so i now know way more about this show than i ever intended to

Important information for Content Creators on Tumblr (Last Updated June 23, 2017)

okay i know ive posted alot about this just now, but now that ive got it more or less figured out I’m gonna make a better post here and include the tags relevent to my interactions in it to ensure no one else in my fandoms/communities are blindsided like i was. 

I encourage you to make your own, or to just recopy this, tagging the fandoms and communities important to you!

CONTENT CREATORS: TUMBLR IS HIDING YOUR POSTS!

If you make a post with external links, your post will be hidden from searches. If you make a post and link to your redbubble, no one can search for your post. If you make art and link it to your deviantart or artstation, no one can search for you post. If you make any post and just throw on a “hey here is where you find me!” no one can search that post. If you want to recommend a fic or a youtube video, no one can search your post, if you… hell you get the idea. Tumblr has completely shut down content creators on this hellsite and its fucking infuriating.

I have just confirmed that the post type “Link” also does not show up in the tags. Thats right, there is an ENTIRE TYPE OF TUMBLR POST that cannot be searched. G-FUCKING-G TUMBLR.

EDIT: Okay! I have done more testing (and a video to go along with it) and at this point i can say that this is still very real, but that it only affects links to specific websites, presumably ones that tumblr doesn’t have added to some sort of “internal whitelist” of safe sites. 
I would suggest if you intend to continue tagging, to maintain a very very unique tag and use it to keep tabs on your work to ensure they are continuing to show up.
In the meantime, I will do my best to keep a list here of links verified to work, and ones verified to not work. Please feel free to comment on the post or reblog if you have your own experiences!

Also there has been confirmation that this change affects posts regardless of posting date. So it’ll hide posts made before the update went into affect; expected but good to confirm!

Edit (6/1/2017): working with someone to try to determine why an image is being hidden from the tag regardless of if it has text or a link or anything. The image in question should have worked, we tried reposting, we tried changing the file name, it still didn’t show up. Finally we changed it from a .png to a .jpg and it worked! So we thought we stumbled on something but, i posted one of my images in a test tag, as a jpg, as a png and as a transparent png and all showed up. So sometimes posts arent showing up for other reasons that have yet to be discovered (just because tumblr is shit it would seem)

Edit (6/23/2017):  So it looks like certain links might only show up in certain searches.

in this case the etsy link only showed up in recent, not in popular and not in text posts. 

Also if you wanted to try to include a non linked post in the description such as a url with the dots obfuscated by parenthesis then you have to do both the www(.) and the (.)com, one or the other will still find your post blocked.

in short using any links whatsoever COULD be problematic, using no links at all could be, but will probably increase the chances of your post being seen.

In general Tumblr’s search is absolutely degenerating, seemingly with each passing day.

WHAT TO DO?

It shuts down posts with external links, so at first i assumed internal links would be fine. and they are. if you make a page on your tumblr blog called like /links or something you can certainly link to that. But in that way you run into an issue, tumblr mobile is a piece of shit and cant load tumblr pages, and itll just take you back to the mainblog any time you try.

The best solution ive found so far is put all your relevent links in your blog description like so:

and then in every content post, call tumblr out for being a piece of shit and direct them to the links in your blog description.

Edit: In the top right hand side of photo posts you can click on it and include a single link as “source” that should work if you have one link neccessary. though if you need more you are still SOL. Find it like so:

It will appear in dash format at the bottom left of the post:

in desktop them view where it can be found, or if it can be found, varies by theme.

CONTENT CREATOR SUPPORTERS

It is important now more than ever on this hellsite that you try to support your artist and content creators, reblog as much as possible, look to find them on websites off this piece of shit, and generally do your best to spread the word and support them, since tumblr itself is trying to silence them! 

I HAVE AN ACCOMPANYING POST HERE WITH A VIDEO UPDATE AND INFORMATION PLEASE CHECK IT OUT.

The Arkansas Sleep Experiments

by reddit user nazisharks

To Those Who Sleep

This happened a few years ago. You may have heard rumors if you’re on campus. Some even circulated online. Nobody knew what really happened. Because I’m the only one who knows and I kept quiet. For a multitude of reasons. None of them matter now. Here’s what really happened.

The four of us were handpicked for this experiment by Prof. Richardson because we’d all studied under him, worked under him, and, as much as anyone can, earned his confidence.

He said this one was different. We had to keep it quiet. He wanted to keep details to a minimum. All he would tell us before going in was that he required a month of our lives and that if he succeeded sleep would never again be a necessity.

Keep reading

Literally just all the sexual things Alexander Hamilton sent to John Laurens


“I love you.”

This one is pretty self explanatory. Men were much more intimate back in the 1700′s, forming bonds that seem very ~gay~ in today’s light. Homosexuality wasn’t a very understood thing back then because rigid moral codes and censured education prevented people from learning more about sexuality.

 But Alexander Hamilton knew.

 He grew up on an island where ‘Sodomites’ (gay people) were dumped and  allowed to mingle with the island population. Alex knew that there was a certain zone of interactions between men that went from being merely friendly to sexual. He clearly steps into the bounds of sexual while fully realizing it.

“In drawing my picture, you will no doubt be civil to your friend; mind you do justice to the length of my nose and don’t forget, that I [- - - - - -].”

Ahhhhhhhhh my son Alex, could you be more explicit? Alex here is obviously referring to his something else (you know) with the knowledge that John Lauren’s knows the size. This sentence right here is basically just one long ;).

 “Your friend” seems to be written teasingly, as if they both know how far from friends they are.

And we can only guess how dirty Alex got in those last six  CUT OUT words.

“Dear Boy” [sent by John Laurens]

John laurens calls his wife his ‘dear girl’, and here he calls Alex his ‘dear boy’.  Moreover, Laurens did not call any other man he ever wrote to as his ‘dear boy’. Laurens seems to see Alex as on the same level, if not higher, as his own wife.

“Did I mean to show my wit? If I did, I am sure I have missed my aim. Did I only intend to [frisk]? In this I have succeeded, but I have done more. I have gratified my feelings, by lengthening out the only kind of intercourse now in my power with my friend.”

This phrase right here I unfortunately do not see a lot when people talk about Alex and John’s letters. This, to me, is one of the most explicit. “Wit” also mean one’s you know what (here I give a nod to the Ravenclaw moto), so Hamilton’s saying he was pretty much just messing around with John the last letter he sent. This is the only sort of “intercourse” he is able to have with John, as they are both so far apart. He is incapable of ‘sexual’ intercourse because of their distance, so he feels he must, in the 18th century way, sext.

“I would invite you after the fall to Albany to be witness to the final consummation.”

As you might have already guessed, Alex is inviting John to a threesome on his wedding night. The idea that Alex feels so at ease inviting John to a threesome with his wife suggests they have already had something going for a long time now. 

“But like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued. I had almost resolved to lavish no more of them upon you and to reject you as an inconstant and an ungrateful –”

Here Alex compares himself to John’s lover, and a jealous one at that. John seems to be shying away from Alex’s bawdiness, as if realizing how strange their relationships is in retrospect. Alex is scrambling to hang on to him, even though he knows well what are and what happens to Sodomites. He would do anything for John while knowing the consequences. And John is too afraid to join him. And who the hell knows what the last word was.

“And believe me, I am lover in earnest,”

*cough cough* looks like John knows exactly what happens when Alex’s feeling frisky.

“She [Eliza] loves you a l'americaine not a la francoise.”

The French were renowned for their relaxed stance on extramarital love affairs, while Americans were more Puritan-minding and thought love affairs only should happen in church-sanctioned marriages. Thus Eliza has an a l’americaine love of John Laurens, rather than an a la francoise.

“You will be pleased to recollect in your negotiations that I have no invincible antipathy to the maidenly beauties & that I am willing to take the trouble of them upon myself.”

*cough* this sentence is a bit confusing, and could be taken a few ways. What I infer from this is that Alexander Hamilton is willing, and John knows this, to assume an air of femininity because he finds no fault with it. It was commonly noted by people who wrote of Hamilton that he was very feminine in comparison with other men of his day. Alex’s femininity seems to please John, the topic even having been discussed between the two in ‘negotiations’.

“My ravings are for your own bosom” Alex desperately misses Laurens’ intimate contact in a way that, in my opinion, could never be mistaken as simply friendship. Alex literally wants to be held by John. How fucking heartbreaking is that.

“Yrs for ever”

Ok, this one isn’t sexual, but I had to add it because it is so heartbreaking. This was Alex’s last farewell note to John. That is, if he even received it. He died shortly after Alex sent the letter; whether he read the farewell or not is all lost to history. Alex loved John so much, despite the fact that both already had a wife. He would have always loved him, even if they had grown apart…

That’s it folks: time for me to cry.

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt

Masterlist linked in bio


If there’s one thing Y/n can’t stand, it’s pity. Which is unfortunate for her, considering that’s all she’s been receiving ever since Harry had broken up with her.

Between her family, her friends, and long-known acquaintances, the pity was never ending. The looks people gave her whenever she occupied a room made her sick to her stomach. Nobody looked at her the way they used to as if their perception of her has been altered from a beautiful, humble woman to a broken heart on legs.

Talking to people didn’t help much, either, considering their irrational fear that one harsh tone could wreck what’s left of her. To those, her identity and name have seemed to be forgotten, only to be replaced by “the girl left with a broken heart, who’s heart has failed to mend.”

It’s all a myth, really—a myth that hasn’t been confirmed or denied within the past four months. Y/n provided no reassurance for anybody, nor did she show any improvement since their break up. But she did try her best. Her attempts to answer the question, “how have you been, you know, since the breakup and all?” with an “I’ve been okay” filled with lies didn’t go unnoticed, however, proved to be unsuccessful.

And the pity only got worse when Harry got a new girlfriend.

It was plastered everywhere, the rumors that Harry’s new girlfriend stayed at his hotel in Los Angeles and traveled with him back to London. They disclosed that her name was Jessica, who works as a travel blogger.

She was beautiful, too. More beautiful than she wanted her to be, as selfish as it was. She was the perfect image for him, especially at the height of his career.

Y/n’s heart hit rock bottom that day. Every unblemished part of it became a ruin, a shattered piece of what was once so full and whole.

Y/n hadn’t expected it, not this fast, at least. When Harry initiated the breakup, he told her that it wasn’t the end of their relationship. He had promised her that with the right amount of distance, all the problems they’ve had in their relationship would be fixed entirely.

She believed him, too. That with maybe some time apart, their bitterness towards each other would decease, and all that would remain would be the overwhelming needs for one another.

She should have never been so gullible. After they broke up, they never spoke to each other again. All their ties had been cut, leaving them both hanging in completely separate lives. Y/n never got over him. How could she? They were soulmates, they were each other’s everything. No matter what came at them, they always found a way back to one another.

But Harry’s fame started skyrocketing, leaving Y/n on the ground with no way to reach him anymore. She should have known he’d find someone else—someone more worthy of his time. She just didn’t want to believe it and didn’t want to believe that it had happened so soon.

“How are you feeling?” Gabby asks, reaching over the wooden table so that her fingers can rest on top of Y/n’s hand; a small gesture that Gabby has been giving Y/n nearly every day for the past four months.

Y/n wishes she found it as comfortable as it intended to be, however she can’t help feeling worse whenever Gabby did so. The gesture undoubtedly derives from the pity Gabby has had toward her ever since the breakup. Everything was because of pity.

She looks down at her cold, untouched hot chocolate as she swirls the straw along the brim, resisting to roll her eyes as it’s the only question everybody has seemed to ask her recently.

“The usual,” she shrugs, “nothing’s really changed.”

Gabby gives her a half smile before returning to her tea. The cafe is only occupied by the both of them, considering it’s 7 in the morning on a Sunday. But after everything that’s happened, Y/n’s sleep schedule has been slacking and Gabby wanted nothing more than to be there for Y/n whenever she had the chance.

“Are you sure you don’t want any food?” Gabby asks. “It’s on me if you want anything.”

Y/n shrugs again, a faint yawn falling from her mouth as she shakes her head.

“No, I’m okay. I think I’ll make some waffles when I get home. But I’ll need to stop at the grocery store before I leave. Ran out of milk and flour the other day.”

“We could stop by now if you’d like. I’m getting quite full, anyways.”

“Yeah, sure” Y/n nods, “sounds fine.”


The entrance doors chime when Y/n and Gabby enter the grocery store, barely any people filling the aisles at such hours. Neither of them speak much before they go their separate ways, grabbing all the necessary ingredients Y/n needs for when she gets home.

When she finds flour on one of the bottom shelves, Y/n bends down to grab the cheapest one she could find. In all honesty, she didn’t have a lot of money to spend since she took some time off of work for “mental health reasons,” and she wanted nothing more than to go back home and spend the rest of her day in bed.

When she stands back up from her squatting position, her body rams into somebody else’s, making everything they both were carrying fall onto the floor.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” Y/n gasps, scrambling to pick up the ingredients that have fallen from the girl’s arms.

When Y/n stands back up to return her fallen items, it was as if every nightmare Y/n has ever had was standing right in front of her.

She’d recognize her face anywhere. It haunted her everywhere she went; mocking her and destroying every last bit of her wellbeing. Her face is unforgettable, having been ingrained into her head for so long now. She’s exactly how she is in her pictures, except she’s so much more beautiful in person.

It’s when Y/n’s eyes drift down to the shirt she’s wearing that takes the breath right from her lungs.

The word Lover printed inside of a red heart, the end of it hidden by the pocket right on her chest. It looked so unfamiliar on her—so unfamiliar that tears started piling in her eyes and her lips began to quiver.

That shirt was theirs. That shirt belonged to Y/n and Harry.

Lover.

It was a nickname Y/n always gave Harry. She would have normally settled for “babe” or “baby” like she did with her previous boyfriends, but “lover” came so naturally to her. It exemplified just how unique and rare their relationship was, too.

Harry had never been called that before, but there was something about it that felt so right. The first time she called him that, he blushed like no other. His cheeks and heart felt so warm, and Y/n wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. But no matter how much she joked about how much he blushed that night, it only made her call him that more.

