the front desk.”

You promptly clamped your mouth shut. “Fuck it. I’m so sorry about all of this. I- I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there tonight. So, um thanks.”

Quickly, you made a move for the handle of the door but Dylan’s voice stopped you. “Wait.” He said and you turned to look at him. He looked uncertain, but there was no lie in his voice when he spoke. “You’ve had a shit night and I’m sure you don’t want to deal with more drama. You can stay at my hotel tonight. Deal with all this tomorrow.”

'I don’t want your pity’ you wanted to snap, but honestly the thought of having a warm bed to crawl in to was far more comforting. “Thank you.” You said instead, and Dylan started up the car again.

The drive to his hotel is spent in silence as well, but it felt a lot less tense.

“What were you doing?” Dylan finally asked, five minutes into the drive. You sighed, looking out the window. “I’m serious (Y/N). I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Well, I guess a lot can change in five fucking years.” You snapped, then immediately felt guilty for it and sealed your mouth. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

After a beat, Dyaln spoke again. “I’m sorry. I’m being a dick.” He said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “It’s just,- God the way that guy was looking at you. I thought he was gonna strip you down and fuck you raw right then and there.” You grinned in spite of yourself, and pretended to not hear Dylan’s quiet mumble of 'That’s what I would’ve done’.

A laugh left your lips. “First day here and I’m already making stories to tell my grandkids one day.”

“You’re gonna tell your grandkids that?” He asked in a mock horrified voice. You laughed again.

“Yeah.” You grinned. “Gotta tell them how not to fuck up. All the shit they shouldn’t do coz they’re gonna regret it a couple years down the road.”

Dylan smiled, but it was a little sad. “We all do stupid shit that we regret.”

The two of you fell into silence once more, only now you were both lost in deep thought. You’d give anything, you thought, to take a look at what was happening inside that pretty little head of his right now.

A few minutes later, Dylan pulled up into a parking space. You didn’t recognize the hotel, but it had a beautiful view of Table Mountain, which was currently glowing with the city lights. He saw the way your eyes stared and laughed.

“Yeah, pretty much the only reason I picked this place.” He got out of the car and you followed, keeping close by. Once you two had gotten into the lobby, you took off your heels and padded with bare feet to the elevator and into Dylan’s suit.

“You can take the bed.” He told you, taking off his shoes and popping his shoulders.

“No, it’s fine.” You said, switching your phone on to see a couple of messages from Andrew. Ignoring them for the time being, you walked over to the couch. “I’m good here.” You we’re sure that you would pass out the moment your head hit the pillow, but Dylan’s laugh stopped you from doing so.

“You’re gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow.” He said gently and you sat up. “Take the bed.” He motioned with his head to a door on the wall next to the balcony. “I’ll get you some water and aspirin and then you can pass out, then it won’t be as bad in the morning.”

Your mouth opened to argue, but Dylan was already at the small kitchenette and you didn’t have the energy to speak loudly, your throat already burning from the too strong tequila. Instead, you stood and stretched and made you way to the bedroom.

Sitting on the bed, you allowed the events of the last six hours to pour over you. The longer you thought about it, the more embarrassed you felt. Honestly, you stopped speaking to Dylan entirely more than three years ago, when he said that he didn’t feel right talking to his ex while being so serious about another girl. To show up now, completely pissed and sleep in his bed was a testament to how utterly fucked up the last few months of your life had been.

You almost stood to call an Uber, but the door opened before you could. “Here.” Dylan walked up to you with a glass and two pills in his hands. “You’ll feel better in the morning,” he paused. “Or at least better than you would have.”

A grateful smile stitched itself onto your face. “Thank you.” You said, and really really meant it. It had been a long time since you had felt this taken cared of, this much at home. Dylan smiled down at you, staring into the depths of your eyes.

A long moment passed before he looked away.

“Um,” he walked across the room to where a set of bags sat, still packed. You wondered how long he’d been here. He dug into the bag and came back up with a white T-shirt which he tossed at you. “That’s probably more comfortable, than well-” he raked his eyes down your form and you blushed gently.

“Thanks.” Your head was ducked so you missed the way his eyes darkened.

“I’ll just- um,” he made a gesture to the door then pretty much ran out of it. You laughed gently, reaching behind you dress to pull the zipper off and walking to the mirror.

By some will of God your makeup had remained mostly in place. You dropped the black dress and smiled slightly, remembering how sexy you had felt when you first put on the lacey red bra and panties.

“I forgot to get a pillow-”

You spun around at the sound of Dylan’s voice, arms reaching up to cover yourself on instinct. The dark haired boy stood halfway in the door frame, apparently frozen and staring at your body.

There was a moments hesitation, where uncertainty hung in the air and neither of you knew what to do. It was only a moment.

“Ah, fuck it.”

Dylan crossed the room in three quick strides and was in front of you a second later. His hands cupped your jaw and titled your head up, lips meeting in a frantic kiss.

You arms wrapped themselves around us shoulders, pulling him closer as his mouth devoured your own. You moaned softly against him and felt the shudder that hit his body at the sound. You filled with pride, knowing that you could still get that reaction out of him.

“Wait.” You breathed, pulling back. Dylan looked at you with concern. “You have a girlfriend.”

He looked sheepish. “Yeah, I might have lied a bit.” You chuckled slightly at his confession, and Dylan smiled slightly. “Do you wanna stop?” He asked, and despite the lust in his eyes, you knew that he was being serious.

