as it's slung over her shoulder

Snuggle - Jughead Jones

REQUEST: Hey I was wondering if you could do a a Jughead fluff where the readers almost always cold & wears his black hoody & well it fits his 6'1 frame well it basically a blanket on her 5'6 self, basically she wears his hoody that fits him fine but it’s really big on her and it’s just fluffy & funny & Veronica & Kevin totally ship it😂

Sorry for taking so long :3 Hope you like it! I thought it started off okay but then i kind of ruined it, i apologise, i’m not very good at writing ehueuheueh

Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff / dead inside reader (one swear word :3)

Words: 2,152

“So I told her, that what she did was crossing the line,” Veronica’s story was reaching its climax, and Kevin was enjoying every second of it.

“Fair enough,” He interrupted, expression eager, waiting to hear what happened next. 

However, before Veronica could continue, you entered the student lounge, nonchalantly slurping a takeaway Pop’s strawberry milkshake. Your bag was slung carelessly over your shoulder and your unkempt hair was lazily tied up in a messy bun, which flopped around on top of your head. You’d skipped makeup, and your eyes were surrounded by dark circles. You wore your usual converse and ripped jeans, along with a white crop top. This had been a bad choice, as it was nearly the middle of December, so you were absolutely freezing. You’d been so tired from revising for exams, that you hadn’t even bothered to check what you were wearing that morning.

You stood around the back of the couch Kevin sat on, before flopping face down and flipping your body over so you were lying on the loveseat, legs on Kevin’s lap and face buried in an assortment of cushions.

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Request: hi:)) could I please request a 13rw oneshot with Zach Dempsey x Reader where Zach is basically in love with the reader but she’s totally oblivious and all his friends joke and stuff about it but in the end he kisses her or something and then they get together pretty plss

Requested by: @clemmyclueless

A/N: Ok so this is my second fic so bear with me but i thought this ask was really cute so here goes nothing! (sorry its so short!)

Warnings: None

Pairing: Zach Dempsey x Fem Reader

Originally posted by knightlley

“Hey hotness” Zach said smirking.                                                              “Hello Zach” Y/N responded as she shut her locker and turned to him.           “Want me to help you out with those books?” He asked trying to be helpful.      “Nah, its alright, I got it” Y/N said as she walked away. Zach watched her walk away until she entered a class room. He turned around and walked over to his friend group and started to talk with them. 

“I saw you talking to Y/N over there. Is she still very oblivious?” Justin said turning to the group The rest of the group laughed.                                       “Hey, its not her fault. I’m just not obvious enough…I guess?” Zach responded second guessing himself.                                                                                     “Dude shes so oblivious that she wouldn’t know your flirting unless it hit her in the head” Bryce said laughing.                                                                            “Shut up Walker.” Zach said angrily.                                                                    “Hey don’t get mad at me for speaking the truth” Bryce said while throwing his hands up in the air.                                                                                            “Whatever, I gotta get to class.” Zach said as he slung his back pack over his shoulder and walked away from the group heading to his next class.

Zach sat at his desk daydreaming about Y/N. He loved how her smile was radiant and how she was just like a big ball of sunshine. When ever she was around, it was like the whole room lit up. He just loved how every little thing she did was beautiful. Like how she would twirl her hair between her fingers when she was bored. Or how she would twist her silver ring around and around her finger when she was nervous. She was just so beautiful that she didn’t even have to try. Zach was quickly woken up from his daydream when Y/N bumped into him. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention” Y/N said apologizing.                                        “Its alright. You can bump into me any time princess” Zach winked at her.        “Um ok?” Y/N said confused as she walked away.                                              “Hey wait up!” Zach yelled running towards Y/N.                                                “Yes?” Y/N asked Zach.                                                                                      “Can I walk you home? Your house is really close to mine so ill be walking that way anyway” Zach said.                                                                                       “Sure, you can walk me home” Y/N said shrugging.                                          “I totally get it if you don’t want m- wait I can?” Zach questioned.                       “Yup” Y/N said popping the p.                                                                            “Alright sweet” Zach said nodding to himself.

As they walked together they talked about everything and anything. They talked about how they lived so close but never really knew. They also talked about how they were in almost all the same classes but never really talked before. They even laughed about some things and Y/N laughed at Zach’s jokes (even though they were really cheesy). When they got to her house he walked her up to the door. 

“So I guess ill see you on Monday then?” Y/N asked as she began to unlock her front door.                                                                                                     “Actually I wanted to ask you something” Zach said stopping her from what she was doing.                                                                                                            “So I’ve kind of really liked you and I don’t know if your not getting my hints or you don’t return the feeling but if you don’t that’s fine and I underst-” Zach got cut off by Y/N crashing her lips on to his and kissing him. He was surprised at first but once he registered what was going on he kissed back. Y/N pulled away and started smiling.                                                                                              “God I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for like forever now!” Y/N said giggling.                                                                                                              “Wait. You so you’ve liked me the entire time I’ve liked you?” Zach asked.          “Well I’ve always liked you but I never knew if you returned the feeling so I never asked you out.” Y/N said shyly.                                                                  “What? I thought I was being super obvious.” Zach laughed.                            “Really? hmm I never noticed, But then again i’m very oblivious” Y/N said smirking.                                                                                                             “Ya. I kinda figured that out, but would you like to go out tomorrow? Maybe to Monet’s?” Zach asked.                                                                                        “I’d love to” Y/N said giving Zach a peck on the cheek. She then turned around and went inside the home.                                                                                  “Sweet” Zach said feeling all giddy inside. He turned around on his heel and started to walk home feeling very happy and he wished tomorrow would come sooner.                      

Late - Bughead Fic

Prompt: @marissamoncan you write bughead fic with 19, 22, 34 & 36?

Because I want to keep these rather short and sweet I decided to just do the first two, 19 and 22, hope that’s okay! Also I’m ecstatic to be writing my first Bughead fic, I know quite a few of my followers and friends aren’t massive fans of Bughead but I hope that they can treat this as a small oversight. This also serves as an alternative and less angsty version of Homecoming, i.e no FP getting arrested. 

19 - “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.”

22 - “Choose me.”

Betty Cooper found herself perched in a booth at the dimly lit diner owned by one Pop Tate. Aimlessly she spun her candy-striped straw around her rapidly melting vanilla milkshake, worry lines were etching their way deeply into her forehead. 

‘Betty, you look - I mean, seriously wow.’ 

Archie’s words still buzzed in her ears, like an annoying fly that she desperately wanted rid of. 

He wanted her. 

Now he wanted her. Now she was over him. Now he had Veronica. Now she had Jughead. 

‘Can I cut in?’ He’d asked later that night, her arms were slung lazily around Jughead’s neck and his lightly on her waist, he shrugged and handed her over to the broad ginger. 

Betty looked down at the offending item of clothing, her silky blue off-the-shoulder dress, aimlessly she pressed down on the ruffled creases of the skirt. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, she thought of the mess that had been created tonight, her potentially unsalvageable relationships. She was sure that Ronnie was going to give her the cold shoulder for the next few weeks. Her friendship with Archie was going to face its biggest strain yet and Jughead -

‘Oh God, Jughead.’ She thought miserably. 

The ginger boys large warm hands felt foreign on Betty’s tiny waist, they held a strength that was unfamiliar and possessive. His calloused thumbs rubbed deep circles into her hips bones and annoyingly ruffled the material of her dress. 

‘Jughead’s a lucky guy, Betty.’ He said with a hint of charm lilting his voice.

Betty smiled sweetly in response, an uncomfortable awkwardness loomed over her from his words. The soft and slow music was the only noise that filled the silent gap between them.



They both broke the silence at the same time.

