turn it up or down it feels a bit like vertigo

Missed Opportunities

Originally posted by wwhatfinn

Anon requests: If ur still taking requests. Can you do one where the reader of best friends with Juggie but they told him how they feel, but Juggie doesn’t listen and then in a football game Reggie makes a move and they accept b/c Juggie doesn’t seem to acknowledge them that way and Juggie ends up jealous…

Request if you still take one. Reader and Jughead have been friends forever and they said stuff to each other about being together but Jughead been avoiding it. Reader wants something more, and in a football game Reggie asks them out and they say yes b/c they feel they need to love since Jughead is avoiding them about their feelings and Jughead gets jealous…

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: You missed a thousand opportunities to tell your best friend that you fell in love with him.  One night, you finally seize the chance.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,926

A/N: I’m so sorry for my inactivity, I hope this longer imagine makes up for it.  Enjoy!

You didn’t mean to fall in love with your best friend.  It was an accident.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened.  It wasn’t anything sudden; you didn’t wake up one morning and realize you were in love. It was a slow process.

Maybe it began when you two met at Pop’s.  He was sitting in his regular booth, brooding and mysterious.  He was the edgiest ten year old in Riverdale.  For the first time, you entered Pop’s all by yourself. Your parents had decided that double digits meant that you could be more independent.  Of course, your first action was to go to the best diner in Riverdale all on your own.  Once you arrived, you realized how scary being alone was.  Scanning the diner, you looked for a companion to sit with.  You spotted a boy who looked around the same age as you.

“Can I sit here?” you asked, approaching the table.  The boy stared at you suspiciously for a moment.

“Sure,” he nodded after a second of contemplation.  You smiled and sat down across from him.

“I’m (Y/N),” you greeted, sticking your hand out across the table.  The boy tentatively shook it.

“Jughead,” he introduced himself.

“That’s a weird name,” you crinkled your nose.  He shrugged.

“I know.”

Maybe it was that night at the drive-in: a cold October night, and you forgot your jacket.  Vertigo was on that night, and Jughead, knowing it was one of your favorite movies, notified you that it was playing.  You asked him, with a smirk, if he had anything to do with this movie being played; with an indignant scoff, he promised you that he had no part in the Twilight Drive-In playing your favorite movie.  The two of you sat together watching the movie, Jughead’s arm casually draped around your shoulders.  Bitter October night winds blew in, causing you to shiver.  Jughead noticed this, so he drew you closer to him.  It wasn’t the warmth Jughead provided you that caused the redness in you cheeks.

There was no way for you to pinpoint when exactly you fell in love with your best friend.  Every time you saw him, wearing that goddamned beanie and a wide grin, your heart skipped a beat.  Each time your hands brushed against each other, or your thighs rested right next to each other, you could feel your affection swell.

But as Newton’s third law states: every action has an equal opposite reaction.  Every time you fell a little more in love with Jughead, there was an agonizing pain in your heart because you could never be with him.  You knew you could never build up the courage to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.  All the risks threatening your friendship with Jughead were enough to keep your feelings bottled up.

Although you swore to yourself that you’d never reveal your secret affections for Jughead, you found that hiding things from your best friend was more difficult than you imagined.

“(Y/N),” Jughead interrupted your thoughts, causing your head to snap up.  Immediately, you plastered a smile on your face.

“Yeah, Jug?” you asked, slightly tilting your head.  He shook his head at you.

“What’s up with you lately?” he questioned, narrowing his eyes.  “You’ve been acting weird for weeks.”

“I’m fine Jug,” you waved him off.  “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” Jughead ignored your protests.  

“I promise you, Jug, if there’s something wrong I’ll tell you.”  Satisfied with your answer, he nodded at your response and turned back to his laptop.  The two of you sat in the diner booth, each doing your own thing.  After an hour of silence, you closed the book you were reading and set it down on the table.  Jughead noticed this, so he lowered his laptop lid.

“Something wrong?” he inquired.  You pursed your lips for a moment, contemplating what to say.

“Have you ever thought about us?” you asked.  He shot you a confused glance, so you elaborated.  “Have you ever thought about us, I don’t know… as not friends?  Like more?”  Jughead’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean… yeah,” he shrugged. You bit your lip.

“Do you think it could ever work?”

“I don’t know,” he responded.  “I’d just hate to ruin our great friendship, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.  “I know exactly what you mean.”

The next day at school, Jughead completely avoided you.  Every time you attempted to approach him, he turned on his heel and walked in the other direction.  After practically confessing your feelings last night, you were devastated to see Jughead ignoring you.  This continued throughout the rest of the week; Jughead never talked to you, no matter how hard you tried to communicate with him.  On Friday, Archie approached you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he greeted. You shot him a small smile.

“Hey, Archie.”

“I’m sorry about Jughead,” he frowned, looking at you with pity.  You shrugged and shook your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you responded, causing his frown to deepen.  “Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Well, actually, no,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I know it’s been a rough week for you, but I was wondering if you wanted to come to the game tonight.  It’s a big game, so I’d just really appreciate it if you were there.”  He offered a hesitant smile at you, and your fake smile widened into a real one.

“Sure, Archie,” you responded.  He thanked you and headed away, probably searching for other people to invite to the game.  You knew you hadn’t been in the best shape for the past week, but you figured this was the perfect opportunity to get your mind off of everything that had happened. It was an opportunity to forget about Jughead.

