He-Met-Her

8

my endless list of plot bunnies: Stephanie Triggs

“Why are you crying, my love?” Sigyn reached out her hand, gently grazing the back of her husband’s knuckles with her own. Loki looked up from his hands to meet her weak eyes. If there was anyone in the entire universe that could always manage to make him smile, it was Sigyn. But smiling became hard when he knew what fate had in store for his precious wife. 

“Because it’s the end, isn’t it?” Loki asked gently, taking her hand into his. He met her soft brown eyes and pursed his lips together. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss onto the back of her hand. Sigyn smiled at him, meeting his eyes. “This isn’t the end.” She whispered. “I promise you.” Sigyn told him, squeezing his hand with what strength she had left. His eyes softened as he got up from his chair. Loki leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “You better not break that promise, Sigyn.”

Stephanie Triggs never grew up wanting to be an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. In fact, she knew that if she could go back and change things… she would. She doesn’t mind her job completely though, being a good agent and liking her superior officer, Agent Maria Hill. However chaos ensues with the capture of the villainous Loki, a trickster god who seems to have her confused with someone else. No one is certain what to do, especially when Loki’s accusations are confirmed by his adoptive brother, Thor, who seems just as baffled at the sight of Stephanie. The agent isn’t completely sure what these two gods want with her, but all she knows is that she has a job to do and under no circumstances is she going to let the world end on her watch. 

anonymous asked:

you know the theory about aria having an abortion in HS? I personally love it. Explains mona's anagram (in a pretty horrendous way tho), why Ezra would choose Nicole, and the secret putting him in prison. I just thought what if that explains Eddie Lamb recognising Aria?? He is a nurse so he could have met her when having an abortion?

I really like it too. I mean, I wish it could be something that didn’t involve Ezria, but it shows them in a negative light so I guess it ain’t all bad. But yeah, it does a great job of tying all the elements together. The Eddie things makes sense too! I haven’t seen this mentioned elsewhere so great pick up. We don’t know Eddie’s career history so he may very well have worked in this area.

i am totally on board with tary going ‘who on earth is this ethereal creature that just bamfed here, heralded by thunder and lightning, and resurrected one of our party members just like that??’ and coming to the conclusion that obviously pike is a daughter of a fucking goddess

The Reader and the Writer

Originally posted by mieczyslwstilinski

Anon requests: Hey! Omg your Jughead series Beanies and Negotiations are fantastic and very well written, I’m new here and I’m already a fan. I was wondering if you took any requests? If you do I was wondering if you could write a jughead imagine, where reader is new to town, she’s very shy at first but is smart and witty just like Jughead. She actually hides a really dark past which is why she’s so shy, Jughead is beyond curious, trying to figure her out and help her while falling for her. smut or fluff! ^_^

Jughead imagine with reader being new to town and shy!! PS love your writing

heeeyy ^_^ could you write a jugheadxreader imagine where she’s new to riverdale and she has a huge crush on him and his smart witty comments but she’s really shy and he tries to figure her out (maybe she has a secret!) fluff or smut at the end if you write that please ^_^ your writing is amazing btw, don’t ever stop!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: New girls can’t hide in a small town like Riverdale

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,188

A/N: this one ends with a cliffhanger, so brace yourselves. Enjoy!


Jughead sat in his usual booth at Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe, writing his story about Jason Blossom. His focus was interrupted when he heard the jingle of the bell, signaling that a new customer had arrived.  He looked up and saw an unfamiliar face, which struck his curiosity.  Familiar faces were an extremely rare occurrence in a town as small as Riverdale.  The stranger walked up to the counter, and requested an order under the last name of (Y/L/N).  Jughead narrowed his eyes as he tried to recall if that name was familiar, but his mind reached a dead end.  While she waited, the new girl scanned the diner.  Her eyes landed on a mysterious figured sitting in a booth near the back with nothing but a laptop and a coffee cup on his table.  They made eye contact, and for a second (Y/N) considered going over to the stranger’s booth and trying to get to know them, but then the waiter brought her food and she exited the diner.


He saw her again three days later, sitting in his usual booth.  There was an untouched chocolate milkshake in front of her, all of her attention focused on her book.

Wuthering Heights?” he inquired, stepping closer towards the booth. Setting her book down, the girl looked up at Jughead.  She nodded. “You’re in my booth, you know.” The girl’s eyes widened and she grabbed her book, getting ready to leave.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she stood up.

“I didn’t say you have to leave,” Jughead explained, gesturing for her to sit back down.  “I’m just warning you that I’m gonna join you.” A small smile grew on the girl’s face as she returned to her seat.  “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N),” the girl answered.

“Well my name’s Jughead,” he introduced himself.  “Are you new to Riverdale?  I haven’t seen you around.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded. “My family just moved here last week.”

“Welcome to Riverdale, (Y/N),” Jughead smiled, “a small town with some of the worst people, and some of the best burgers.”


(Y/N) began to find herself frequenting Pop’s quite often.  At first, she couldn’t place her finger on the reason.  The only thing she ever did there was read, eat, and occasionally talk to Jughead.  Then, she realized it was the latter that kept drawing her back.  She and Jughead didn’t even speak to each other too much; in fact, there were days where they would both sit at their booth, Jughead on his laptop and (Y/N)’s nose in a book, and neither would say a word the whole night.

“So what are you writing?” (Y/N) asked.  It had been a month since she had met Jughead.

“A novel about Jason Blossom’s death,” he responded nonchalantly, eyes remaining on the laptop screen.  He didn’t see (Y/N) tense up at the name.


Pretty soon, (Y/N) was introduced to Jughead’s other friends.  It started with Betty and Veronica when they walked in one day and spotted Jughead with (Y/N).

“Jughead!” Veronica called out as she strode over to the booth, Betty right next to her.  “Who is this?”  She turned to face (Y/N), a smirk etched on her face.  (Y/N) blushed and avoided eye contact, resorting to sticking her nose in her book.

“She’s a friend of mine,” Jughead introduced her, “(Y/N).  (Y/N), this is Veronica,” he gestured to the brunette, “and that’s Betty.”  He pointed at the blonde.  (Y/N) peeked up from her book and waved hello, then turned back to the novel.

“Quiet, huh?” Veronica inquired, sliding into the booth next to her.  “No biggie.  I do enough talking for two people.”

“Sorry, what was your last name?” Betty asked, sitting down next to Jughead.

“(Y/L/N),” she answered. Betty’s eyebrows furrowed, recognizing the name, but she remained silent.


Archie was the next to meet (Y/N): he met her a week later, when Jughead wasn’t around.  He entered Pop’s, and saw someone occupying Jughead’s usual booth.

“You know,” he said, approaching the booth, “that booth is my friend’s.”

“Does it have his name on it?” she retorted, raising an eyebrow.  She contained her chuckles, knowing exactly who Archie was talking about.

“May as well,” Archie replied with a laugh.  “See my friend, his name is Jughead, isn’t much of a people person.  He chooses this booth because it’s far away enough from the entrance so that no one will approach him unless they’re specifically looking for him.”