And the more she said it, the more she realized that there was no other name to describe him.

She gave him the shirt for their first anniversary. She was insecure about it, considering it was the only gift she purchased him that year and wasn’t nearly as expensive as all the gifts Harry had given her. But after all the flowers she received had died months later, after all the chocolate he bought her had been eaten in two nights, after all the in-home spa treatments had been used by the both of them progressively throughout the months, and after all the sex they shared died down by the next morning, the only gift that remained so dearly to their hearts was that goddamn shirt.

The shirt became sentimental to their relationship and was almost used as a keepsake between the two of them. The mornings after making love, Y/n found herself slipping it on before rolling out of bed to make breakfast. Harry fell in love with her tendency to do so and always made sure she knew just how much he loved her for it.

This is my favorite look on you, he’d always say, where the shirt hung loosely from her frame and her skin scattered with the marks from his tongue.

Harry wore the shirt as a tradition, most commonly on their anniversaries or on any specific date that held such significance to their relationship. And every time Y/n saw him wearing it, she found it irresistible to kiss the heart designed right upon his chest.

My lover, she’d say, looks so perfect on you.

She never imagined anybody else in it. Even after they had broken up, she never thought the shirt would be passed down to later relationships Harry had with other women. When she moved out, he kept insisting that she should be the one to take it.


He looked down at the shirt all crinkled in his hands, the last compromise they had to make before Y/n officially moved out of their home. Her suitcases were packed neatly by the front door, the darkened sky from the storm waiting to approach making the house feel colder than it already had turned.

Y/n’s body was slumped against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes red with inevitable tears as they were forced to face the harsh reality of what was to come.

After three years of a relationship neither of them expected to end, Harry had insisted that they take a break from each other. With his career coming to its peak and Y/n spending most of her time in the office, their relationship was going through a rough patch that lasted far too long.

“You paid for this, you know,” Harry whispered, obstructing the silence that seemed to make the air around them thicker and harder to breathe, “this is yours, always has been.”

Y/n shook her head, a few loose tears falling from her face as she did so. In all honesty, she didn’t want to be reminded of it after this. It’s held so much meaning between the two of them throughout a majority of their years being together that she couldn’t stomach the thought of looking at it in her selection of wardrobe. Not when Harry won’t be by her side, not when Harry won’t be apart of her life anymore.

She placed her hand on top of his softly, stroking the knuckles of his clenched fingers with her thumb.

“It was ours. But when it comes down to it, I bought it for you. It was a gift, you should keep it.”

Harry clenched his fingers harsher against the fabric, his quivered lips attempting a small smile as he lifted it to his chest. His thumb traced the heart above the pocket, watching as one of his tears soak into the material.

“It looks better on you anyways.” Y/n tried to laugh through the silent cries, but neither of them had the heart to make light of the situation they were facing.

Harry’s eyes narrowed down at her while a small sigh fell from his lips.

“You know I’d never wear this again, right? Not until we find our way back to each other.”

Y/n’s shaken hands wiped the tears from her cheeks, her lips pursed together to ensure her broken sobs wouldn’t surface until she was alone in her car.

“Yeah, until we find our way back.”

She stood on her toes to reach his cheek, where she tentatively placed a kiss on the flushed skin.

“You’ll always be my lover.”


But looking back at it now, she wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a grocery store, crying pathetically in front of a complete stranger if she had just taken the damn thing.

How could he do this to me?

“Babe, are these eggs alr—“

Harry’s words get caught in his throat when he sees Y/n standing in front of Jessica with tears streaming down her face and cries shaking her body.

At first, his instinct is to reach his hand out to her. But as his eyes follow her tearful gaze to Jessica’s shirt, which is far too large for her frame, but still being worn on her body, the realization hits him that it’s probably the last thing she would want.

He flutters his eyes shut as an unbearable feeling starts to rise in his stomach. This is the most unfortunate time to see Y/n again, and he can’t imagine how much hatred flowing through Y/n’s system as he stands there, cowardly silenced.

Not a word comes out of his mouth. Not even a pathetic stutter of her name, or even a lift of his lips to greet her in the most minimal of ways.

The only thought swirling through Y/n’s mind is how could you not say anything to me? After everything you did, after what I’m witnessing now, how is there not one word to say?

He watches as pain settles in her eyes as she looks at him. It’s as if she’s begging for an explanation, or even an apology he doesn’t really mean. She’s just looking for something, and knowing that she’s not getting anything is taking all the remaining life out of her.  

But he has so much to say. There are so many apologies, so many thoughts all scrambling in his head that everything becomes incoherent. He wants to tell her how sorry he is, and how hard it is to live with himself after all that he’s done to her. He wants to tell her that he never gave her that fucking shirt, that Jessica found it in one of his drawers and put it on while he was still sleeping from the night before. He wants to tell her that it isn’t what it looks like, that it isn’t what everybody thinks this is. But his throat tightens and his tongue suddenly becomes numb, completely preventing him from saying all the things he wishes to say.

“Y/n, is everything alr—”

Gabby halts when she discovers Y/n’s crying body being watched by the very two people that broke her heart. She’s breaking, so evidently breaking and neither one of them are doing anything about it.

“I w—want to go home.” Y/n’s voice cracks, face twisting as Harry still doesn’t find anything to say to her. “Let’s just go home.”

If Gabby hadn’t witnessed her best friend go through so much pain within the last four months, she would have been able to contain all the rage she’s held toward Harry. But something inside of her snaps when she sees the shirt Jessica’s wearing.

“No!” Gabby spits.

Before anybody sees it happening, Gabby slams her fists against Harry’s chest. Jessica begins to scream while Y/n jumps in an attempt to remove Gabby’s wild arms away from him.

Harry doesn’t do anything to defend himself, though, as he allows her to keep swinging her arms at him. All he can think about it how much he deserves it—how much he deserves all of what’s coming at him.

“You’re such a fucking jerk, Harry!” Gabby roars. “You ruined her! Who the fuck do you think you are?!“

“Gab, stop.” Y/n mumbles, finally able to capture her arms.

Gabby squirms as she tries to escape Y/n’s harsh hold on her, but against Y/n’s anger mixed with all her overwhelming emotions, there is no match.

Y/n starts to push Gabby toward the doors, and it takes every bit of strength left in her to not turn around to look at him one last time. 

“You’re her biggest mistake! I hope you know that!”

Reaper: Chapter Two

His hand was warm.

Isa pulled me to my feet. “Just a second,” he said, scanning the area.

I didn’t feel dead. I could feel the wind on my skin and my heart hammering in my chest. My hands were trembling with adrenaline. That had to be a good sign.

“Kat,” Isa said, startling me. I had been staring at my hands so intently that I hadn’t noticed he was holding out his hand to me again.

“I’m not dead,” I informed him a bit giddily, taking his hand again.

Isa didn’t smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled. “This way,” he said, pointing with his free hand. I looked, but he seemed to be pointing towards thin air.

He led me away from the broken highway and my silver car, wading through the faded brown grass. After about twenty yards he stopped and turned to me.

“I need you to think of a place,” he said, “Any place.”

My mind went blank. “Any place?”

“Anywhere. Visualize it in your mind. Got it?” I hesitated before nodding. “Good. Now we’re going to take one more step together.”

I looked at the grass before us. It didn’t look any different from any other patch of grass we’d passed. I drew a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“And go.”

As we stepped forward together, the air went…soft. Like a deep, thick mattress. Like holding an overripe peach in your hands and slowly pressing in your thumbs, letting them sink into it. Not hot or cold or anything like that. Just soft.

Less than a moment passed before the softness was gone; I didn’t even have time to blink. We were still standing in the grass by the highway. I could see my car close by and the mountains looming in the distance. But the edges of the mountains were vague and unclear, and the light that filtered through the clouds was tinted red, almost as though it was shining through rose-colored glass. More telling was the quiet. The wind had disappeared, and the grass was silent and still.

“You know,” Isa commented, “I think people usually choose somewhere other than the place they’re currently standing.”

“I panicked,” I responded, taking in everything around me, “Which seems to be my basic state of existence at this point.”

Unlike everything else, Isa seemed more real than ever. The basics were still the same: pale, ashy skin stretched tight over his body, white hair, and jet black eyes set deep in their sockets. His fingers and limbs were overly long for his body, and he was wearing a black hooded coat with loose sleeves, grey pants, boots, and a t-shirt with a vintage ad for spam.

However, his skin lacked the translucent quality it usually had, and his shadow -

“You have a shadow,” I blurted out, “You have a - the grass. You’re actually crushing down the grass.” I knelt down and confirmed for myself that yes, the grass could be pressed down, and then I turned around and thrust out my hand. The softness was waiting just feet behind me. “Where are we?”

“This is an inbetween place,” he replied, watching as I shuffled a few feet to the side and stuck out my hand again, “We needed somewhere safe to talk.”

I pulled my hand from the softness and tried again. “And the deserted highway wasn’t cutting it?”

Isa pressed his lips together. “It’s not humans that I’m worried about overhearing us.”

I paused mid thrust. “Oh.” The fear which had almost been forgotten in my wonder flared up.

“Here,” Isa said, and he took my hand again, leading me around whatever invisible portal we had passed through. Almost mindlessly I walked towards the car.

“Are we safe here, then?”

He shrugged. “Should be. I don’t think I was followed - there’s no good reason anyone would, really, I’m not a major player. But it’s not wise to talk about these things in the open on principle.”

We reached the car, and I stretched out my hand to touch it. It was solid under my fingers, but the numbers on the license plate were scrambled, changing every time I blinked. 

Isa stopped me as I went to open the driver’s side door.

"I just wanted to see if it would start,” I said.

Isa shook his head. “It might, but it’s not wise to go through any doors here. There’s no telling where you might end up.”

A little disappointed, I perched on the trunk instead, pulling up my legs and wrapping my arms around them. Isa stood before me, hands shoved in his pockets.

“So…” I started, Isa looking at me expectantly, “Are you an angel?”

Isa burst out laughing. It was an odd sound, out of place in the unnatural silence of the inbetween.

“No, and I wouldn’t let an angel hear you say that if I were you. Actually, it would probably be fine; most angels I’ve met are quite nice. But trust me, if you ever meet an angel, you’ll know it. People tend to fall over when they show up.”

“Okay, not an angel.” There went half the theories I’d ever read. “Then what are you? And don’t say a reaper.”

“I never really liked that name anyway,” he replied. He kicked the ground for a moment, thinking. “I’m the guardian of your soul. I’ve been with you since your soul first joined your body. I will ensure no one touches it until your life is complete.”

“…And when my life is complete?”

“I take your soul,” he answered nonchalantly, “ - Kat?”

I rolled off the car, running into the field, running towards the softness.

Maybe he wasn’t an angel after all. But there were other theories about the reapers.

“Kat?” he called after me, “I’m not taking your soul here and now.”

I stumbled to a stop in a panic. The grass all looked the same. Whatever gateway we’d walked through wasn’t marked by any kind of visual cue. I was effectively trapped.

“Maybe you’re not taking it now,” I said as I turned, arms tight by my sides, hands clenched, “but you’re going to.”

Isa walked towards me slowly, “That probably wasn’t the best way for me to phrase that.” I shrank away from him instinctively, and he sighed. “This would be easier if I was an angel. They’re good at explaining things. Can I try again?”

He waited until I nodded hesitantly.

“I’m the guardian of your soul. I was bound to you the moment your soul entered your body. While you live, I’ll protect your soul from harm. When your days are complete, I’ll carry your soul to its rest. I’m not going to kill you, consume your soul, drain your life force, steal your corporeal form,  keep you in a tortured disembodied state devoid of all sensation, or anything else of that kind.”

I stared at him. “That’s…really specific.”

“But you’re not running this time,” Isa noted.

“If you’re lying, I’m screwed anyway,” I retorted.

“Ah.” Isa’s body seemed to droop ever so slightly. “I liked it better when you just trusted me.”

“And I liked it better when I wasn’t afraid I was going crazy,” I snapped. I shut my eyes and paused, willing myself to breath deeply. “I’m tired. I’m stressed and exhausted and I have no clue what’s going on. You disappeared for two weeks and I didn’t even know reapers could do that, and now you’re talking and you touched me and I’m somehow not dead and we’re in a freaking alternate dimension or something and it’s just a bit much.”

“I didn’t intend to let things get this out of hand,” Isa admitted, “I only thought I’d be gone for a few hours at most.”

Finally, the question that had been burning in my chest for weeks. “What happened? Why did you leave?”

“There was a reaper who needed help. He and his human were being targeted, and they weren’t going to make it.”

“Are they okay?”

His face brightened a bit. “They are. The woman died and he was able to deliver her soul safely.”

“Your definition of a happy ending and mine are a little different,” I muttered, “What did they need protection from?”

Isa looked grim. “There are many beings who would want to misuse a human soul,” he said softly, “And there are others who would like nothing more than to see a reaper give into the temptation to take advantage of their charge. Some of these were attacking this reaper in the hope of either claiming the soul for themselves or, if nothing else, forcing the reaper into a position where he drew on the soul for power. I thought they’d back off once I came to his aid, but they fought until the end.”

Behind Isa’s shoulder, I saw something like a dark smudge on the horizon where the mountains met the sky. A horrible sense of wrongness settled in my gut.

“I didn’t mean to leave you for so long,” he continued, “And it shouldn’t -”

“Isa,” I interrupted, pointing urgently, “There’s something here.”

Isa turned to look. The smudge was getting larger. “No,” he said, “No no no no!” He grabbed my hand.

“We need to move now!” He took off across the field, dragging me behind him. We passed through the softness and the world shifted, the rosy light turning grey. We sprinted back to my car.

I looked back towards the mountains. I couldn’t see anything.

“Get in the car,” Isa ordered, and I hurried to do so. After buckling myself in, I looked up to see Isa pull out a gun.

“Drive home as fast as you can,” he said, ignoring my shock, “And don’t stop until I say so.” With that, he swung himself onto the roof of my car.