You arrived at the football stadium, and you wandered into the bleachers, looking for a place to sit. As you wandered around, you spotted Jughead.  Before he could turn his head to look at you, you dashed out of sight.  Finally, you found a seat at the top of the bleachers. You watched the entire game from there, clapping and cheering along with the rest of the crowd every time Riverdale High’s team scored.  Once the buzzer signaled the end of the game, and another victory for Riverdale, you ran down to the field to congratulate Archie.  Instead of finding Archie, you ran into Reggie.

“(Y/N)!” he exclaimed, his sweaty figure towering over you.  

“Hey, Reggie!” you smiled. He grinned.

“I haven’t seen you around lately,” he noted.  You shrugged.

“Did you want to?”

“Well yeah,” he laughed. Oddly, you found yourself blushing. “We should catch up sometime, (Y/N). How about Tuesday?”  You blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out if he was joking or not.

“Seriously?” you questioned. He nodded as if it was obvious.

“Of course.  Eight o’clock at Pop’s?”  You grinned and nodded.  He did the same and then walked off to celebrate the victory with his teammates. Turning on your heel, you suddenly came face-to-face with Jughead.

“Reggie?  Seriously (Y/N)?” he inquired, crossing his arms and raising a brow.

“At least he had the courage to ask me out,” you scoffed, stomping off and leaving a stunned Jughead behind.

Tuesday night arrived quickly, and, as promised, you met Reggie at Pop’s.  He sat waiting in a booth, and when you entered, his face illuminated with a grin.  The night went successfully, and you thoroughly enjoyed your time with Reggie. You didn’t even notice the dark figure watching you from a few booths away.

“I had a great time tonight, (Y/N),” Reggie said as he noticed the time.  It was nearly midnight.  “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course,” you nodded, smiling.  He grinned.

“And, just to be clear, these are dates, right?”  You hesitated at this, and for the first time you looked up and spotted Jughead. Realizing you were staring at him, he averted his gaze.  You turned back to Reggie and frowned.

“Reggie,” you started, twiddling with your fingers.  His face slowly fell as he anticipated what you were going to say.  “You’re a great guy.  Any girl would be lucky to have you, but… I like someone else.”  You smiled apologetically at him.  “I’m sorry.  I hope we can still be friends.”  The football star stood up, remaining in front of your table.  He offered you a small smile.

“I understand,” he sighed. “Of course we can be friends.  I’ll see you around, (Y/N).”  He strode away from your table and exited the diner. Once he was out of sight, you turned all of your attention to Jughead.  You stood up and rushed over to his table.

“What the hell, Jughead?” you seethed, sitting down across from him.  He refused to make eye contact with you.  “Were you spying on me?”

“We’re best friends, (Y/N), you should know by now that I’m always at Pop’s,” he spat in retaliation. You didn’t back down.

“Oh so we are best friends?” you cynically questioned.  “That’s funny, because I don’t think we’ve spoken in a week.”

“I had a lot on my mind, okay?” he defended himself, growing quieter.  You rolled your eyes and nodded.

“Uh huh,” you scoffed, “a lot on your mind.  Whatever, Jughead.”  You rose from your seat and prepared to exit, but Jughead grabbed your wrist.

“Wait, (Y/N),” he stopped you.  You raised an eyebrow.  “I’m sorry.”

“Wow thanks,” you smiled sarcastically.  “This makes everything better, Jughead.”

“I know it doesn’t,” he rolled his eyes, “but I can’t do anything else except apologize, (Y/N).”

“How about you talk to me?” you offered, narrowing your eyes as you settled back into your seat.  “Because I’ve had my feelings out there for a week now, Jughead, and you haven’t said anything about it.”

“What feelings?” he questioned.  “All you asked me is if I thought we should be a couple.”

“What do you think that was?” you practically screamed.  “Did you really just think that was just casual conversation, Jug?  Come on, you’re smarter than that!”

“Okay, so you confessed your feelings to me!” he exclaimed, frustratedly throwing his hands up.  “How do you think I felt, (Y/N)?  When I thought my best friend was thinking about the same possibility as me?  I was fucking terrified!”  This drew you aback.

“Terrified?” you echoed. “Why… why were you terrified?”

“Because I think about that too, (Y/N), all the time!” he didn’t yell, but his voice grew louder.  “I don’t know when it happened, but sometime between that first time you walked in through those diner doors,” he pointed at the entrance, “and right now, something changed.  I don’t know when, I don’t know how, and I certainly don’t know why.  All I know when I saw you laughing with good-looking, athletic Reggie the only thing I could think about is all the times I could’ve told you how I felt, and I didn’t.”  He was almost panting by the end of his tangent, and you were subdued by shock.  The two of you sat together in silence, staring at each other in astonishment.  

“Missed opportunities,” you finally murmured, breaking the silence.  “We both… we both missed so many opportunities.”  You bit your lip between your teeth, holding back a smile.

“But here we are,” Jughead replied, a smile creeping onto his face.  “We missed a thousand opportunities, but the universe gave us one more.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” you smiled.  He grinned.

“Neither do I,” he responded.  “But I do believe in us.”

Act 4: Trolls as Manifestations

Homestuck gains complexity through iterations, in plot, setting, and character. As the tutorial character, John’s actions are straightforward and relatively easy to follow, which sets the stage for grander installments. John’s plain house and Dad are followed by the increasingly complex circumstances of his friends. John’s ability to combine items across captchalogue cards (1917) is a primer for combining items via alchemy. If a rule is introduced through John, subsequent iterations of the rule will be more grandiose.