‘You first.’ She offered meekly. 

‘I-’ He looked up at the gymnasium ceiling, seemingly hoping words would just fall from the sky.

He sighed deeply and raised his hand to Betty’s cheek-

The sound of Pop’s diner bell brought Betty back from her memories of the night. A frantic beanie-less Jughead Jones entered through the door, his wide eyes searched the diner before they finally settling on the petite young woman whose eyes pleaded back into his. 

‘Jughead.’ His name caught her throat in a silent choke of desperation.

He slid quickly into the booth, his eyes burned with an intense panic and roamed her face looking for answers to a question he hadn’t asked.

‘Choose me.’ He pleaded and drew her hands into his. ‘I don’t want to sound desperate Betts, but choose me.’ 

His once composed and formal attire was dishevelled his tie hanging loosely around his neck now and the first few buttons of his shirt undone, his voice was dry and needy, and his hands clung desperately to hers as though if he let go she’d float away. 

‘What?’ She whispered timidly, unsure of what the boy in front of her was possibly thinking. 

‘Archie.’ He confirmed. ‘Don’t pick him. He doesn’t-’

‘Jughead,’ she stopped him with a raised hand, ‘what on earth are you talking about? Archie? Why-’


‘Jughead.’ She stopped him again, firmly this time. 

His panicked eyes continued to search hers, they bore into her soul and pleaded with her heart. Looking at his broken and unsure face made Betty’s bottom lip tremble, how could one person be so unnurtured and unloved. 

‘Jug-’ she began quietly with a quivering voice, ‘it’s always going to be you, that was never a doubt in my mind.’

‘But Archie-’

‘Isn’t you.’ She whispered resolutely.

His eyes stilled at her words, they gazed disbelievingly into her own, still apprehensive; still unsure. Betty sighed and drew herself further across the table, plucking his bony hands gently into her own slim ones, she lightly rubbed the familiar callouses of his knuckles. 

‘When Archie told me-’ she took in a deep breath, ‘told me he’d never see me in that way, I was crushed - sure.’ 

Betty looked down at their entwined fingers and chose to focus on them before continuing her story.  

‘I was convinced at that time that I loved him, Juggie, but when he told he’d never feel the same way I managed to move on. I could live without the love of Archie Andrews.’ She sighed. ‘But you-’ 

Her eyes chanced a glance at him, his eyes - like hers had been- were now staring at their tangled fingers. He ran his wet tongue along the bottom of his dry lip absentmindedly, momentarily pulling Betty away from the point she was trying to make. 

What she had felt for Archie, she thought that was love, but how could it ever have been? Without Archie she could still breath, she could still eat and sleep, she could still live. 

But without Jughead? 

‘I’m in love with you, Jughead.’ The words fell from her mouth in a simple truth. ‘I’m in love with you, and it scares the crap out of me.’

His dark eyes continued to stare at their locked hands but Betty could see the effect that her words had on him, his chest rapidly rose and fell as his heart hammered within its dark cavity and his shallow breath hit the back of her hands.

‘I’m pretty terrified too.’ He whispered before pulling her hands up to his wet lips with a chaste kiss.

And that was all she needed to hear.

[A/N: So my first Bughead fic! I’m not sold on the ending but I needed it to end at some point! Also it hasn’t been fully proofread but I will do so before I add it to my masterlist, hope you liked regardless!]

Request from this prompt list here and here!

anonymous asked:

Lord!!!' I am so in love with The Gateway!!! Thank you for this AU. It is so magnificent. I cannot wait for the next installment. Thank you. This blog is my jam. You all rock!

anonymous asked:

I am eagerly waiting for The Getaway! I love it!

anonymous asked:

Loved the latest Getaway. Those crazy kids.

diversemediums asked:

Could we get another installment of The Getaway please?

anonymous asked:

Any plans to continue The Getaway?

Wrapping her large scarf around her neck, Claire waited in the draughty bus station walking from end to end as she tried to decipher the local routes. Hungry and cold, it’d been just over two days of heavy travelling and the extended journey was beginning to take its toll on poor Claire.

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@andromedainwonderland said:

Teen Wolf-Scooby Doo, as in, the Teen Wolf crew driving around in the Jeep solving supernatural mysteries. Just me?

So I don’t know what this is, but this fic turned out to be my ARCH NEMESIS, so, you know, make of that what you will. It’s even alternating POVs, which I haven’t written in years upon years. So please appreciate how much this story wanted to kill me, and how we’re still eyeing each other with open hostility from different corners of the room.

The groundskeeper has gnarled, knotted fingers and rheumy eyes, and it takes five hundred years for him to turn the key in the rusted padlock.  The gate creaks almost as loud as his bones, and Derek flicks an ear in irritation.

“That’s a big dog you’ve got there,” he says, only mildly curious.

Stiles buries one hand in the scruff around Derek’s neck. “Not sure he is one,” Stiles says, and Derek cocks his head up at him.

Scott has the van idling behind them.

Derek takes a deep breath and sneezes. Decay, old blood, and sulfur flood his senses—he whines softly. He doesn’t have a good feeling about this.

The old house looms in front of them, stone and spires, ominous, cloaked in shadows thrown by the nearly full moon. His skin ripples under his fur, uneasy, and he tucks his tail between his legs.

“Relax,” Stiles murmurs to him. “This is easy money, right? A simple salt and burn.”

Derek huffs, knocks into Stiles’ side as he hastily turns around, and then slinks back to the van. He doesn’t like this place. He never likes haunted places, too much lingering despair that stirs up old guilt, but this house feels like it’s made out of skeleton bones, dread sits like a stone in his belly.

Lydia already has the side of the van open. He hops in, slides past Kira, and then digs into Stiles’ open duffle, buries his snout in an old t-shirt that smells a little bit like Scott, too.

“Dude,” Stiles says when he climbs in after him. “Come on.”

Derek growls, low in his throat, and Stiles backs off with a huffy, “Fine, be that way.”

The van grinds into gear and rolls forward slowly, tires bumping over the cobblestone drive, and Derek feels like his chest is caving in.

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Jughead's Apartment, A Bughead Fanfiction

Jughead worked his butt off to afford his own apartment. His dad had another bad relapse and he couldn’t stand to be in the same house as him, but he also couldn’t continue to live at Archie’s. His solution was to get two jobs. After school he worked at a small bookstore until closing, and he was a waiter at Pop’s on the weekends. Betty had offered to loan him money since she had no shortage, but he refused, wanting to do this for himself. He wanted to prove to himself that he could be okay without anyone else, that he didn’t need his dad at all.

After two months of working, Jughead finally got to the point where he has saved up enough money to rent and apartment and still feed himself. It was tiny, the opposite of luxurious, but he still grinned like a crazy man when he received the keys. He was proud of himself for doing it on his own. It took him just one trip to move in since he had very little to his name. Betty had offered to help him buy furniture to solve that problem.

Betty skipped out of her house as she made her way to Jughead’s apartment. She was extremely proud of him and couldn’t wait until they had a place where they could be completely alone together. Having him sneak into her room through her window when her parents were a room over was not an ideal situation. She arrived at his apartment building and found his door number. She knocked, excitement overtaking her. He opened the door with a grin and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her inside and shutting the door.

Betty glanced around the apartment and leaned her head into Jughead’s chest. The apartment had one small bedroom, an even smaller bathroom, a small kitchen area with a slightly larger living room area attached, and a lot of potential.

“Not bad,” she said with a smile.

He kissed her head, “I thought so too.”

She pulled her head away from his chest, pecking his lips, “I’m proud of you Jughead. I have no idea how you managed to work enough to get an apartment, keep up with your school work, and still have time to spend with me.”