“Sounds like a drama queen,” she commented.  

“He is,” Archie chuckled. “Anyways, he’s here almost every night, so he’ll be here any minute.  I’m just giving you a heads up.”  As soon as Archie finished his sentence, the diner door opened and in walked Jughead. He made a beeline to his booth and sat across from (Y/N), opening his laptop and beginning to type right away.

“You two know each other?” Jughead asked, refusing to tear his eyes from his computer.  (Y/N) smirked.

“Just met, actually. He was warning me about some drama queen who sits here every night.  You wouldn’t happen to know who he’s talking about, would you?” (Y/N) replied sassily. Jughead lifted his gaze to meet her eyes.

“Ha ha, (Y/N), very funny,” he voice dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes twinkled.  Archie confusedly looked between his friend and the stranger.

“So you know who he is?” he asked her.  She smirked and nodded.

“Oh yeah.  I’ve been sitting in his booth for over a month now. I’m still waiting for him to kick me out.”  When she noticed Archie was still looking at her with a puzzled expression, she stuck out a hand and introduced herself, “I’m (Y/N).”

“Archie,” he responded, shaking her hand.  “Damn, a whole month in the same booth with him?  I don’t know how you’ve survived.”  (Y/N) laughed.

“Honestly I don’t either.”

“So are you new?” Archie questioned.  She nodded.

“Yeah, everyone asks me that.  Is that like some small town thing, everyone knowing everyone?” she asked, and both boys nodded.  “So that’s how everyone figures I’m new.”

“When’d you move here?” Archie inquired.

“July 1st.” Jughead perked up when he heard her say that.  He had never thought to ask (Y/N) when she moved to Riverdale.  She was here when Jason Blossom was murdered.


It was another month later when Jughead asked (Y/N) to help him with his book.

“You’re reading all the time,” he explained himself.  “You’ve gotta know a thing or two about writing.”

“I really don’t,” (Y/N) shut him down, shoving her nose in Macbeth.

“Oh come on, (Y/N),” Jughead groaned.  “What’s with you and my novel?  Every time I even try to talk about it, you change the subject.  What’s up with that?”

“Nothing, Jughead, it’s nothing,” she replied, her voice growing sharp.  “I just don’t want to help with your book.”  She grabbed her book and stomped out of the diner, leaving a confused Jughead behind.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he muttered to himself, minimizing his document where he wrote his story.  He opened up Google and typed in her name.  The results began to pop up, and Jughead scrolled through them, reading article after article. He sighed, “Oh God, (Y/N).”

Part 2 here   Part 3 here   Part 4 here

I wanted to be his moon. His light in the darkness. His company in the lonely hour. And for a while I was. But then he met the sun and her radiant halo illuminated his life with colour. Bright and shining. Her warmth sought after more than my company. It was no surprise he chose her, for how can the night sky compare to a sunset?
Twenty-One Questions - Peter Parker

Words: 6,320 (sorry its super long, I got carried away)

Warnings: Unedited, very mild makeout session (;

Paring: Tony Stark’s Daughter x Peter Parker


The Avengers compound was quieter than normal Saturday night. The television flickered in the corner as the men switched flipped back and forth between NFL games. Natasha and Wanda chatted amongst themselves ignoring the sporting event like it was their job. Shouting resulted to a bare minimum much to the surprise of the young teenager propped on the kitchen bar stool. Peter Parker had been apart of the Avengers for a little over three months and never in his time apart of the team had he witnessed them so lifeless. The Avengers slumped around like deflated balloons lacking interest in all activities.

A soft sigh fell from Peter’s soft lips while he pushed himself off the metal seat. His warm brown eyes fell to the watch fasten around his wrist. 10:06, Aunt May would expect him home by midnight but with the lack of activity, calling it a night didn’t seem like such a horrible option. Peter was use to hating the time that rolled around when he was forced to take the long haul back to his apartment. The train rides were sketchy, the walk in the cold was gruesome, and the local New York civilians had a tendency to be the most bitter people in the world. But out of all the things Peter hated about having to leaving the tower, Y/n was by far the most.

Keep reading

10

The Doctor Donna

I don’t think I’ll ever be over the blood donation scene in Fury Road. The way Furiosa’s dying, and she uses her last moments of consciousness to tell Max “get them home.” That she, ferocious warrior, imperator, stolen child, is, in her last moments of life, so loved, and so full of love and the selfless need to protect these women and get them home. The way Max’s hands are huge, rough and dirty - hands that have snapped necks and fired guns - but they are so gentle when he cradles her. The way he mutters “I’m so sorry, sorry” every time he has to hurt her to make it better. That he’s barely spoken all film but now he’s feverishly muttering to her, “there you go, okay” and stringing together as many syllables as he can muster because the silence is just unbearable. That his body has been abused and exploited and drained of blood without his consent so many times, but now at last he’s free, he has a choice and he chooses to give her his blood. The way his name - his identity - was the last thing he could call his own, but as he holds her in his arms and waits for his blood to run into her and fill her with life again, as he finally fixes what’s broken, he goes, here, you can have it, Max. My name is Max. That’s my name. And it’s yours. 

Because before he met her, he was a man reduced to a single instinct: survive. He was a muzzled animal, a raging feral, and treated as such. But then he got caught up in their escape and she gave him the tools to free himself. She asks him “what’s your name? What do I call you?” She treated him like a human being and in protecting and loving Furiosa and these abused women without asking for anything in return, he recovers his humanity, so of course, here, it’s yours, my name is Max, it’s the last thing I have and it belongs to you. 

It’s an extraordinarily beautiful scene visually too, and I honestly think it might be the most profound declaration of love that’s ever occurred in an action film. 

Give me a break.

Hii! I know it’s been forever since I wrote something and I’m very sorry. There’s been so much on my mind lately and so many things that made me feel overwhelmed and I just needed to sort it out. This is kind of very loosely based on ‘Love me or leave me’ by Little Mix because someone requested it. I hope you like it. I plan on writing a second part.xxx

“Well, maybe I don’t fucking care anymore!”
It seemed like his booming voice made the whole house vibrate. It seemed like it cut right through Y/N. His words felt like he took a knife and rammed it into her heart and to top it all off he twisted it slowly so the pain had time to spread.
These last weeks felt like nothing but pain for her. He was never home and even when he was he somehow wasn’t. She let him in and he pushed her away. He pushed her so far away she couldn’t feel him anymore.
“Why are you still here then!?”
She had had enough. If he didn’t care anymore he could walk out the door and never come back.
Harry scoffed, turned around and walked up the stairs. When he slammed the bedroom door shut Y/N could feel the last bit of connection between them slipping away completely.
It’s never been this harsh. They slammed doors and yelled hurtful things before but it’s never been like this. Somehow this felt final.
She didn’t know how it happened, how everything between them began to crumble. But it did.
She didn’t feel his loving touch in at least three months. She didn’t hear his loving words in at least three months.
They fought almost every day and when they didn’t fight they didn’t talk to each other at all. Mornings were spent alone and cold, both waking up at their own times without a good morning kiss or a cuddle or anything at all. Nights were even worse. They went to sleep in the same bed but facing away from each other. They never solved their problems before bed. They broke their rule every single night and went to bed angry.
And even though right now Y/N might think it would be better if their paths would part she also knew she wouldn’t recover from it. Harry was the love of her life. She knew she could never be happy without him.
And so she broke down. Ugly sobs and fat tears. The whole weight of the last few months finally got too much and she couldn’t take it anymore. She was sure she’s never cried this much in her entire life. She was sure she never felt so hurt but numb at the same time before.
She didn’t know what the hell went wrong. What she did to push him away. What she did that made him stop loving her.
He doesn’t love you anymore.
Those were the words that constantly replayed in her head, after every fight.
He hates me.
She couldn’t find another explanation. That was the only reason she could think of as to why he wasn’t interested in fixing things between them.