So, an observation: John is afraid of heights. When John slips on a staircase, he flips out (2460). When he nearly launches himself into the abyss with the Pogo Hammer, he has to take a nap before he has calmed down enough to continue (2537). Immediately following both moments of vertigo, massive ogres begin to climb toward John’s house (2461, 2542). The eventual fight with the ogres begins after John looks over the roof of his house, into the abyss (2562-3).

All of this suggests that Sburb is reacting to John’s emotional state (fear) to produce in-game content. This is further suggested by a peek we get at some of Sburb’s internal processes (3419):

Here, we have reference to terminology associated with Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud. The terms suggest that Sburb interacts with the ideas in the kids’ subconscious minds (archetypes) and brings symbolic representations of these ideas into conscious reality (manifests the ideas). Like, pipes are Johns’s dad symbol (1974), so LOWAS is covered in pipes as a subconscious reminder of his dad. Or, Dave is surrounded by dangerous sharp objects in his apartment, so LOHAC is full of grinding metal gears to subtly (?) remind him of his awful, awful home.

Even before we reach the kids’ planets though, John’s encounter with the ogres asserts Sburb’s dream-like nature. The “hyper flexible mythology” of Sburb  is essentially the same as Freudian dream logic – Sburb caused John’s latent fear of heights to manifest as real, punchable monsters.

But if you look through Homestuck for things that materialize due to emotional events, it doesn’t stop with imps and monsters. It also includes the trolls.

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amortentia [young!tom riddle x reader]

premise:  En sa beauté gît ma mort et ma vie. [In her beauty rests (both) my death and my life]
Tom Marvolo Riddle never fancied anyone - to be fair, he did not think he could. Though, an encounter on his first train to Hogwarts had left a deep impression that he very much could love someone, though if that someone could love him with all of his secrets was a different question, one that he was eager to find out yet was awfully curious of. You always intrigued him. From the very first day the two of you met, to the very last…

warnings: angst, disturbing themes, fluff, blood

amortentia masterpost | MASTERLIST.

Originally posted by txmione

1. gloomy days follow

A light breeze caressed the back of your neck as your fingers dug into the hard red cushion of the seat; your form leaned forward to stare at the blurring scenery behind the window. Outside the compartment children were eagerly chatting, some singing muggle songs and noisily poking in their heads to see who was doing what. The far away rooftops moved like passengers and in the swaying autumn flowers, the last notes of summer were already fading, you saw the delicate arch of your mothers hand as she waved you goodbye. The memory was still fresh and very much conflicted, both sparking fear and excitement in your heart. Finally, London houses blew by and nothing by plains of green greeted the window. You pulled away and shifted, hitting the back of the seat and feeling the whole train pleasantly rubble down your spine. Besides you, there were three more eleven year-olds seated – two in front and one by your left. The lonesome boy by your side was reserved, only briefly glancing around and outlining the forms of the two seated in his close view.

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anonymous asked:

Hey! After reading your Andriel amusement park prompt, I was wondering if you could do some Neil whump? Where Neil gets sick, or injured, and andrew takes care of him? Cheesy, but soothing for my soul \(^_^~ thanks!!

Listen, Anon. Soft fluffy Andreil is what I live for! So please enjoy this sick Neil drabble featuring mother-hen-Nicky and the very real flu death experiences of @irishrainbownjh

It starts with a tickle. Right at the back of the throat. It grates with every swallow, and despite how many times he clears his throat, Neil can’t seem to shake the scratch. He pulls himself out of bed, has a long hot shower, and downs two glasses of water, but it’s still persistently there.

By the time Neil is halfway through his morning lecture, his head has started pounding as well. It’s a constant pressure behind his eyes that throbs in time to his heartbeat and cries out at the flash of each new slide. The scratch of a pen on paper to his right and the smack of gum to his left only make it worse.

When the class finally ends, Neil drags himself back to Fox Tower. His body feels both sluggish and sore, like he’s just run five miles then slept ten hours cramped up. Even the smallest movement sets his muscles aching and his joints creaking.

It takes considerable effort to make it up the hill to Fox Tower, so Neil opts for the elevator over the stairs. The doors open on the third floor to reveal the hallway bustling with a group from the soccer team. One of the players has an arm full of pizza boxes, and the greasy scent wafts down to Neil. It makes his stomach bubble and churn, and the striker braces himself against the wall and breathes through gritted teeth to get it to settle.


Neil whips around at the sound of his name, but the fast movement causes lights to pop behind his eyes. It’s like a bad case of vertigo, his whole world tilting, and Neil stumbles back against the wall again. He blinks a few times, and when his eyes come back into focus, he finds Nicky’s concerned expression. It takes another moment to register that Nicky’s hands are gripping his elbows and holding him steady.

“Jesus, are you alright? You look awful.” Nicky raises his hand and presses it against Neil’s forehead. “And you’re burning up. Let’s get you inside.”

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You're No Peter Parker! || Peter Parker x Reader

{summary: you unintentionally get super drunk at a party, forcing your friendly neighborhood spider-man to come to your rescue as he escorts you home.}

tonight’s been a stressful night for me, so i need some peter parker fluff. i promise i’ll work on requests as soon as i’m better…my anxiety has been through the roof and today was a particularly bad day….

but i’ll get better, i promise. so here, how about me and you indulge in some peter fluff?

**please if you have any respect for the writer at all, do not repost/plagiarize this story. reblogs are fine.**

warnings: drunk kisses, tbh


You had no idea what crazy part of your brain thought that attending a party was a good idea. You weren’t the particularly social type, and the fact that you were surrounded by girls making out with several guys from the next door fraternity house made this all the more unbearable for you.