He scratched his head, which she noticed was lacking its normal beanie, “It wasn’t easy.”

He looked so tired and worn down to her and she just wanted to hold him and never let him work another day in his life, but she couldn’t do that, “Let’s go get you some furniture!”

Her spun on his heal, grabbing his beanie off of the counter, “After you,” he ushered as they walked out and he locked the door behind them. He pulled his beanie over his perfectly messy hair and slung an arm around Betty’s shoulders.

They shopped for a good three hours, purchasing a mattress, sheets, bean bags for his living room, a mini fridge, towels for his bathroom, hangers for his clothes, and other little things that he wouldn’t have even thought about if it weren’t for Betty being with him. They also managed to purchase a small tv and a microwave on Craigslist for much less than if he got them new. Jughead didn’t watch much tv on account of the fact that he rarely had time and didn’t have one in the closet at school. He did like to watch old movies though, and knew that Betty and the rest of his friends would appreciate him having one. It took them another hour to clean the whole apartment and put everything that they bought where it belonged. The apartment was still pretty bare, but much better than before. They plopped down into the bean bags, exhausted after all of the work.

Jughead was wearing only a tank top and yet again, no beanie, and Betty liked this side of him. She looked over at her and smiled her irresistible smile, “Keep smiling at me like that and I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”

She smiled harder, “And I’m just gonna have to kiss you back I guess,” she shrugged, playfully.

“Yep,” he mumbled and leaned forward, closing the gap between them. Their lips touched and Jughead felt a familiar warmth in his chest. Betty wove her hand into his hair and gasped as his hands grasped at her back under her loose shirt. She moved to straddle him and moaned breathily as he nipped her lip with his teeth. Their lips separated with a wet pop and Jughead went to work on her neck, biting and sucking her favorite spots. Betty’s hands moved from his hair and to his back. She dragged her nails down his toned back, causing him to shiver and pull her closer.

“Bed,” she gasped as one of his hands came up to brush under he breast.

He pulled away from her neck, “What?” His eyes were glazed over with lust.

“Take. Me. To. The. Bed,” she said clearly.

He growled and stood up with her legs still wrapped around his waist. His hands went to her butt and he hoisted her up farther, making sure she wouldn’t fall. He walked them into the bedroom slowly and lowered Betty onto the bed, hovering over her. She bite her lip, taunting him as she slip her shirt and shorts off under his delicious gaze. She barely got her shorts off of her legs before his mouth attacked her. This kiss was much less gentle than the one before. There was much more passion on Jughead’s part than she had ever experienced before and it made her insides tingle. The excitement of finally being alone together made her toes curl and her head spin. She was in the middle of peeling his shirt off when the doorbell sounded. He pulled back and Betty asked, “Did you invite anyone over today?”

“No, whoever it is will probably leave soon,” he kissed down her chest and stomach.

The doorbell rang again, “I don’t think they’re leaving,” Betty groaned.

Jughead pulled away from her reluctantly and put his shirt back on, “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, disappointed in the fact that even at his own apartment they were being interrupted.
She heard his feet pad away and sighed, rubbing a hand across her face. Maybe this interruption was for the best. Her mom was expecting her home pretty soon. He looked through the peep hole and pulled his head back in surprise. He swung the door open, “Mom? JB? What’re you doing here?”

His mom smiled, “I know that you invited us to come over tomorrow, but we wanted to help you situated and bring you your first dinner in your new place,” she revealed a bag from Pop’s.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to come up with a solution. An underwear clad Betty was in the room over and he didn’t want to just leave her there. Especially since they would probably want to see around, “Thanks guys. You can put the food on the counter.”

He put and arm around both of them, “Its been a while,” he tried not to say it bitterly, “I’m happy to see you two.”

JB piped up, “Can we look around?”

Jughead coughed, “Um yeah. My girlfriend,” whom he had yet to tell them about, “Betty is actually over.

His mom perked up at the name Betty, recognizing that they were childhood friends, “Oh,” she said and then realized that he had just been alone in his room with her, “Oh! Um we’ll just wait out here then.”

He smiled in thanks, but Jellybean didn’t quit get it, “Why? I want to see Betty. I didn’t even know that you liked Betty.”

His mom patted her head, “We’ll see her soon enough,” she said as she lead her to sit on the bean bags.

Jughead, still feeling awkward, walked back to his room where he found Betty where he left her, sitting half dressed in his bed, “Um…so JB and my mom showed up.”

“Are they still out there?” She asked and he nodded. Her eyes went big and she scrambled to put her shirt and shorts back on. He chuckled at her antics. She was usually so put together. This was an interesting side of her. He smoothed a piece of her hair down, “How do I look?” She asked.

“Guilty,” he laughed a little.

She smacked his armed and stood up, “I never thought I would meet your mom and sister, as your girlfriend, right after making out with you. I thought I would have some advanced notice.”

“I was hoping that we would both have some advanced notice,” he slung an arm around her shoulder and lead her out of the room. They both tried to look slightly less guilty.

Both JB and Jughead’s mom turn around to look at them, “Um…you guys remember Betty,“ he said nervously.

Before Betty could do anything, his mom was standing up and engulfing her in a hug, "It’s so nice to see you again Betty. I never thought Jugbug would get a girlfriend, much less one as pretty as you.”

Betty smiled and Jughead just stood there, offended and a bit embarrassed, "It’s nice to see you again Mrs. Jones, and you too Jellybean.”

Jellybean smiled and looked between the two of them and back at Betty again, “Were you two just kissing?”


You can find my Masterlist HERE!

Prompt: Heyy, if you’re up for it, can I request an imagine where Negan was coach before the apocalypse (your 18-19 now) and  he finds you by  the road, realising you were his student and he takes you back to the Sanctuary and is really protective of you?? Sorry if it’s too long, love your blog <3 – Via @maddiemoo16602

Ships: None
Words: 1,369
Warnings: Curses
Category: Angst with a dash of fluff


You were walking down a street of an abandoned town, dilapidated houses either side of you. You kept your eyes peeled for any sort of movement. You heard nothing except the winds rushing through broken windows and long absent streets.

Ivy crawled up the once neatly panelled houses like a parasite. The neatly trimmed lawns and flowers which may have once been well kept and colourful were now overgrown with weeds which had killed the beautiful roses and daisies that once bloomed there long ago.

Your stomach rumbled as it had been for the past week. You had eaten nothing but a dead rat and even then you only ate half of it, its milky eyes felt although it was staring at you from beyond the grave.

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Professor Jones

This is an alternate universe fic. Emma is a college graduate student and Killian is her professor. Smuttiness ensues. This is rated M for mature. Please enjoy the naughty goodness. This and my other stories are also on