When she met him she was sure he was the most wonderful person she’s ever met. He looked at her as if she was the most important thing on earth. He cooked the most delicious dinner for her. He held doors for her. He made her laugh and feel appreciated.
When she really got to know him she was knocked off her feet. He was the most gentle and loving man she could have ever imagined. He was there for her. He was the place she ran to when the world overwhelmed her. He was her happy place. Her home.
When things got a bit rough they stuck together. They were a team. They faced everything together and fought through it.
Y/N was the happiest girl ever. She thought she found her forever. Her happily ever after.
Until the perfect relationship began to change into great, then good, then normal and then…
Into whatever they had now.
She couldn’t take it anymore. And the worst thing was that there was no way out of this hell. They can’t go back to where they’ve once been. And parting ways? No fucking way could she survive without him.

It was three hours and twenty tissues later when Harry finally exited the bedroom and came down the stairs. Y/N was standing in front of the big living room window which had a view over what seemed like half of London. Her back was turned to Harry, her hair messy and her frame slightly shaking.
She knew that whatever would come now would change everything. She knew that they reached a point were something had to happen. Anything.
Harry took a deep breath and took the last few step towards her. Y/N closed her eyes when she felt his warmth. She hadn’t felt it in so long.
When he reached his hand out thread his fingers through hers she flinched. Harry could feel his heart breaking at her reaction to his touch. He closed the gap between them and pressed his chest flush against her back. That’s when Y/N started to cry again. Her whole body shook with the force of her tears and the whimpers and sobs seemed to get louder with every passing second.
“Shhh.” Harry tried to calm her and finally wrapped his arms around her from behind.
He nuzzled his face into her neck where she always smelled so good and that’s when he realized how long he hasn’t done that.
Y/N moved her arms so she could intertwine both her hands with his. She didn’t remember the last time she held his hand. She used to love his hands so much, always playing with his fingers and kissing his knuckles.
Harry kept pressing tiny kisses to her shoulder and squeezed her tighter to him every time a whimper left her lips.
They stood like that for at least ten minutes before Y/N turned around in his arms and hugged him again. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his hands stroking softly over her back while her hands were fisting his shirt. She couldn’t get close enough. She needed him closer. Her hands wandered down underneath his shirt to touch his skin. Harry shuddered when her cold hands touched his skin but he knew she needed this. She hasn’t felt his skin in forever. It almost felt foreign.

When they finally pulled away from each other both of them were scared to let go. This couldn’t be it. They needed each other.
“We have to talk, Harry.” she whispered and pressed her forehead against his.
“I know, my love.”
My love. Was she still his love?
She thought he hated her.
They sat down at the kitchen table across from each other. Both of them couldn’t be fast enough to reach out for each other again and when their hands bumped against each other they both laughed softly. For the first time in months.
None of them wanted to be the first to say anything. Until Harry finally couldn’t take the silence anymore.
“I didn’t mean anything that I said earlier. Or… in the last few weeks. God, what is happening with us?”
“I don’t know, Harry. But it can’t keep going like this. I can’t take it anymore.”
“Me neither, love. I know I didn’t show how much it was affecting me but I want you to know that I feel just as broken as you do.”
Broken. Is that what they’ve become?
“I… I thought you hated me. During all these times you pulled away or turned your back towards me, I thought you hated me.”
Harry’s free hand reached out to hers so he could clasp her hand in both of his.
“I never ever hated you. Not for a second. And I never will.”
Y/N felt like a huge weight was lifted from her shoulders and she felt like she could breath again.
“I love you so much, darling.” Harry whimpered.
Her head snapped up so she could look at him and when she saw tears running down his cheek she reached over the table to wipe them away.
“I love you too, Harry. So much.”
Harry removed her hand from his face and pressed gentle kiss to ever knuckle.
“What are we going to do, love? I want to fix this. I want to go back to being the happiest couple ever. I want to go back to being happy with each other.”
“Me too, Harry. God, I’d do everything to get back to what we once had.”
They stared into each other’s eyes until Y/N cleared her throat and diverted her eyes to the table.
“I-I think we need a break.”
Harry’s whole world stopped in that moment. His mouth fell open and his brows furrowed. He pulled his hands from hers and a breathless ‘no’ left his lips.
“No.” He repeated after a moment.
“No way.”
“Harry, listen. I-”
“No!” he shouted.
Y/N flinched and her ears began to ring like every time he raised his voice at her. Her eyes closed and tears began to dribble down her cheeks.
“Do you think I’m stupid? I know exactly what’s going to happen when we do that. You’re going to realize just how unhappy I make you and that you are so sick and tired of me and you’ll never come back. Or you’ll find someone else who makes you laugh more than I ever did. God, I’m going to be gone for two weeks for promo. Is that not enough distance and space for you?!“
“Harry, I need time okay? I need time to take care of myself. I need time for sorting things out. I need time so that this all can work again and if you’re honest, you need it too.”
He laughed humorlessly and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You will have that time when I’m gone.”
“I-I don’t think two weeks are going to be enough.”
His eyes caught hers and she swore she’s never seen him look at her like that. So sad but angry at the same time.
“L-Longer?”
“Two weeks are nothing, Harry.”
“There’s been times when you couldn’t go a single day without me. There’s been times where two weeks without each other seemed like the end of the world.”
She closed her eyes and tried to control the tears which constantly blurred her sight.
“I don’t think we can sort anything out in two weeks.”
“I don’t think we can sort anything out when we’re away from each other.”
“Harry, please.”
He closed his eyes briefly and sighed.
“How long?”
“T-Two months?”
“No fucking way!”
This time it was Y/N’s turn to sigh.
“Harry, I-”
“One month. And not a single day longer.”
She caught his eyes for a moment before she nodded.
“Alright.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, both didn’t know what to say.
“I-I thought I’d stay in a hotel for the two weeks before you’re gone and then I’ll come back.”
“No.”
“Harry,-”
“No. Please, I-… I want to know you’re safe. You’ll stay here and I’ll stay with Gemma.”
“If that’s okay with you.”
“No, it’s actually not.”
She looked at him with the saddest eyes he ever saw and he shook his head and and sighed.
“I’m gonna go pack some stuff and then you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”
“Harry, I did not suggest a break because I want to get away from you as quickly as possible. I want to fix this. And I feel like some distance is the only way to sort things out. Or at least make the first step.”
He didn’t say anything but just left the kitchen and went upstairs to pack a few things. For some reason Y/N couldn’t help but feel guilty. Of course she knew he wouldn’t be happy with taking a break, she wasn’t either. But she hoped he could at least understand where she came from.

