so while i was in japan i stumbled upon a pop up alien and space museum/art gallery (if you can’t find a thing in tokyo, it probably doesn’t exist) and there were these gorgeous feudal paintings of the tale of the bamboo cutter and it’s a very good story but
kaguya is the princess of the moon. she is a young child, gangly thin limbs and a plump mouth permanently set in a stubborn pout. she is a beautiful child, even by the moon’s standards, with her cold opal eyes and hair the same deep black as the void of space. she is an unruly, irritable child. she runs from the priestesses who attempt to teach her her duties, and steps on the feet of little princes from far away stars that her parents parade in front of her. she can’t be soothed by sweets, by soft toys, by pretty songs. she is a being of constant want, and nothing in the whole of space seems to satisfy her.
kaguya does not love the moon as she should. she does not find beauty in it’s silvery, iridescent ground, nor in the pools beneath its surface that glint like mercury. she finds her citizens stuffy and annoying, and all the people from the stars think they’re better than them just because they shine a little brighter. it makes kaguya cross – the sun shines brightest of all, and the only beings that still reside on it is a great monster of a dragon that no one dares cross.
the priestesses try to entice her to learn this portion of her duties at least, but she runs from them and plugs her ears and does not listen. there are times when the sun and moon cross paths, and when they do the great dragon of the sun attempts to gobble them up whole. it is only by praying to the god tsukuyomi and erecting a barrier that the royal family can protect their home from the sun dragon.
it is kaguya’s most sacred duty, and she has no interest in it.
she’s simultaneously bored by her home and insulted when others find it lacking, and this contrary rational might be distressing to the logic of an adult, but kaguya is not an adult. she is a child, and being contrary is her prerogative.
she is walking through in the courtyard behind a palace when a shooting star passes her by, then circles back again. it’s s such a little thing, it must have been traveling for a very long time, because it’s burned down so it’s only about half as big as kaguya. this means the star is very old. “child,” the falling star says, voice ancient and crackling, “why are you sad?”
“i am not sad,” she answers, but as soon as she says that she knows it’s a lie, and tears prick at her eyes. “i am always lonely, though i am surrounded by people. i am always bored, though there are many things to entertain me. i am always angry, though there is nothing wrong. i am sad because i am a piece that does not fit.”
“maybe you are simply a piece that belongs to a different puzzle,” the falling star says, “come, climb onto me, and i will i take you somewhere new.”
“will it be better?” she asks.
if a falling star could shrug this one would, but it can’t so it doesn’t. “it will be different.”
different sounds better to kaguya. she agrees, not bothering to say goodbye to her parents or her people, does not take one last look at the beauty of the moon’s surface. instead she climbs onto the falling star, her skin thick enough that she does not feel its burn, and rides it all the way down, until it is a star no longer and only a falling rock, until she goes tumbling onto a whole new planet, and as she falls she thinks that this new planet looks very green.
there is an old man called taketori no okina. he lives alone in a great bamboo field, and every day he wakes up at dawn and cuts bamboo until dusk, then he goes home and eats and sleeps and wakes up in the morning to do it all again. when he was a young man, taketori no okina fell in love with a samurai who had laughter lines around his mouth and strong hands, who taught him how to wield blades with a strength and skill that could cut down the strongest soldiers. but taketori no okina only uses it to harvest bamboo. the samurai was engaged to the daughter of a respectable family, and so he left. he left his village not long after the samurai, unable to be there alone in the place where they used to be together. taketori no okina’s heart was so full of love for his samurai that he could not bear to love another, and so he never did.
he is awoken in the middle of the night by a bang that shakes his home and nearly deafens him. he stumbles outside, and a couple miles into his field he sees smoke. he goes running for it, concerns about fire and war – they’re in a time of peace now, but they weren’t always – rushing through his mind as he stumbles through. when he reaches the source, it’s to find his bamboo flattened in a ten foot wide circle and a little girl lying in the center. he falls to his knees beside her and carefully picks her up, cradling her in his arms. she’s pale, like she doesn’t spend enough time in the sun, and has long black hair. her thin chest rises and falls with her deep breaths, and he is relieved that she’s alive. “little girl,” he says, “you must wake up and tell me if you are all right.”