I turned on the car and made a U-turn, pressing the pedal to the floor. A minute later gun shots rang out, and I looked into the mirror to see something burst through the portal and hurtle down the broken highway in pursuit.

The Holy Grail of Sam Wilson Fanfic Recs

A list of recommended Sam-positive fanfics and authors by @lunaaltare and @unclesteeb. For more information on how this list was created, click here. 

Just a special reminder to check out @samwilsonbirthdaybang! Let’s keep creating awesome works!

Thank you to everyone who contributed to this list in any way!! HAPPY READING!

Holy Grail of Sam FanFic Recs And Authors:

Dreadnought by lunaaltare [Sam/Steve/Bucky, 60k, Explicit]

It’s 2015. So when a Nazi organization bags and kidnaps a bisexual black man to be their next asset, he guesses they’re trying their hand at this whole progressive thing, too. 

Make Me Your Home by Unclesteeb [Sam/Steve, 3k, Teen]

Sometimes, things need more than dusting and cleaning. Sometimes, things just require a lot of hard work.

When There’s Rain Showers by AmarieMelody [Sam/Bucky, 12k, Explicit]

In which Sam and Bucky are married and have a certain code language.

Humor, fluff, more humor, and gratuitous smut at the end.

Keep reading

I think I love you - Jughead Jones

Pairing : Jughead Jones x Reader

Word count : 1,484

Warnings : none

Requests are closed!

Originally posted by juptern

Your phone rang in the pocket of your jacket making you jump by surprise. You answered the call before showing your index to your friend Archie, meaning that it would only take a minute.

“Hi, this is (y/n) speaking.”

“Hey (y/n), how are you?” You instantly recognised the groggy voice behind the line.

“Jughead! I’m good! What about you?” From the corner of your eye, you would’ve swore you saw Archie rolling his eyes.

“Marvellous. So, what are you up to this evening? I thought we maybe could’ve hung out tonight. You know, me, you, at Pop’s?” You chuckled lightly.

“Sorry Juggie, I was planning on spending the night with Archie… You can tag along if you want? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” A small sigh made its way into your ear. You had to admit that you spent a lot of your recent time with your new red-haired friend. Jughead still occupied the position of best friend. He didn’t have to worry about it.

“I promise we’ll do something together tomorrow, alright?” It was silence for a while before you heard back,

“Yeah sure.” You pursed your lips, mentally cursing yourself. It wasn’t the first time that you had turned down your best of friend for Archie. Lately it had been happening more than before. It made you feel like the worst pal.

“See you.” With that, Jughead hung up. You understood how he felt. It wasn’t right that you weren’t spending as much time with him.

“Jughead, wasn’t it?” You looked up and saw Archie sprawled across the black beanbag in your bedroom. His hands were attached on the new acoustic guitar his dad had got him for his birthday. You nodded and played with the sleeves of you sweater. Your friend continued strumming the strings of his instrument.

“Hey- I wrote this song last week, and I wanted to know what you thought about it. I’ve been trying to talk to Josie about her playing some of my compositions, but she’s not that into it. You’re her friend, right? Maybe you could listen to it and try to talk to her?” He asked questioningly.

“Of course, go ahead.” His fingers moved to the tuners and accorded them as his other hand rested on the waist of the guitar. A few seconds later, a pleasant melody filled the room. Archie then started singing the lyrics he had written. The song wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was quite catchy. The redhead friend of yours had talent. Before Archie could go on, you blurted out something you soon would regret.

“I’ll probably spend the day with him tomorrow.” The small tune that Archie had started suddenly came to an end. Archie hadn’t spoken to Jughead since this summer. The tree of you and Betty we’re supposed to go on a road trip the fourth of July but Archie left you hanging at the last minute. Since then, the boys stopped talking completely. When you mentioned one of  them to the other, you saw the irritation and annoyance in their expression.

“I thought you were coming to my game tomorrow. I’m playing in the varsity football team this year, remember?” You bet your lip and fiddled your hair with your fingers.

“I’m sorry Arch. I haven’t seen Jughead in a while now and I don’t want him to feel like I stopped being his friend. I’m making a vow that I’ll show up to your next game, how about that?”

“Why does it always have to be about him? Everything constantly has to be about Jughead.” Your were caught off guard by the sudden raise in his voice.

“That’s not it… I’m just trying to do what’s best here.”

“By ditching me at the last minute, that’s how your making things better? I didn’t think of you as an inconsiderate and selfish person.” He replied bitterly. In all the time of you guy’s friendship, you had never seen this side of Archie. Usually, he would be sweet and just shrug off any problem that faced his way. But the words he had just told you, they hurt your heart. Your eyes were starting to fill up with tears and your bottom lip started quivering.

“I’ve spent all my time with you for the last month. You. Not Jughead. Why are you treating me like this?”

“You know what? I don’t want to spend any more of my time with you right now.” With that, Archie got up and left you alone in your room. Without even noticing, a trail of tears had made its way down your cheeks. A sob escaped your mouth and your hands covered your face as you poured your heart out. You laid in your bed and continued crying.

It was all your fault. Archie now hated you and would probably never talk to you again. Why did you had to be so stupid? If only you had kept your mouth shut. Maybe he still would have been on that beanbag, singing.

Maybe half an hour later, you heard the wooden creek of your door meaning that someone was coming in. You didn’t even move, your pillow pressed against your face. The mattress shifted to the side from the sudden weight that it now had on it. You felt a piece of your hair being put behind your ear. You smiled at the sweet gesture and assumed it was your mother. You slowly got up and saw Jughead sitting beside you. Automatically, you vaulted in his arms tearing up once again.

“Sssh. It’s going to be okay.” He rubbed your back comfortingly. Your forehead was against his chest, his two upper limbs protectively holding you. Your eyes were probably red from all the crying but you couldn’t care less. You continued sobbing in his chest until you eventually felt calmer.

“Why- Why are you here?” You asked with a small voice. Jughead gently whipped your cheek with his thumb.

“Your mom saw Archie leave in a rush and realized that you two probably had a fight. She heard you crying and thought that you would be more willing to speak about it with me than her.” You grinned at the boy.

“I ruined your shirt.” You noticed, and felt guilty.

“Nothing to worry about (y/n/n). I never liked that jersey anyway.” You giggle with your best friend. You sniffed and observed Jughead who his face was only about a foot away from you. You had to admit that he was good looking. His prefect blue eyes were mesmerising and his pink lips appeared so kissable. Forever you considered the boy as nothing more than a platonic relationship to you. Never had you ever felt anything for him. But in that moment, something clicked. Jughead wasn’t only a friend to you, not even a best friend.  A stronger feeling overwhelmed your body. You felt love. You loved Jughead Jones. 

He was the one who your mother called when you were sad. He was the one who came rushing to your house as soon as your mother hung up. He was the one who was holding you and comforting you, whispering sweet nothing to you as you were crying. He was the one who was there for you.

“Jughead.” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“(y/n)?” You asked yourself in your mind if it was the right time to confess your feelings towards him. Your breathing started quickening as the anxiety rose in your core.

“I think I-” He watched you with intending eyes, indicating to continue your phrase.

“I think I love you.” Jughead eyeballed you, astonished at your revelation. He quietly answered, almost inaudible for you to hear.

“I think I love you too.” He leaned towards you and slowly pressed his lips to yours. Fireworks were going off in your stomach. The heaviness on your shoulders disappeared. In this moment, nothing else mattered in the world. Both of your lips moved in sync as you played with his raven locks. His arms pulled you closer to him, leaving no space between you two. Jughead backed away and kissed every each of your face, including your cheeks, temple and chin.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispered in your ear. You gave him a last long peck on the lips before saying,

“Do you want to lay down and cuddle with me?” He moved his head up and down calmly and took a blanket that was already on the bed to cover you. Cuddling was not something new for the both of you. You had always cuddled together, and whenever. His hand ran through your hair bringing a comforting and fuzzy feeling. His body pressed behind your back and his hot breath was tingling your neck. Before you even knew it, you and Jughead had fallen in a deep slumber, both dreaming about each other.

*gif is not mine!!

a long post about the message of the blurryface era

all the blurryface music videos (and heathens) seem to be pretty different from the rest but all of them have the same theme, which is that connection with friends is the best way to cope, and no one is really alone.

heathens/heavydirtysoul - these two music videos parallel each other closely as i talked about in my last post. both start with tyler in a dark and unfamiliar place. he is sad and withdrawn. then, he sees josh. josh is drumming furiously and doesn’t notice tyler. 

in both music videos tyler is represented by dark motifs (rooms, clothes, etc.) while josh’s motifs are glowing and bright. heathens - he’s drumming on a glowing box, which eventually becomes the stage on which he and tyler play. heavydirtysoul - his drums spark flames with every hit; they grow larger and eventually consume tyler as well. 

both videos reach a climax in which tyler and josh interact with each other for the first time. the light (heathens) and flame (hds) grows to a blinding maximum and the two are rocking out together. josh is no longer ignoring tyler. tyler is no longer withdrawn; he is interacting with josh and for the moment his anxiety is gone. it’s a release but it’s not a painful one. he is coping. 

and then in the end everything is back to normal - no yellow suit, no light, no flames. tyler is still there alone. blurryface is as present as ever. and the implication is that he has imagined josh. this is why josh didn’t notice tyler both times. he was merely an attempt for tyler to find someone to relate to. a cathartic figment of imagination. an imagination of light that tyler hasn’t found yet. 

and what these songs mean in relation to the videos is clear. “all my friends are heathens” - there are so many people here going through the same thing as me, and while the general public considers us freaks, we are all here together and ready to stay that way. “can you save my heavydirtysoul” - implies desperately trying to find a way out of the situation. imagining salvation so fervently that it manifests as almost reality. salvation, here, is josh and the flames. 

lane boy - this one is kind of similar to heathens and heavydirtysoul in that it starts with tyler, alone and contemplating, in the dark. but this time he’s worried about what he has done to become successful, and whether it’s good enough, and whether fame will change him and limit him. all these worries are new to the band, because they’re at the beginning of their rise to fame at this point. and in the video the dark road in the woods symbolizes that they’re in the dark and they’re being careful. stay low they say. 

and then they’re playing on a stage, and everything is forgotten, and they REFUSE to stay low. if you notice in the video the moment tyler sees josh on stage, that is the moment he breaks his silence and starts to dance. to me this video represents that even though not everyone in the crowd might like what the band is doing, and even though there are critics behind that stage and out in that world, being able to play in front of thousands, together, tyler and josh, is worth it. at the end of this video is the realization that having each other means much more than success. 

stressed out - i think this video illustrates the point the most obviously, but it does a great job handling the dichotomy between wanting to grow up and not wanting to grow up. obviously tyler and josh would rather hang out with each other, with no responsibilities, and make music without having to worry about how it is going to be received. and part of the music video is the deliberate denial of reality, and the fantasy of regressing into teenagerhood. but the last part? that’s the acknowledgement that they’re not always going to be kids and life will not be easy. tyler is walking down the street, alone, and without the backpack and the tricycle. this is a sign he’s maturing. and blurryface, he’s there too. i think that entire scene is representative of coming of age.

ride/fairly local - like heathens and heavydirtysoul, i think there’s strong evidence these videos parallel each other. both take place in an isolated location and make use of very polarized (no pun intended) environments. ride - the daytime and the nighttime. fairly local - the icy house and the red hallway. 

so in ride, i think it’s really important that the verses and the bridge take place at night. this is where tyler is doing all his worrying. he doesn’t know what his place in life is and what his relationship to others is. who would you live for, who would you die for, would you ever kill? he’s overanalyzing. he’s in the dark, both literally and metaphorically, about everything. and he doesn’t know where he stands with anyone. he can’t see. he’s wearing dark glasses at night. josh is nowhere to be seen. and then the chorus is where he lets up. he acknowledges that there is a lot to worry about and a lot to analyze over, but he can still enjoy his life. even though he’s hurling through the unfamiliar course of life he can still take the time to look at the things that he loves. and the light comes on, and he can look at the beauty that’s around him, and he can see that there are people and things that mean a lot to him even though he’s questioning it all. 

and then we have fairly local, where the majority of the video takes place in an icy house. the whole video seems very disconnected from the rest of the world. it’s freezing and desolate, both tyler and josh seem to ignore each other, and their demeanor is cold and apathetic. they’re trying very hard to remain unemotional, closed off, unable to see the damage they do to themselves and others. but that denial of their own feelings - that’s where blurryface manifests. he’s what’s causing their isolation, he’s there in the red hallway, changing into something darker and darker as tyler and josh continue to distance themselves.

and a thing i like about fairly local is that the quiet and desolate atmosphere of the video completely contradicts the lyrics of the song. “im fairly local, ive been around, ive seen the streets, youre walking down.” “the few, the proud, and the emotional.” he’s talking about the fanbase, and josh, and jenna, and everyone he’s been able to connect with. and the sense of group mentality and empathy are completely antithetical to the cold, quiet video that they represent breaking out of that atmosphere. 

tear in my heart - this one is an oddball. all the music videos from this era have the common thread of using human connection as a symbol of coping with blurryface. most videos choose to represent that with the relationship between tyler and josh, but this video uses tyler and jenna instead. i think the content of the video is pretty straightforward, and a lot of people have dived into this theory, but the scene in which jenna beats up tyler is important. a common interpretation is that this scene actually represents jenna beating up blurryface. blurryface doesn’t give up without a fight, of course. wrestling with such a character, such a deeply rooted part of your thoughts, is going to cause some distress. there is pain involved in battling your own mind, but the pain is a sign that you are able to fight, that you’re doing it. sometimes you gotta bleed to know that you’re alive and have a soul. but it takes someone to come around and show you how. jenna and tyler’s love for each other is what gives tyler the power to challenge blurryface, but he won’t be able to do that without some pain involved. 

and now i think i understand why blurryface is the name of this strange part of everyone’s brain. the literal opposite of the word blurryface is of course clear face. as in being able to see people’s faces clearly. blurryface is the opposite of seeing people for who they truly are. blurryface is the opposite of joining people who are fighting the same battles as you and really connecting with them. the opposite of blurryface is friendship and truth, and we must always find comfort in the fact that we are not alone. there are always people out there for you. and that’s how you defeat a demon. 

physics doesn’t have to suck: how to enjoy and do well in your required physics classes

As someone who doesn’t intend to take a physics class ever again, I was relieved when I walked out of my second semester physics final. That said, physics doesn’t have to suck or drag your average down. 