chapter 2 / chapter 3/ Chapter 4

Emma wiped her hands on her jeans and braced herself. Walking into Professor Jones class took herculean effort. She would deny it until her last breath, but she swore the air seemed to sizzle when they were together. If the Maritime History class hadn’t been one of the required courses for her graduate course she would have bailed. She tried to switch professors but was denied as the other professor’s class was full. She took a deep breath, opened the door of the lecture hall and quickly blew it out in relief. The hall was empty. Confused and a little irritated that she hadn’t been given notice, she assumed class was canceled. She turned on her heels and headed back out the door when she heard the smooth voice.
“Going somewhere Swan?”
She hated when he called her that. She had asked him to please call her Emma for the better part of three weeks with no results. She hadn’t seen him sitting in the chair adjacent to the lecture podium. With his signature, all black attire, he blended seamlessly into the dark. It annoyed her that a professor would wear tight black jeans and black shirts. What the hell kind of teacher dresses like that anyway she thought. The black shouldn’t surprise her since he practically radiated darkness. Sexy, gorgeous, darkness. She watched as he stood up in the chair and begin to make his way toward her. Her breath hitched and she licked her lips nervously.
“I guess I didn’t get the memo that class was canceled” she said with a bite.
“Well that’s shame. I thought I emailed everyone in class but you must have been left off the list. Actually, this works out splendidly since I needed to speak with you anyway.”
The last thing Emma wanted to do was stand in a dark, empty lecture hall with him. He was too close. He was always too close. She could smell him and the scent of leather and something woodsy filled her until she wanted to curl up in his arms and breath him in. It was always like this. The first time she saw him on campus she felt like she’d been punched. The way his dark hair fell over his eyes, the long, confident stride, and the accent had every girl that saw him dropping at his feet. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she was practically salivating every time he was nearby.  
“And what would that be about professor?” she crossed her arms as she spoke, as much to send a DO NOT CROSS signal as it was to keep her hands from betraying her by running them down his body.
“I’ve dropped you from this class” he said turning to gather up his papers. Emma’s jaw fell open.
“You what? Why would you do that? I need this class Mr. Jones” she began to plead.
“Swan, relax. I got you into Hopper’s class. I was assured by your advisor it fit into your schedule and that you had been trying to get in but were denied. I thought you’d be pleased” he said with a lift of his brow and a slight smirk.
“Oh. Uh, thank you. But why?”
As he slung his bag over his shoulder he turned and grinned at her. Emma was sure her heart stopped and restarted as he practically glided over to stand in front of her. His smile made her think of a crocodile ready to devour its prey.
“Because you can’t have a relationship with a student you are teaching. It’s frowned upon apparently”.
“We aren’t in a relationship” she said with more cockiness than the blush creeping up her neck allowed for.
“Not yet love” he whispered and walked out of the room.

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When There's Nothing To Lose

Written by: @nancymay

Prompt 26: “A drabble where Peeta is from the Seam and Katniss is a Merchant but he’s still the one with the crush.” Prompt from anonymous, submitted to the Everlark Fic Exchange by @titaniasfics

Triggers: None

Rated : K

Summary: With only a few days to go before he starts work in the mine, Peeta decides it’s his last chance to get to know Katniss a little better.

Disclaimer: Clearly Suzanne Collins is the creator of all the Hunger Games references in this..

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so this is my first fanfic on here and I hope you guys like it! Basically takes place around a month after 1x13 and is just some Bughead smut really. My ultimate goal for their first scene in season 2 lol x

So it’s a bit long sorry and like I said smut you have been warned haha

It was a dreary Friday afternoon. The halls of Riverdale High seemed to have transgressed into an even duller shade of grey, rivalling the clouds outside.  Betty sighed as her eyes drifted to the clock behind the teacher’s desk, willing the hands to move faster. The usually attentive blonde was barely tuned in; the teacher’s voice a humming in the background fading into a symphony of tapping pens, restless feet, and quiet chatter.

Her eyes scanned the room as she slumped in her seat- a rarity after being raised with indoctrination of the importance of correct posture- taking in the other patrons of the room. Ethel was to her left idly taking notes, while Veronica on her right was texting behind the guise of her text book. Archie was a row in front of her jotting what Betty presumed to be lyrics in a notepad, while Kevin was next to him probably texting Veronica. She sighed again, deflating as her heart ached a little at the missing piece.  Jughead was at Southside High, probably staring down hallways greyer than these, softened against the harsh leather that plagued the school but dull none the less.

Betty understood why he went. He didn’t have much of a choice, but she respected that he was content with what had played out. These people, the Serpents and the Southside community had accepted him without a second thought, welcomed him before they knew him and offered unwavering support and protection. A family. It was something the people on this side of town had never done. It was something even his oldest and closest friends had failed to deliver on many times. It was something he had only ever found in her and as much as that warmed her heart and made her feel special, she knew that he needed it in something else too; now more than ever.

The piercing shrill of the bell intruded Betty’s reverie and she jumped slightly in her seat, making a mental note of the homework the teacher was now rattling off for the weekend before hastily gathering her things. Kevin was by her side immediately.

“Is it just me or is everything particularly mundane this Friday?” the sharp tongued boy asked her, shaking his head. Betty laughed lightly nodding in agreement.

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So Close

Summary: Sometimes the best friend doesn’t get the happily ever after. Told in Karen’s POV.

Pairing: Karen x Lin x reader

Warning: Angst.

A/N: This wouldn’t be possible without @strongenoughfoundation . Thank you for listening, agreeing, and fueling my conspiracy theories about Lin and Karen. Thank you for proofreading and filling in the plot holes. Most importantly, thank you for being the awesome best friend that you are. (…yo that sounded like an acceptance speech for an award bahahaha!)

Karen was all too familiar with the look on Lin’s face. The closed lipped smile of his that softened his features, the way his eyes would shine bright, swirling with affection and wonder, and how he’d fiddle his hands together in anticipation for an exchange of words – it had all been reserved for her for as long as she knew him.

But today…

Today, Karen knew that those days were long gone.

She felt hollow, the bitter taste of defeat in her mouth as she watched Lin fidget in front of the church, anticipating the arrival of his bride. It seemed like it was only days ago that she was with him backstage before the show, cuddled against his side while he filled her in on every detail of his morning, no matter how small, and only stopping to share funny videos he saw on the internet that he knew she’d like or jokes he was sure she’d love. She was his best friend and he was hers, their relationship untouchable and incomparable to anyone else’s.

Karen didn’t know when it happened, but she had started to find herself leaning into him every time he’d gently caress her face as he teased her, or enjoying the warmth she experienced whenever he would drape his arm across her shoulders, and even day-dreaming about what it would be like to spend a day in his bed blissfully wrapped in his arms. She could still feel the touch of his lips against hers, how his hands would press firmly against the small of her back to press her closer, deepening the passionate kiss their characters shared – she often found herself wondering what a kiss would be like between Lin and Karen.

She was never the type to shy away from her feelings. Her relationship with Lin was always an honest one, so it was easy for her to decide that she wanted to tell him of her affections. Unfortunately, time and luck weren’t on her side. After In The Heights, she was immediately swept into the whirlwind of rehearsals for West Side Story. The everyday phone calls with Lin eventually weaned to once every two weeks, but her adoration for Lin remained strong. She knew that their chemistry was catalytic – a single conversation after a brief time apart was enough to spark the effortless conversation and teasing that they’ve mastered over the years. She trusted Lin’s ability to find his way back to her, and she would always welcome him with open arms, which is why she wasn’t concerned when Lin stopped calling altogether. She knew he’d return in due time as energetic as always, and the gravitation towards each other would resume its pull.

It was a month of silence before she heard from Lin again. She was on her way home from rehearsals, his picture flashing across her screen causing the discomfort of her tight vocal chords and tense muscles to disappear. She happily answered, and her heart warmed at the sound of his voice.

“Karen, I met someone,” he revealed, cutting her off her playful remarks about his absence.

“You what?” she exclaimed, the hand clutching the handle of her purse that was slung over her shoulder falling limp against her side.

“It was incredible. It was like I was a character in one of those cheesy movies you like watching so much. She’s new in town and she stopped me at the subway station for directions. One thing led to another and I ended up spending the whole day with her.”

Karen recognized the adoration in his voice, but there was something different about the way he spoke about her. Her knees felt weak and she stopped walking to sit on a nearby bench, stunned at the realization that for the first time, she couldn’t seem to understand the inner-workings of his mind. “Lin, you spent the whole day with a stranger? Do you know how dangerous that was?”

“Yes, but Karen… There’s just something about her. I think she’s the one,” was his quick reply, voice giddy.