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Comfort in Silence

Prompt: Gentle soul 

Setting: Canon

Pairing: Kacchako

Summery: Their rescue mission didn’t go well. Ochako won’t let Bakugou handle the aftermath alone, not this time. 

A/N: I’m so nervous about posting this! It’s my first Kacchako ficlet, so I hope you all like it. Let me know if I’ve tagged everything okay, I’m new to the fandom.

Bakugou didn’t do crowds when upset.

Various missions and team building activities enlightened her to the blonde’s perplexing behaviour. Their latest mission set an example of murphy’s law. Everything that could go wrong, happened. Deku true to himself cried for those he couldn’t save.

Bakugou initially reacted in the way he knows best, an explosion of anger. The years had tamed his fiery temper somewhat, in traumatic circumstances he failed to hide his true emotions. Needless to say, the objects surrounding him didn’t come out unscathed.

In the age of heroes and quirks, mother nature is a still a force to be reckoned with add villains to that scenario and the outlook turned dire.

“Fuck off Kirishima,” he spat, not bothering to turn his head. Typical.

“I said-“

Angry red eyes met her own as his head snapped around. Ochako felt her heart thumping on her rib cage, raw emotion palpable on his rugged face. Katsuki’s rage isn’t to be taken lightly.

Not that she’s scared of him.

Ochako, sensitive to the emotion of the people close to her, felt the anxiety deep within her classmate as if it were her own. Combine that with her own sadness, and she was close to breaking down. Again. Skin feeling hot and clammy, she rubbed her forearms wincing at her suit catching raised hairs underneath. She needed to remember to put in a lining request to the costume department, a creature comfort but necessary.

“Tch, what the fuck do you want?” His low, rough tone breaking her train of thought. She wasn’t here to think about clothing alterations. Managing to give a sad smile, she watched his lips form a snarl, his eyes searching.

He hadn’t told her to piss off yet.


“I felt like fresh air.” A half-truth, they both knew she didn’t have to use the residence roof for that. Holding his angry glare, her body defiant in its stance she dared him to challenge her. Crinkles formed on his brow, a growl rumbling in the air as he bit back a retort. Instead of choosing to jerk head around, giving her his back.

Manners didn’t exist in Bakugou’s vocabulary. What you see, is what you get, pleasantries be damned. At first, it was perplexing behaviour, but after dealing with manipulative ways of villains, she sees it as a virtue. It needed polishing to be palatable for the public, however, Ochako is sure his passion will shine through. No one trained like Bakugou, she frequently witnessed his insane training programs.

Deku looked up to him, striving to be like him for a reason. Bakugou’s focus and instinct in battle, his body moving in a way that made her throat feel dry. In their match, his efficiency made her cry in frustration but he never looked down on her. Not once. After she declared her intent to battle despite the odds, after she fought tooth and nail, he accepted her wholly.

Cowards had no place in his world, only those who fought with their entire being deserved to fight him. Katsuki didn’t see her for her background or her gender, respecting resolve and power in battle.

It was a fight that opened her eyes to the young man in front of her. He is more than an angry, aggressive exterior. The expletives and violent reactions a cover for a teenager who cared more than he was willing to let on.

Hence, not buying his current act.

Tension contorting the muscles in his back, black muscle shirt melding to the slick skin. He had fought hard, parrying blows, and performing acrobatics during combat that rendered her breathless. It hadn’t been enough. Even with the support of pros, there had been casualties, some teetering on the edge of death.  

It’s heartbreaking to try so hard and fail.

It wasn’t a complete loss, but they didn’t win either.

The school taught them to prepare for both, that they couldn’t save everyone. A war between good and evil meant innocents will get caught in-between. Human shields, hostages, bait, all common tactics used by villains.

Sighing she stepped forward, gripping the stone wall to pull herself up. She couldn’t use her quirk again yet, she had overdone today as it was. Muscles aching, she shifted her legs to dangle off the edge. Vertigo wasn’t an issue when she didn’t have her quirk activated, her father owns a construction company, heights and vertical drops didn’t bother her.

Glancing away from her swinging feet she paid attention to the blond beside her. His posture taut and upright, gaze fixed straight ahead. Unable to stop herself, a giggle escaped her mouth at his screwed-up face. It truly is a remarkable sight. At her tinkling laughter, his lips quirked, head whipping to the side to avoid eye contact. Scoffing, his hands balled into fists flinching as sore skin stretched over his knuckles.  

Ochako frowned, noticing his wince her eyes drawn to the movement. Inhaling, she covered up a gasp, knowing Bakugou wouldn’t take kindly to overt fussing. His quirk also bore consequences for overuse. Reaching with both hands she cupped his fist, uncurling his fingers one by one, biting her bottom lip in concentration.

She didn’t want to hurt him. Successful in her attempt to relax his hand, a smile graced her features. Placing their joined hands between them, she kept her own resting on top. His skin felt rough but warm, a contrast to her soft flesh. No doubt an adaptation to the abuse his quirk handed out. She didn’t mind, calloused skin meant hard work and dedication in her family.

Looking up, she found Bakugou in an unguarded state of incredulity. Emotions flashing across his face as his attention darted from their hands to her eyes. Shrugging she squeezed his hand, turning to focus on the view in front.

If Bakugou wouldn’t accept comfort from the teachers or the other classmates, she would do her best. Ochako knew actions spoke louder than words to the boy by her side. Sometimes silent company when contemplating thoughts meant more than a fleeting “It’ll be all right”.