(1) How to enjoy physics: Adjust your attitude. Physics is so cool if you actually think about it. Your attitude will dictate your experience. (2) But physics is so hard: Change the way you study and don’t give up. I did better in university physics than in high school. The content was way more difficult but it was my studying methods that made the difference.

This post is split into 3 parts: Introductory physics (very basic physics, that unit of physics you had to do in a lower level science class), high school physics (physics from an algebra-based perspective), and university physics (calculus-based physics and labs). (Obviously these overlap a lot but I needed to organize this somehow)

INFO IS UNDER THE CUT B/C THIS POST IS RIDICULOUSLY LONG

Keep reading

#pining #sketches #quidditch

Prompts: @antique-moonglade
Author: @queenofthyme

Draco calmly set about mixing his paints. He’d perfected a particular shade of green only the day prior, and he wanted to get it exact. He had plenty of time to get it right before he needed to begin sketching. Quidditch practice didn’t start for another twenty minutes or so.

He’d set up his canvas quite a distance from the pitch so that the players wouldn’t see him.  Of course, that also meant he couldn’t see them that well either so, as always, he’d brought his binoculars to get the best view of his intended subject - it was a bit of a hassle using them and painting at the same time but it was better than the alternative - being caught.

Not even Pansy knew he was out here. Not for lack of trying of course. She’d even taken to following him in the mornings but Draco was careful. This morning he’d led her on a goose chase around the castle before finally giving her the slip and heading outside.

It was surprisingly warm for so early in the morning, the harsh glares of the sun already in full force. Draco had created a shade for himself - magically stretching out the branches of a nearby tree to shield his pale skin from the sun. But the players wouldn’t be so lucky. He could just imagine the sweat rolling down a particular player’s skin. It would make for a great painting if he could capture it correctly.

The green paint turned out exactly as he wanted it, a perfect replica of its inspiration, Draco thought. He set it aside, eager for the chance to use it later. Since he had time to kill, he figured he may as well get a start on the background, so he began lightly sketching in the lines of the Quidditch pitch and the surrounding stadiums with a thin pencil. He’d just started drawing the hoops at the far side of the pitch when a voice pulled him out of focus.

“Malfoy?”

The second hoop became oblong. He knew that voice.

“Potter,” he greeted automatically, his voice cold - a reflex.  He turned around quickly, his pencil falling into the grass.

Potter was squinting at Draco’s sketch, using his broomstick, firmly planted in the ground, to keep balance as he leaned forward. Despite only heading for a practice he was dressed in his full scarlet Gryffindor Quidditch uniform, complete with a protective chest plate handing loosely from his shoulders, waiting to be strapped on properly. Draco resisted the urge to fix it himself.

“You draw?”

A snarky What’s it you? on Draco’s lips was swallowed when Potter continued without waiting for an answer.

“Just the pitch? Or the players too?”

Panic filled Draco’s body settling itself as a niggling discomfort in his gut. “Just the pitch,” he said quickly, his eagerness to lie making him forget his desire to be contrary. Instead, his voice just came out rushed and squeaky. Lucky there were no witnesses otherwise his tough reputation would have been well and truly demolished, all by a couple of unextraordinary words from Harry Potter.

“Shame,” Potter said, standing up straight and lifting his broom. “Would you consider it? I’ve always wanted to be painted.”

Draco nodded against his will - what? Potter’s confidence was rather disconcerting. It clearly had the power to turn him into a squirming mess as well as a pathetic follower eager to please all at once.

Potter’s face lit up with a surprised smile - he obviously hadn’t expected Draco to be so agreeable - neither had Draco. “In that case, make sure you capture me from the left. It’s my good side.”

“Every side is your bloody good side,” Draco muttered to himself without thinking. Crap. There’s no way Potter hadn’t heard THAT embarrassing revelation. 

But Potter didn’t say anything further. He simply winked at Draco with those devilishly charming eyes (that made Draco’s knees go weak) before mounting his broom and flying off towards the pitch, his shape growing smaller and smaller until he was just a speck in the distance.

As soon as he could wrench his eyes away from Potter, Draco turned his focus to the shade of green paint he had created. He’d have to start again from scratch. It was nowhere close to the real thing.

Now that he had Potter’s blessing, more or less, he had to make everything perfect. After all, Potter would want to see the finished product. And Draco already knew that once he did, Potter would know exactly how Draco felt about him. How could he not when Draco channelled all of his emotions into his paintings? When every stroke of his brush that coloured Potter’s face was a gentle caress? It would be obvious to anyone.

Draco resigned himself to that fact and focused all his energy into the painting. If Potter liked it, Draco might just show him all the other finished canvases locked away in his dormitory too. It was about time someone else saw Draco’s work. And who better than Draco Malfoy’s muse, Harry Potter?


Draco was right of course. Potter returned immediately after practice, flushed and sweaty, expecting results. Draco didn’t have much to show yet - he’d spent most of his time working on mixing the right shades of green. But at the same time, he was almost certainly showing too much. Potter stared at the canvas for far too long.

Draco had started with Potter’s eyes and hadn’t got much further. Sketching over them again and again to get the precise shape, the precise look of concentration as Potter scanned the pitch for the snitch. And then came the colouring. What he had gotten wrong originally was trying to find the one right shade of green for Potter’s eyes, because there wasn’t one. There were a number of shades all swimming amongst each other. Vibrant. Ever changing. Alive. 

Draco thought he’d captured those eyes rather well in the end, but when Potter turned and his real eyes fixed themselves on Draco, all liveliness and wonder, Draco realised he’d never be able to do them justice. Potter’s eyes didn’t belong on paper. But Draco was starting to think, from the way Potter was blushing as he stared, that maybe, just maybe, Potter’s eyes belonged on Draco.

more like this l @queenofthyme

The first time I tried to come out to someone I was ten years old and in primary school.
I told a person who was supposed to be one of my best friends. She listened.
The next day when I came to school she had told the twins; my other friends and they all laughed at me and avoided me for days on end. I knew there was something wrong with me then, see!?? So I told them I was just joking and of course I didn’t like girls that way, I’M NOT GAY!
The next time I tried, I told my cousin, my other best friend. She didn’t say a lot about it and just kind of changed the subject. The next time I saw her she asked me if I was being serious with a screwed up look on her face that hit me in the gut like disgust. I felt so sick, am I sick?! There is something so wrong with me. I told her no, of course I wasn’t, I’M NOT GAY, NO REALLY, DEFINITELY!
I started high school desperately trying to be cool, to be normal, to just fit in, why couldn’t I be like all of them? Every now and then someone in the halls would call me a fucking lesbian. It took me right back to those laughs that I heard when I was ten. I was still friends with the same girls who’s laugher haunted me and one night I slept over at their house. They had a brother who was a couple of years older and I thought I might have had a crush on him. It was juvenile wishful thinking. I ended up in his room with the door closed, in the darkness putting his dick in my mouth. After that I asked if I could go home because I was homesick - but I was just sick, I didn’t like anything about him or his dick. I felt so empty and so alone knowing that I was not normal, I was not like any of them. I sat in the bathtub with the door locked at 1am brushing my teeth and trying to erase the stain of what happened.
I came to school on Monday, and people were looking at me. They were talking behind hands and snickering. Someone had told someone and then someone told everyone and they all knew. My mind flew out the second story window in math as a girl passed me a note telling me I was gross and a fucking slut. If anything I thought it would shut them all up? Isn’t that what normal girls do, they like boys and they don’t leave their balls blue?! I had no idea what in the fuck I was supposed to do.
I drifted away from them all, I’d still see them in the halls but we hardly ever talked anymore. I found out that there were certain boys that stayed seperate from the jocks, and their flocks, so I started hanging out with them. They didn’t really care about much of anything and for once I felt a tiny bit of what I thought was belonging. Of course I engaged in ridiculous dating charades where I was one of their girlfriends. We’d occasionally kiss and hold hands and that was it, and I thought it might finally look like I fit. But I still heard it, from time to time “HEY DYKE, ARE YOU A LEMON OR A LIME?” I’d just put my head down and hide. I’d hide behind my boyfriend who was sweet and kind and dopey and gentle, even though most days he kind of drove me mental.
One day there was a new guy at school, I saw him before roll call in the hall and thought he looked cool. Later that day in science, he was sitting opposite me, and I smiled, he smiled back. We’re still friends and it’s about fourteen years down the track - how did we get to that? Well…
The next time I came out it was to him, and he told me he was the same as me. Of course I chose to come out under the label of bisexuality, because I still thought guys were kind of cute and it provided me with a shield of a certain safety and half normality. He didn’t flinch or cringe or look at me with hate, he just said he was the same, and my shame started to deflate a little. I started to breathe full breaths for the first time in so long, and I started to believe maybe I wasn’t so fucking wrong.
The next time I tried to come out to somebody I was sixteen and it was my mother. I’d spent years in torture and isolation trying to figure myself out, who I really was, what it was all about. I told her I was bi and she was quiet for a while. After I prompted her for a response she said “but how do you know?” with a condescending smile. She told me I was young, and that I hadn’t even slept with anyone so how could I possibly know what I am?? Rage is the only thing I could feel at that stage, HOW COULD I KNOW WHAT I AM? The same way you knew you weren’t what I am, that’s how. I’ve spent years hating myself for being this way, and this is the stupidity I’m faced with now? Like I had just flippantly decided that I would announce something I wasn’t even sure of? I was floored, and thus thereafter the topic was purposefully ignored. The silence said all I needed to know, this was something I just wasn’t supposed to show, it’s just one of those things that was a no go. Certain people could be trusted with my secret, the thing that people didn’t seem to want to see, but I had to be very careful about who that would be.
So I shut it down and compartmentalised my difference and tried to survive. Three years went by before I opened that door again, to a trusted friend. I never intended to tell her, but she asked me in a way that seemed so tender, there were no teeth waiting to bite me, and even though it frightened me I told her. She didn’t even care, she was just curious, maybe she was questioning things in herself like some of us do. That was the first time I really knew that I wasn’t my shame and I wasn’t my pain and I wasn’t some thing to be hidden away. I decided then to be more open. To live authentically and do what felt right for me. But I still remained private about it unless asked explicitly - then I would answer as honestly as I knew how, because truthfully I’m still figuring all of it out. I’ve learned so much about diversity and gender and sexual identity and sometimes I find the right words that seem to fit, and other times the pressure of a label exhausts me and I get sick of it.
Sick of trying to classify myself under certain banners, sick of people asking things without any thought of manners.
I know on the grand spectrum of things I am not at all like them, I fall somewhere else along the Kinsey scale. Maybe that means in a way I fail the people like me, because I can’t cement things or write it in concrete and sign it to make it complete. Or that sometimes I still find myself in certain situations where I’m being discreet, holding my candour for fear of ramifications and slander. Maybe I’m not full of pride, maybe because for so long all I could do was hide. This makes me feel so guilty, I should be proud of who I am unapologetically! Not just for me but for the sake of visibility, so that maybe more people can see - we aren’t wrong, we don’t have any agenda other than to be able to be! Just to be; to live with an open vulnerability and tranquility and to be able to do it safely!! I’m sorry, that I could not join in on the pride but maybe you’ll know why; it’s hard to celebrate something that for most of your life you’ve had to justify to people, to justify to yourself, for most of your life you’ve carefully withheld.
— 

“Internalised Homophobia - Where Is My Pride?”

Pride month is such a wonderful thing and I know it is over now but it inspired me to share this. It’s intensely personal, not very well written and lengthy, but I wanted to be able to share some of my experiences regarding this topic. In no way do I speak for the whole LGBT+ community in this post and it’s simply a personal journey that I wrote out for catharsis. 

Smut Appreciation Day 2k17

So I was gonna try and get out some Jared size!kink smutty goodness out today, but it looks like it’s gonna be longer than I bargained for (pun intended)

That will be posted at some point, but for now I thought I’d compile all of my smut fics and series’ with smut into one place so y’all can read away to your heart’s content - got a whole lotta Sam, a decent amount of Dean, and a smattering of others.

Happy Smut Appreciation Day, y’all


Sam x Reader

Soy Un Perdedor - You reluctantly go to a male strip club for your friend’s bachelorette party, but when you get a lap dance from the gorgeous Orion, your opinion of the night changes dramatically. - 5.8k, stipper!Sam, size/height difference

Forgive Me, FatherYou find an unusual customer at your workplace, and end up getting more than you bargained for when you offer to take him to a back room. - 3.7k, virgin!priest!Sam/stripper!reader

My Best Friend’s BrotherYou’re not prepared when your best friend and roommate’s handsome as hell brother shows up on your doorstep, and you quickly realise the attraction isn’t one sided. - 3.4k, reader gender unspecified

Ask For What You WantYour husband, Sam, is a big-shot business owner. His employees don’t know what goes on behind closed doors. - 3.1k, sub!Sam/dom!reader

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This chapter is important because Ishida’s relationships work by gestures, simbolism, unsaid. To say that that I was shocked is an understatement, but now I’ve reread it, I think I’ve got the point. It’s not about them having sex, it’s about him opening up. WhenTouka jumped on him last chapter was because she knew he was starting to feel down and reacted to that. Now that he cries, just like he cried when he saw her in :re cafè, it means much more than back then. It means something has changed.

This time someone is looking at him, someone confronting him on this. And this time he cannot escape this gaze. 

What are other times when he broke down?

When he was trying to recover his memory. But back then he had no-one to rely on and he himself partially refused to rely on anyone, due to fear, due to relisiance of Kaneki’s character inside of Haise, so that he found himself speaking about himself with a younger image of himself. The only one he received feedback from was this version of him. 

And the effects of it showed. He broke down, as one does when he doesn’t let out anything and all the negativity suddenly bursts out incotrollably. But these weren’t tears of relief, as nothing changed. 