“Don’t you dare.” You warned, reconnecting your lips with a kiss more feverant than the last. Dylan chuckled slightly, but met you kiss for kiss as his hands began to trail down your body.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, eyes still closed. You felt his hands reached behind you as he unclasped your bra, kissing down your neck. The fabric fell down your arms, and you were sure Dyaln did something to it but you didn’t care.

His hands began fondling you. He gently caressed the soft skin of your supple breasts, as you arched into him. He cupped you firmly, a thumb running over you nipple, which had been hard from the cold air as well as the heat.

“Well that’s hardly fair.” You said, tugging at his shirt. Dylan got the message and pulled back, striping down completely before you pulling you back in, pushing a knee between your legs.

You moaned loudly. “Better?” He asked, hands moving to your thighs. You brought his lips back to your and kissed him passionately as he squeezed your ass and pulled you forward. You got the message, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist while he carried you to the bed.

His tongue battled with yours for dominance which you happily surrendered as he explored your mouth, his body moving against yours. You reach a hand between your bodies and found his cock.

Wrapping your fingers around his member, you began to pump him quickly, running your finger over the slit. Dylan moaned and pulled away. “If you don’t stop, this is gonna be a really shitty night for you.”

You laughed slightly. “Then what are you waiting for?” Dylan grinned, reaching to the bedside drawer and pulling out a condom. He tore the packet with his teeth, *fuck* and rolled the rubber down his length. You watch with a watering mouth.

“I wanna blow you.” You said. “But later.” Dylan moaned at your words and leaned down again to kiss you. He positioned himself at your entrance and nibbled on your jaw as he pushed in.

You moaned, your nails digging into his back. Dylan let out a gruff chuckle. “God, how are you so fucking tight?” He asked, pulling back almost completely before thrusting in again, hard.

“Oh,” You breathed, hands find his jaw and stroking it gently as you pulled him down for another kiss. His hands were on either side of your head as he kissed you passionately, and you moaned desperatly, wanting more.

Dylan didn’t move.

“Please.” You begged, pulling away for air. Dylan smirked down at you.

“Please what?” He asked teasingly. You groaned softly.

“Please fuck me.” He chuckled, pulling out and thrusting in, slowly.

“Like that?” He asked, his voice deep and raspy. You wanted to scream. He sounded so smooth and sexy, and looking at you with that smug little smirk on his face, you knew you wouldn’t last long.

“Harder. Faster.” You begged, digging your nails into his shoulder blades and dragging them down. Dylan moaned, and you loved the feeling of his hard, thick muscles under your hands.

Suddenly, he pulled out and began slamming in to you, his pace quick and brutal. You let out a screaming moan as Dylan’s hips slammed against the inside of your thighs.

“Oh God, Dyl!” You moaned, clutching on to him for dear life. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”

“So beautiful.” He said softly. “Laying there, holding onto to me so tight. So wet for me, baby.” He moaned, thrusting in harder.

He reached a hand between your bodies and pressed a thumb to your clit, not letting up at all on his brutal pace. You lasted two seconds before you came with his name on your tongue and his hands in your hair.

With a rushed warning, he followed you over the edge one, two, three thrusts later, spilling into the condom and laying over you. He supported his weight on him forearms, as not to crush you, as he looked down at you with something akin to love in his eyes.

For a long while the two of you stayed like that, basking in the glory of afterglow. You stared up at him, remembering, wondering how you’d given it up the first time.

“I never thought I’d hear you say my name like that again.” He admitted, leaning down and kissing your parted lips. You smiled into it.

“Never thought I’d say it, either.” He smiled, pulling out of you and getting up. He walked to the bathroom and got rid of the condom, coming back with a wet towel which he placed delicately between your legs.

Your hips moved up at the touch. He chuckled slightly, cleaning you up and putting the towel back. “I was a bit brutal,” he admitted, joining you in bed, and pulling you close.

“I loved it.” You assured him, tucking yourself into his chest. Dylan sighed and you could feel the tension draining out of him.

“Dylan” you said softly. “Promise me this isn’t gonna be it.”

“I promise.” He didn’t even hesitate. “And you, promise me this isn’t gonna be one of those things we all do that we regret.”

“I promise.”

Archie x Reader: Daddy's Little Girl

Warnings: none
Requested: yes
A/N: fluff

*your POV*

I should’ve been sleeping. It was 3am and I couldn’t sleep due to the enormous bump on the front of me. Baby Andrews was 41 weeks and I was sure to pop at any moment and my stomach was so big it made me unable to sleep. I looked to my side to see Archie sleeping peacefully. I groaned and shifted to the left a little bit, wishing the days of sleeping on my stomach were still here. Suddenly, I felt a faint wetness between my legs.

Keep reading

Fool Me Once

read on ao3

I’m back from my brief hiatus with a fic that absolutely no one asked for! I hope you enjoy it!

Andrew had lived in Baltimore back when he lived with the Stevensons. Baltimore was an ugly city, full of run-down factories and towns that had bigger gangs than budgets, side by side with stadiums and news stations and hotels.

Gentrification, Andrew’s word of the week, was terribly appropriate here.

Gillian Stevenson was a teacher who thought strongly about everything. She was either with you or against you. Unfortunately for the school board, she wasn’t with them.

Andrew would head to her classroom once the dismissal bell rang, listen to her complain as he helped her clean up after her students, and hopefully be given a slice of whatever cake she was pairing with her wine to dull the agony of the impending parent-teacher conferences.

He liked Gill.

Markus Stevenson was a gym teacher Gill had met at one of her old teaching jobs. Markus had been a football player in college and seeing a borderline malnourished child on his doorstep made him want to encourage Andrew to find a passion in sports.