CP bachelor AU: part 5

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4


Damen is as good as his word. He behaves. He’s friendly and noble and straightforward and, somehow, manages to make it seem natural that he should be fond of so many people at once. He speaks earnestly into the camera about the good points of every single suitor, and never oversells it. He doesn’t show a marked preference for Erasmus over the others. Laurent barely has to edit Damen’s scenes for narrative tension at all.

By the time something goes wrong, Laurent has been bracing himself for almost two weeks for something to go wrong, because luck never lasts in television.

The twenty suitors have been winnowed down to twelve. They’ve decamped for a couple of days to a tiny private beach north of the city, the owner of which owes Laurent a favour, and the shooting schedule is full of bikinis, beach volleyball, romantic walks, and hopefully fewer jellyfish-sting disasters than last year, ie. none.

To kick things off, they have a bonfire party. Laurent has offered three hundred dollars to any producer who gets a suitor to suggest skinny-dipping; it was going to be two hundred, but the temperature’s dropped unseasonably low, and the wind sweeping in off the sea has a bite to it. 

Laurent is watching Damen have a conversation about superheroes with a gaggle of suitors–all of them gamely clutching drinks and none of them wanting to leave in case they end up missing a chance for Alone Time–when Orlant comes to tell him that all of the previous day’s footage has vanished.

Vanished?” Laurent says.

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Request Fic!

For a lovely anon who asked for sick Lance giving his food to the others: thanks for sending this request! I hope this is okay! I tried really hard!

Lance grimaced as Keith passed a ration bar from Shiro’s pack. He knew that he should eat it–he hadn’t eaten anything all day, and only half a ration bar the day before–but even just looking at the food made his stomach churn.

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Starling: Chapter Twenty-Nine

«First Next>

Kenna pulled over on the shoulder somewhere more dust than sidewalk. She killed the ignition and half-leaned, half-crawled into the back seat to stare at Roy’s screen. Elliott and Alex had both abandoned their sulks to look too, which totaled three enormous people craning into his space, reading and rereading Laura’s message over his shoulder.

“What does that mean, rescue will be complete by dawn?” said Kenna, jabbing a claw at the phrase in question.

“Before sunrise,” Roy rephrased, unsure if that was what she was really asking, but unable to understand anything more complex about it himself. His voice sounded flat and distant even to him.

“Did something happen?” demanded Elliott.

Kenna withdrew to the front to fiddle with her own comp for a moment. "Nothing in the news,” she reported.

Roy sank slowly in his seat and let the conversation flow over his head.

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[Tear You Apart] • 2


Pre-Apocalypse Negan x Anastasia 

A/N: *OC is of legal age/23* (Her name is pronounced like Ana-stah-seya not ana-stay-sia). **Based on the Types of Love** Ludus is a love that is played as a game of sport. I know it took me like a million years to update! but PART 2 IS FINALLY HERE! The Tear You Apart chapters are longer than most of my other pieces, but I hope this makes up for me not updating as fast as I should haha xx 


Eros (1) || Masterlist 

Originally posted by mypapawinchester


Lucille sat by her dresser, carefully pulling out the red velvet jewelry box from her drawer that revealed her grandmother’s pearl earrings. She tightened them around her soft lobes before noticing a tiny mark on her collarbone. She traced her slender fingers along the uneven patch, blushing to herself as she looked over her shoulder to find her husband lazily sleeping between the sheets. 

Negan barely gave her a chance to clean up after their little dinner party last night. The minute the last guest walked out their front door, he had immediately pulled her into his bedroom, kissing her as he ripped her dress off. Their night turned out to last much longer than anticipated.

Not that she was complaining…

On the contrary, she hadn’t felt that kind of intensity with him in a while. The passion of last night brought back memories from when the two of them were just young lovers. Everything was new, exciting, and because she was with Negan, just a little bit…dangerous

She quietly tiptoed her way downstairs where she dug around for a scrap piece of paper, and a pen. She sat down on the kitchen table and wrote in her perfect, cursive handwriting: 

Morning my darling, I’m off to tutor the Smith’s son. My legs feel like jell-o. xo Lucille

She paused for a moment, biting her bottom lip as she re-read her little love note, the guilt wrapping around her heart. 

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A Miraculous Christmas

Reblog, don’t repost.

Do not publish onto any other site! (Instagram, YouTube, Amino, WeHeartIt, VK.com, Facebook, Pinterest, etc.)

Apparently, I don’t know what the fudge a hiatus is haha. I’m serious this time though. Nothing else until the new year.

I just thought that I should give a gift to all of my followers who’ve been so awesome and supportive. I know that some of you have already watched the Christmas special. Some liked it and some found it a little disappointing. But that’s what the fandom is here for, right? We make our own content! (I’m still waiting for some mistletoe fan art.)

Ideally, I would have drawn a comic but I didn’t want to spend the time, especially since I’m supposed to be taking a break. So I just wrote a little something instead. It’s not the greatest but eh… beats drawing a whole comic xD

Minor spoilers ahead!

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Who’s a Pretty Boy? (Sam Wilson x reader)

Sam sat in the waiting room of your dentist’s office patiently, though cringing at the sounds of drills boring into teeth in the rooms behind him, and coughing away the harsh scent of antiseptic that filled his nostrils and stung at his throat.  He hated dental offices as much as Steve hated doctors, but when you had asked him to come with you to this appointment, you had such a pleading look in your eyes that he couldn’t say no despite his better judgement.