He couldn’t help himself. The people around him couldn’t help him, even when, in rare moments like this, he actually let Haise prevail and asked for their help. Akira is uncomfortable in the position Arima has put her in, for a number of reasons, and to help him as he should be helped is a trauma for her; she can’t be blamed. She does what she can, but it’s not enough. 

And her way of helping him is “uncommon” to say the least. It doesn’t fail completely. Kaneki is a person who needs both to encouraged to stay alive and to be shaken - much like Hide did when he fought Arima. 

But at the same time, it doesn’t work. Even now, after all that has happened between them, now that he has finally mustered to courage to ask her for help - or maybe, he simply lets Haise prevail with her - , she can’t give it to him, because she, herself, is broken and in doubt. So he finds himself in a dark place again. And here comes Touka’s question. 

Why are you crying?

Why indeed. He doesn’t know. Even we as external readers may not know either if it’s even happiness or sadness. But something has changed now, something has shaken him, again, …

so though he doesn’t have an answer for this question, he doensn’t stop to try and overthink it to look for an asnwer. He opens up. He lets another person in his personal space, in his bubble - no pun intended, I swear. 

This doesn’t mean everything is solved. It means it’s more open to solutions than it has ever been. 

Shape of You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Y/N (Reader), Jared Padalecki (mentioned), Misha Collins (mentioned)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Objectification of reader (sorta - he means well), Implied smut, smut, Dry Humping, Oral (69), unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it), training kink (is that a thing?), rough(ish) sex, NSFW gifs under the cut.    

Word Count: 3500ish

A/N: This is me proving to myself I still remember how to smut. I haven’t written anything smutty for the longest of times and I have been feeling like it lately. It was harder than I thought getting back into the saddle though. Sorry if it is a bit rough - pun not intended.

It is somewhat inspired by the Ed Sheeran song Shape of You - and maybe a little by the video too.

Thanks to the sweet amazing @mysupernaturalfics for betaing this for me.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

“Fuck,” she breathed out, instantly drawing Jensen’s attention. He was sprawled out his couch, waiting for Y/N to return to his side. It was movie night and she hadn’t bothered leaving the room to take the phone call. Jensen never eaves dropped and even if he was to overhear something it wouldn’t matter. There was nothing to two of them hid from each other. Literally nothing.

They had both been single for a while and some drunken night they had come to the conclusion, that helping each other blow off some steam when either of them needed it was much prefered from picking up some random dude or chick at a bar.

“If you want I am game,” Jensen teased her, throwing her his best Dean smirk, making her eyes roll so hard he was sure Jared would hear it across the hall from Jensen’s apartment.

“It’s not funny, Jensen! They offered me the part. I’m gonna be Wonder Woman,” she complained, making Jensen shoot from the couch and wrap her in his arms, spinning her around the air not caring one bit about her objection.

“That’s amazing Y/N/N,” he laughed putting her down but not releasing her from his hold, “what are you so worried about?” Jensen gently stroked her hair away from her face, studying her face and trying to figure out why she wasn’t over the moon about this. She had a tendency to overthink things. He knew that. He literally spent 2 hours on the floor of her bedroom leaning against her bathroom door trying to talk her out after the first night they had slept together.

Keep reading

— off limits | 03 (m)

pairing— kim seokjin x reader
genre/warnings— slight angst, smut, dirty talk, dom! Jin
words— 10,930

:: summary— you’ve been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can’t ignore the sexual tension that’s simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

» 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 ::

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Gil’s Story Is My Nightmare

You know, it normally takes weeks if not months for my feelings to settle on a subject relating to fiction. Like, my first time through, it’ll wash over me, I’ll consider it a while, and then, eventually, I’ll come to a conclusion.

But Gil’s story rubbed me wrong on first run, and I easily figured out why.

Gil’s story is my nightmare as a gay man.

I know I’m not the first to sum it up, but I am SO frustrated and pissed off by this (and Mass Effect Andromeda’s handling of M/M relationships in general), I need to work it out of my system.

Keep reading

Dusk to Dawn | 1 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader 

genre: soulmate!AU angst, fluff, smut

warnings: swearing, smut, use of alcohol, smoking, lowkey going to be heartbreaking

word count: 11.6K

summary: You meet Jungkook in psychology class who acts like he has it all figured out, however as you two get closer you realize you are more alike than you two originally thought. Unfortunately for the two of you, fate has another plan in mind which will test yours and Jungkook’s relationship in more ways than one. 

part 1 of 2 

Originally posted by jeonyween


Fall Semester 

August 

The first day of the new fall semester has been nothing less of eventful. Not only did you sleep past your alarm by more than thirty minutes, not only did you not get a cup of coffee in you this morning, not only did you realize that you had forgotten your psychology textbook back at your apartment until you got to class, and not only were you ten minutes late to class, you somehow were able to calm yourself down enough to where you did not cause a commotion once you entered the lecture hall.

Once you sat down, places towards the back mainly open, you opened your laptop trying to blend in with everyone like you had not just missed the first ten minutes of class. You focused in on what your professor was saying, trying to ignore the fact that you had also forgotten to brush your teeth as well.

“In my class, we will learn about all sorts of things,” the professor states, “From children, to sociopaths, the human mind, to medicine, to love… and sex,” he pauses for a moment, a smirk on his face, “and yes, we will be talking about soulmates, too for those wondering, although many of you may already know where I’m at with this,” he continues.

Your face suddenly drops. Soulmate. You have heard the term all of your life and as you have gotten older, the more you try to ignore it.

Your older sister soulmate’s name carved into her left wrist at the tender age of fourteen and found the guy when she was seventeen. Your best friend soulmate’s named etched its name onto his left wrist when he was eighteen. The special thing about your soulmate’s mark, is that their name is written in their handwriting. A sacred thing that you have yet to experience. Everyone you knew, had received a name by the time they were eighteen… except you.

You were now 21, going on 22 and a name still has yet to be marked on you. You’ve heard stories of people never finding their soulmate and dying alone and depressed. Not only that, but you have also heard of the physical pain that comes along when never finding a soulmate.

Thankfully you have never experienced any physical pain yet, which gives you hope that the name is still yet to come.

“Excuse me,” a voice, a whisper, knocks you out of your thoughts. You glance over to see a boy with light brown hair and big doe brown eyes staring at you. “I think you dropped this,” there in front of you, the mysterious boy holds up a pencil that must have slipped out of your hand while you were in thought.

“Oh, thanks,” you say in a whisper, snatching it back from the boy giving him one last look before turning your attention back on the professor.

You internally groan to yourself and you can tell this is already going to be a long year.

Keep reading

I Can Treat You Better | (Part 2)

Daryl Dixon x Reader | Smut Warning | 18+ Only | NSFW

Summary: Another request, hope I do it justice. :) Daryl has feelings for the reader and has had to watch the reader be treated badly by her boyfriend for months. When the reader’s boyfriend is out on a run, Daryl makes his feelings known. Pre-Negan Era. Set in Alexandria. Smut AF.

Warnings: Smutty, Smutness

Word Count: 8,963

—–

Daryl watched as you sadly waved goodbye to Luke. You guys you had been seeing each other since even before the world ended and was replaced with the dead. You had both been living in Alexandria since before the wall had went up, you saw all of it happen in the blink of an eye; the world ending, the dead walking, The Monroe’s quickly devising a plan to keep the town safe, and the arrival of Rick’s group followed by more heartache and hardship. You and Luke shared a small house in the town, sitting on the right-hand side of the development, next to the last house that was placed within the town, furthest away from the wall, which belonged to Daryl.

You and Luke moved to Alexandria, before losing your families to the dead, you were college sweethearts, and you just always assumed you would be together forever. But lately something had changed in Luke, he was more reckless, and every chance he got it seemed, he was offering to go on runs, especially with Rosita. In the pit of your stomach you knew something was wrong, very wrong. Luke waved back at you, with little to no emotion in his eyes, from the back of a truck they where using for their run. You saw him quickly turn his attention back to Rosita smiling at her the way he used to smile at you.

You sighed a little, looking down, kicking a rock with your feet. You heard the gate close and slam shut as Aaron harshly pushed the lock back in place. He walked over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look up at him with sad eyes.

“They’ll be back before you know it.” He said re-assuringly. “Rick will make sure of that.” He finished seriously, rubbing his hand comfortingly across your shoulder, before breaking contact, nodding and heading off to his home down the road.

You stood there not really sure what to do with yourself, you always felt off when Luke was gone, but you had felt off for a few months now, even when he was with you, he wasn’t really with you. You stare off into space analyzing the past few months, the drop in conversation between you two, the lack of intimacy, you used to find any excuse to sneak away to be together but lately he didn’t even want to touch you. You self-consciously wrap your arms around yourself, not realizing you were being watched.

Suddenly, you hear a scoff and realize that Daryl was standing a few feet away from you, by the front of the gate. He glared at you until you made eye contact, and then his head snapped away to look at a fixed point on the wall ahead of him. He sighed, seemingly angrily, and began walking toward you. He stops when he gets within inches of you, and growls into your ear, as he faces toward the town, his back against the gate.

“Don’t worry I’m sure your boyfriend will be just fine.” He said lowly and slightly bumped your shoulder as he passed by you.

What the hell was his problem? You thought to yourself and turned around to follow the tall, muscular redneck.

You run a little to catch up to him, as he has already taken several long strides away from you and down the street. You tap him on the shoulder and continue to try and reach his speed.

“What the hell was that about, Daryl?” You ask a little angrily and follow him as he picks up his pace. He obviously had an issue with something.

He angrily huffs and grips the strap of his crossbow tighter in his hands, saying nothing and tightening his jaw, he continues to walk towards the back of the development. You followed him past yours and Luke’s house, to the last house on the right, that was Daryl’s. You stomp up the porch behind him, grabbing his shoulder forcing him to turn around. He swings around angrily and glares into your eyes.

“What do ya want Y/N?” He shouted.

You suddenly felt enraged at his random anger directed at you. Who the hell did he think he was, talking to you that way? You thought confused and a little angry. He has barely ever said more than two words to you before this.

“I want to know what the hell you meant back there?” You demanded and he staggered back pacing a little, his eyes angry.

“You know what I’m talkin about Y/N. You know he is fucking her. How can you stay with an asshole like that? The way he treats you-” He shouts in your face, fuming, and begins pacing back and forth on the wooden floor again.

Your eyes grow wide, and you feel your heart stop in its tracks, as it sinks into the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You ask softly. Daryl continues to pace around his porch, gripping his weapon tighter in his hands, gesturing to your house on the left-hand side of his.

“I’ve fucking seen them together, Y/N! I know you aren’t that stupid! You fucking know too. Don’t tell me you don’t.” He shouts out again.

You feel your face get hot as your eyes begin to well up with tears.

“I gotta- I gotta go.” You say softly and turn to run down his stairs, you hear Daryl call your name, but you don’t want him to see you cry, you didn’t want such a strong man to see you break. You run across the lawn and up the stairs to your house, slamming, and locking the door.

You drudge your feet up the stairs, through blurry and wet eyes, emerging at your bedroom. You look at the bed and memories of you and Luke wash over you, followed by an image of him with Rosita in your bed. You wondered if they had ever screwed in your bed and suddenly you felt nauseated. You turn back from your bedroom and head down stairs to the living room, you plop yourself down on the couch head in your hands and let yourself feel all the pain you were feeling, letting all the tears come pouring out of you. You hear yourself sobbing from a distance, feeling like it wasn’t real.

You sob for nearly a half hour straight, until you feel like you are completely drained of everything inside of you. You peer over to the table on the side of the couch where you sit and see a picture of you and Luke sitting in a frame, a picture taken back before the world had ended, back before he was a cheater. Your eyes narrowed in anger as you stared at the man you thought would never hurt you. You pick up the frame angrily and throw it at the wall, making the glass shatter and the picture fall to the floor. Broken. Just like us. You thought to yourself with a scoff.

Anger takes over your body, washing over you and replacing the sadness. You dry your eyes, that have now started seething, and begin to rip down every picture frame and throw anything that reminded you of the two of you. That painting on the wall he had bought you for your 1-year anniversary – the year before the world went to shit, the necklace on the table he had found for you after you lost your parents, the promise ring on your finger that he had given you when you had first started dating. You throw it all to the ground, hearing wood and metal clashing and clanging against the hard wood floor of your living room.

You ran back up the stairs to your bedroom and pulled the blankets and sheets off the bed, throwing another picture of you and him on the nightstand down to the ground, as your boots walked over the glass, chomping on it without care. You pulled out a small duffle bag from your closet and began throwing your clothes into it, you didn’t care if you had to sleep on someone’s floor, you would not be here when Luke returned home. You grab as many clothes as would fit, and went to the bathroom to grab your toothbrush and a couple of bars of soap you had managed to find.

You grab the overly full duffle bag and sling it over your shoulder, heaving a little at how heavy it was, and walked determinedly down the stairs and out the door slamming it shut. You walk onto the porch and angrily begin toward the stairs. You hear Daryl again, to your right, calling your name from his porch.

“Y/N! Please, hold up for a minute!” Daryl’s voice had softened and showed signs of worry.

Daryl had not moved from this spot since he had blurted out Luke’s secret. He was sure you knew, but your reaction proved to him otherwise. He paced back and forth, angry at himself and his big mouth, that had caused you so much pain. He listened to you cry and throw things, watching you intently through your living room window, that just happened to face his own. So many nights he had watched you, not intending to get drawn in, but not being able to help himself. The way you would set up dinner night after night for you and Luke, and seeing that most nights he didn’t even bother to show up home until after you had given up and fallen asleep.

He watched as you paced your house lonely as can be whenever he was gone and lately you did the same even when he was there, both of you sitting in silence and not saying a word. He watched as you tried to kiss on Luke and make him feel your skin, but he would always pull away. Daryl guessed saying he was not in the mood. Bullshit. Daryl would think to himself, he knew the truth. Besides who would not be in the mood for Y/N, she was amazingly gorgeous and just as sweet as could be, Daryl would think to himself.