she opens her eyes, two pearls set in her delicate face. “i am well,” she says, and smiles at him. she curls into him, setting her head against his chest, “you are warm. i will stay with you, for you are warm and have a kind face.”
she falls asleep once more, a hand clutching something laying across her stomach and her other hand fisted into his robe. taketori no okina looks at this little girl and feels his heart expand, until it’s straining against his rib cage. he loves his samurai as much as he always has, but now his heart is bigger. it’s made room so he can fill it with love for this little girl, and so he does.
he carries her to his home and settles her into his bed. it’s a small bed, meant only for one, and she is a little thing, but he does not wish to crowd her, so takes the floor. tomorrow he will build her a bed and take her to market and show her the hot springs near the mountain. for now he falls asleep listening to her soft breathing with a smile.
the next morning he wakes up to her sitting on the floor by his side, running her fingers over a pockmarked stone. “what is that?”
“it is all that is left of my friend. she was once a great star but she fell, as all great stars must. she carried me here because i was sad. but now i am sad that she is gone.”
“that’s all right,” taketori no okina says, and she blinks down at him. no one had ever told her that it was okay that she was sad before. “she was very special, so we must put her in a very special place.”
he gets up and builds a ledge across the window with a platform just big enough for the stone to fit. he lifts her up so that she can set what’s left of her friend on it herself. “now she can see you and sky she came from at the same time, and you will always be able to see her.”
“she cannot see anything anymore,” she says, but she likes the idea of it, the sentiment. she feels less sad at her loss now, although she can’t say why, since nothing has changed.
once he has set her back on her feet she looks up at him and says, “i am kaguya. what shall i call you?”
“they call me taketori no okina,” he pushes a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, “you may call me whatever you like.”
she wrinkles her nose at that name. it is too long, and too formal. if she is to call him that, then he might as well call her princess kaguya, and she might as well not have left the moon at all. “i will call you oyaji,” she declares, and it’s not a term she’d used even with her father on the moon, but for this old man who built her a shelf and carried her home and had large, rough hands that touch her gently, she thinks it fits.
kaguya quite likes the new planet and her new father. he is man who’s spent a lifetime working and doing little else. he has a tidy savings that he cheerfully depletes on her; he buys her colorful kimonos for her to wear when he walks her to market, and functional kosodes for the days she spends playing in the river and darting through the bamboo forests. he tells her stories at night, of his samurai, of the emperor, and when he exhausts his reservoir of stories about this land, he tells her the tales of other ones – the fire-rats of china, the buddha of india, and when he even those run out he tells her of dragons, of a magical island called horai.
she loves these stories, and she loves him. there are days when she is sad and cross, and on those days oyaji kisses her forehead and tucks the blanket around her shoulder and brings her something spicy from the market for dinner. oyaji just lets her be sad or angry when she wants to be, and because of that kaguya finds that now she gets sad less and less, that more often than not she’s …. happy.
she notices the special care oyaji takes when he talks of samurai, and sees the strength and power in his limbs when he cuts bamboo, and decides she would like to be strong like the samurai in his stories, like oyaji is himself. so she asks and asks, and he’s worried that it’s too dangerous for her. but oyaji loves her like she’s his own flesh and blood, and is unable to deny her anything.
kaguya grows up. she grows up on stories of far off lands and magic, she grows up on warm, simple food made by someone who loves her, she grows up learning to wield blades with the same brute efficiency as oyaji. kaguya grows up beautiful. her skin is darker now that she dances in the sun’s rays, her hair is long and fine, and her eyes are as they’ve always been – pale and beautiful, small versions of the moon she was born on. she moves with a steadied grace that only a deadly woman can master and has the whipcord strength of body from days working in the bamboo fields alongside her father, but all the delicate features of the princess she was born as.