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Spencer Reid X Reader

Request: Can you do a Reid x Reader (dating please) where the Reader is anemic, you can do what you want with the story! It’s just that I’m anemic and I can’t find annnyyyy imagines where the reader is anemic, and yeah. Thanks! Xxx

A/N: Hey so I hope I succeeded at the Anemic part of the fic. I really enjoyed writing this little oneshot. I learned something new today :) I’m sorry if all of you out there are offended that at one point in this story I mentioned how Anemic is a disease but I did my research and it is. I mean it’s not contagious or anything. Anyways I’ll shut up now. ENJOY!

Warnings: None

Words: 1,031

Originally posted by toyboxboy

It wasn’t until about a month of dating Spencer Reid, that the 187 IQ genius put two and two together about your condition. You had never really appraised the need to tell him. It’s not that you were ashamed, not at all. It’s just whenever you experienced the symptoms, you weren’t around your awkward yet caring boyfriend. Well, other then maybe nausea or vertigo, but, you were always one to tough things out.
One day at work, though, Spencer had noticed your grimacing expressions at your desk behind him, obviously observing the fact you were in some sort of physical pain. It wasn’t the first time Spencer had seen you hurting, he just didn’t need to bring it up, not wanting to make you feel embarrassed in any way. Besides, it could easily be period cramps and that wasn’t a matter Spencer desired to discuss. But wait, the average menstrual flow lasted 3 to 5 days and Reid remembered correctly, two weeks ago you had subtly hinted the fact that you were on it. That wasn’t right. Women were only supposed to get it once every 28 days.
After moments of pondering and reminding himself of all the symptoms, you had had lately Spencer figured it out. Nausea, dizziness, shaking hands and weakness in your biceps. -That being the only thing Reid noticed.-  Spencer finally agreed with himself that you might have what’s called Iron Deficiency Anemia. Your boyfriend glanced back at you, who was rubbing your temples and keeping your head down, most likely trying not to cause too much attention to yourself. Luckily, Spencer always checked up on you so you weren’t the least bit appalled when your boyfriend came impatiently pacing toward you.
You rotated your head in the direction of Spencer, instinctively taking your hands away from your face to be polite.
“What’s up Spence?” You inquired, taking a tone that may have been a little too hostile to your liking. Your back was still hunched over, steadying both your arms on your desk, the only part of your body being turned was your head. If Spencer had perceived the slight unfriendly tone in your voice, he ignored it. The ends of your lips vaguely curved upward when you observed how eager Spencer was to steal an office chair from the desk across from yours so he could sit beside you.
“I have a question. Well, kind of a question, more like a hypothesis.” Your boyfriend informed you awkwardly, breaking eye contact with you more than once. You furrowed your eyebrows and squinted your eyes, now rotating your whole body toward Spencer, your interest being peeked. When you nodded your head for your boyfriend to go on, he did just that. “Lately I’ve been noticing the way your body has reacted when you haven’t eaten much, especially food containing iron.” Spencer began, causing a sigh to escape your lips. You had completely forgotten to inform Spencer about your condition! “Iron deficiency anemia is a common type of anemia that occurs when your blood doesn’t have enough healthy red blood cells.When your body doesn’t have enough iron, it can’t produce enough hemoglobin -a substance in red blood cells that lets them carry oxygen. Red blood cells carry oxygen to the body’s tissues and remove carbon dioxide. Not having enough working red blood cells may lead to tiredness and shortness of breath. Iron deficiency anemia usually develops over time as your body taps into the iron it has stored, then eventually runs out. It affects nearly three-
“Spencer,” You interrupted, already aware of the symptoms as well as reasonings to the disease. When your boyfriend stopped, he stared at you, clearly perplexed as to why you intervened. You lifted your arms from your sides and cupped Spencer’s cheeks, lightly pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I know, I have mild symptoms of anemia but I’ve never really gotten prescribed to anything considering it doesn’t interfere with my life that much.” You quietly mumbled, now pulling Spencer’s -blushing- face to yours until your foreheads touched.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The genius softly questioned worriedly, lifting his arms up and wrapping his slender fingers around your forearm.
“To be completely honest, I never even thought about it. I’m so used to frequently getting it that it’s become an average occurrence in my life.” You explained, watching how Spencer’s eyebrows creased in confusion. You already knew what he was going to say next.
“B-but you said it didn’t interfere with your life.” The Profiler corrected, remembering vividly what you had informed him on. You chuckled, then lifting your hands and forehead off of Spencer.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius with an identical memory?” You teased, turning to your computer for a quick second to look at the time; 11:30 am. “I said ‘that much.’” You tenderly explained, now standing up from your chair, Spencer soon mirroring your actions.
“Where are you going?” Spencer asked anxiously when he saw that you were now putting on your brown peacoat jacket that was originally hanging off your office chair.
“Lunch!” You excitedly stated, now strolling toward the Bureau’s doors. When you knew Spencer couldn’t see your face, you frowned in discomfort, your migraine still bothering you. Spencer was right, you hadn’t eaten anything all day and you needed something in your stomach.  
“Wait for me!” You heard your boyfriend cry from behind you, soon feeling his fingers entangle with yours. You smiled from his touch, his phalanges having a frigid sensation against your thermal ones.
As the two of you roamed out of the building, taking gradual steps towards your car, Spencer squeezed your hand before talking.
“I recommend eating something high in protein. I suggest Meat, Poultry, Fish, Beans, Tofu, Dried fruits, Dark green leafy vegetables, such as spinach and chard, Iron-fortified foods, such as bread and cereals. Not eating enough of the above foods can put you at a higher risk of developing-
You kind of zoned out from there, already hearing this advice before. All you really cared about was getting some food in your stomach and eating it with Spencer Reid. You really did love that man.