When he came down the stairs half an hour later with two big duffle bags Y/N almost felt like crying again. She watched him, how he placed them beside the front door, wiped his tears away, took a deep breath and turned around to make his way to the kitchen so he could say goodbye but she was already standing in the foyer. They stared at each other for a few moments before Harry cleared his throat and removed a greasy strand of hair from his face.
“I’ll go now, I guess.”
“Yeah.” Y/N nodded and sniffled.
He looked at her for another few seconds before he let out a frustrated sigh.
“Can I at least get a hug?”
He saw the surprise on her face but she nodded anyway and took the last few steps towards him. She slung her arms tightly around his neck and pressed her body tightly to his and Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her to his chest. He pressed kisses to her shoulder and neck and stroked over her back in gentle patterns.
When they pulled away a bit Y/N reached up to cup his cheeks and stroke over his skin.
“I love you. Nothing changed about that and nothing is going to change. I don’t want you to worry about me breaking up with you. I couldn’t imagine life without you.”
Harry pressed his forehead to hers and pulled her body even closer.
“Will you say goodbye when I’ll leave for New York? Don’t think I could leave without seeing you before.”
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
Harry sighed but nodded.
“C-Can I kiss you?” he asked her in a whisper.
She leaned in and connected her lips to his as an answer, his bottom lip slipping between hers. She kissed him four times before she pulled away a bit to look up at him again.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
She nodded and smiled softly at him.
“I love you, too.”
Harry gazed into her eyes for another few seconds before he pressed a few gentle kisses against her lips again. He pulled away from her then and took his duffle bags.
“I’ll let you know when I’ll leave for New York. You can call me or come over anytime you need, okay?”
“Okay. You can come over or call as well. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”
He nodded and opened the door.
“Take care, yeah?”
“You too, love.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And just like that he left.

things Ryuji did that nobody ever fucking thanked him for

-telling MC to run away when getting beaten by Shadows and Kamoshida in the castle even though he just met him
-being bait for the Shadows inside Madarame’s palace even though his leg injury makes him prone to tripping
-jumping in front of a car to get a ride when Makoto gets kidnapped even though he just met her
-everything in that scene at the end of the cruise ship palace that shall not be fucking talked about I’m so upset

Something They Don’t Know

Prompt: In which Daveed Diggs is asked how he comes up with his lyrics during an interview. Told in his POV.

Warning: Smut.

A/N: Day 5 of the write-a-thon. Of course I would post this early when all I’ve been complaining about is not having enough time to write. Oh well. Also, I’m sure Nadeska Alexis is a cool girl, I just needed her to behave this certain way to get the story going. Enjoy!


Daveed slips his phone into his pocket and stood to give Nadeska Alexis a handshake once she enters the dressing room, Lin’s advice on how to handle the tricky reporter reverberating in his mind. Having done the Complex interview with Chance previously, he warned him about her ruthlessness and her inclination to pry for scandalous information she could share with her readers. Lin told Daveed to be polite, courteous, and above all, smile through the “little white lies” he would have to tell.

“Mr. Diggs, it’s unfortunate that the rest of the crew couldn’t make it,” she says, turning on her recorder and sliding it on the table that separated them, “but I’m glad you were able to come in despite the late notice.”

Daveed lets out a nervous chuckle when she ignores his gesture, his hand still awkwardly hovering between the two of them, and opts to bring out her notebook and pen from her purse instead. He was never the best with interviews, especially when he was by himself, dressed in clothes he couldn’t afford and sitting in a room that was too sophisticated for his tastes. He wished William and Jonathan were here – they understood his ineptness when it came to talking to new people and would definitely take over the interview. But since they couldn’t, he had to man up and promote the new album releasing in a week.

Nadeska sits, and Daveed follows suit, watching as she flips to a page full of questions that she’s prepared. Luckily, the first few questions were predictable –  how he adjusted to life after Hamilton, his role in Blackish, the release of the album, and the upcoming tour -  all he could answer easily and truthfully. But when she suddenly leans forward, a gleam in her eyes that screamed trouble, Daveed knew it was time to make use of Lin’s advice: smile through the little white lies. 

“So, clipping doesn’t exactly have the most innocent songs,” Nadeska hums, choosing her words carefully, “and some of them require a repeat listen. Your lyrics are curt but very complex, Mr. Diggs.  Mind if I throw a few lines at you to elaborate on? And if you could perhaps share what, or who,inspired you to write them?”

Keep reading

now we dream apart

soulmate au

pairing: jungkook | reader
genre: angst 
word count: 3.291
warnings: none
author’s note: I know I know, another soulmate au, I’m trash. :’) this is just a small story I started working on this afternoon, to get me back on track so I can start working on my bigger projects again. nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!


You don’t know when the dreams begin — but once they do, it feels like they’ve been there since you were born.

The first dream of him revolves around coffee beans. The heavy scent of the morning beverage tangles with the rich shade of chestnut hair and chocolate eyes, turning almost hazel under the glowing sunlight. You can remember a gaze, a nose and full lips turned upwards, but your mind is unable to piece it all together. The face as a whole is blurry in your mind, indistinct, frustratingly vague.

But the memory of those lips moving and pronouncing your name is remarkably sharp, and it almost fools you into believing it is not a dream, but a real memory — that the warmth accompanying his stare existed at some point in your life, that your body did feel the bedsheets tangling around your bare legs as you struggled to move closer to him. That the sound of his voice, rough and mellow, belongs to a living, breathing person and not a figment of your vivid imagination.

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Okay but hear me out…

Jaal joining the crew of the Tempest and realizing that he thinks he likes Ryder more than a friend; that he’s starting to fall for her. He talks to her more, he starts making her a new gift that he’s put infinitely more thought into than the last one, and he starts corresponding with his True Mother more often.

She asks about this Sara Pathfinder, where she came from, what her family is like… and that’s when he realizes he doesn’t know what her family is like, does he? He’s never met her father or her mother, or knows if she has any brothers or sisters or cousins… Ryder doesn’t talk about them, and he never thought to ask.

After a mission, it left Jaal feeling particularly alone, missing his family… Ryder came to him to talk, the topic was brought up in conversation. She told him her mother and father are dead and her brother is in a medically induced coma, that she’s basically an orphan. It makes his heart hurt, he was surrounded by people, by family, always no matter what… to be so completely alone and frightened and overwhelmed in a new galaxy 600 years away from your home… he can’t imagine it. He immediately emails his True Mother.