they were left alone when she was a child, when oyaji took her hand and guided her to meat stalls and cloth sellers and bought sparkly combs for her to wear in her hair. but kaguya is a child no longer. she is a young woman, and tales of her beauty spread far and wide. just as when she was a child and princes from far off stars came to court her, now princes come from far off lands. as a child she stepped on their feet, and as a woman she wishes to take her shiny blades and cut them from navel to neck. but she is not a princess here, she is the poor daughter of a poor bamboo cutter, and must act accordingly. she can’t go slicing up arrogant suitors who believe they are entitled to her, no matter how much she would like to.
the most persistent are five princes from lands far from here. she requests a betrothal gift from each of them, and says she will marry the first to return.
from the first prince, she requests the stone begging bowl of buddha.
from the second prince, she requests a jeweled branch from horai.
from the third prince, she requests a fire-rat robe.
from the fourth prince, she requests a cowry shell born of swallows.
from the fifth prince, she requests a colored jewel from a dragon’s neck.
off they go to fulfill her impossible requests, and kaguya rests easy knowing that they will not return, or if they do they will return empty handed.
Request: aa can you do a soulmate
au with archie wherein all you see is black and white until you touch your
soulmate? like he bumps into you in the hallway or something and color just
blooms before your eyes?? i dunno of that makes sense or not but your writing
it great!! <3
Summary: (a Soulmate!AU) [In a black
and white world where you find your soulmate when you touch for the first time.
After your skin touches theirs, the two people can see each other in color,
later on expanding into seeing the whole world in color.] Y/n has just moved to
Riverdale and is starting her first day at Riverdale High. Will today be the
day where she’ll find the one she’s been looking for?
Word Count: 1804
of all lmao the summary I just wrote for this was so cheesy I apologize. I had
fun writing this so I hope you have fun reading it but if not sorry I suck. I’m
posting it without editing it so if you see any mistakes I promise I’ll fix
them tomorrow I’m just currently being lazy. Don’t forget to request!
You heard it happened to another
girl from your old school last week. She’d been visiting family in another town
when it happened. You heard it happened like some sort of rom-com. Apparently, she’d
dropped her wallet and he’d tapped on her shoulder to return it to her. She
turned and saw him, like actually saw him, in color. You’d heard it a billion
times. When you touch the right person for the first time, you finally start to
see in color. At first, it’s just them you see in color, everything else stays
black and white, but after a while you can see everything. Something in you
goes right with something in them and the rest is history.
It was hard to even conceptualize.
You’d lived your whole life seeing black and white, what did it even mean to
see in color. They compared it to The
Wizard of Oz, like seeing in Technicolor. Before you touch them is like
Dorothy in Kansas, but after was like when she went over the rainbow to Munchkinland.
People who could see it had tried to explain it to you many times before, but
they always ended up saying it was impossible to explain to someone who
couldn’t see it; you’d see one day. But what if you didn’t? There were people
who lived their whole lives and dies still seeing black and white. Maybe you
would be one of those people.
You felt stupid even thinking about
it. You were only in high school after all. There were people who didn’t see
their person until they were 30, people who didn’t see their person until they
were 60! Why were you so anxious?
You knew you didn’t need
another person to survive or anything, you could take care of yourself. It’s
just the thought of spending your whole life by yourself sounded pretty
unappetizing. Even though so many people hadn’t found their person yet you
couldn’t help the feeling like you were late. You knew a couple that had seen
each other since second grade. You were patient, but you just wanted to know
what you were missing.
Your first day at a new school.
You’d moved into your new house in Riverdale a couple days ago, and it seemed
like a nice town. All the people you’d met seemed welcoming enough and your
room was bigger than in your old house. You hadn’t moved here to find your
person or anything, your mom’s job had a great opportunity here for her, but
you thought maybe this would be that place where it would happen. You didn’t
want to get your hopes up… but what if?
You pulled up into a spot on the
far side of the parking lot at Riverdale High. You took a deep breath before
ripping the band-aid off and opening the car door, making you way toward the
entrance. Various other students were laughing and talking with their friends. To
say you were nervous would be to say that Mount Everest was a bit of a hike: a
huge understatement. It was the first day back from summer, but you’d never
been the new kid before. You didn’t know a soul.