Karen felt her throat constrict, her palms getting sweaty from his alarming declaration. “Lin, you just met her! How do you – “

“I just know, alright? She’s amazing,” he sighed dreamily. “I can’t wait until you two meet. You’re gonna love her!”

His voice faded away, lost in the rapid staccato of her heart and the rush of blood that raced to her head from her anguish and disbelief.

The first time she met Y/N was when he brought her as a date to the opening night of West Side Story. She wasn’t surprised to see that she was a perfect match for Lin, every idiosyncratic feature about her complimenting Lin’s own quirky traits. Y/N was dynamic; she matched Lin’s wit and seemed to capture the room with her enthusiasm. Karen wanted to dislike her, but she saw the sincerity in her eyes the moment they were introduced.

From Lin’s lingering stares, soft embrace, and his natural draw to her even when he was across the room – Karen knew that it really was something different. But she continued to hope, knowing that sometimes, the famous happy ending with who you thought was the one wasn’t always possible. She felt a little selfish every time Lin’s smile illuminated his face at the mention of her name, but she reminded herself that she deserved a happy ending too.

Karen felt that happily ever after slip away the second time she met her. It was their engagement party. Karen was in the corner of the room, feeling like she’d swallowed a ball of cotton as she watched the glowing couple skirt around the party, greeting guests and accepting words of wisdom from married couples. She felt like a fool for letting the thought of Lin falling out of his infatuation and allure for Y/N even cross her mind. She should have known better –  when Lin loved, he loved with all his being.

She spent the rest of the night drinking wine and regretting the months of silence that she had given Lin, hoping that he’d someday return to her arms. She ignored the pinch of loathing that emerged when Y/N slipped onto the barstool next to her, her radiance ever present as she flashed Karen a smile and offered a warm conversation. When Y/N was pulled away by one of Lin’s adoring relatives, Karen was forced to drink away the guilt of feeling that way towards someone who was so pure and loving.

Suddenly the song shifted, and Karen was drawn back to the present. The low murmur of the crowd accompanied the organ as they turned to look at Y/N walk down the aisle. But Karen remained rooted to the spot, her eyes trained on Lin as his eyes marveled at the sight of his bride. His eyes, shiny from his unshed tears, were full of love and awe.

Karen tightened her hold on the pew, letting out a deep breath to calm her nerves. With her other hand, she fanned herself with the wedding program, hoping that the gust of air would help with the feeling of hopelessness that overwhelmed her as Y/N reached Lin. She placed a hand against her chest, watching through tunnel-vision as Lin extended his hand out for her to take. The feeling of dread sunk in as the reality of the situation dawned on her.

Lin was getting married.

“You didn’t think I’d forget to save a dance for the most important girl in my life, did you?”

Karen let out a weak laugh but accepted his outstretched hand, hoping that her voice didn’t betray the sorrow she felt from watching his first dance with Y/N. “Be careful with what you say, Lin. You’re a married man now.”

He threw his head back and laughed merrily as he tugged her to the dance floor. Karen couldn’t stop the soft smile from forming on her face when he placed his left hand on her hip to pull her close. Her right hand instinctively clutched his, the movement engraved in her brain from the countless times she danced with him on stage.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, twirling her.

Karen clutched his shoulder tightly and kept her gaze focused on the wall over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. She didn’t trust herself to speak, the pain of her loss still fresh on her mind. Luckily, he didn’t question her silence and instead drew her closer to him. She closed her eyes, losing herself to the warmth that radiated from his body and how it seemed to mold perfectly against hers.

As they moved together as one, Karen let her mind drift. Instead of the plum dress she wore, she imagined a long white gown, the train of her veil rustling behind her as she and Lin danced. She’d wear her mother’s pearl earrings – the same ones she wore on her wedding day – and he’d playfully tease her about being too sentimental. She’d frown, ready to argue, but then he’d give her a quick kiss before she’d have a chance to. The crowd would applause at the act of endearment, but the raucous sound would not faze the calm that she felt as she stared into his eyes.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Y/N’s soft voice forcefully yanked Karen out of her fantasy.

“Hi love,” Lin whispered fondly.

Karen blinked back the tears that flooded her eyes, goosebumps raising up her arms as Lin left her side. She wanted to desperately keep her cool, to ignore the ache in her chest as she watched them kiss in front of her. But there was no denying it now: the hope of being with Lin was officially over. The days of laughing until her stomach hurt or the playful teasing that would transform into full-blown arguments that could only be resolved with ice-cream would be no more. They would all just be memories that Karen treasured while Lin made new ones with Y/N.

The crushing depression set in.


Today, Karen knew that she had to bid her goodbyes to her romantic dreams.


 Summary: Ten years later, Levi reflects back with a cup of tea and an old photo album.

Pairing: RivaMika bc I am trash  

Note: I swear to it there is rivamika here please read to the end & YOU SHOULD REAAAALLY READ THIS WITH THIS PLAYING (gives you the whole feels shebang)


Situated at the far left corner of a comfortably furnished living room sat a man. His form rested upon the back of an old leather armchair, one hand flexed towards the side table, serving to occasionally to bring a cup of tea, black, as he had always preferred it to be, towards his lips for that slow sip, and the other to flip a page on an bulky photo album.

 Ten years had walked by since the last cry of the final titan that had been slain and ten years had gone since the first cry of man that became a signal for humanity’s long awaited victory. Levi glanced at the cover of the photo album, its edges weary and color faded. Photographs have been rare before, especially to them who served in the military where different priorities were placed above trivial matters. Though, idly thinking back to it, Levi felt somewhat happy they had occasional moments to spare to trap time within paper.

He pushed away his prior thoughts and flipped a page to face the familiar faces of Eren, Armin, and Mikasa staring back at him. He chucked wryly. Upon noticing Eren’s deep scrunch of the brow, looking rather angry, Armin’s shy glance towards the camera, and Mikasa’s deadpan gaze boring to the lens, Levi concluded this picture was taken in their younger days, probably within the first few months of their training. The rest of the page was filled with similar pictures he noticed. His eyes slowly scanned across photos of various 104th cadets some of them smiling, laughing, even glaring - courtesy of Mikasa, and some pictures of them training. 

Most of the photos he scanned by were of Jean and Eren either fighting or glaring, Armin waving behind a book, Ymir, with blushing Historia under her arm,and Sasha and Connie with their arms entangled and smiles adorning their faces. He chuckled at a particular photo; a red faced Jean leaning, or rather, attempting to lean close to an unsurprisingly deadpan Mikasa who very subtly leaned her body away. Either Connie or Sasha must have been the culprit behind this photo, he mused. 

Flipping through the next few pages, he stopped short at a particular photo of Erwin, Hanji, and himself. 

His eyes glazed with nostalgia at the sight of Erwin’s proud grin, broad shoulders and sky blue eyes. Erwin, in the picture had slung an arm over Hanji’s broad shoulders whose smile seemed even wider and the reds on her cheeks even redder. Even he, in the picture, even standing at a noticeable distance had looked at the two with an expression mirroring one of happiness, well as much happiness as you could get from the Levi after all. The picture had been taken after one of a successful expedition, so that must be the explanation of why Erwin looked less goddamned constipated for once, Levi thought.

He stopped yet again at a single photo shuffled crookedly to the corner. It was a simple photo of Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie seated on a bench with their usual expressions in place; Reiner with his proud smile, Bertholdt with his gentle eyes, and Annie’s expression resembling Mikasa’s usual deadpan look. Levi looked at the frayed edges with blank thoughts and flipped the page yet again. He willed himself to ignore the transparent gleam of tape that connected the rip of the photo midway.