He tells her Ryder opened up to him, told him about her family, and how it made him feel sad. He deeply cared for Ryder, he wanted to help her… He had to help his darling one. “So bring her here! Introduce us, we will be her family.” Sahuna tells him. The idea entices Jaal, especially considering the recent events with Aksuul…

He suggests it to her, and they take the shuttle to meet his family. He introduces Ryder to everyone, despite his embarrassment from the praises of his True Mother. Ryder is smiling with stars in her eyes, loving every minute. She missed the family atmosphere so desperately, she loved being surrounded by it again. He was so glad he helped her, made even gladder by the confession that she felt the same way about him that he did about her.

… a first, for him.

Remorse.

or… harry regrets breaking y/n’s heart

category: angst

I miss you.

His mouth is dry as he stares down at his phone, thumb hovering over the arrow that’ll send the text he’s longing to mail. With another deep breath, he studies the message over again, then begins to question himself. Should I write more? She deserves an apology. Maybe the word crave instead of miss. Yearn for? He deletes the text but retypes it in the same moment.

He’s never felt guilt this deeply before, he’s never so desperately wanted to turn back time and change everything– rephrase all of his words differently. Do things differently. The thought of him not being able to go back and change things hits him like a ton of bricks, sending his short nails into the palm of his hand.

A clap on his shoulder wakes him from his thoughts, and he looks up with attentive eyes. “Ready to go?” Jeff laughs, tucking his heel into the back of his shoe. “Reservations don’t hold themselves.”

“No, yeah.” he rushes, tucking the locked phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Let’s go.”

“It’s my fucking job, y’know that, we’ve been through this a million times before. Get over it, angel.”

She scoffs in disbelief, untying the silk scarf from around her neck. “Get over it? Get over it. Over my boyfriend of nearly a year not telling anyone about our relationship—?“

“The media would go insane I- fuck I told y’this—”

“I’m not asking you to tell the world, Harry! Maybe your mom, your sister? My family? I’ve been lying to them for way too long, keeping an enormous part of my life away from them how’s that supposed to make me feel? Do you know how distressing it is to be introduced as a friend to you? To not tell anyone, not even my best friend how much you mean to me?”

“Y’do know it’s like that for me as well? A relationship is consists of two people—”

“Not that I’d know.”

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I just think it’s beyond beautiful that

Emma spent the first 28 years of her life completely alone. She spent it being cared about by no one, being looked after by no one, being put first by no one. She was always picked last, never prioritized, never the centre of anybody’s thoughts. 

In comes: Captain Killian Jones.

Who, literally from the moment he met her, made Emma Swan his Most Important Thing™. Never did he just like her, or just care for her, or just love her, no, no. He put her right at the very tippy tippy top of his list of Reasons To Carry On™. Like think of what that must’ve felt like to her, man. Like I feel like every single day she looked at him staring at her with his I Love You More Than The Jolly Roger™ gaze and she was just like, “Wow…really? Me? But I’ve never… Oh. Woah. Wow. I don’t even know how to…” and like he’s so growly when it comes to Emma Swan’s Wellbeing™. Like she’s stuck behind a cold wall? He’s Panicking™. Gold’s gunna trap her in a hat? He’s mega Panicking™. Her heart darkened by the efforts of Rumple feat. Queens of Darkness? Panicking™. She’s the Dark One and trapped in another realm? Holy shit is he ever Panicking™. She gets sucked into Wish!Realm? Panicking™ to the max. She’s dealing with hand tremors and battling a hooded figure? The Panicking™ is skyrocketing out of control. And then suddenly she’s his WIFE. And then suddenly his wife is not in his grasp and she is far away and look there she is in a mirror with no memories of him and holy sHIT HE IS Panicking™, Panicking™, Panicking™ CAUSE ALL HE CARES ABOUT IS EMMA SWAN(-JONES) AND IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL AND I’M RAMBLING BUT LIKE GUYS I’M NOT READY TO LET GO OF THIS SHIP PLS PROMISE ME WE CAN TALK ABOUT THEIR BEAUTY UNTIL THE END OF TIME ITSELF? 

Bus Stop

[V/Jihyun Kim X Reader]


Every day he saw her waiting there at the bench. Sometimes she would be standing. Her sun dress flowing in the wind, as if the lace or fabric had been lighter than air, catching even the smallest breeze. Her hair dancing about her face. His eye sight was poor, but he could see her tangled hair dancing. He could smell the perfume of her shampoo carried in the wind as he approached her. Other times she would be huddled together on the bench as she sat. Her knees clenched closely as she held her heavy coat to her frame in the cold wind.

It was the same as when he first met her. The droplets of rain fell hard, each splash on the pavement demanded your hearing. V could hardly believe someone had been caught so off guard by the storm. Her hands went from wiping her ever-dampening hair to her arms, to her soaked cloth clinging to her frame. He remembered thinking how beautiful and natural she looked. How helpless. How, in that moment, he saw someone in need of his help, even if his sight was less than superb. Her bangs and hair clung to her face and she smiled to him. The smile that he had grown to look forward to for weeks to come.

“Please, share my umbrella?” he asked of her as he held it above her shivering frame.

It was the first thing he ever said to her. The first words ever spoken between them as they stood there at the bus stop. Her careful nod and slight smile pierced through him in that instant. Her gratitude. Had he ever been so thankful for his eyesight before?

In his mind he could remember every detail of her. Her face. Her makeup and the way the strands of hair clung messily to her face from the rain like thin vines on a beautiful sculpture. The sound of the droplets on the umbrella and the feel of wetness as the bottoms of his jeans began to soak water and creep up his shins. It didn’t matter, as long as she was dry and comfortable.

“Thank you,” she spoke in soft syllables through the heavy rain.

Her voice had been like a symphony to the backdrop of the rain pattering. Her smile the beams of sunlight in the clouds of rain. It was a gift to see her before him.

When the bus approached and she nodded in gratitude before entering, he felt a heaviness in his chest. Such grace and beauty lost to him now because he hadn’t the courage, nor the strength, to ask her for any more than she had already bestowed upon him. Only a  warm smile and a slight giggle from her as he sheltered her from the rain.

The next day it was drizzling lightly as he approached the bench. His sight limited to the bus. And…as if a sign from above, he saw her looking back to him with that same sweet smile. It would insight the tightness in his chest once more. She recognized him? Even with his blurry vision he could never mistake her for another.

“Hello, V!” she would smile and exclaim every time.

Always the same cheerful greeting. It always elicited his heart to work overtime in his chest. He wanted to know more about her. Wanted her to know more about him.

“Call me Jihyun, remember,” he laughed and smiled.

“Oh! Of course, I’m so sorry,” she would laugh and cover her face in embarrassment.

He loved that about her. And without another thought his umbrella would be covering her and sheltering her from the spring rain.

“You don’t take the same route as I do, yet you’re always here at the same time,” she says casually, “why do you take the bus? Your clothes….ah! I’m sorry, is that rude?”

The way she gets flustered turns his cheeks red. He didn’t think he was dressed so richly? Maybe only compared to Jumin…

“It’s not rude,” he chuckled, “my eye sight…” he let his voice trail off.

“I know,” she replied.