You’d been to the office once
before over the weekend to register for classes so you found your way there
relatively easily once you got inside. You walked into the bustling office and tried
to avoid getting hit by a receptionist who at that speed could have easily
passed for a linebacker. You hesitantly approached a woman behind a desk who
looked busy, but at least noticeably less busy than everyone else. She was typing
up something with a level of ferocity that had to be breaking some sort of
record. You waited uncomfortably for her to finish what she was doing and
notice you standing in front of her. Was she going to finish?
After half a minute and a few final
loud smacks on her keyboard, she pushed up her glasses and looked up at you
with a weary but genuine smile. “Can I help you with something, honey?”
“Oh, yeah,” you said fumbling
through the front pocket of your backpack for the right paper. “Here it is.”
You slid the paper to her with your name and information they had given you
when you’d registered. “I’m new.”
Her eyes scanned the paper and she
turned to grab something from behind the desk. She turned back to you and
passed a piece of paper to you. “So, this is your schedule. The school is a bit
of a maze so let me see if I can find someone…” She looked around the office
and her eyes landed on someone. “Aha!” You followed her line of sight and saw a
boy with his arms full of books walking toward the door. You strained your neck
to see his face but he was turned away. “Mr.
Andrews?!” The boy stopped in his tracks and swiveled around in search for the
source of his name. Whoa. The receptionist waved him over and he made his way
over to you.
You had tried your whole life not
to think about the boys you met too much so you wouldn’t get too attached to
them only for them to see someone else. But boy, oh boy, he was kind of a babe.
“Mr. Andrews, she doesn’t know her
way around the school yet; Could you show her to her to her first class?”
He glanced quickly at you then back
to the receptionist, “Oh, yeah. No problem!”
You smiled graciously at the
receptionist and she turned back to her work.
“So we’re going to…” He looked over
the schedule and mumbled to himself. “Ah, cool.” He looked up at you and
smiled. “That’s not far at all.” You could feel your heart flutter. He started
walking down the hall way and you stayed by his side, a couple inches away. “I
would shake your hand but I don’t really have a free one at the moment,” he
said nodding down to the comically large pile of books he was carrying. “I’m
not trying to be rude, I promise.”
“No, don’t even worry about it.” You
replied. Secretly though, you were kind of upset you couldn’t shake his hand.
You wanted to touch him for a second, just to rule him out as your person. Now
you were going to be thinking about him all day.
“So, are you a freshman? Or just
new?” he asked while maneuvering through the populated hallway.
“Just new. My mom got a promotion
so we moved to Riverdale last week. I’m actually a sophomore.” You explained.
You had a feeling you would have to be telling this story pretty frequently in
the near future.
“Oh, hey, cool! I’m a sophomore
too! Maybe we’ll have classed together and stuff.” He said with a hint of excitement.
You didn’t even know why you were getting your hopes up. For all you know he
had already seen his person.
“I hope so. So far you’re the only
person I’ve met at this school. It would be nice to have a familiar face in a
class or two.” You tried to keep the sound of desperation in your voice to a
He stopped in front of a classroom
on the right side of the hallway, “Well, here we are.”
You didn’t want to leave yet, but
you knew you had to. “Thank you so much for helping me out, by the way.
He smiled and turned to face you,
backing away in the opposite direction “Yeah, maybe I’ll see you around later?”
It only hit you then that you didn’t know his first name. And he didn’t know
your name either. You opened your mouth to speak, some guy rammed into him,
knocking down all his books and making him fall right onto you.
The guy looked at the pile up he’d
caused, “Oh, sorry dude,” and walked away.
“I’m so sorry,” he said lifting
himself off you and turning to pick up his books without looking at you.
You looked down at your backpack and
fixed everything that was misplaced. “It wasn’t your fault,” you comforted
without looking up. “It was that stupid guy, he came out of nowhere.”