He supposed Markus could be worse.

Keep reading

- sing me something

i saw this on a riverdale prompt list and decided to just write {its 12;20am lmao oops} but have some archie andrews fluff because why not 

word count : 730

{archie andrews x oc} 

Originally posted by archic-andrews

It had been a rough couple of weeks for you. With the death of Jason Blossom and the constant pressure set on you from your so called ‘mother’; you were starting to feel it. The slow, painful drain of energy finally starting to take it’s toll on you. You were becoming dangerously care free. Your schoolwork was sloppy and the shade under your eyes was becoming a deep lilac, a side effect of the insomnia, which your friends had started to notice. Betty and Ronnie were constantly asking if you were okay, Kevin trying to make you life with his puns and side comments, and Jughead trying to make you feel better with his sardonic humour. However, it was your closest red-headed friend, Archie Andrews, that had taken the most interest.

You and Archie went way back, as did you and Betty. You’d lived on the same street for as long as you could remember; you’d practically grown up together. You and Archie had always got on best though. Maybe it was your common interest in sports, or maybe it was just how it played out. Either way, you were thankful to constantly have Archie by your side. There was never a time he left you alone; like the time you and your mother had a mammoth argument and she chucked you out for the night. It just so happened that the minute your intoxicated mother slammed the pale green door in your face, Archie had been returning from a run. Whilst you stood lost like a star in the solar system, Archie didn’t hesitate to check you were okay, which also happened to be the first time Archie Andrews witnessed you cry. It scared you both. Your wall that you had spent so long reinforcing, crumbling within a matter of seconds in the arms of your favourite red-head.

“Hey” you heard someone pull you from your thoughts. You took a deep breathe and looked up from your jumble of homework, spewed across Archie’s bedroom floor. You rested your head against his mattress for a second before casting your eyes to him, receiving a questioning gaze. You knew this look. You held eye contact for a few seconds before he put down his biro and walked over to his bed, patting the space next to him. You followed suit, placing your pencil in the margin of your biology text book and crawling onto the bed. You took your spot nearest the wall as you both reclined backwards, your head instinctively falling onto Archie’s chest. He traced his finger gently along your forearm, although strictly platonic, as he knew it relaxed you. Silence had fallen upon you both.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. You let out a slight chuckle; how could anyone be okay after what this town was going through? You closed your eyes for a second, readjusting yourself in an attempt to escape the world by burying your head into his chest, again strictly platonic. You felt his grip tighten on you slightly;feeling physical touch was the best comfort he could offer. You sat up to face him, where you were met with his pleading brown eyes. He pushed himself into sitting position,his fingers reaching out towards your face. His fingertips brushed the bags under your eyes, sadness and pity filling his.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” he murmured. You felt the all to familiar feeling of tears start to build up in your eyes. You didn’t want to disappoint him with such a small number. Your murky green eyes glazed together with you lip trembling slightly. You saw the  sorrow slowly fill Archie’s eyes too. You chuckled slightly again; an attempt to compose yourself. You pushed Archie back down and placed your head back on his chest, playing with his hand and his other arm went back around you. You fiddled your fingers with his, his hand seeming to engulf yours, but he let you.

“Sing me something” you whispered weakly. You felt his stare on you as you closed your eyes once again. You heard him start to sing softly, one of his most recent songs that he’d written. That was the last thing your brain registered as you finally managed to drift off into sleep and it was at that moment you realised that Archie was your safe place.

another au here kids, let’s go

  • after burying his mother, neil throws out the phones
  • BUT he gets himself another one
  • he doesn’t want to go to his uncle
  • but he’s also aware he’s still young and might need help
  • he keeps the phone for months barely charged and never uses it except to check the time
  • but in millport, on one of the few occasions he’s actually spending time with People
  • he discovers that smartphones have a lot of apps that let you get information on things (cough the butcher, exy, kevin)
  • and in particular
  • he discovers
  • twitter

Keep reading

Story of Another Us l Shawn Mendes Imagine

a/n: Part 2 of Hogwarts!Shawn is coming soon, I just really wanted to post something and this came out, aaaand I decided to write it on third person, hope it’s not weird, I’m sorry if it’s confusing. I wanted to add that “Submit your name” thingy but I’m useless with technology and that stuff so anyway, hope you like It! <3 x

prompt: I got a long-term plan with short-term fixes and a wasted heart that just eclipses. (based on the song “Story of Another Us” by 5 Seconds of Summer).

Originally posted by shawndreaming

i) inside my head, I don’t recall a single word, you hit me faster than I heard.

Shattered glass was scattered around the hotel room.

Shawn didn’t take notice of that for good ten minutes until someone was frantically knocking on his door.

Did he even have glasses on the room?

That’s when he saw the spilled white wine on the carpet and the broken glasses, creating an almost perfect puzzle.

He noticed something was missing, the room looked empty compared to how it was just three hours ago.

That’s when he noticed a large purple suitcase was missing.

Her suitcase.

He panicked; he remembered why the glass was scattered all over the floor and the reason behind the missing suitcase. 

Keep reading

Dating Archie Andrews would include...

* Teasing him about Grundy, then feeling terrible when he gets upset over it, so reminding him how AWESOME you are by doing a mini, amateur strip tease.

* Cheering him on at football games.

* Getting all the embarrassing childhood stories and pictures from Fred.

* Sipping milkshakes in Pop’s every Sunday evening.

* Wearing his letterman jacket whilst walking home from Pop’s every Sunday evening because he can’t bear you to be cold.

* Getting exclusive, first looks at all his songs and realising that they’re about you.