Delicate fingertips pressed against his cheeks and shocked him more than he had anticipated. The feeling of her warm fingertips on his skin made his heart leap and his body feel warmth in the growing cold.

“Is that why you…ride public transport?” she had asked.

“Mostly, yes,” he found himself admitting.

It is true. He can still see alright, enough to get around daily life. But he can not drive. Public transport is his means of traveling. He doesn’t wish to be like his friend Jumin, spending money on personal drivers and cars. Figures from afar appear as blurs, but not her.

Perhaps it was the way she smelled. Or sounded.

He could hear her rustling and know it was her. Her delicate hands moving through her bag to find her chapstick. Or her sunglasses. Or phone. He could tell her apart from anyone else in the world. it would start off as if she had forgotten the thing completely. Frantic and manic were her hands in the pockets and crevices of her bag. Eventually, the all-too-familiar sigh would escape her when she found what she was looking for. Maybe others could not pick it up, but he could. He heard and watched her pop the cap from her chapstick in the summer and rub it against her full lips. She wasn’t aware of how bad his sight had been. But she was more aware than most.

Most good days, when he met her at the bench, they would talk about themselves. If she was carrying bags, she would explain what she purchased for him. Even if it was trivial, he found himself enthralled in her explanations.

“Shoes for the beach. You know my old ones always gave me trouble,” she laughed and he agreed since he had known as well, “and this new dress. I don’t know how well it will look. Maybe for a lunch with friends…”

She held the dress up to herself and he felt almost bad for imagining her in it. Perhaps on a moonlit night. She would be waiting as he approached from a street corner. She would be smiling, only for him, in that dress. He’d buy her dinner and wine. They would share her favorite dessert and she would tell him all about her day. He would listen intently. He cared. For a moment he had to remind himself of where he was.

“It’s a beautiful dress for you,” he remarked.

“Why, thank you,” she replied and stuffed the items back in her bag with red cheeks.

One day she was showing him what she had purchased, when she noticed how aloof he seemed, though he was trying his hardest not to show it.

“Your eyesight,” she spoke softly, “it’s getting worse…isn’t it…”

Why was he choking back his words? Was it the slight drizzling rain clouding his eyes, or his own tears as he held his umbrella over what he hoped was her frame. If he could do anything in this world, it was to keep her from being cold…and wet. Somehow, she knew. Just by the way he had acted, for he hadn’t said a word about how he was doing.

He felt a soft hand on his own free one. It was hers. Without thinking twice he smiled and let her lead him. He could even hear her smile in her voice.

“Sunglasses…not that I’ll be needing them anytime soon, don’t you agree? I feel like a fool for believing the weatherman,” she laughed and held her forehead against his own as she did so, while still guiding his hand around her bag.

Was she not put off by his ailment? It was one of the first times he could say he hadn’t felt like an outsider. Someone who needed to be asked to be accepted. She had grabbed his hand…

She had grabbed his hand…and from then on, she continued to do so.

Some days, he didn’t need it. Some days, the sun shone bright and still would be out-shined by her radiance. Her smile and aura as he approached the bench would radiate his core. Whether she was heading to work, meeting friends or shopping, she looked beautiful and full of hope to him. She filled him with her warmth even on the coldest of days.

It wasn’t since Rika that he had felt this way about another human being. And even thinking about her inner beauty, could he say he even felt this way about Rika? No. This person who had accepted him as who he was, even with his sight as it happened to be. This person who asked nothing from him other than conversation as they waited for the bus to take them to their destinations.

When he had fallen in love with her, who could say? But he was sure she felt the same way. Her subtle touches to his hands and arm when they met. The way she leaned in close to explain things to him.

“It is cold…but I do appreciate the rain,” she said one day to him after he had placed his jacket over her. “It gives life to the flowers around us, the plants…Life would cease to exist without the rain. I think we should appreciate it. Don’t you agree?” she asked him.

Of course he did. His hands held her shoulders tightly as he explained so. How badly he wanted to ask her to dinner in that moment. Maybe just to a cup of coffee. To ask her everything about herself. Did she garden? What was her favorite film? Did she enjoy music?

He could sense a lot about her just in the time they spent together. She was selfless. She only went shopping when it meant it was needed. If it was for meeting friends, or perhaps something she didn’t have before. He liked that about her. She was observant.

“The bus has been a little late…fourth time this week…I hope the driver isn’t feeling ill,” she had mentioned one day.

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she smiled and put her hand on his forearm playfully, “ I really am worried!”

“Only you would be worried about the driver when your ride is late…I just…find it charming,” he admitted to her.

When he was late, or struggling to make it to the bench, he found her at his side, helping carry his things and hold him steady.

One particularly rainy day, her bus arrived on schedule. It was the familiar slosh of the flowing gutters as it pulled close to the curb for her. The all-too-familar squeak of the door hinges as it swung opened for her. But she did not move. She did not enter. Her hand lay wrapped on his forearm, which held his umbrella sturdy to protect her the best he could from the elements.

“I’m not going in today,” she spoke coyly as the door shut and the sound of the bus driving down the road faded once again in the distance.

He couldn’t hold back his smile much longer. Her touch soothed him. Her delicate hands he had grown to fall in love with. And the sweetness in her voice like warm honey coating his soul.

“We can’t waste the day,” he found himself replying, “how about I take you to lunch…and then maybe dinner?”

“Nothing could make me happier, Jihyun,” she pulled her body in close to his as she spoke.

He could feel her steps in sync with his own. This wasn’t the first time he had taken her out. Not even the twentieth time…her feet and hands, her voice, her steps and the pitter patter they made next to his own feet…the way she walked was all too familiar.

Yes…this day was like many others he had come to share with her. And yet…he felt in his pocket, that hardness in the shape of a box. The velvet case with a ring inside.

It may have come to be a familiar day for them. But today, he would ask her to be his wife.

Seattle Rains

Originally posted by dailycwriverdale

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: A new girl brings rainstorms to Riverdale, and more specifically, more rain in Jughead’s world.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,844

A/N: I’m sorry I haven’t been writing requests, but this idea popped in my head and I decided to write it.  Hope you all enjoy!


He only saw her when it was raining.  Maybe it was pure coincidence, or maybe it was a sign.

The first time he met her was a rainy Monday afternoon.  It was the first day of their freshman year in Riverdale High.  Jughead continuously announced to anxiety-ridden Archie and Betty that he was not nervous at all.  He would never admit it, but there was a twinge of fear in his stomach as he walked through the doors of his new school.

The day became a blur in his memories, nothing especially memorable occurring.  Except one thing: her.

(Y/N) had just moved to Riverdale from Seattle, so her rainy first day of school in a small town helped her transition from the large city she was used to.  She sat in her last class of the day, English, when the rain began to pour even harder.  Right as the bell signaling the beginning of class rang, one last boy walked through the door.

Jughead knew that, by being late, he wouldn’t get a seat in the back of the classroom that he craved.  There was only one vacant seat left next to a girl he didn’t recognize.  He sat down next to her, slumping in his chair.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” he whispered as the teacher explained the syllabus.  (Y/N)’s head shifted to look at him out of the corner of her eye, shocked that someone had spoken to her.  She had been ignored all day.