It was then that you looked up at
him, and it happened. You could see him. You, quite literally, could not
believe your eyes. You could see the way he really looked, with all the colors
that belonged to him. He looked even more beautiful that you had thought. His
hair was bright – you didn’t know what everyone else’s hair looked like, or
what color to call his, but you knew it was special. You could see the blush in
his cheeks as he fumbled with his books, you hadn’t known what blushing really
looked like. You could see him, and for now, only him.
He still hadn’t looked up from the
books. An overwhelming feeling of fear washed over you. What if he didn’t see
you in color back? That happened sometimes. What if it happened to you? You looked
at him and you wanted to say something, to ask him, but nothing could come out.
“Hey,” he said, “I just realized
that I never got to ask you–” He glanced up and you and back down before he knew
what he had seen. He froze, calculating in his head. He slowly turned his head
up to face you. He didn’t say anything, he just looked at you and for a while,
you just looked back.
You broke the silence, “Can, can
you see me? In color?”
He nodded his head yes but remained
silent. You could see his eyes scanning all over you, looking like it was the
first time he had his eyes, because it kind of was.
With wide eyes he darted his to
yours, realizing, “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t,” you laughed lightly.
“Well can you? Please?” He laughed
“Y/n,” he said more to himself than
to you, like he was feeling how it felt on him. “I’m Archie.”
“It’s a real pleasure to meet you
“I guess so,” You were in as much
shock as he was. This was definitely not how you had expected your first day at
Riverdale High to start, but you certainly weren’t complaining.
“Do you want to get out of here? We
can talk and stuff,” he asked standing up.
“There is nothing more I want in
the world.” You reached out your hand and he pulled you up. You walked right
out the school and onto the street abandoning all the papers and books. You had
more important things to do. You were finally seeing in Technicolor.
As a newborn vampire, you still have a lot to learn ― fortunately, someone is very happy to teach.
“Step number one: pick your prey.”
➤ Taehyung x Reader | Vampire!AU
➤ You will find: light angst, smut
➤ Beware of: explicit gore, violence, mentions of death, blood play
➤ Word count: 13,437
Author’s note: Welcome to my very first fanfic here on tumblr! I have a certain weekness towards these supernatural AUs, and this work is one that truly marked my days back in my old persona haha
This has been edited and adapted to Bangtan. Every piece of feedback is deeply appreciated. Thank you for giving my story a try >.<
Under the heavy raindrops of a decaying city, the raven sky of dawn crawled away slowly, giving its place to a kind morning semblance, a pale shade of pink that originated in the horizon. The streets found themselves in the transitory state between the ebullient sibilation of night encounters and the gradual awakening of a mundane day, utterly relinquished beneath the consolidated ashen clouds.
Despite all that, not every aspect of that stationary instant was permeated by peace. Somewhere amidst the grey buildings and endless traces of monochromatic asphalt, a reticent scream was muffled in trepidation and fear; eyes blown wide in absolute panic. The man’s fingers were already faithlessly gripping to the asperous brick wall behind him, clothes bathed in the deepest of cardinal as he merely watched, impassive and hopeless, as his life was drained from him, dripping down his figure and accumulating in deep, ruby puddles around his trembling feet.
She could hear a strong, booming pulse around her, a frantic heartbeat that fought to keep living on as it echoed inside her skull, reverberating in her chaotic thoughts and sending waves of heat through her ecstatic body. It was not her own, and the woman had no idea who it belonged to. In fact, there was no reasonable facts within her that could call her back to the perceptions of reality, for in that dark alley, the beast was absolutely overtook by an unknown euphoria, moved by the most absolute carnality of her existence. The amative, enticing aroma of blood involved her very personality in an embrace of sadism, engendering her to carve her canines even deeper inside the stranger’s bloody flesh.
Under the heavy raindrops of a decaying city, she could feel everything.