* Sex. Lots of sex. Makeup sex, post-football game sex, car sex, shower sex, birthday sex, what the hell sex.

* Copious amounts of shameless PDA.

* Posing for cute couple photos to post on Instagram.

* Being called the ‘Ultimate Couple’ because of Archie’s status of football captain, and the ‘Hero of Riverdale’.

* Having movie nights, in which he ends up falling asleep halfway through, with his arm still wrapped around your shoulder, trapping you because you just CANT wake him up, he’s too cute!

* Frequently reminding each other of how much you love them, and how fucking hot they are.

* Him stopping by your house whilst on his runs for “fiver minutes, but he ends up staying for ages.

* Walking Vegas together and arguing over who picks up the poop.

* Helping him host parties whilst his dad’s away, and subsequently helping him clean up after said parties.

* Developing a great relationship with the whole of the football team, and also Archie’s other friends.

* Telling him “Not to go too crazy” on your birthday, but he ends up surprising you with an abundance of gifts, and vice-versa.

* Gently advising him NOT to do stupid things.

* Reggie checking you out and always telling Archie to share, to which he gets very very very protective.

* Jughead making gagging sounds whenever you kissed near him.

* Doing admin work for Andrews Construction on weekends and Archie constantly making up excuses to spend as much time with you in the office as possible: “I just need to grab a water” “Archie, you’ve ‘grabbed a water’ six times so far this morning, maybe it’s time to change your excuse to a pee break?”

* Caring for him whenever he gets an injury whilst playing football.

* Getting very defensive and sticking up for Archie whenever someone makes a ginger joke, but never hesitating to call him 'Ginger Troy Bolton’ yourself.

* Being a little worried that Betty’s jealous of you.

* Calling him 'Daddy’ as a joke, with him secretly loving it.

* Tracing the lines of his muscles.

* Dealing with other girls constantly hitting on him, and feeling a major sense of pride when he responds with “Sorry, I’m taken, and they’re fucking amazing.”

chuckles-the-jester  asked:

how about andrew and akko as parents, i just want to see them with cute little kids

She walked in the mansion, lightly closing the door. She placed her witch hat down on a ebony table accompanied by family photos. She untied her hair that was in a tiny bun, letting lose her brown hair that now reached her shoulder.

“Good evening Lady Hanbridge” greeted Edna, the main maid in the house carrying a basket of clothes that belonged to her sons.

“Here let me take it. I’m going upstair anyway, go rest up Edna” smiled Akko as she reached for the basket and Edna return the smile happy to get her much deserved break. Akko smile grew bigger as she began to hear her children. The closest seems to be Kiki’s voice. Akko approach the playroom’s door and took a small peak.

“More tea, Papa Paul?” asked Kiki wearing her own customized witch hat given by her grandpa.

“Yes, please. Should we also ask the other guest?” Paul Hanbridge moved his cup toward Kiki and motion the stuffed animals in the other chairs. Akko quietly giggle to herself and continued her walk. Who know stern politician, Paul Hanbridge, would be such a softie wearing a pink fuzzy scarf and a tiara. Who knew what and thank goodness for his change of heart. Whenever he comes to visit, it feels like a stampede of horses running from how much the triplets scream to see Papa Paul.

A sweet melody became stronger as she approached a room down the hall. The tempo switched to more jazzy and she could hear Harry laughing like no tomorrow. Her little Beethoven following the path her husband couldn’t. She decided to also take a small peak.

“Dad, I like the second one more than the first song you played. How do I put it? It feels like a firework” Harry told his father as he spread his arms as if trying to demonstrate a ‘Boom’ of a firework. Andrew ruffles his son’s hair that shared the same color as his and gave a laugh. He was definitely Akko’s son.

“Dad! You are messing with my hair.” he moved his Dad’s hand and badly tried to fix his hair.

“Your hair was a mess to begin with.”, he showed his son a strand of grass he found while giving his trademark smirk. Harry looked at the grass and took it from his dad’s hand.

“ I never had that.” countered Harry.

“If you say so champ, keep lying and your nose is going to grow.” Andrew joked as he turned his attention back to the piano. Harry examined his nose to make sure his dad was lying. Noticing his dad’s posture, he got the hint to continue playing the piano. Akko rolled her eyes, typical of Andrew to tease. When she look back through the slightly open door, her husband was looking right at her. No matter how old they got, his eyes always have the same effect on her. Andrew noticing his wife’s attitude he gave a wink and mouthed a word that sent Akko to turn and continue her path with a glowing red face.

“Dad, was someone here?” asked Harry noticing his Dad wasn’t looking at the piano.

“Just a small bunny who hopped along. Now why don’t we see how have we can both play?” he answered his son’s question while smirking at the door. He then turned away and began a playful duet with his son.

“Stupid Andrew and his winks.” mumbled Akko as she walked flusteredly toward her children’s room. She saw the light was on as she walked in. She spotted a small head under the bed. Akko’s face turned to a gently smile seeing her son hiding. Something must be up she thought.

“James, are you okay?” Akko asked him as she sat next near him on the colorful carpet. James looked up too see his mom. He shook his head and came out of his hiding spot.

“ I was just thinking, mama” he said quietly and Akko carefully adjusted his glasses.

“What about sweetie? She got up to begin putting the cloths away.

“Business, mama.” James got up as well to help his mother.

“Sometimes you scare me talking like an adult.” she laugh and her youngest son just gave a smile.

“Well, I will be an adult, mama.” hearing James say that Akko halted and scooped him up.

“But you”ll always be my baby” she gave him kisses on the cheek and begun swinging him as if he were still a newborn.