“Yeah,” she confirmed his suspicions.  "How did you know?“

"This is a small town,” Jughead answered.  "Everyone knows everyone.“

"Right,” she muttered, turning her focus back to the teacher.  Jughead, however, continued to stare at the new girl.

“I’m Jughead,” he introduced himself.  "Jughead Jones the third.“

"The third?” (Y/N) quietly laughed.

Jughead shrugged.  "Yeah,“ he responded.  A smile grew on his face.  "It’s funny, though, because most people laugh at my name being Jughead.”

“I think it’s cool,” she complimented.  "I’m (Y/N).“

"Well, (Y/N),” Jughead said, “what’s the-”

“Mr. Jones!” their teacher suddenly interrupted their conversation.  "Ms. (Y/L/N)! Please, no talking while I’m speaking!“

Jughead and (Y/N) muttered ashamed apologies, and with a satisfied nod, the teacher turned back to the board.  Jughead shifted in his chair so that he was slightly facing (Y/N).

"I was gonna ask what’s the best burger you’ve ever eaten,” he explained quietly.  "But that’s a stupid question, because I’m gonna introduce you to a burger that’ll put every other thing you’ve ever eaten to shame.“

"Oh really?”

“Definitely,” he smirked.  "Have you ever been to Pop’s diner?“


The rain reduced to a drizzle as Jughead and (Y/N) walked from school to Pop’s.

"You’re sure you don’t need an umbrella?” Jughead asked for the hundredth time.

(Y/N) laughed, “For the last time, Jughead, I’m fine.  I’m from Seattle; I can handle a bit of rain.”

Jughead’s umbrella offers died down after that, and the two quickly arrived at Pop’s.  They entered the diner, Jughead leading her towards his favorite booth. He sent subtle waves towards all the beaming waitresses who greeted him.

“Someone’s popular,” (Y/N) commented as she and Jughead sat down across from each other.

“I come here quite often,” he shrugged.  

A waitress approached the table and asked for their orders.  Immediately, before (Y/N) could even open her mouth, Jughead ordered two cheeseburgers.  About ten minutes later, the same waitress carried out two baskets.  She set one in front of both Jughead and (Y/N).  Jughead watched as (Y/N) picked up her burger.

“Are you gonna eat yours?” she asked before she took her first bite.

Jughead shook his head. “Not until I see your reaction,” he said, biting back a smirk.  (Y/N) shrugged and nonchalantly took a bite.  As her tongue registered the beautifully charred beef mixed with the freshly melted cheddar, topped with refreshing tomatoes and lettuce, Jughead broke out into a grin.  

“This is so good,” she moaned, taking more bites of her burger.

“I told you,” Jughead laughed.

“We’re gonna come back here every day and get these, right?” (Y/N) asked, between burger bites. Jughead’s grin widened.

“Whenever you want.”


Riverdale was rainy for that entire week.  On Thursday, their English teacher assigned their first project of the year, splitting the class into pairs.  As if answering both of their prayers, the English teacher paired up (Y/N) and Jughead. They decided to start the project that night, agreeing to meet at (Y/N)’s house.

“I’m sorry about all the boxes,” (Y/N) apologized as they entered her bedroom.  “I still haven’t finished unpacking.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Jughead waved it off.  “My place is even messier, and I can’t make up excuses about having just moved here.” (Y/N) laughed and shook her head, sitting on her bed.  Jughead chose to remain standing, scanning (Y/N)’s room.  He glanced at her pastel blue walls, the simply-framed windows covered by pale white curtains.  He walked in front of the window.

“I think you brought Seattle weather with you to Riverdale,” Jughead commented, pulling (Y/N)’s wispy curtains aside to look at the rainstorm outside her window.  She rose from her bed and walked over to stand next to him.

“Good,” she muttered.  He turned to face her and raised his eyebrows. “I like the rain.”

“So do I,” he agreed, “but this is excessive.”

“No such thing.”


Even without the project, Jughead and (Y/N) frequently met up.  Whether it be the drive in, (Y/N)’s house, or Pop’s, the two always tried to make time for each other.

A month after they met, Jughead decided to introduce (Y/N) to his other two best friends: Archie and Betty.  

It was drizzling on a Wednesday when they met in Pop’s, both Archie and Betty immediately adoring (Y/N).

“You must be (Y/N),” Betty smiled, sticking out her hand to shake.  (Y/N) beamed as she happily shook Betty’s hand.  “I’m Betty Cooper.”

“And I’m Archie Andrews,” Archie greeted, choosing to simply wave at (Y/N) rather than shake her hand.

“I’m (Y/N),” she introduced herself, laughing, “but it seems that you already knew that.”

“Jughead talks about you a lot,” Betty giggled, causing (Y/N) to smirk at Jughead.

“Oh really?” she inquired, and Jughead rolled his eyes.

“She’s never gonna let that go,” he complained to Betty and Archie.  “Thanks a lot.”

The four quickly fell into a casual conversation, (Y/N) fitting into the friend group with ease. It felt like she had always been with them in Riverdale.  Archie and Betty noticed the obvious chemistry between her and Jughead, and throughout the dreary evening, Archie and Betty exchanged knowing glances as they observed (Y/N) and Jughead’s interactions.  Neither of them said anything, but instead, they chose to just sit and watch Jughead and (Y/N) slowly but surely fall in love.


After two more months, Betty and Archie grew frustrated with the lack of progression in Jughead and (Y/N)’s relationship.  Riverdale had grown too cold for it to rain anymore, but the snow, in Jughead’s mind, still counted as rain.  It was only frozen.

He hadn’t seen (Y/N) in a while outside of school, both of them too busy.  (Y/N) became buried under her heavy academic burden, and Jughead grew immersed in his writing.  They hadn’t grown apart, they just didn’t grow any closer, much to Betty and Archie’s dismay.


A bitter and cold February passed through Riverdale, and it was during that month that (Y/N) finally met Kevin Keller.  It had been four months since Betty and (Y/N) had met, and the two of them grew very close.  Not as close as (Y/N) and Jughead, but Betty was definitely (Y/N)’s go-to girl.  

“You’re gonna love Kevin,” Betty assured her as they sat in Betty’s pastel pink room.  

“If you insist,” (Y/N) smiled.  A light knock on the door caught their attention, and they whipped their heads around to see Kevin entering Betty’s bedroom.

“I finally have the privilege to meet the famous (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he grinned.

“Kevin Keller,” she laughed. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said, sitting down next to her.  “God, I’ve been dying to meet you ever since Betty started talking about how cute you and Jughead were together.”

“Together?” she lightly scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes.  “Jughead and I are just friends.”

“And you like it that way?” Betty questioned with a smile tugging at her lips.

(Y/N) hesitated for a split second.  “Of course,” she answered.

“You hesitated,” Kevin immediately noted.  (Y/N) released an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged.  “I never really thought about it that way.”

“Well maybe you should start considering it,” Betty suggested.  “I’ve known Jughead for years, and I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you.”