[M] (Un)safe Girl [Part 1] // BTS’ Suga

One night (?) stand smut.
Word Count: 4.2k.

Part 1 //

You were the kind of girl who played life by its rules.

You were the kind of girl who waited for the signal to turn green before crossing the street.

You were the kind of girl who checked library due dates and returned books well before their deadlines.

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The War
The War

[Day 2/ Day3 for Pynchweek17: Superhero AU/ “What are you doing here?”]

Flowers and Ravens: Part One

Superheroes aren’t men and women in capes, saving lives and waving to adoring fans. They aren’t smiling faces and flashy costumes catching in just the right light. They most certainly aren’t the heroic characters portrayed on TV. They’re weapons, trained to fight and kill until their very last breath. They’re cannon fodder; expendable and replaceable.

Which is why no one stops when Adam takes a bullet to the head. 

The group of superheroes that have been tasked with storming the barricaded factory march past him, their mission to find the hostage overriding any sense to stop for their fallen comrade. They’re trained that way, the moment they’re ripped from their families and thrown into camps, so Adam doesn’t fault them. He wouldn’t stop to save himself either.

His head is pounding and there’s an insistent ringing in his left ear, but not much of anything else. There are vines crawling over him like the hands of a worried mother, trying to mend whatever’s broken as quickly as possible. Cabeswater knows its existence depends on Adam living and if he can’t return to the camp with the other soldiers once they’ve finished the job, it’s as good as dead. If Adam’s found by anyone but his squad, there will be no mercy for a monster like him.

The smell of blooming flowers permeates the humid air, a sign of Cabeswater healing, and the ringing in his left ear has dulled to something muted, like being underwater. Adam drags in a heavy breath once he feels stable enough to move and sits up slowly, his neck and skull aching. He wants to laugh, really. Ten years of doing this and no matter how many times he gives up and wants it all to end, Cabeswater won’t let him die. Maybe there is some truth to his father’s drunken bellowing about him deserving everything he gets.

Thunder rumbles overhead, a promise of heavy rain that will make it almost impossible for Adam to find the rest of his squad if he doesn’t start moving now. But when he tries to stand up, his head swims and nausea swells in the pit of his stomach. He reaches toward the side of his head, gloved fingertips touching the small bits of his ear that the bullet left behind. There are leaves and flowers surrounding it, saving what they can and stitching bloodied skin back together. Adam should feel horrified that his ear is practically gone, but he’s only exhausted.

His eyes catch on movement in the trees ahead and he immediately draws his gun, aiming at the potential threat even though his hand is trembling and he can’t see straight. He’s too weak to use Cabeswater’s visions and what little strength he has left is being used to heal. His body’s natural instinct is to fight on, but Adam wonders if this will be the moment he’ll finally die. It’s a bittersweet wish. 

But there’s no enemy in the trees, only a large raven that is so black it shimmers purple. Her name is Chainsaw, Adam recalls, and she belongs to one of the newest additions to his squad. He’s heard of Greywaren, the superhero that can pull things from his dreams. Chainsaw is his harbinger, a foreshadowing of his arrival, and an omen of death.

“That magical flower shit is pretty awesome.”

Adam stiffens at the sudden presence behind him. He turns his neck as best as he can with his injury and looks up –past blood-splattered combat boots, pitch black uniform, bandaged arms– into blue eyes. The man looks dangerous, like death incarnate, and Adam knows he would be terrified if the matching scarlet pins on their collars didn’t signify the same squad. This must be Greywaren. 

The vines that have been worrying over Adam’s body swarm into the air like vipers, ready to strike.

Greywaren whistles like he’s impressed and puts his hands up to placate the plants. 

“What are you doing here?” Adam asks, attempting to stand again with the help of Cabeswater’s vines supporting his back. They back off of Greywaren once they realize he poses no real threat. “You should be with the rest of the squad.” You’re not supposed to go back for anyone is left unsaid, but he doesn’t want to question the other’s knowledge of protocol.

“They’re doing just fine on their own,” Greywaren looks Adam up and down, then holds out a hand. “Most heroes don’t survive after a fucking bullet to the head. I can see why your code-name is Magician; that’s quite the magic trick.”

Adam eyes the offered hand while blinking back a wave of vertigo. He and Cabeswater are too weak to go any further than a few feet without collapsing and even though Greywaren looks like danger personified, he’s providing Adam with something he hasn’t had since his parents turned him into the government: help. He should know better than to accept. He can feel something tugging at the back of his head, telling him it’s a bad idea. Tell him to go away. Tell him to leave.

But Adam takes the hand anyway and lets himself be half-carried to safety. He already regrets it. 

He may have chosen to live another day by accepting Greywaren’s help, but there’s a surety that suddenly fills Adam’s chest; that when death finally comes to claim him, it will be much more painful than if he’d just let himself stay in that clearing and be found by the enemy. 

“By the way, the name’s Ronan.”

Adam doesn’t lift his head from where it’s leaning on the man’s shoulder.

“Adam,” he returns, whatever adrenaline that’s been coursing through his veins fading and leaving him in a fuzzy state of semi-consciousness. He barely hears the flap of Chainsaw’s wings overhead before there’s a clap of thunder and the first cold droplet of rain splashes against his cheek.

Ronan. For Adam, the name sounds like a warning.