“Ah, mama! Stop it!” soon his protest became giggles. Akko giggled along with her son’

“James I love you and remember magic comes from the heart.”, she told him as she placed him down. James placed his hand near his heart and looked at his mama with twinkling eyes. Did she know? Was a thought that crossed his mind. He looked up at his mama who gave him her energetic wink.

“Shiny Chariot would always say it and trust me that those words go a long way” she beamed proudly and James returned the huge smile. If his mama did find out, he knew she would be thrilled about it. However he would have to wait for the ideal time because as his dad had said before, there is always a precise time to do things. They both continue putting away the cloths before a yell interrupted them.

“Dinner is ready!” yelled Harry. James seeing his brother ran out of the room to race with him.

“Whoa, careful buddy” spoke Andrew who was almost pushed by the kids as he made his way to get Akko.

“Madame”, he bowed down acting extra gentlemanly to which Akko giggled and grabbed her skirt to return to courtesy.

“Who knew you were so cheesy.” Akko giggled as she grabbed her husband’s hand. “Only for you” his voice became husky and he gave Akko a light kiss on the check before interlocking fingers with her. Akko once more became red and gave Andrew a glare that didn’t last long. They were both laughing as they continued their way to the dining room.

Yes, she was happy and couldn’t ask for more in life.


Request: Maybe one where y/n is pregnant and she tells Shawn but he doesn’t take it very well???


Your name: Submit What is this?

- - - -

You have been dating Shawn for 5 months, and he feels like the one. Although you haven’t really been with other people before him, you feel as though this is what love should feel like - nothing more, nothing less. You’re crazy about him; always gushing to your friends and family about how wonderful and loving he is, and all the things that he does for you on the daily. It seems impossible, but he loves you even more. Shawn mainly keeps his thoughts internal though, because it’s more special when it’s more personal.

You never thought anything like this would happen to you, and you had no idea what to do. How do you tell him something like this? 17 years old is too young to have a baby, and he would be a father at 19.

“Y/N?” Shawn says, and you can hear his footsteps coming towards you into the living room from the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

You think that he can tell already what’s playing on your mind even though you haven’t uttered a word yet. Your worried eyes meet his concerned ones and you quickly look away, almost embarrassed about what has happened to you. Unsure of whether or not you are going to start crying, you continue to stare at the floor and Shawn walks softly over to sit next to you.

“What’s up, honey?” Shawn reaches out his hand and puts in gently under your chin to lift your head up to look at him, but you persist to stare intently at the floor. “What’s up?” He repeats, and you can tell just from the tone of his voice that he is now very anxious about what is going on.

Bravely, you decide to slowly look up from the floor and face him. You know that this can’t just go away- you have to face the problem. “I… have something to tell you, Shawn… and I honestly don’t know how you’re going to take it.” You tell him truthfully. He gazes into your eyes, trying to read your mind and understand the situation which makes you slightly uncomfortable.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Just say whatever it is.” Shawn replies, trying to act relaxed but you can see clearly that he is more concerned than ever. It’s his body language. You know him so well, and everything that he does when he’s scared or anxious. Whether it’s before a show or before going out on a date with you - Shawn has tell-tale signs. He plays with the hem of his shirt, praying that he will find a loose thread to tie around his fingers again and again to distract himself from the looming situation. He clenches his jaw to a rhythm that others would hum, trying to be discreet and not let others know he’s doing it. He continually wipes his clammy hands on his jeans so he can once again, not let anyone know he’s feeling the slightest bit of anxiety.

“Ok.” You say and take a deep breath to prepare yourself. It’s no longer bearable to go through all of the possible outcomes for this conversation in your head; you need to find out what the real outcome will be. “I threw up this morning… I don’t know if you noticed or not.” You explain to him.

“You threw up? What? I’m so sorry I didn’t realise, Y/N. Was that when I went out to get Tim Horton’s for us?” Shawn says, sounding extremely guilty.

“Yeah it was. I told you to go out because I felt sick, don’t worry.” You tell him, analysing his face at the same time and wondering when he’s going to realise that this story sounds strange.

Shawn’s phone vibrates in his jean pocket, and he pulls it out to check who has text him. It’s Andrew, messaging him to confirm the flight times for the weekend to start the tour; which you won’t be going to. The amount of school work that you have to do is overwhelming, and your teachers definitely wouldn’t appreciate you having to do school work completely online when on tour, if you do still have the choice to stay home and come to school like usual.

His thumbs rapidly type a response to the text before pressing send and Shawn tucking his phone away again in his pocket once more. He looks around the room a bit, as he’s forgotten what he was doing. “So, where were we?” He queries.

“I was just about to explain something important to you.” You respond cautiously and pause, “About why I was sick today.”

Shawn says nothing, just sits and waits for you to get on with it.

But, you can’t bring yourself to say it as the nerves are too much. Instead, you look down and put your hand gently on your stomach to try and convey the message to him.

“Wait… what?” Shawn speaks loudly, wanting to have misunderstood, “You can’t be.” He shakes his head and doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment. This isn’t happening.

“Shawn…” You shuffle up closer to him and try to comfort him, although you really feel like this situation should be the other way round. “What are you thinking about” You whisper cautiously, scared of his reply, as you know you can’t go through this on your own and you know that it’s what neither of you wanted right now.

He looks like he’s about to cry as he leans over and puts his elbows on his knees, and supports his head with his hands. Your hand harshly gets shoved off of his knee, and you’re left there feeling hopeless. “I have to go, Y/N.” Shawn gets up and heads towards the door faster than you’ve ever seen him move before - and that’s when you break down.