Another photograph of them all caught his attention. Historia seated at the middle, a strong gaze steadied to the lens and her posture straight and proud. The rest of them had stood behind her, some smiling, some neutral with their hands fisted to their chests; their symbol for devotion. 

The rest of the photos from the album mostly consisted of the faces of cadets in different settings. Some were familiar, some not quite. Along the people, he noticed the notable fear in the eyes and the weary posture that they held their bodies and sighed proceeded to sigh woefully. The war had been long and so much was lost for the walls to finally fall. 

That moment had been captured in a photograph. It wasn’t a grand photo. Just a photo of open land. He remembered that field well. Probably just a few feet away would have laid the final titan face turned to the ground and body slump. It was silent, he remembered. There fell a hush after the creature fell with a thud. And then a cry. He didn’t know who, but he remembered a cry. It sounded somewhat a mix between a cry of victory and a cry of anguish. After centuries of bloodshed and fear within caged walls, the remaining soldiers joined the chorus and let out a cry. Some cried for those who were lost and some cried out of relief. Levi didn’t cry. He fell to his knees instead, with his hand curled to a fist over his heart as he bowed his head. 

Mikasa held Eren and Armin close to her and as well let out a cry. Eren had thought she resembled her nine year old self that day, raw and stripped of her armor; so Eren had let out a smile instead. Armin looked at the two, then the men who scattered themselves across the battlefield, and then the open walls and he too let out a cry. 

Levi turned the page again and stopped at a photo of a bonfire. The photo was solemn. The black of the night and the red hues of the flames in stark contrast against the faded linings of the paper it was stuck to. On the bottom, there lay a note.

“To all whom was lost- may we devote our hearts to your sacrifice and to humanity.”  

The line was written with quick, precise, strokes, and Levi has never thought for a few words to envelop him in so much nostalgia and longing before. 

The sound of a door opening and a mix of footsteps running and walking in pulled Levi from his trance. 


Levi looked, the confusion immediately dispersing from his features and stretched his arm out for his daughter to grab. He smoothed her black hair and lifted her up to sit in his lap as he listened to her animatedly talk about what she bought with Mama in the market. 

“Mama bought a lot of leaves! I asked why when we have a lot of leaves in our tree but mama said the leaves were for the tea shop but Papa what does she mean? How can you drink from leaves?” 

Levi looked at Lisa, his and Mikasa’s three year old daughter and smiled at her bewildered expression, “Mama and Papa have to brew them, baby.” Lisa still sat on her papa’s lap, still with a puzzled expression but nodded none the less. Levi chuckled.

“Papa, me and Mama saw Uncle Eren and Uncle Armin too! They said Auntie Sasha’s bakery is opening tomorrow. We should go, Auntie Sasha makes really good cake, papa. Can we go?” 

Levi ruffled her hair and replied, “We can ask your mama so we can go together, okay?”

Levi looked towards the kitchen where Mikasa had begun to organize the tea leaves into separate containers and caught her eye. “Jean has mentioned that Connie told him about the opening, so I don’t see why not.”  

Lisa let out a yell of a hooray at her mama’s approval and jumped from her papa’s lap, not before kissing his cheek (which Levi smiled at), and joined her mama in the kitchen. 

Mikasa paused from her work, swiped a strand of hair to the side and glanced at her husband. She studied as he sat on the chair, blue eyes looking far out the window and finally noticed the old hardbound album sitting on his lap. Mikasa moved towards Levi, taking the seat across from him and placed her hand on top of his. Levi jolted in a slight surprise from the touch, relaxed, then took her hand under his own. 

They looked at each other in a comfortable, familiar silence. Levi studied Mikasa’s face as her eyes, that used to look at the world with such a hardened gaze had now stared back at him softly. His eyes trailed down to her scar that peeked curiously from beneath black tresses and briefly thought back to its origins. 

Lisa’s sudden call broke the silence,“Papaaaa! Mamaaaaa! I’m finished! Can I set out the biscuits mama bought earlier?” 

Both Levi and Mikasa glanced at Lisa, amusement flickering in their eyes. Levi then looked at a framed photograph mounted to the wall. It was a photo of the three of them; Mikasa, finally without the deadpan expression and finally smiling, sat on the sand, with Lisa between her legs, his daughter’s eyes scrunched in laughter and Levi, sitting beside Mikasa, one hand slung over her shoulder, his eyes locked on his family, a calm smile ghosted over his lips. 

Levi’s eyes drifted towards his wife, with his daughter in her lap, hands reaching towards the plate and pretty blue eyes (which she got from him) in deep concentration over the arrangement of the sweets. 

Levi looked around once again, at the simplicity of his home, and the smallness of his family and grasped at the leather bound photo album tighter. 

Years back he would have never imagined to be in this position, always feeling like a piece ready to be sacrificed at any time, but as he looks at Mikasa and Lisa, Levi realizes that he has never felt more at home.

Recommended Listening: All Things Beautiful - Nick Cave & Warren Ellis

@kaerwrites: “Hello dear! How about: any pairing, their favorite things about one another. Bonus points for extra pairings.”

She keeps her hands just above the wheat. The very top of the grain brushes against her palms as she walks, leading them through the field. Bow slung over her shoulder, quiver at her hip. The sun has begun to set, the last of its arms desperately clinging to the world. Muted blue and softer yellow, the edges of pink and purple. A warmth that lingers on cold, a breeze that carries tomorrow. Her hair drifts around her face, and she looks over her shoulder. Perhaps just to check if they’re still following her. Her gaze lingers on him. He catches her eye and she smiles, turns back towards that horizon.

The sun still lingers on her skin after dusk as they lie in their tent together. She reaches upwards, hand threading through hair, her touch like fire at the back of his neck. It takes only the lightest pull to bring him towards her, his forehead touching hers. She traces his tattoo with her other hand, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. “My Warden,” he murmurs and her thumb brushes over his lips. Her kiss is as sweet as the softly spoken words she reserves for him.

He knows the words that bubble and boil, scald her enemies. He guards her back and they do not see the way the back of her neck flushes red with anger, with fierce determination. They look and they see the Warden, straight back and shoulders square. He knows her fragile in his arms, back bent and shoulders hunched as she clings to him. They see her unshakable, unafraid. He knows all the nights she spends without sleep, talking quietly to him about dreams with dragons and screaming demons. He knows her strengths. He knows her weaknesses. He minds them for her so she doesn’t have to.

“Tabris,” he says before he kisses her. He speaks like her name is a prayer, sacred on his lips. She keeps her hand light in his hair, moving slowly, the other hand drifting over his shoulders. Slipping down his back, feeling all the scarring under her fingertips. This handsome man had come laughing to her bed and she had unearthed, unburied, someone else. She strips away the Crow, finds Zevran underneath. His gaze is a storm, lashing wind and rolling sea, lightning that splits the sky. His touch is shelter, the softest rain. He tells her he would storm the Dark City to be with her. She would do much more.

Her staff is a line across her shoulders, hands wrapped tight around it. The others scold her for her brazenness. She only grins at them. She’s humming something under her breath, tapping the rhythm against the wood with her fingers. Aveline ducks out the way with a scowl as Hawke swings around to face him. “Are you coming for dinner?” She asks, cheeks pink and eyes bright. How could he say anything but yes? He nods, the smallest smile at the edges of his lips. Her grin flashes again. Aveline barks out frustration when Hawke spins around again, nails her in the head with her staff. Fenris watches as she weaves out of Aveline’s grasp, laughing as she runs away.