The rest of winter breezed through, and soon April showers began to roll into Riverdale.  It was the rainiest spring they ever had, but it came to no shock to Jughead.  He stood by his belief that (Y/N) brought the Seattle rain with her.

With spring came more free time for (Y/N) and Jughead, allowing them to begin to meet up more often. Their relationship picked up where they had just left off, except with a small alteration.  Jughead couldn’t quite pick up what had changed between the two of them, but (Y/N) knew exactly what it was.

They sat in her bedroom again.  It was a typical scene, but something was different.  The sun was out for what felt like the first time since they met.  Something had shifted in their relationship, and neither (Y/N) nor Jughead knew how to express it.

“The sun’s out,” Jughead gave his daily weather report.  (Y/N)’s eyes lazily flicked towards her window, watching the beams of light float into her room.

“Yes,” she replied simply.

“I don’t think it’s been sunny since you’ve moved here,” he joked, forcing out a laugh.  (Y/N)’s fingers twiddled with the soft fabric of her bed.  Jughead sighed at her lack of response.  They sat in silence for a couple minutes, Jughead continuing to stare out the window and (Y/N) fidgeting on her bed.  Finally, (Y/N) stood up and crossed her arms over her chest as she ventured next to Jughead.

“It was very rude, you know,” she drawled, earning a confused look from Jughead, “that you made me fall in love with you.  Inconsiderate, really.”

A split second of silence passed as Jughead tried to collect his wits.

“Not what you had in mind?”  He smirked.

(Y/N) shrugged.  "Quite inconvenient, actually.“

"I’m not sorry,” he stated, stepping closer to her. He tenderly placed a hand on her cheek.

“Me neither,” she whispered, her gaze focused on his lips.

Without any more hesitation, Jughead brought (Y/N)’s face towards his and pressed his lips against hers, just a feather-light kiss.  She wrapped her arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to deepen the kiss, like a flower craving the thirst-quenching rain.

“You know,” Jughead disconnected their lips, “I lied about liking the rain.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling.  "I just pretended to like it for you.  I actually hate the rain.“

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anonymous asked:

andreil

SEND ME A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…


who is more likely to hurt the other?

ummmm painful first question wow?? Definitely.. neither… wtf. I think emotionally Andrew might be more likely to be just callous enough that Neil takes it to heart, but it would be like,, almost impossible bc they understand each other so well. Maybe when Neil is really baring his soul and andrew is still walking that indifferent line. Maybe when andrew graduates and neil forgets andrew’s brand of emotional distance bc there’s REAL distance to contend with, you feel

who is emotionally stronger?

Andrew m8

Neil had to be emotionally strong for so long, and he doesn’t have to be anymore. But ANDREW….. his emotions are out of order like he’s built a safe around himself and neil just happens to have the access code 

who is physically stronger?

AndreW this isn’t even a debate Neil is lithe and wiry and andrew can pick him up with one hand. Like if you don’t think Andrew’s biceps are shredding his t-shirts we didn’t read the same book ://

who is more likely to break a bone? 

ur joking

Neil breaks his bones walking down the stairs my guy. That little bastard never outgrows being a hazard. Also he’s an aggressor in Exy, my boy has 2% regard for his own wellbeing, ball is life, etc. I can’t in my life imagine smooth and cold as steel Andrew breaking anything that isn’t someone else’s 

who knows best what to say to upset the other? 

Okay andrew has that cultivated distance but neil is….. a machine. Remember when he kept provoking andrew about his assault bc he wanted a response out of him?? Like,, yeah. Neil knows how to take out the one brick that will topple a person. He’s sharp and scathing and aware of people’s weakness (Andrew’s more than anyone’s)

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument? 

Also Neil man he drops a bomb and walks away but he starts to come back more and more. He starts to realize that arguments =/= break ups, and apologies =/= weakness. He starts fights and he fuckin finishes them. He loves andrew more than he loves the upper hand

who treats who’s wounds more often? 

>_> andrew is down here on the side of the court dabbing disinfectant on neil’s gashes once a WEEK. (Andrew? won’t let anyone else touch neil??)

who is in constant need of comfort? 

Both. They have a lifetime of hurt that needs untangling and andrew’s in there cutting through neil’s with scissors, neil’s talking until andrew forgets his

It’s symbiotic - their relationship is built on comfort, you know? it thrives on it

who gets more jealous? 

I think Andrew because Neil doesn’t….. know jealousy. Like he hasn’t met her. Someone could be straight up grabbing Andrew’s ass and Neil would be like huh. friendship is evolving so fast. Andrew is very quietly furiously jealous and it’s sort of? all the time? Like he got in so deep so fast that he’s jealous of the foxes, and people at the bar, and he’s jealous of like.. exy

who’s most likely to walk out on the other? 

Like.. for good? wtf neither NEXt

who will propose? 

Well ;)) I’ve ;)) written this ;)))) here

spoilers it’s andrew for practical purposes because romance is a foreign land that they will only visit if someone’s life hangs in the balance

who has the most difficult parents?

LMAO

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? 

I think andrew makes a grab for neil’s hand if he’s stressed about wherever they are? LIke contact is actually a big part of the way andrew protects. But I think Neil obsesses over andrew’s hands and he’ll try it, and andrew usually doesn’t care enough to pull away. They both feel like 5% safer linked like that. Their armbands brush. It’s gay

who comes up for the other all the time? 

Like in conversation??? andrew. neil can’t shut up, next

who hogs the blankets? 

Andrew dude he’s contrary catch him in all black wearing knives huddled in a blanket fort with a pint of ben and jerry’s. Neil is a very still sleeper he doesn’t move like.. at all. Andrew’s a restless & light sleeper, and he’ll take advantage of any comfort he can get

who gets more sad? 

hi they’re always sad… sorry about it…. anyway

who is better at cheering the other up? 

Andrew’s better because he doesn’t like. try. Not in any obvious, quantifiable way, anyway. He gives neil space when he needs it and coddles him when he needs it. He’s a hand on the back of his neck. He’s a force of nature that Neil gets so caught up in that he forgets, for a second, that he’s living on borrowed time

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

lmao

who is more streetwise?

I gotta say neil bc I think he’s got like a catalogue of personas and experiences inside him. Like I think he could successfully blend into a lot of situations, that’s straight up what kept him alive

who is more wise?

Andrew is brilliant tbh he’s got that eidetic memory and that understated intensity towards understanding things like I don’t think there’s a question you could ask that would stump him

who’s the shyest? 

define shy like neither of them they’re unrepentant bastards who’ll tell you exactly what they think of you. BUT i mean. Neil is the slowest moving glacier of emotional availability I’ve ever seen so like if you wanna call that shy then def him

who boasts about the other more? 

Again…. neil can’t shut the fuck up….. the amount of times he mouths off about having the best goalie in the world on their team in interviews,, wymack is grey

like actually neil is gobsmacked by andrew and he EXPECTS that everyone else be too

who sits on who’s lap? 

neil sits on andrew’s bye he loves to be held up