One night he watched as Y/N walked up the stairs and disappeared into her bedroom, after another failed attempt to get Luke to want her. Daryl saw how sad and tired her eyes were, tired of this same routine and tired of not being loved like she should be. Daryl saw Y/N’s bedroom light go out and watched Luke as his fingers began to twitch and he nervously looked up the stairs. Daryl watched from the dark of his living room in curiosity, watching as the man got more nervous by the minute. About 20 minutes went by and the man suddenly stood up, walking to the stairs and looking up at the bedroom door, which was shut. He listened for a moment and smiled to himself. He walked across the living room floor, down the hallway, and out the door.

Daryl put out his cigarette in the dark and stared curiously for a moment before getting up and walking out to his porch quietly closing his door behind him. He watched as Luke walked speedily down the road, looking like he had to be somewhere in a hurry. Daryl frowned and decided to follow him. He took long, quite strides down the side of the road, staying on the grass and in the shadows as much as he could. He followed the man to a house he knew well, Rosita and Abraham’s. He watched as Luke darted quickly to the side of the house, Daryl ducked behind the trees that separated Rosita and Abe’s house from Carol’s place. The town was dark, but the moon was full and brightened up the sky and the ground around it that night.

Daryl peered through the bushes to see Luke running to someone, the other person ran to him and wrapped their arms around him. Luke pulled this person into his arms, twirling them around, the moonlight illuminated their face, it was Rosita was a huge smile on her face. Daryl stood there shocked, feeling the seething anger build up inside of him. He watched as Luke pressed her up against the side of the wall and began to kiss her passionately. Daryl felt sick, watching as they became closer and closer to fucking right then and there. He hears them both begin to moan and tug at each other’s pants. Daryl turned away and made his way back down the street, stopping to stare up at Y/N’s dark bedroom window for a moment in silent sadness. What an asshole. Who could do that to her? He thought and again the anger returned to his being.

It had been two months since Daryl saw them together that first time and every time he saw Luke touch Rosita on the arm or whisper into her ear suggestively, when Y/N wasn’t looking, every single time it took all Daryl had not to walk right over and kick his ass. But, Y/N was always there, looking at Luke, still in love with him, still wanting him. Daryl thought eventually she would figure it out on her own, but here they were two months later and somehow he was still the asshole who had to break the news to her. And he didn’t do it well at all, talking wasn’t one of his strong points and he kicked himself for hurting her, just like that asshole she called hers.

“Y/N! Please, stop!” Daryl pleaded as he watched Y/N continue to storm down the pavement with a duffle bag in her hands.

You stopped but do not turn around, hearing Daryl’s footsteps come running up behind you. You feel nothing but rage and adrenaline coursing through your body. Suddenly, you feel Daryl’s big hand on your shoulder, nudging you around to face him. You turn toward him and see that he is breathing heavy from running to catch up to you. You look into his eyes and see regret in them, you scoff.

“What?!” You cry out angrily and glare at him.

Daryl takes his hand off your shoulder and steps back with his hands in the arm, realizing that your anger is directed toward him.

“I just, I just… I wanted to say sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” He said lowly and looks at the ground ashamed of himself.

You smirk a little in your rage, feeling heated tears again come to the surface.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!” You scream a little and drop your duffle bag on the ground, charging your small frame into him and start hitting his chest with your fists as hard as you can, crying and punching.

“You are an asshole, you know that?!” You continue to cry and punch at him. And Daryl lets you do so, without wincing, he takes in all your pain.

You punch and punch until you your hands are sore and you are exhausted, you begin to sob into his chest, dropping your fists as they did no good against Daryl’s muscular physique. You sob tiredly into him and you suddenly feel his big arms wrap around your body, pulling you tightly into him, as you cry.

“Shhh… Shhh…” Daryl comforts you, rocking you back and forth in his arms.

You hear the sound of footsteps tapping down the concrete behind you, in between your sobbing tears, and hear Aaron’s voice.

“Is everything okay?!?” Aaron asked Daryl, breathless. He had heard Y/N screaming, as he was walking to the gate for guard duty, and turned around to see her hitting Daryl. He ran as fast as he could down the long pavement, watching as Daryl wrapped her in his arms.

Aaron tried to catch his breath, while looking concernedly into Daryl’s eyes, and down to your sobbing face that was hidden from him.

You buried your face deeper into Daryl’s chest, trying to escape the embarrassment of facing Aaron this way. You feel Daryl nod his head, as his chin moves up and down above your head.

“Ya. She’s okay. I’ll take care of her.” Daryl said in a soft, low tone.

Aaron stands there for a moment, looking at Daryl, and back down at you, remaining hidden. He nods sadly at Daryl and then gently puts his hand on your back, massaging it a little.

“You know where to find me, if you need anything Y/N.” He says to you and you nod into Daryl’s chest, to answer him, still not wanting him to see you hurting. Daryl’s arms wrap tighter around you, as your tears begin to subside.

Aaron looks at Daryl, “Take care of her,” he says and Daryl again nods, onto the top of your head.

You hear Aaron walk away in the other direction. Daryl holds you for another moment in the street. You turn your head to the side, never breaking contact with his body, your tears had retreated once again, and you took a few deep breaths into him.

Daryl notices your body’s ceasefire, and slowly loosens his arms, keeping them on your shoulders, but breaking your head’s contact with his chest, to force you to look up at him. He sees your eyes are red and your face is drenched, he looks down at you in agony. I would give anything to take this pain away from her. He thought sadly. He looks at you and lowly speaks, “Come on,” is all he says before pulling his arms away from you to lift the duffle bag, with one hand, over his shoulder.

You stay there, too tired to fight it and watch as he lugs your heavy bag over his shoulder effortlessly and comes back up to pull you to his other shoulder, wrapping his free arm around your neck. You lean your head onto his shoulder as you both slowly make your way back down the street.

You pass the place you used to call home and Daryl leads you up the stairs, back onto his porch, where the whole thing had begun, at least for you. He slowly opens the door to his house and walks you both into his living room, where he throws your bag onto the floor, and leads you to the couch. You plop down and begin to dry your eyes, a little embarrassed now at the scene you had just caused.

Daryl walks over to the living room window, that faced the place you used to call home, and quickly drew the long, dark red curtains. You sigh a little relieved you didn’t have to look into the house you used to call home. The room darkens and Daryl uses his lighter to light small and big candles alike, that were scattered around the living room. Suddenly, the glow of the candlelight illuminated the space, making it feel more homey than you were used to. You lay back into the couch and continue to steady your breathing, looking at Daryl as he sits on the couch beside you, looking straight ahead, trying not to be intrusive. He sits with his hands nervously wrapping around each other and his one leg twitching. You also see him nervously biting his lip as he stared straight ahead.

“I’m sorry I hit you.” You say quietly, looking at your own hands.

“That’s alright. I deserved it.” He said, still twitching.

“No, you didn’t. That anger wasn’t meant for you.” You say to him.

He turns to look at you, as he nervously bites his lip, “I’m sorry too. I should have never told ya. At least not like that.” He said sincerely apologetic for his slip up.

“I knew. I knew something was… off.” You admit, again playing absentmindedly with your fingers as you spoke. “I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I didn’t want to lose him too.” You quietly say.

Daryl nods a little in understanding and looks down at his hands again. A few minutes pass and neither of you speak, just sitting in each other’s company.

“You’re welcome to stay here.” Daryl says quietly, not looking at you.

You smile your first small smile since this afternoon, you reach over and touch his arm lightly.

“Thanks.” You say, he tenses a little at your touch. You notice, but shrug it off as Daryl being Daryl. You drop your hand back into your lap.

“Ugh. I can’t believe this.” You lean forward, running your hands through your hair, stressed. You two are now shoulder to should on the couch. You let your hands run up and down your face, rubbing your skin.

“I probably look like shit.” You say to yourself, trying to rub the feeling of betrayal off you.

Daryl scoffs a little, “I don’t think that’s possible.” He says quietly, rubbing his knuckles harder.

“Yeah, right.” You say self-deprecatingly, letting your hands rest over your mouth as today’s memories run through your brain, over and over again.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N.” He says, still not looking at you.

Your head snaps over to look at him, in response.

“What?” You ask, taken aback.

He nervously bites his lip some more before slowly turning his head to meet your eyes, his eyes softly looking into yours, the candlelight flickering in them.

“You’re beautiful.” He says again, softly, and matter-of-factly.

“You could have anyone you wanted. I just never knew why you wanted him.” He says dropping his head sadly.

“When I found out, I wanted to tell you. But I didn’t know how to, I didn’t want you to hurt… I shoulda told you…” He trailed off looking at the closed curtains ahead of you two.

“I shoulda told you that I couldn’t stand you being with him… and that I wanted to be with you…” He trails of nervously.

You watch the man in awe, his strong, muscular arms flexed onto his knees, taking in his large, beautiful frame. You look at his sideways face, taking in his nervous lips and worried eyes, as if he had said something extremely dangerous. His leg twitched and he waited for a response. Daryl expected anger or laughter, he had never been a hit with women, didn’t know how to talk to them. What he got surprised him as you gently put your hand on his twitching leg next to you. The leg froze in place and he again forced himself to look into your eyes, confused this time.

You sat there looking at him, in shock. “I had no idea, Daryl….” You trail off, not sure what to say.

“You don’t have to say anything, it’s okay…” He says dropping his head, to look at the couch space in-between you two awkwardly.

“I know I’m not much… I just… thought you should know.” He forced the words out of his mouth, immediately wishing he had stayed quiet.

You remain silent for a moment, before moving your other hand up to his downward facing chin, before gently lifting it so that you can peer into his eyes.

You look at him softly, “I just didn’t know… You are amazing Daryl, you are one of the best men here, hell you may even be the best man here. I just had no idea.” You say, to reassure him.

He nods, looking down as he takes in your words, before looking back into your eyes.

“I’m not good with the words.” He says sheepishly.

You smirk a little, “Really? I couldn’t tell.” You laugh a little, making him smirk just a little.

“How long… How long have you felt this way?” You ask, still in shock that this beautiful man would ever look at you that way.

“Awhile. Since before I found out… Maybe since the first time I saw you.” He admitted, avoiding your gaze again.

Your face went flush, feeling embarrassed and excited all at once.

“Wow.” You say simply and remove your hands from him, to rub them on your face again, concentrating on everything he had just revealed.

He clears his throat nervously a few minutes later and you realize you still haven’t said anything.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He says, suddenly trying to get up from the couch. You instinctually grab his knee before he has a chance to get up and push down on it, hard. He looks at you and sits back down.

You slowly look back over at his terrified face, you take your other hand and gently place it on the side of his right cheek, stroking it gently a few times, and looking at him softly.

“No. I’m glad you did. I’m just… I’m just trying to wrap my head around this all… that’s all. I never would have guessed that you would think of me that way, of all the people you could have…” You trail off, looking down and biting your lip.

“I’m glad you told me, Daryl. I think it is really sweet.” You say and lean in to place an innocent kiss on his cheek, rubbing your thumb on his cheek as you do. You slowly retract your lips and he stares at you with something that looked a whole lot like love and admiration.

“I only want you. I can treat you better than he ever did…” Daryl stares at you, feeling more brave after feeling your lips on his face.

You smile and pull his face back toward you, this time aiming for his lips. You slowly pressed your lips on top of his, gently sucking his top lip into yours, before sliding your tongue along his bottom lip. You feel him moan a little and his lips part slightly. You look at him and he has his eyes closed, in pure bliss.

You press your lips into his again, this time sliding your tongue into his mouth slightly licking his tongue, you feel his tongue dart out at yours in response, you go in again, swirling around his tongue as he does the same to yours. He is a great kisser for someone so shy. You thought to yourself and you swirled your tongues around each other, more passionately with every pass. You suddenly felt electricity run through your body, as your kisses deepened, something you had not felt for a long time. You moan a little into him as you harshly suck on his tongue before beginning to swirl around it again. He growls a little, causing vibration to run through your mouth and all through your body. You felt yourself getting hot and bothered, in the best way.

Daryl begins to take charge and puts both hands onto the sides of your face as you continue to kiss each other passionately. His body begins to lean into yours and your body slowly lies back on the couch in response. He adjusts with you and suddenly you are lying on your back with your head on the arm rest of the couch, you slowly try and begin to stretch your legs out to lay them flush with the couch. He notices and stands up a little, never breaking his lips away from yours. Once you have your legs in place, he positions on of his knees on the inside of the couch, against the back of it and the other on the other side of your legs, he is straddling you, but not touching, except for your mouths as they devour each other.

He moans into you again as you swirl your tongues around each other, sucking and licking faster and faster. He breaks his lips away from you and uses one hand to slightly turn your head to the side, exposing your neck. You bury your face into the side of the couch, with your eyes closed in ecstasy. Daryl’s lips land softly on the side of your neck, slowly beginning to suck and swirl his tongue up and down your skin.

“Mmmm.” You moan softly to yourself, loving the feeling of his tongue on your body. He licks his way up to the spot behind your ear and sucking on it lightly, before beginning to swirl his tongue faster and harder into your skin. He takes your earlobe into his mouth, grazing his tongue across it, flicking it from side to side.

“Oh God, Daryl!” You cry out and he smirks a little into your ear. He breathes heavily into your ear and moves back down your neck, to your collarbone, he harshly takes it in as the begin to writhe under him in response.

You grab his sides and tug on his vest a little, before moving your hands underneath the open fabric and resting your hands on either side of him, loving the feel of his bare skin on your fingertips. You begin to rub him up and down, feverishly, as he sucks on your neck, moving from one side to the other. You move your head in compliance, to allow his tongue to travel wherever it wanted. It felt so damn good on your skin.

Your hands grow more anxious and you move them from his sides, up his bare, muscular chest, and up to his shoulders, where they are forced to stop because of the shoulders of his vest. You open your eyes and look up with a whimper. You use your hands, under the shoulders of his vest and gently begin to push it upward, pushing it over his shoulders and down his huge arms. He slowly lifts one arm off the couch to allow you to pull the vest out of it, followed by the other, never removing his lips for your body. You sigh in relief as you throw the vest to the ground, caressing his bare, broad shoulders and up and down his back.