You see no point in attempting to stop him. There’s nothing that you can tell him in this moment that will change the solid facts. You’re pregnant. He’s the father. You both don’t know what to do, and Shawn is angry, or maybe upset and frightened. He’s normally easy to read, but for some reason it’s too hard to read him right now, and that adds to the weight crushing your heart flat. It pains you so much, because he’s the person you love most on this planet. You thought that he felt the same too.

The door swings open with no hesitation, and slams shut even faster. The sound is so unfaltering, it’s so final.

A/N: Idk how I feel about this one guys, but I hope you enjoy!! You can send me requests here.

anonymous asked:

In the Lost Boys intro, it sounds like Dylan is saying something like, "Andrew, Andrew..." but I can't make out the rest. Do you have any idea what he's saying? Btw, thanks so much for uploading it!

The intro to the Lost Boys documentary is a collage of clips including  the Frankenstein Roast in which Dylan, Brooks and Zack are going over memories of the cast and crew and poking fun of them.  Brooks repeats “Andrew, Andrew, Andrew..” He is likely referencing a fellow theater classmate, Andrew Robinson, who often wrote and/or directed their school plays. He probably directed Frankenstein too (I’d have to double check).   Andrew was Rachel’s acting mentor and directed her in the very last play she stared in ‘The Smoke in the Room.’

Andrew directed “April Showers’ a fictional story based on the aftermath of the Columbine Tragedy which released April 2009, just ten years after the tragedy. It can be found on youtube.  This is a good interview of Andrew here and at one point he mentions “ It was at this time we learned who was doing the shooting, which hit two of my friends whom I was with very hard. “  I believe those friends that were with him at the time to likely be Zack Heckler and Devon Adams. 

More than you probably wanted to know, I’m sure. ;) 

anonymous asked:

part 3 of car fanfic plsssssssssss

The Accident (Part 3)

A couple nights after the accident, Jughead learned he was going to be released the next day. Betty, he found out, was going to be kept longer.

He hadn’t been sleeping well in the hospital - it wasn’t lost on him how twisted that was. A place where he had a bed, blankets, pillows and basically a wait-staff and he couldn’t sleep.

It had, however, let him people-watch. He knew which nurses took extra smoke breaks, which ones stayed at the desk when they were supposed to, when they did their rounds and check-ups.

Jughead closed his eyes and pretended to sleep as the nurse walked past his room. His eyes snapped back open as he heard her steps retreat away from him. He swung his legs out from the bed, putting on the slippers Fred Andrews had brought him, and tiptoed down the hall.

“Betty?” Jughead whispered quietly as he stepped into her room. “Are you up?”

She was turned away from the door, her breathing even. Jughead walked around to the other side of her bed, not wanting to wake her. He sat on the chair, dragging it close to the bed, and took Betty’s hand.

As soon as Jughead’s hand gripped Betty’s, her eyes popped open. “Oh, it’s you. Thank God, Jug, I thought it was my mom again.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Betty nodded. “My wrist hurts a bit, but, I’m not too bad.”


Betty nodded again.

“Okay, then let’s go on an adventure.”

Betty’s eyebrows knit together, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’m breaking you out of here.”

Jughead helped Betty out of bed, checking for nurses before they left the room. Around the corner were two empty wheelchairs. Jughead pulled Betty towards them and Betty cocked an eyebrow.

They each sat in them, wheeling away slowly at first. Betty knew which way they were headed - Jughead had told her about the empty wing of the hospital just off the floor they were on.

They pushed through the double doors and stopped.

“Ready?” Jughead asked.

Betty laughed, stopping Jughead with an outstretched arm. “Are we really going to race?”

“Yes, yes we are.”

“Where’s the finish line?”

“Uh, that water fountain up there? Near the elevator.”

“Alright - count to three.”

“Feel the rhythm, feel the rhyme, get on up, it’s bobsled time!”

Betty knew, in Jughead speak and movie quotes, that that meant go.

They both starting wheeling their chairs down the hall. Lucky for them, there weren’t any corners in this long stretch of hall.

Jughead let Betty win, of course. She got up and cheered quietly, a smile beaming across her face.

“Okay, Princess, let’s go.” Jughead laughed, leading her further down the dark, abandoned hallway.

Betty followed him, gripping his hand with her good one. He had doodled on her cast, JUG+BETS in his bold, unmistakeable handwriting.

“In here,” He whispered, pulling her into a closet.

Betty felt around for a light switch and when she found one, Jughead was wearing a surgical mask.

She laughted lightly, admiring how much Jughead was trying to make staying in the hospital better.

“Want a balloon animal?” Jughead said suddenly, finding an open box of gloves.

Betty laughed. “What kind of animal can you make me with those?”

Jughead blew into the glove gently, tying the bottom closed. “A turkey, obviously.” He smirked.

Betty laughed, leaning up on her toes to kiss Jughead gently.

Jughead could tell Betty was getting tired. She winced when she leaned too far to one side, her ribs still bothering her.

“Come on,” He prompted gently.

They strolled back down to their wheelchairs. Jughead sat, then pulling Betty lightly onto his lap, wheeling them both to the double doors. Betty leaned back into Jughead’s chest, then remembered his bruise and leaned forward once more.

“Sorry,” She murmured.

“Don’t be, Bets, it doesn’t hurt. You can lean back on me.” He lied. He knew she was getting over tired - it was worth the pain.

“What about the other chair?” She yawned.

“I’ll come back for it.”

He stopped the wheelchair just outside of the double doors, telling her to wait so he could see if the coast was clear. It was, and they padded over to Betty’s room.