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader: Sulking Part 2

Originally posted by lucifer-ellis

Imagine: Lucifer in a bad mood because Maze set you up on a date.


You woke up to the smell of food, which was both equally alluring to your empty stomach but also seemed too much of a hassle to the pounding headache going on in your head.

Reflexively, you peeked open your eyes but instantly regretted it as the sunlight clouded your senses and urged you awake. You stretched in the sheets tangled around your body and let out a tired groan before turning on your side to try to go back to sleep. 

You clutched your pillow close, oddly comforted by its familiar scent. It was a mixture of freshly washed linen and… men’s cologne?

Lucifer’s cologne.

You snapped your eyes open with a start.

You were in Lucifer’s bed.

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un coup de main, si'l te plait.

A/n: because I wonder if that would be part of Ladybug’s job description and because this is a very personal topic.

TW: mentions of suicide and depression.

Beyond all the magic that’s come into her life after becoming Ladybug…beyond all the Akuma and the dangers and joys…this is perhaps the oddest and most important of her self-inflicted responsibilities.

The Eiffel Tower is beautiful and scintillating, a spot of hope and pride that shimmers gilded and golden in the night.

And it’s so tall. It used to be one of her favorite spots to sit and watch the city. But that was a short lived time of enjoyment, because this responsibility of hers has leached away any joy.

Or rather, she’d feel guilty if she got any joy out of staying here. She doesn’t tell Chat Noir about these patrols.

He always seems tired and somehow, she feels a more personal drive. Something wedged in the sadness and anxiety she’d long since learned how to hide well.

She’s so high up…and so is the lovely girl with red hair done up in two braids. The girl doesn’t seem to see her and it’s after hours. She shouldn’t be here.

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Voltron Fanfic (1/2)

Summary: While out on a mission, Lance steps on something owie. The team removes said owie, with quite a bit of difficulty, a lot of arguing, and no shortage of complaining from the patient. Who would have thought a little cactus could do this much damage?

Warnings: None, really, unless you’re, like, RIDICULOUSLY squeamish about needles. A little language because of who I am as a person.

The paladins were tired. All five of them, bone-weary and exhausted. They’d been walking through the mud on this desolate, windy, cold planet for hours, and so far had seen no sign of their target.

“I can’t believe Princess Allura has us walking through this wasteland just to find a stupid rock,” Lance complained. While he was likely voicing what everyone else was thinking and he knew it, the whine was still met with a synchronized group eye-roll.

“It’s not a rock,” Keith argued, not for the first time since their search began. “It’s a powerful, ancient… something.”

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agmsye  asked:

So I think you know a fair bit about my likes now. What would your new institute do to me :P

You are guided into a backroom filled with mirrors by a hot Japanese model. He smiles and closes the mirror clad door. A speaker sounds off in the room.

“Hello… Testing… Testing…” The voice clears its throat.

“Oh good its working. Welcome to one of our VIP specialty rooms. It seems you are a personal friend of Mr. Amalia and has had a personal transformation package prepared for you. If you would, please strip and put on any clothes Tatsua brings you.”

The door swings open again as the Japanese bodybuilder walks in with a pair of black jeans. He gives you a sly wink as he collects your clothes. He notices you blush and smiles even wider. Before he leaves, his brings his bicep into a full flex, catching your eye.

“Please excuse Tatsua, he is a new acquisition. Anyway to begin, we will do the small things first. Let’s start with you hair.”

Looking into the mirror you could see it turn into a light, chocolaty brown. It grew out fuller and thicker. You run a hand through it, loving how it feels.

“Now let’s go for voice.”

After a few moments, you don’t feel any different, “Well did y–,” Your clasp your hands around your neck, feeling the adam’s apple press against your palm. Your voice sounds like the perfect mixture of the instagram fitness models you jerk off to. A good bro voice.

“Moving on… Oh lets get your height in.”

A sense of vertigo overtakes you as you sprout inches into the air. You’d have to guess you are at least 6′3″ now.

“Can’t forget the feet.”

You look down as you watch your feet take up more than two tiles on the floor. Your toes growing meatier and inching along the floor. If it weren’t for your new height, they would look like they were clown feet.

“Oooo now for one of my favorite parts. The cock.”

A sudden feeling of euphoria followed by ecstasy over takes you. It’s a miracle it didn’t bring you to your never. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you can your cock lengthen, then thicken, lengthen, then thicken. The process keeps repeating until it is at least a foot long by your estimate. Your balls not being outdone simply inflated like waterballoons.

“Now let’s add some muscle.”

You didn’t think your cock could get any harder but it did. Watching your body inflate with brawn was always a massive turn on of your fantasies. Shapely pecs adorned your chest. Broad shoulders with cannonball delts followed. Your arms are sculpted into sinew that would make a Greek statue jealous. Your abs look painfully carved into your abdomen. Your thighs and calves push tight against the black denim, matching the bulge your cock is making.

“Now just a few minor details.”

A sunkissed glow covers your skin. All you need to do is sweat to look contest ready. You thought that was it until a funny feeling crept over your face. You watch in astonishment as your jaw widens, teeth whiten, and your eyes darken. Your cheekbones push higher, giving you a masculine beauty most male models would covet. 

“And now for your personality. Don’t worry. You will still be there to experience everything, but you need an attitude adjustment to go with your new reality.”

The initial panic that set in immediately faded away. Memories of being a writer on tumblr were replaced with memories of selfies in the gym, building your instagram following as well as your body. Soon enough a more cocky jock attitude and life replaced your own. You are now a physique model sponsored by the Amalia Agency. And you love it.