He groans at your touch and breaks contact with you, raising his head back up to look you in the eyes, he smiles and crashes his lips back onto yours, you moan in pleasure at how hard he kissed you now. You passionately respond, grabbing his face harshly, trying to pull him into your mouth even harder.

You feel his body lower and press against yours, feeling how hard he was as his cock rubbed slightly into the bottom of your stomach. You felt yourself get wet the moment you felt his cock press against you. Your hand reaches down, on its own accord, and slightly begins rubbing his dick, from outside his jeans.

“Fuck!” He breaks contact with your lips and cries out as your hand rubs his cock, with just enough pressure to make him almost come undone right there. You try to open your legs to him, which was futile as he had you pinned on the small couch.

He noticed you trying to lift your legs to him and stares down at you with low, lustful eyes.

He stands up, shirtless, his bare chest glowing in the candlelight. You look up at him with a whimper of sadness, making him smirk and his eyes dance with excitement.

“Come on.” He says, holding his hand out to you. You take it breathlessly as he pulls you up off of the couch. He walks around the living room, with your hand in his, blowing out candles as he does. He takes one of the bigger candles that is still lit and hands it to you, he takes another that is still lit, glancing around the room making sure he had blown out all of the others. He holds the candle in one hand and your hand in the other. He strides out of the living room, pulling you behind him. You hold onto his hand and smile as he pulls you down the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom, the candlelight illuminating your path.

Once in his room, he shuts and locks the door, dropping your hand for a moment and taking the candle that you held from you. He walks over to the right side of his room where his bed is, along with a night side table on both sides. He walks to one side of the bed and places one candle in the middle, walks over to the other side and places the other candle on the opposite stand. He walks over to the window facing the bed and draws the dark curtains into place, completely covering the window.

He strides back over to you, who stands with your back against the door, watching his gorgeous figure in the flickering light. You bite your lip a little in anticipation, you had no idea how this happened, but you couldn’t deny that you were so ready for him to be all over you again. Luke had never made you feel half this good.

He wraps his arms around you, crashing his lips back into yours, and slamming you into the door behind you. You moan out in pleasure. You feel his arms move down your back, to your ass, as he grabs both cheeks with this big, rough hands, and pulls you into him. His lips move back down to your neck as he pulls your ass into him, suddenly he lifts you up and pulls you away from the door. You wrap your legs around his waist in response. He moves his lips back onto yours and you rest your hands on the sides of his hair, massaging his hair as you shove your tongue around his over and over.

He keeps his hands on your ass, firmly massaging it, as he twirls you both around and starts to walk you over to the bed. You feel yourself fall over into the soft mattress, as his body pushes you both down. He presses his body into you harder now, with his lips on yours. His hands begin to move from your ass, to up your back, dipping his rough hands under the fabric of your shirt, you lift your body into his in response. His hands roughly massage your lower back before making their way up to your bra clasp, he opens his eyes while still devouring your mouth, seeing you smile in reaction. You feel his thumbs play with the tiny pieces of metal, as he finally unclips them and your bra springs apart under your shirt. He gently massages your back where the clasp used to be, and slowly begins to trace on of his hands from your back, to your side, before venturing to the front of your stomach, slowly making their way up and underneath your loosened bra. His finger traces the bottom of your left breast ever so slightly a few times, causing goosebumps and your nipples to hard.

You break contact with his mouth, shooting your head back, ”Touch me!” You cry out and he obliges, roughly taking the breast into his big hand, cupping and massaging it in a deep circular motion. You continue to cry out to him, your body writhing up into his hand. You feel his hand begin to flick your nipple in between his fingers and you cry out again, “Oh God, Yes!” Causing him to growl like an animal into your mouth, looking at you with pure desire.

You feel his other hand come around your other side and dip under your other bra cup and begin to massage your right breasts, flipping your nipples around, and roughly massaging them over and over as you cried out for more.

He slowly moved both hands down your stomach, removing his hands from you and breaking his kiss. You snap your head up to him, looking at him with questioning eyes.

His eyes peered down at you, still lustfully, but you now see a hint of concern in them. You stare at him awaiting whatever was next. He breathes heavily over you and looks into your eyes, softly.

“I really want you, YN.” He says and you nod, trying to pull him back into your lips, he uses his hand to push you back down again, softly. You look into his eyes again, your whole body aching for every part of him.

“But, I don’t want you to do this just because you are upset. So if that is all this is, then-“ Before he can finish his thought, you reach your hand up and push the wild hair away from his eyes, looking into them seriously.

“That is not what this is, Daryl. I want you. I’ve never felt this good, ever! Please don’t stop.” You say, lovingly looking into his eyes. He stares down at you, still a little unsure. You arch up into him involuntarily, all the while staring at him with pleading eyes. He nods and smiles down at you, you smile in response. He dips down toward you again, crashing his lips onto yours again.

You smile into his lips and pull his shoulders toward you with all your might, pulling him so close your teeth clink together with the sudden motion. You moan and he chuckles at the sensation. You harshly swirl your tongue around him over and over again, and his hands return to the bottom of your shirt. His fingers trace your bare stomach underneath it a few times, and you feel his hands begin to pull the fabric up, over your stomach, he breaks away from your lips, sitting up, straddling you, and gently pulls up the fabric, all the while his fingers tracing up your body. You lean up and help him by raising your arms over your head, he slowly pulls the shirt off of you and throws it to the ground. You pull your arms out of your bra straps and throw it to the floor, mimicking his actions. You stare at him as he takes your naked breasts in, he licks his lips and moans lowly as he slides his hips down a little and slowly moves his chest up your core, to your stomach, where he lays on you, putting pressure on all the right places, his stomach breathes into your pussy, which you were pretty sure was soaked through and through already.

He breathes heavily into you as he slowly descends his mouth onto your right breast, licking and swirling around it, using his other hand to massage your left breast, flicking and twirling your nipple with his tongue on one side and with his fingers on the other. Your legs open wider as your head shoots back in pleasure.

“Yes! Oh God, Yes!” You cried out massaging his hair pushing his head into your skin deeper, he slowly bites down on it and your cry out again, arching your hips into him. He kisses his way across your sternum and reaches the other breasts and begins to suck and swirl on that one, massaging your other one with his other hand.

“Oh my god, Daryl, I am so wet. I need you!” You cry out, massaging his hair and pulling it a little, from above.

He breaks his kiss from your skin and props up on both of his elbows, his lips still inches from your skin. You look down at him pleading with your eyes and he smirks a little, licking his lips. He turns his attention back to your skin, kissing your breast a few more times roughly, before licking and sucking his way down your stomach, across your belly button, until he is sucking on the soft skin that is touching the waistline of your pants. He looks up and sees your shaking your head back and forth in pleasure, eyes closed and biting your lip. He smiles to himself, he loved the way he made you lose control. He took his tongue, moving it over to the side of your hip, and slid it down slightly underneath your pants, dragging it slowly from your hip, across your stomach, to your other hip. He kissed and sucked the side of your hip when he was done with the trek.

“Oh Fuck!” You moan in pleasure and the sensation of his tongue so close to your core

He moves his fingers over to the middle of your waistline, and plays with the button as you writhe underneath him in anticipation.

“Hold still.” He says in a low chuckle, kissing you under your belly button again.

He breaks the button loose and slowly undoes your zipper. He sits back up and scoots off the bed and pulls your legs down and closed. He pulls your boots off, along with your socks, and then begins to tug at your pant legs, ripping them off of you and throwing them behind him. He pushes both legs back up, using your feet and pushes them apart again. He stares down in disbelief at your white panties that are completely soaked and dripping wet.

“Fuck.” He says to himself and licks his lips. He kneels back onto the bed, positioning himself between your inviting legs, and puts on leg on his shoulder, he kisses and sucks his way down your leg, to your thigh, and over to your pussy, he lightly sucks just above your clit, making you moan out in failed anticipation. He crosses your core and begins to kiss and suck up your other thigh, and down your other leg. He grabs both your legs by your ankles, putting them both in this left hand and raising them straight into the air. His right hands grazes down your right leg, softly, landing on your right ass cheek. He grabs your ass a little over your panties and then roughly begins to tug at the fabric. He pulls it free from your right ass cheek. You lift yourself up with your hands, pushing your ass of the bed as he slides over and pulls the fabric roughly off the other cheek, sliding them up and over both your legs and ankles, throwing them behind him. He looks again at your ass and grabs it, hard.

“Fuck, Yes!” You cry out at the sensation. He grabs it harshly again, smacking it a little. You cry out again in response.

He smiles to himself before pulling your leg apart again, pulling one back over his hand to rest on his shoulder again. You lower your ass back to the bed, allowing him to part your legs.

He looks down at your wet pussy and growls like an animal, liking his lips.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard, baby.” He says, not able to break his eyes away from your pussy. He crashes his lips down onto your core, this time aiming directly onto your clit, swirling and sucking gently at first, before picking up his pace.

“Fuck. Daryl! Yes!” You cry out, reaching down to push his head harder into you as he sucks on your clit feverishly. He moans at your reaction, “Mmmm…” causing vibration through your pussy making your almost cum right there. His lips escape your clit and begin to rapidly move up and down your folds, at first teasingly, and then plunging into you wildly. His tongue swirled and darted in and out of you, while you push his head into you, forcing his tongue to fuck you as hard as it could. He moved back up to your clit and began swirling around it again. You feel his hand graze down the backside of your thigh, squeeze your ass again, before making its way to the inside of your leg and to your pussy.

He shoves two fingers into you, hard. You arch up, pressing his head to your clit harder. “Yes!” You cry out again to him, as he hits your clit just right. He pumps into you over and over with his fingers as your hips arch up to match his rhythm, only to be met with even more intense pressure from his mouth on your clit, as you continue to push down on him. You arch up and down as he pumps into you, he pushes three fingers inside of you and continues to thrust them into your pussy.

“Oh my God, Yes! Right there! Just like that!” You cry out, pushing his head so hard into you, you thought you may be hurting him, but it felt so good. He pumps harder and harder, as you push his swirling tongue into you, he flicks your clit and pumps his fingers in and out rougher and shorter. You feel him flick your clit over and over, again and again and can’t take it anymore. You press him into you a few more times, as he pumps his fingers into you, and cum all over his fingers.

“Fuuuucckk…. Yessss!” You cry out as you climax, long and hard, still pressing him into you as you hit your high.

You drop your hand, once your senses return. He removes his fingers and lowers his tongue, sticking it inside your pussy, taking long deep strides up it several times, lapping your cum into his mouth. You groan I pleasure, as your legs playfully move from side to side, around his head. You bring your hands up to your breasts and massage them a little, feeling the last bit of your orgasm prolonged.

“Oh God, Daryl! That felt so damn good!” You cry out in happiness as he laps the last of your cum up.

His lips retreat your pussy and he looks up at you playing with your breasts, eyes closed.

“Mm!” He says aroused, placing a long hard kiss under your navel again, smacking the side of your ass.

“Damn Y/N! You like that?” He asks and you look down at him playfully nodding and biting your lip.

You slowly graze the leg that is over his shoulder, down to his back, rubbing your heel up and down it suggestively. He looks at you with dark eyes and groans a little.

“I want you… inside of me.” You say in a commanding voice, startling even yourself. He smirks a little in surprise and smacks the side of your ass again, grabbing it for a moment, before smiling up at you and scooting off the bed. He stares into your eyes, never taking his off of yours as he stands up at the foot of the bed. You watch as he quickly undoes his belt, snapping it a little as he slaps it to the floor, fucking you with his eyes. He kicks off his boots, pulls off his socks, and begins to unbutton his black denim jeans. You see him unzip his pants and roughly tug at the fabric as it falls quickly to the floor. As his pants fall his hard, glistening cock pops out and you moan to yourself in pleasure, taking your breast in your hand again. Fuck. He was so big and so ready to fuck. You thought as you saw his cock was wet around the tip already. You lick your lips and stare at his hard cock. He notices and smirks down at you.

“Hey.” He said quickly, causing you to look up into his eyes again. “My eyes are up here.” He said laughing a little before beginning to crawl up the bed, toward you, his big, strong arms climbing up you, in between your legs, up past your already aching pussy. He climbed up you until his arms were resting on either side of your head, he slowly, pushed his body down onto you, looking in your eyes, first his cock pressed against your leg, his hips grinding into yours deeply, then his stomach on yours, followed by his chest pressing down onto your breasts, he crashed his tongue into your mouth to devour it again.

He pulled you by the back of your hair slightly, to gain deeper access into your mouth and your moaned into him, your tongues fighting for dominance. He kissed you for a minute, pushing his hip into yours deep and long, you could feel his cock throbbing on your leg, you could feel his juice run slightly down your leg, after each thrust.

You break your kiss and pull his head back by his hair, staring at him.

“Please. I want you to fuck me!” You cry out and he smirks.

Suddenly, he kneels up reaches behind him grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist, he quickly grabs his cock, moaning at his own touch, he was so fucking turned on. And begins to bring his wet tip to your pussy, slightly running it up and down against your folds a few times before pushing himself into you with one long thrust. As does this the entire bed moves up and slams against the wall, your bodies following the motion. He groans and thrusts heavily again, noticing that every time he does this your breasts jump up and down with the motion. He thrusts into you again, long and hard, the bed bumping again.

“Fuck! Yes! Harder!” You cry out in pleasure.

He thrusts into you again and begins to slowly pick up his pace, watching was your breasts bounce up and down and the bed bouncing against the wall.

“Fuck!” He says to himself as he watches himself fuck you.

You writhe up into him, slamming your hips against him, trying to find his rhythm. He grabs your ass on both sides and guides you along with him, slamming into your harder and harder, finding a rhythm that you both enjoyed. You slammed into him and he slammed down at the same time, putting  more pressure on your clit with every deep thrust.

“Faster, Baby!” You cry out and he complies, thrusting faster into you, guiding your hips along with his. You can hear the head board slam into the wall over and over, faster and faster, as he thrusts into your harshly, you feel him pick up his pace and grab your hips harder as he licks his lips and pumps into you more and more, hitting your clit hard with every thrust.