Request: “Omg thanks ❤ can you do one where Teddy meets a loner
Gryffindor girl that disappears every now and then and then find out that she’s
a werewolf and like he feels that it’s some kind of “sign” from his
father. Pretty pretty please, I so love your writing 💕”
Pairing: Edward “Teddy” Lupin x Reader
Word Count: 1848
A/n: I literally know -67826% about this character so I hope I portrayed him alright :) thank god 4 the harry potter wiki
“Why do I do this to myself.” Teddy spoke to himself, running up
the Grand staircase. His hair transformed into a darker shade of blue as he
puffed up the stairs, taking two at a time. He was head boy, but that didn’t
mean he didn’t accidentally sleep in once in a while. As he whizzed through the
corridor he had almost made it to his Potions class, only to stop abruptly at
the door. He was still, trying to pick up the hurried voices that were echoing
through the empty hallways. He followed them, knowing he was getting nearer, as
the voices went from a hushed echo to a loud whisper. He recognised the
Headmistresses’ voice, but the other was unfamiliar. He had his back against
the wall, not daring to peer down the hallway, in case he would get caught.
“We will take care of you, no need to worry.”
“But Professor, what if I hurt someone? I don’t want to put anyone
“My girl, we have a hefty supply of Wolfsbane potion, and I will
watch over you in my office, with the door locked and guarded.”
Teddy had to prevent himself from audibly gasping with shock.
Wolfsbane potion? But that was only used by…
“You must prepare for the full moon this coming week. Don’t miss a
day, make sure of it. It’s your responsibility to take a potion every day of
the week.” Headmistress McGonagall instructed.
His suspicions were proved true by that final sentence, and he
pulled himself away from the scene after it was revealed. He had heard stories
about how his father attended Hogwarts, being aided by Dumbledore during full
moons. And now there was another werewolf student that was being hidden.
A student at Hogwarts was infected with Lycanthropy.
Summary: It’s that time of year again, and for your friend group’s annual secret Santa this time, Namjoon has you. Which means that this year, his gift has to be perfect. However, sometimes it’s not the material gifts that are the best ones.
Word Count: 6.2k+
Genre: Fluff, Smut
Warning: Smut, Painfully cheesy fluff to the point that characters call themselves out on it
Namjoon is glad that there are websites that do secret Santa drawings for you now, because if he had drawn your name while in the same room with you, there’d be no hiding how he felt about this current situation. Which was a complete mess. Hands shaking, heart racing, red in the face kind of mess.
However, now he has to deal with his roommate judging him as he flails in front of his computer screen, which now displays you name. And Min Yoongi knows how to judge.
“Calm down. You look like one of those things they put outside car dealerships.” Yoongi flicks the back of Namjoon’s head as he passes behind him, on his way to flop down on the couch.
“You don’t understand, man.” Namjoon lets out a groan before burying his face in his hands. “Like, I know I can’t tell you because it’s supposed to be secret Santa—"
“You got Y/N, I knew it the second I heard you squealing from my room.” Yoongi’s tone is flat, almost bored, as he picks up the remote and starts flipping through the channels.
“Squealing, what? I wasn’t squealing.” Namjoon’s arms cross over his chest as he lets out a huff of air.
“I mean, that was the highest I’ve ever heard your voice go.” Yoongi sighs as he shuts the TV off, unable to find anything to watch. “So, when’s the wedding? I know a ring is probably outside of the price range for a typical secret Santa but…”
Guys, I have a lot of Kandriel ideas where Andrew and Kevin are already a secret thing before Neil shows up, but then when Neil shows up he balances out the parts they don’t like of each other. Andrew couldn’t care less about exy? Neil’s there to obsess with him. Kevin won’t get off his healthy ‘I am not getting lung cancer with you’ high horse? Neil’s there to smoke with Andrew.
And when Andrew and Kevin find out that they both have a thing for Neil, they totally agree to the idea of whoever can capture Neil’s attention having a side thing with him. And it kind of becomes a competition to attract Neil, but then they realize ‘doesn’t swing’ Neil is a lost cause. Until Andrew slips up and kisses him and then suddenly Neil wants to try and swing.