Betty yawned as she climbed into her bed, then blinked up at Jughead. “What are you doing?” She questioned.

Jughead looked confused.

“Lay with me.” She demanded sleepily. “Until I fall asleep. Please?”

“Okay,” Jughead smiled, walking around the other side of the bed and climbed in with Betty. She was facing the door, Jughead wrapped his arm gently around Betty’s middle, careful not to squeeze.

He didn’t fall asleep, knowing the nurses would start to freak out if they checked and he wasn’t there - he didn’t plan on staying long, knowing Betty would be asleep any minute. But this was as peaceful as he’d be in days. He wanted to savor it for a few more minutes.

A/N: Special thanks to @tewgrunge for some of the awesome ideas in this! 

Misunderstanding Chinese Medicine and Traditional Martial Arts

This is certainly going to be a controversial post, but again, this blog was meant to stimulate intellectual conversation. Insofar as herbal remedies go, this post is by no means a way to prescribe or self-diagnose. So, with that, let’s begin.

Since the dawn of popularism surrounding eastern martial arts and medicine in the west, there have been widespread misconceptions as to the mechanisms by which each work. Chinese medicine and the martial arts have been attacked by the religiously devout and modern western medicine with equal fervor. The devout criticize both as shamanism and occult, accusing martial artists and doctors of TCM as tapping into evil, mysterious powers. While this criticism holds substance if one sees both as working with some mysterious unseen qi force, it discounts the scientific and biologic mechanisms that work in the background.

Regarding the practices and training of eastern martial arts, in particular the traditional Chinese martial arts, these incredible demonstrations of physical prowess can now be more easily understood through modern western medicine and scientific study. Where the misunderstanding of such feats comes from is in the mistranslation and misconception of qi within TCM. Qi translated from Mandarin very literally means “gas, air, or breath.” Looking at qi from a scientific standpoint, we know that various gasotransmitters like Nitric Oxide play the role of qi in martial arts and TCM. Too much Nitric Oxide in the body can burn nerve endings and cause serious problems. Too little Nitric Oxide and our body cannot function properly either. The practice of qigong in traditional Chinese martial arts seeks to balance the level of Nitric Oxide in the system, regulates the production of Testosterone (Yang) and Estrogen (Yin), massages the primary organs in the abdominal cavity through the inhalation and exhalation of breath by means of the diaphragm and lungs, and serves to oxygenate the blood through mindful and deep breathing. (Mindful in this case meaning active attention to the inhalation and exhalation, as opposed to the inattentive, natural breathing mechanism for bodily survival). In so doing, the body is able to function at an optimal state, and thus serves martial artists in their intense training.

We know that in regards to neigong iron body training, small shocks to the skeletal structure (not enough to cause contusions or breaks) signal the brain to create more “rods” within the bones to make them more dense. In this case, then, the “dark powers” criticism becomes a moot point. The day-in day-out training of the skeletomuscular structure of serious martial arts masters is in fact a scientific training method utilizing the biologically innate mechanisms of the human body. While not fully understood until a more modern age, thus creating an illusion of mysticism and shamanism among the religious west, we are now more fully able to understand the physically unbelievable demonstrations of strength and agility that serious martial artists possess. We are not possessed by demons, nor do we draw from dark, demonic powers in order to be in the physical condition that martial arts requires.

Having explained much of the mechanisms behind qi in martial arts and TCM, we can now focus on the misunderstanding of herbal usage in TCM. Once again criticized by both religion and modern medicine, we must observe the actual mechanisms by which herbs work. Herbs are not working on some etherial spiritual plane, and in fact can work in conjunction with modern pharmaceuticals. In TCM, most modern chronic conditions can stem from a myriad of causes. Take fibromyalgia for example. Fibromyalgia can be caused by both excess qi, but also by qi deficiency. For the poorly trained acupuncturist, most of whom jumped on the Hippie bandwagon in the 60’s and 70’s and who fully believe that TCM is spiritual healing, a patient may be prescribed the wrong herbs and thus will not reap the benefits. Take a common herbal formula like Bu Yang Huan Wu Tang: a qi tonifying formula and blood mover which can increases blood circulation. While not necessarily indicated for fibromyalgia, for those with deficiency type Fibromyalgia, this formula can work wonders. This formula would in fact be contraindicated and dangerous for those with excess type Fibromyalgia, and can explain many of the accusations against TCM by modern medicine. By this I mean the accusation that herbal medicines only have limited placebo effect. The western medical studies done on particular herbal formulas take a pool of people who have a condition which could potentially be treated by herbs, but fails to take into account the different types of conditions which TCM doctors can diagnose and treat. As mentioned earlier, chronic conditions can be caused by many different types of conditions in TCM, and one pool of people with such a condition may not all have the same type. Those with excess should not take tonic formulas, and those with deficiencies should not take formulas which drain or remove in most cases. Because these studies show limited and therefore “placebo” effects, the criticism of herbal medicine stands.