“Yes! Right there! Harder baby!” He sees that you are so close to cumming, to he cuts loose and just starts fucking the shit out of you, the hardest you have ever been fucked. He pounds into you, hitting your clit harder and harder and filling your deeper and deeper, as he speeds his pace up. The bed sounds like it is going to break.

“Oh fuck, baby! I’m going to come.” You hear him say as he fucks you fast and hard.

He pumps into you short and hard a few more times and you feel yourself explode.

“Oh…My… God!!! Fuck! Oh Yes!” You cry out, grinding your hips deeply into his as you climax so hard, you grind up into him putting as much pressure on your clit with his hip as you can, cumming for what seemed like minutes. “Yes!!” You scream out.

“Fuck!” He cries out feeling you cum, he thrusts shorter and faster over and over into you, slamming into you the hardest he has yet, and you feel him explode inside of you.

“Fuck! Yeah!!” He cries out as he cums inside of you, thrusting a few more times to get all the pleasure he can out of you. You moan in pleasure as you feel him pump into you harshly as he cums and rides his climax out. You reach down and massage your clit, doing the same. Both of you moan out at each other and the bed continues to squeak.

He thrusts into you shortly a few more times, “Damn, Girl…” He growls as he exists you and falls exhaustedly onto your body, resting his head on the side of your neck, you move your head to allow him to do so. You are both sticky with sweat and your hearts are pounding with adrenaline. You stroke his back with your fingertip, feeling nothing but blissful pleasure. He lifts his head up to slowly kiss your neck once more before snuggling into it again, trying to regain his breath.

You couldn’t believe the amount of pleasure you had just felt, you had never experienced anything like it before. You sigh happily and kiss him on the top of his head slowly.

Once his heart beat steadied, he looks into your eyes, slightly tracing your arm with his fingertips, causing goosebumps again. “You are amazing, Y/N. If you want me to, I’ll treat you like that every day of your life.” He said, smiling contently at you.

You look down at him happily and grin. “I definitely want you… and only you to.” You say and he brings his mouth up to kiss you passionately once more, pulling you deeply into his mouth. You moan at the feeling of him, at everything about him.

He lets you go and rolls over onto his back beside you on the bed, outstretching his arm to you. You smile and turn over to lay on his shoulder, wrapping one of your arms over his chest, and one of your legs over his thigh. He tugs a blanket that was haphazardly push to the side, beside you and pulls on it, lifting it over the two of you. He sighs happily at the feel of you laying there next to him.

“I’ve wanted you for so long Y/N, I’m not ever going to let anything bad happen to you again.” He says softly.

You smile and kiss his chest softly, before laying your head back down onto him. You fell asleep smiling that night. And every night after that…

trottingalongthelines  asked:

In YOI episode 3 when Yurio is about to start his program and Yuuko is freaking out over his costume, why is Victor shown as if he's in deep thought? Or just why was the clip shown in the first place? I feel like they wouldn't have put it there just because, but I cant figure out what it's significants is..Do you know why?

I love episode 3.

It’s one of my favorites. There are so many interesting character moments to analyze, and this is one of them. 

There are several potential interpretations you could apply to this scene.

Yuri is scowling as he’s warming up to perform “Agape” - which is not Agape-like behavior. Victor could be thinking “Well, I guess he hasn’t tapped into the concept of Agape after all…” 

If you notice earlier in the episode, we see Victor looking at Yuri much the same way - particularly right before he sends him off to the waterfall. Victor is not seeing what he wants in Yuri’s demeanor.

You could also speculate that Victor might see a younger version of himself in Yuri, who is standing there in Victor’s costume from his junior years.

But here’s another theory…

Keep reading

Request: Hi! Would it okay to make a request? Ivar x Reader have a really nasty argument right before Ivar has to sail away for a raid or something which leads to make up sex when he gets back? Sorry! I really adore you Ivar x Reader’s!

Note: The argument got a little more intense then I had intended when I started this. I hope you still like it, nony.

Warning: Contains rough smut and some violence.

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“This is delicious.“  Ivar said, mouth still full of food. “Did you cook it or the slaves?”

You smiled at him. “I did. I don’t need any slaves to take care of me.”

“And you think I do?” He replied with grin.

“Well, I don’t know. Do you, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, prince of Kattegat?”

“Of course not. I just prefer not to waste time on cooking and such things. And you make it sound like I was sitting on a throne all day long, having servants tending to all my wishes.”

“Is that not what you do?” You said, giving him a mischievous grin from across the table.

He groaned and threw one of his potatoes at you. “Shut up!”

You ducked under the flying potato. “I’m just worried that no one will feed you the next few weeks.”

“Then maybe you should change your mind and come with me.”

Your grin faded and you got serious. “You know there’s nothing I want more but my father has gotten so sick and since mother died there’s no one else to take care of him.”

“I know. But I will miss you.”

You reached across the table and put your hand on his cheek. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

He placed his hand on yours. “Always.”

You smiled at each other and you got lost in his mesmerizing blue eyes, like you had so many times in the past.

After a while Ivar broke the silence. “Speaking of coming back, where have you been all day? I’ve been looking for you and then I saw you coming out of the forest.”

“I’ve been helping your brother.”

“Which brother?” He asked and you did not miss a certain sharpness in his voice.

“Ubbe.”

“Why are you spending so much time with Ubbe recently?” He wanted to know, his tone now clearly annoyed.

You rolled your eyes. Ivar could be so loving and caring when he wanted to but sometimes he acted like a child, especially when he was jealous of his brothers.

“He is building a house for himself and Margrethe, so I figured he could use some help.” You replied, unable to hide an unnerved undertone.

“If you help him with his house then what have you been doing in the forest?”

“We’ve been cutting trees.”

“And was Margrethe also there?”

“No she wasn’t. She had other stuff to do. What are all these questions?” You were starting to lose your patience.

Ivar’s eyes narrowed. “So you’ve spend the whole day in the forest, alone with my brother. And you want me to believe you’ve been cutting trees?”

“What else would we’ve been doing, Ivar? Hmm? You tell me.” Your voice coming out louder and more angry than you had intended.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.” He replied, his voice seeming completely calm, but you knew him well enough to know that it was very likely just the quiet before the storm. But you could not care for that now because your own anger was starting to cloud your mind. How could he dare to accuse you of such things?

“You know what, Ivar? Think whatever you want. I’m tired of your mood changing from one second to the next for no reason. If you want to go ahead and play the spoiled little prince that’s fine, but do it with someone else because I’m really tired of it.”

You saw Ivar’s eyes become dark with anger and immediately regretted your words but it was too late to take them back.

Ivar leaned over the table. “You are mine. You better don’t forget that.” He hissed.

You also leaned forward so that your face was just inches from his. His jaw was clenched and his eyes dark like the stormy sea. He radiated such anger that it scared you a bit, but you were a Viking, you were taught to never let your fear show.

“I don’t belong to anyone. You better don’t forget that.” You spat, echoing his words.

You could see him clenching his jaw even harder and releasing a stiff breath, fighting to keep control over himself. He seemed to have lost that battle because the next moment his arm shot towards you and before you could react his hand closed around your throat.

“You are mine.” He repeated, voice shaking with anger.

You tried to move away from him but his fingers were digging into the sides of your neck, giving you no chance to escape. Your air stream was completely blocked and your hands clutched around his, trying to open his grip but he was way too strong for you. As little shadows began to dance in front of your eyes you started to panic, your body demanding the air he was no longer able to get. As you let out a strangled noise, Ivar’s anger twisted face changed into a look of utter shock. It was as if he was waking up. He stared at your face, then down to his hand on your throat and very slowly his grip softened. He let go of you completely and quickly withdraw his hand as if he had burned it, his face now full of terror.

“Y/N, I….”

As the fear left your body the anger came back.

“Get out of here.” You hissed, your voice raspy, the words burning in your throat.

“Y/N…”

“OUT! NOW!”



You had made sure he had no chance of seeing you again until he left the next morning with his warriors. You knew that Ivar had moments like this, when his anger took over and he completely lost control, you had seen it happen more then once. But so far it had never happened with you. You had trusted him, felt completely save in his presence. You knew it was stupid but there was a feeling of betrayal inside you, you couldn’t get rid of. Of course you’ve had arguments before, the kind of arguments that made everyone else flee out of the room, not wanting to become casualties while you two released earthquakes and thunderstorms. But he had never hurt or really scared you before. And now you weren’t sure if you could forgive him.

But as the weeks passed you had to admit to yourself that you missed Ivar. You were worried about him, even more than usual. If something happened to him, your last conversation would have been the worst argument you ever had.

One evening you were sitting in your hut, taking out your braids and humming some melody that was stuck in your head as you heard a noise behind you. You turned in your chair and your eyes grew wide in surprise. Ivar was leaning against the door frame, supported by his crutches. You hadn’t heard him open the door. Your first impulse was to run to him and sink into his arms but you still  weren’t sure if you had forgiven him. It took you all your inner strength to keep any emotion from your face as you looked at him. He had a crooked grin on his face but as you didn’t react at all and just kept looking at him, you could see some insecurity grow in his eyes. After a moment though, he gained back control and his grin only grew wider.

“Are you not going to ask me in?”

“Where’s the point when you are in already?” You replied, struggling to keep your voice neutral. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“We just arrived about half an hour ago.” He slowly crossed the room and stopped in front of your bed. “Come here. I’ve missed you.”

Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t believe he could be so ignorant. “Don’t think you can command me to do anything!”

His grin came back to his face, just a hint of evil arrogance in it. “But you want to. I can see it in your eyes.”

He was right. Although you were still mad at him your body longed for his. You wanted nothing more than to feel his skin on yours, to be as close to him as you could possibly get. It made you angry that he had such an effect on you. And it made you even angrier that he knew it and that he knew how to use it against you. You stood up so fast that your chair toppled over. You went over to Ivar and stood in front of him, eyes blazing with anger.

“Don’t you dare to tell me what I want.”

His grin didn’t fade one bit. “Not even when it’s that obvious? You want me, Y/N. There’s no point in denying that.”

You hated him so much that moment, mostly for being right. You somehow had to let your anger vent and pushed against his chest with both hands, harder than you had intended to. Ivar lost his balance and as he fell backwards he let go of his crutches and grabbed your arms, pulling you down with him. You heard the crutches clatter on the floor as you fell down on the bed. Ivar quickly rolled over so that he was on top of you.

“Get off me!” You hissed and pushed against his chest.

Ivar just smirked at you and caught your wrists, pinning them to the bed above your head. Then he moved his hips so that they rocked against yours. You could feel heat shoot through your body like liquid fire and fought hard to suppress a moan. But Ivar didn’t stop, he kept grinding his hips against yours and the need to feel more of him grew bigger and bigger inside your stomach, causing your breathing to come quick and heavy.

He chuckled at you. “See? So stop struggling and let me give you what you want anyways.”

You gave him an angry hiss but had to admit defeat. He must have seen it in your eyes and placed his lips on yours, kissing you hungrily while one of his hands slid under your dress and up your thigh. He let his fingers slowly travel across your folds and gave you an satisfied yet amused grin as he found you already soaking wet. Then his lips were back on yours and he slipped one finger between your folds. You moaned into his mouth as he started to move it up and down, hitting your clit with every move. His other hand found one of your breasts and started to knead it but he quickly became annoyed by the fabric getting in his way and he retrieved his hand from between your thighs. You whimpered at the loss and he smirked, clearly pleased with himself. For a moment he fiddled with the stings that held your dress together, but soon lost his patience and just ripped it apart. He hurried to slide the fabric down your body and then discarded it to the floor. He quickly undressed himself and you took a moment to cherish the view. You adored the way the toned muscles on his shoulders and his chest worked as he moved back up to you.

“You still want me to leave?” He asked with a cocky grin.

“No.” You admitted.

“What do you want me to do then?”

You smiled and lifted your head from the pillow to kiss him again but he pushed you back down, pinning you to the bed with his body. He rocked his hips again and now that you where both naked you could feel his hard cock rub against your thigh. You sighed, half in anticipation and half in defeat. You knew he wouldn’t stop until you said it out loud.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He gave you a nod as if to say See, it wasn’t that hard. Then he pushed your thighs apart to get better access. He was hovering over you, still pinning you to the bed, not allowing you much movement. He looked down at you and pushed himself inside you with one swift movement. You gasped at the exquisite sensation of him stretching your inner walls and your eyes flew shut. Ivar leaned down and bit your shoulder.

“Keep looking at me.” He cooed.

As you opened your eyes he started to move in and out of you. He didn’t bother to go slow and picked up his pace quite quickly, his trusts fast and hard. It didn’t take long until you squirmed in pleasure but he didn’t give you much room to move, his strong arms keeping you in place and reminding you who was is control. You wrapped your legs around his waist to allow him to go even deeper. As a reward he placed a sloppy kiss on your lips. As your pleasure increases you grind your hips against his, eager to meet his thrusts, while you loudly moan out his name. Ivar places one of his hands on the head of the bed to be able to push himself into your depths with even more force than before. With every thrust he hits a magical spot deep inside of you and you scream out his name so loud you probably wake up all your neighbors.

“You know you are mine.” Ivar growls without stopping his brilliant movements and in this moment you have neither the strength nor the will to disagree.

“Yes Ivar, I’m all yours.” You pant and smirks, even increasing his efforts to make you scream out his name.

You know you are close as you feel your whole body tense. And with one forceful thrust Ivar buries himself deep inside you and spills his hot liquids. The feel of Ivar’s seed filling you is enough to drive you over the edge. Waves of pleasure are rolling through you and your whole body is shaking. You ride out your orgasms together and then Ivar collapses onto you. For a long moment you just lie still. Both of you unable to move, bodies sticky with sweat.

As your breathing slows down a bit, Ivar rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says, placing a kiss on your temple.

All you can manage is to hum in agreement, as you settle your head against his shoulder and close your eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep.” Ivar whispers into your ear. “I’m not done with you yet.”