The staff rests at the door of her home, armor replaced with something softer. Her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down onto the couch. She settles into his lap, knees on either side of him, toes dangling off the couch. Wrapping her arms around his neck, sinking into his embrace. Playing with the longer strands of hair at the back of his neck, her breath warm at his ear. “Fenris,” she says, and he closes his eyes. Hands at her waist, moving upwards, feeling every bump of her spine. Wrapping an arm around her, twisting them so she lies beneath him.

They don’t quite fit, legs hanging over the edge, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She stays still as he kneels over her. She watches him quietly as he undoes the buttons on her robe one by one. Warm hands splaying over her chest, running down her belly and over the scar. Tracing the curve of her hip and her waist, tracking over her ribs. The line of her collarbone and the softness of her neck. She leans into his touch when his hand finds her face. She closes her eyes as he brushes thumbs over her cheekbones.

A strange thing it is, to be loved. It is permission unspoken, a chain freely given. He slowly lowers himself, allows himself to be tangled up in her. She brushes a space free of hair, presses lips to his forehead. Humming that same tune as she runs a hand through his hair, fingertips circling over his shoulder. He finds the rhythm in the beat of her heart, such a steady and unending thing. He matches his breathing with hers, closes his eyes.

He sits cross-legged on Solas’s desk. His hands wrapped around his ankles, perked up like a curious child. Solas is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, answering whatever questions cross his mind. They’re questions Dorian can’t quite hear from where he stands. Elbows on the bannister, a book loosely in his hands, and only half paying attention to the words on the page. He’d rather listen to the soft tone of Lavellan’s voice, the curiosity contained within. Watching him out of the corner of his eye as he sways to think of the next question.

He tilts his head back, biting his bottom lip as he thinks, and catches sight of Dorian. Dorian’s eyes quickly drop to the page and he clears his throat, pretends he doesn’t see Lavellan grinning up at him. Pretends he doesn’t see him uncurl himself from his perch, waving at Solas as he heads for the stairs of the library. Chooses not to turn his head when he appears at the top of the stairs, leans against the bannister beside him. A hand appears at the top of the book, steals it from his hands.

Lavellan casts a cursory glance at the words before his nose wrinkles and he throws it in the direction of Dorian’s nook. He closes the distance between them, takes Dorian’s hand in his. There’s no doubt in the way he holds him, no hesitation in the way his other hand reaches out to him. Turning his chin to face him, smirking as he leans in for a kiss. A lingering fear rankles in Dorian’s chest, a habit so hard to get rid of, the panic that someone else might see. Lavellan only holds him tighter, kisses harder.

“Are you jealous?” Lavellan asks, his face still so close, his breath warm over the kiss he has planted. There’s mischief in his eye, and the smirk lingers on his lips. An arm drapes itself over Dorian’s shoulder as he pulls himself closer, leaning into him.

“That you’re asking Solas questions about ancient research and not your incredibly well read and handsome lover? Never.” Lavellan throws back his head and laughs, and it’s hard not to be swept up in it. Wrapping arms around his waist, pulling him closer, feeling him shake in his arms. He’s still smiling as he presses his forehead against Dorian’s. He’s wiping away that old fear, smoothing out the panic. There’s only pride to have the Inquisitor on his arm, Lavellan on his lips.

Trading Spaces- Part 1

Summary: Sam enlists the assistance of a witch to help you and Dean work through your issues. He’s not expecting that help to come in the form of a body swap sell.

Word Count: 5200

Warning: body swap, a tiny bit of masturbation

A/N: THIS IS PART 1 OF 2. Hope y’all enjoy this trope I’ve been wanting to write for a while! FEEDBACK APPRECIATED! XOXO

The smell of herbs and spices burned your nose, and you held back a sneeze as you watched the woman behind the counter fill a small jar with a goofer dust. She was calm and kind, with wild hair that framed her pretty face, and creamy dark skin that made you envy its flawless clarity. But her easy laugh and gentle demeanor didn’t change the fact that she was a witch, and you held your frown as you watched her closely. Dean shifted his weight behind you, practically buzzing, just as eager to get out of here as you were.

Sam, however, just leaned over the counter with relaxed shoulders and that charming grin that showed his dimples. “Thanks again for selling to us.”

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anonymous asked:

Hey could I request a fic where R has to go visit her family (abusive/neglectful/homophobic) and A, M, K go with them to help them deal with gross-ass comments.

Originally posted by diver5ion

“If they say anything to you, just ignore it and keep grabbing your things.  We’ll make sure that they don’t try to stop you, okay?” 

“Yeah, got it,” you nodded and glanced backwards at Kara after the blonde squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.  After a few seconds of hesitation, you walked up the three steps that led onto your front porch and opened the door to the house you had grown up in.  Without being spotted, you slipped upstairs and were quick to lock yourself in your room.  Adrenaline took over and your hands shook as you moved around the half-emptied bedroom and shoved everything your racing mind deemed important into the two duffel bags you had brought.  Muffled voices started to sound from downstairs and your heart hammered.  

By the time you managed to pack up the reminder of your possessions, the voices had risen to shouts and then fallen silent again.  Cautiously, you unlocked your door and slipped out with the two bags slung over each of your shoulders.  When you made it downstairs, you found your father in a stare-down with Kara near the front door.  Alex waved you past them before you could try to interfere and you hurried out onto the porch without a word.  Your stomach was in knots.

“You okay?” she asked.  Her hand guided you towards the car from its place on your lower back and you nodded stiffly.

“I guess.”

Boastful Drunks - Drabble (01)

A/N: This takes place the night of Boastful Drunks and was written just because @avveh and I are desperate for more jealous Jungkook.

The obvious clink of the glass bottles in his backpack, tossed casually over one shoulder, was a death sentence for his plans that night and Jungkook knew it.  “What do you have in there,” Jimin asked, a knowing smile stretched across his face as he stalked towards his friend.  He pretended to sniff around the backpack, a comical over exaggeration that on any other night might have made Jungkook laugh, but he focused on keeping his face calm as Jimin buzzed around him, willing his annoyance to simmer below the surface.  It wasn’t Jimin’s fault the bottles had clinked.  If only Jungkook had been a bit more mindful when he slung the backpack haphazardly over his shoulder then, maybe, Jimin would have been none the wiser about his younger roommate trying to sneak out of the apartment.  “It smells to me like you have some explaining to do,” Jimin said with a laugh and leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms linked in front of his chest.  “Where are you going with bottles of alcohol at nine o’clock at night?”

Jungkook steadied himself in front of the older man.  “Out,” he replied and though he tried to control his temper the answer came out curt and blunt.

One of Jimin’s eyebrows raised in surprise but his smile never left his face.  “Out to where, kid?”  

Jungkook knew he was being watched, eyes trained on him to detect signs of his temper, any chinks in his stoic armor.  The last thing he wanted to hear that night was a reminder of his age.  He always hated to be discounted because he was younger than all of his friends but on the night he had intended to confess his crush to an older woman, the woman who had haunted his dreams mercilessly for weeks, the word ‘kid’ especially grated on him.  The silence threatened to give away his feelings regardless of how well he controlled his body and he put together the first answer he could think of.  “I’m going to the gym.”

Jimin’s laughter was immediate and chided him without words, though Jimin didn’t deny himself the opportunity to chastise him with those too.  “Kookie,” he said through laughter and Jungkook hoped he hadn’t noticed how his nickname had brought a low growl from his chest.  “I really need to teach you to lie.  Do you really think I’m going to believe you are going to the gym to drink?  I’ve seen kids younger than you lie better than that.”

Jungkook sighed and considered which was worse, not seeing you at all and staying home or telling Jimin where he intended to go and accepting that he was likely going to tag-a-long.  Before he had consciously made up his mind, your name tripped out of his mouth as a mutter, one that only caught Jimin’s attention because of the name attached to it.  “Why are you going there?  She hates you,” Jimin pondered outloud.