When Kevin approaches Neil after, Neil says 'What about Andrew?’ Kevin doesn’t ask if Neil means what about Kevin and Andrew or what about Neil and Andrew. Neil isn’t entirely sure which he means. Kevin gives Neil that look like he is so stupid as he tells him that Andrew is fine with this and what’s the difference if Neil’s trying out swinging with no feelings. Neil is as interested in the offer as he is pissed that Andrew and Kevin discussed him behind his back and decided to pass him back and forth without even asking him first.
Neil knows it is a dangerous game experimenting with both of them and he’s bound to get burned, but he’s not planning on being alive for long enough for that to happen, so he figures what’s the matter? Besides, when he dies Kevin and Andrew will have each other and they’ll be fine. Right?
[I changed it a little - she’s not a princess but still considered royalty, if that’s okay. This is an interesting and quite different one. It’s long and probably my favorite thing I have EVER written. haha. I just wanted to keep writing and didn’t want it to end.. I hope that you enjoy!!]
A/N: I’m having feelings after the Padafamily picture, OK? Sue me.
“Daddy are you gonna take me?” your daughter Juliana looked up at her father, wide eyed and inquisitive as always; her hazel eyes a perfect match for his.
Jared smiled his curious smile and shook his head quickly in confusion. “Take you where Jules?”
“To the work,” she said, sticking out her hip and leaning her hand on it just like you did. You laughed from your spot in the kitchen as you watched the scene unfold. For a five year old, she was sassy as hell.
“To my work?” he asked, holding back a laugh.
Jules rolled her eyes, “Yeah Daddy, it’s ‘Take Your Child To Work Day’. So you take your child to your work.”
Jared nodded, pretending to consider her question. He rubbed his chin and hummed. “Huh, well, it just so happens that Mommy has some scenes this week, so we’ll all be going to work tomorrow.”
It took a moment for the information to make it’s way past all the attitude, but finally Juliana understood and a bright smile grew on her little face. She clapped and ran into Jared’s open arms, squealing as he lifted her into the air with ease. “Thank you Daddy!”
Soulmate AU: Jughead Jones has been writing about a girl he has never met before, but when he leaves his journal at his favorite coffee shop one day, an unsuspecting young woman finds it without knowing that the stranger who wrote it was actually writing about her
She wears her hair held high in an off-the-face-neat-and-tidy sort of way that shows the world she’s ready to concur it. Her mind drifts from one idea to the next without stopping to take a breath. And although she doesn’t know it, she impacts every single person she meets just by being exactly who she is.
24-year-old, Jughead Jones III looked up from the beat-up journal that his father had given him for his sixteenth birthday eight years ago, turning in his seat to thank the waitress for the cup of coffee she had just set on the table in front of him. He had been writing an entry a day since he had found it sitting on his bed with a big red bow tied around the front cover when he got home from school, and he hadn’t missed a day since.
“Can I get you anything else?” the waitress, all fluttery eyelashes and puckered lips, asked in the sweetest voice she could possibly muster as she smoothed out her apron and turned to smile sweetly at him.
“No, that’ll be all, thanks,” Jughead dismissed her without a second glance, taking a small sip of his coffee and immediately picking up his fountain pen to continue writing.
“Well, if you need anything else, my name is Naomi,” the waitress informed him, taking a step back from the table and gesturing towards the front of the coffee shop. “I’ll be behind the counter for a while, so just let me know if-”
“Got it,” Jughead cut her off before she could finish, and Naomi sunk back behind the counter without another word.
Jughead focused his attention back to his journal entry for the day, furrowing his brow as he waited for more words about his mystery girl to flow from pen to page like they’d always done so naturally. He had been writing about this girl for years, and although she was nameless, she had distinct features that made her almost impossible to miss if he were ever to meet her in real life. She had become somewhat of an obsession of his over the past few months, distracting him from work and relationships to the point where he was beginning to believe that this girl he created in his mind, was actually out there somewhere waiting to be found.
Just as he was about to tackle his next paragraph, his phone began buzzing frantically on the table, causing the cup of coffee to shake and shimmy all across the table in the process.