Second and perhaps the last, is the timeframe in which a person on an herbal formula would see results. Because herbal formulas are meant more for treatment of the root cause and for preventive treatment, someone with a chronic condition may not see immediate result. Where modern pharmaceuticals treat the side effects of conditions and are so concentrated that immediate result is the primary focus, of course an herbal formula will pale in comparison. That said, in TCM, it is recommended to shift one’s diet as well. Just like modern pharmaceuticals and medicine tell you not to consume dairy while taking cold medicine, the same stands for TCM. There are no evil foods in TCM, just foods that may not jive well with a person’s constitution. For a lanky, thin person with a weaker constitution, oily and fatty foods are going to be a better fit until the constitution improves. For an obese person, those foods would be completely contradictory to their constitution, and would only serve to increase their obesity. While taking an herbal formula, the western fast-food centric diet is not recommended. Studies which fail to take into account a subject’s diet and habits outside of the study set herbal formulas up for failure. Those who staunchly refuse to change their diet in order to become healthier will not reap the benefits of herbal formulas, just like in modern medicine. There is no magic pill that will take the fat away in a healthy manner, neither in modern medicine nor in TCM. Chalking up TCM as shamanism and herbalism from misconceptions is a disservice to the masses that may benefit from it.

Without wading too deep into the dietary and herbal guidelines of TCM, I’ll end it here. If you’d like to learn more about TCM, diet and qigong, most of what I’ve mentioned and more can be found in books titled “EnlightenWeight” and “The Fibro Bible” by Andrew Miles and Xuelan Qiu. (Not my books, but I found them helpful). You can also check out Botanical Biohacking, which is their podcast on herbal remedies.

With that, I turn it over to the budoblr community. What do you think? Do you think martial arts are misunderstood, or that this post is BS?Have any of you traditional martial artists out there had experiences with Qigong and TCM? I’d like to hear from you. As always, agree or disagree, this blog is meant to stimulate intellectual conversation. Thanks for taking the time to read!

Like all posts regarding TCM, the FDA requires the statement “these statements have not been reviewed by the FDA. This post is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease”.

mile high club

Neil is frowning at his phone, fussing with buttons and ultimately gives a sigh before shoving it back in his pocket. Andrew turns his head, a silent question in his eyes.

Neil shakes his head.  “The wifi up here sucks.”

“I’m sure Kevin’s team won. Your exy obsession can wait, junkie.”

Neil hums in agreement but doesn’t say anything back for once.


Neil always has something to say about Exy. And Kevin. Which meant this had to do with neither. Andrew turns to look at him again, this time there’s a demand in his eyes.

Neil rolls his eyes, “It’s nothing, just curious about something.”

Andrew begins twirling his pen, patience was never one of his strong points. Especially thousands of feet in the air. He narrows his gaze at Neil.

“Staring,” is all Neil has to say, the corners of his mouth betray a smile, which Neil is quick to fight off. Because Neil is not always as stupid as he seems.

Andrew turns his attention to the pen in his fingers and considers stabbing it through Neil’s throat.

“The air lock is a lot less messy,” Neil says. He hates how as of late his thoughts have become increasingly predictable to Neil. But, sometimes he thinks it’s okay because he can read Neil just as easily.

“No,” he pauses as he looks down at his pen, still twirling it away, “You’d drag me down with you.” At those words Neil doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

Neil tilts his head towards Andrew, “What’s the mile high club?”

At this Andrew stops twirling his pen, his gaze darkens, and a crinkle forms on his forehead, “What?”

Neil straightens in his seat, “I think we should join it.”

Andrew lets out a slow breath, “Neil, what do you think the mile club is?”

Neil shrugs. “I was trying to look it up. Is it like a gym at an airport?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Please please please post us something ??? I miss your writing like an owner missing his beloved pet!! Anything you have or just bits of it. Please!!??????

Hmm, I’m really trying to get Heartlines ch5 done soon - I’m not sure it’ll be up for next Sunday, but maybe the following Wednesday? That said, here’s a little peek at the next part of The First Breath. It’s the start of the story (I’ll probably clean this up a little and expand upon it):

Eh… very brief mention of an abusive mother? Think that’s the only trigger here.


It still amazed Andrew that he not only had his own apartment to call ‘home’, a large loft with a freezer stocked with multiple pints of ice cream and a cabinet with liquor and the entire place warded to keep out almost everyone, but that he shared the place with Neil. That when he returned to a space that wasn’t just a building where he was staying for a certain amount of time but where he felt safe and content and had made it his own, there was a gorgeous idiot waiting for him with a bright smile.

A gorgeous idiot waiting for him with a bright smile while stretched out on their bed with two cats, with more cats curled up all through their home.

Keep reading

Updated masterlist!


I just updated my masterlist -which I hadn’t done since October.

If you want to check out all the links to my work, here you have it! Hope you enjoy!!

Updated masterlist!

“Kagari Atsuko, Attorney at Law” AU

The cafe was peaceful, one of those new, upscale establishments with incredibly high prices, beans freshly ground and imported from far off-countries whose names a good portion of the clientele couldn’t pronounce, or would have even heard off if the base for their equally unpronounceable drink with who-knows-what combination of ingredients, and instructions that were faithfully followed to the letter.

It wasn’t some place Diana would have frequented for pleasure–here there were far too many people with too much money, and not enough worthwhile endeavours to spend it in–but her associate Andrew had specifically mentioned it, the background noise was at an acceptable level, and her coffee was good, if money wasn’t an object like with him.

“How ironic then, that that’s what this entire conversation is going to be about…” Diana thought bitterly to herself. She put down her cup on her plate–both supposedly handmade by citizens of some remote village or otherwise impoverished area–and looked at him.

“So, how goes my legal situation?” she asked.

Keep reading


Fake Social Media Imagine {34} - Cheryl x reader

Hey everybody! This is actually for two requests which were the same thing “ Can u do one where the reader has a short hair cut or undercut with cheryl and the boys are mean” and “Cheryl x reader with short hair and the boys insult her in comments” Hope you both like it! Also i used 3 different cuts because i wasn’t exactly sure how short you wanted it to be:) Check out my masterlist!