The last sentence was meant as a hyperbole but it stung nonetheless.  “She doesn’t hate me.  She’s my friend,” Jungkook answered and even he could hear the tenseness in his voice.

“No she’s not.  She’s my friend.  I introduced you so, therefore, she’s mine, not yours.”

She is mine.  Jungkook’s mind snarled with possessiveness of someone that he knew wasn’t really his to claim.  “She’s my friend too, Jimin,” he nearly growled and for the first time turned to face the older man.  “I’m allowed to go see her if I want.”  The bottles intended to be liquid courage clinked together as Jungkook shifted and Jimin’s eyes narrowed while he considered his younger roommate.

“Why with alcohol this late?  She lives on the other side of the city.  It’ll take you at least an hour to get there at this time.  If you drink with her you probably won’t stop until early in the morning.  What are you going to do?  Spend the night –.”  His smile faltered momentarily as his eyes widened but it grew back to twice its previous size quickly.  “I’ll come with you,” he said and Jungkook felt any remaining hope he had hidden die.  “She probably wouldn’t let you in the door anyways.  Showing up at her apartment with some alcohol and a condom isn’t going to get you into her pants, Kook.  She’s not Minji.  Hell, I haven’t even slept with her yet.”

Jungkook shoved his hands into his coat pockets, desperate to hide the fists that had formed at the thought of Jimin touching you.  Brief flashes of past moments where Jimin had slung his arm over your shoulders, held your hand with no pretense, or pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek and not even appreciated the way they flushed brilliantly under his touch before he moved on to flirt with someone else flooded Jungkook’s mind.  “You really don’t have to do that.”  His voice was edged with a threat but Jimin either didn’t care or didn’t notice.  He simply gathered his coat and passed by Jungkook with only a smug smile and a demeaning pat on his cheek, something his grandmother would have done.  Jungkook followed him and pretended to listen as Jimin spent the hour long commute boasting about his sexual conquests.  Usually Jungkook would join in, readily willing to recount his best moments in bed as well, but this time all he could picture was Jimin gloating about sleeping with you in as crude of detail as he was on the bus.  

By the time they arrived at your apartment building Jungkook had pictured Jimin’s hands, lips, and skin, on you so many times that every time he blinked he could only see the images replay for him.  His own special brand of torture.  When you opened the door, after Jimin’s incessant and eager rapping knock, your face was twisted in shock but Jungkook paid no attention.  He couldn’t focus on anything other than the way your oversized t-shirt hung over the swell of your breasts, the free and gentle dance they did as you moved, the way the collar hung over one of your shoulders to expose your collarbone to him.  He licked his lips hungrily and forced himself not to notice the way your shorts barely peeked out from underneath your long shirt, a fantastic illusion that made it seem as if the thin and baggy shirt was the only thing you wore in front of him.  

“Are you up for some drinks with a sexy man and his adorable child,” Jimin said with a smug smile and his voice pulled Jungkook out of his tunnel vision.  Suddenly he was hyper aware of Jimin and the way your breasts pressed against him as he hugged you, the way his hand naturally gravitated towards the dip in your lower back, the way your eyes fluttered closed as you were wrapped in his embrace and his mind repeated his possessive mantra.  

Mine.  Mine.  Mine.  She is mine.

the other day a friend was talking to me about the first time we met and I guess I never realized how funny it must have been for her. Here’s how it goes. We were on the bus back from campus and it had been raining. This is relevant because I had my umbrella. I got this particular umbrella at an art museum, and the handle of it looks like the handle of a sword. Since it wasn’t currently raining, and I’m on a crowded bus, I’ve got my umbrella closed and in its fabric sheath thing that’s got a strap on it, and I have that slung over my shoulder. This girl who lives on the same floor as me is standing next to me, and she looks at my umbrella and goes, “Is that a sword?” But see the thing is, I had recently purchased an actual sword, which was going to be a gift for a friend’s birthday. I assumed this girl had heard of this, since I had cleared it with my RA that I was going to have a sword in my room for a little while, and a few people on the floor had found this amusing. So, I answer with no hesitation at all, “Nah, this is an umbrella. My real sword is in my room.” And then I turned around and got off the bus.

Wake Up & Smell the Amortentia: Pine Needles & Bergamot Oil

Rating: T

Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Ygritte, Sansa Stark/Harrold Hardyng

Characters: Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Harrold Hardyng, Robb Stark, Arya Stark, Bran Stark, Rickon Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, mentions of Joffrey Baratheon

On her first day of Sixth Year Potions, Sansa Stark smells something distinct in Professor Aemon’s Amortentia and tries to figure out what it means.

AKA the Hogwarts AU that was only supposed to be a drabble but is now a three-shot.


Due to my inability to write short fics, this took much longer than intended. Was originally a one shot, but now has three parts. I plan to release one chapter a week for the next three weeks. Bug me if I don’t deliver. This will likely be the last prompt I answer for a while because the muse gave me a multi-chapter plot bunny and it won’t go away.

Many thanks to the wonderful sansapotter for looking this over for me!

Please leave me a comment if you feel so inclined; I love hearing from you all.

Also on AO3.

Part One: Pine Needles & Bergamot Oil

Sansa’s hair, a curtain of Tully red, draped around one side of the bubbling cauldron as she bent over the desk. The mother-of-pearl potion shimmered, sending up swirls of silvery steam. Sansa took a deep breath, trying to still her beating heart that threatened to break free of her chest with every thunk-thunk.  

At first, Sansa only smelled the mildew that clung to the dank walls of the dungeon, but soon another scent prevailed. Sansa closed her eyes, inhaling comforting Winterfell pine needles. She almost heard her siblings’ raucous laughter and the crunch of fresh snow underfoot as they tumbled to the ground on the last snow day last winter. Arya had thrown the first snowball that day, and Sansa joined in the all-out-war despite promising her mother that she wouldn’t get her new coat dirty. It wasn’t her fault that Jon Snow hit her square in the back as she walked away.

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In Plain Sight

*kicks the door down* MariChat Week Day 2: Cat Costume


It was Chat Noir’s second time attending Japan Expo. 

He couldn’t believe he’d gotten away with it last year, but with all the Chat Noir cosplayers walking around, what was one more in the grand scheme of things? This year, there were even more of them. He felt so cheeky that he stopped to pose in a Ladybug and Chat Noir group photo.

His confidence swelled the longer he walked around the convention space unrecognized, until he all but swaggered about, drunk on the thrill of his innocent little deception.

And then someone yanked on his tail.

Chat flailed his arms to regain his balance and turned, ready to politely ask whichever enthusiastic fan girl had a hold on his belt to let go…

…and came face to face with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She wore a simple dress with comfortable sandals, her pink bag slung over her shoulder, a convention pass hanging from her neck. She leveled a no-nonsense glare at him, lips pursed, eyebrows raised. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Chat panicked. “What do you mean, person-I’ve-never-met-before?”


The jig was up. His confidence abandoned him, but a new emotion occupied its space. He approached his princess with a growing smile. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Silly kitty,” Marinette said, wrapping his tail around her wrist. He leaned in towards her and she brushed her lips against his. “I’d know you anywhere.”


((A follow-up to this.))


Dealing with his father was never easy. Too much defiance made the patriarch overreact and tighten his control, and emotion was seen as weakness and would be used against him. So Sylvain entered his father’s office with an air of practiced nonchalance.

Leo Tolbert was nearing 70, but looked younger. His posture was the proud, straight-shouldered bearing of a soldier, and though his hair was now mostly white instead of black, it remained thick. His eyes, the same pale blue color as Sylvain’s, looked up from the document he was reading.

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