“Mr. Dawson,” Jughead answered, his voice rising an octave the way it always did whenever he spoke to his boss. “Yes, I understand that there’s a deadline and I’m - no sir, I wasn’t aware that I took you for granted - yes, sir - yes, and I’ll be there in an hour - now I’ll be there right now, I’m on my way. Okay, see you soon - in ten minutes, I’ll see you in ten minutes, goodbye!”
Jughead clicked off his phone and scooped up his messenger bag from beside him in the booth before sliding out of his seat. Taking one last gulp of his coffee, he carelessly tossed his journal into his bag before hurrying to the front of the shop to pay his bill.
Just as he reached the counter, a woman carrying an overflowing box of what looked to be gardening tools came barreling into the coffee shop without any control of her feet or the box she held in front of her.
“Sorry, excuse me, if you’d just - oops - sorry, sir, are you okay?” With the box partly obstructing her view, the woman nearly slammed straight into an older man carrying a to-go cup, dodging him by only just a hair and knocking her elbow into the counter as a result. “Ow!”
Still in a hurry, Jughead tried to block out the woman’s incessant apologies and turned to the employee behind the counter. “Hi, I’m ready to pay, if that’s alright.”
“Sure, just one moment,” she smiled at Jughead, but then turned to the crazed woman with the box, her eyes going wide as she took in the scene that was unfolding before her.
“I actually don’t have a moment, I’m-” Jughead tried to protest, but the woman behind the counter was already heading over to inspect what was happening near the front door.
“Betty, what on earth are you carrying?”
“Hey, Polly, I’m just… Hold on a second,” the crazed woman, now known as Betty, dropped her box onto one end of the counter and quickly dusted her hands off. “Ah, that’s better.”
“Okay, start explaining,” Polly instructed, nodding to the box of gardening tools and raising a curious eyebrow. “What is all this?”
“My third graders are learning about rocks and minerals this week,” Betty explained. “So I’ve been going around the neighborhood looking for different kinds of stones and varieties of soil to-”
“Sorry,” Jughead interrupted, pulling on his messenger bag impatiently and flapping his check in the air. “I don’t mean to be that guy, but if I don’t get back to my office in seven and a half minutes, my boss has threatened to strap a rocket to my back and send me flying to some unknown universe so if I could just-”
“Yes, sorry,” Polly hurried back over the the cash register and took Jughead’s credit card, quickly ringing him up and tearing off a piece of paper from the machine next to her and handing it to him. “Here’s your receipt, enjoy the rest of your day!”
“Thank you,” Jughead nodded at Polly and turned to head out the door, but before pushing it open to brave the cold morning air, Jughead stopped suddenly and turned back to Betty. “Good luck with the rock thing by the way. There’s some good ones by the lake just off Kingston Drive, if you’re still looking. It’s a gold mine down there trust me!”
With that, Jughead left the coffee shop, leaving Betty to turn back to Polly with a surprised smile on her face.
“Well, that was unexpectedly kind of him. Most guys in suits like that aren’t usually so friendly,” Betty pointed out, thinking back to all the guys she knew in college who were crazed, wannabe business tycoons with a bad attitude.
“He comes in here every morning. Sometimes in the evening too if he’s trying to meet a deadline,” Polly informed her, wiping the counter down with a cloth and leaning forward on the surface with her elbows. “Yet I still have no idea what his name is.”
“He’s a writer?” Betty guessed, trying her best to conceal the interest that had seemed to pop up in her voice.
“Yeah, some kind of hotshot news editor by the looks of it,” Polly explained, pushing off the counter and bending down to fix an out-of-place pastry in the display case.
“Interesting,” Betty muttered, turning back to the door and looking out the window intently. “I wonder if - uh oh.”
An object on the floor in front of the welcome mat caught Betty’s attention, and she hurried over to investigate.
“What is it?” Polly asked, her brows furrowing together as she took in the old journal that her sister was gently holding in her hands.
“Looks like Cinder-editor left his notebook behind,” Betty concluded, holding up the journal for Polly to see.
“Well, hurry, go track him down before he turns into a pumpkin!” Polly joked, gesturing to the door and ushering for her to leave.
Betty knew that there was no way he would still be around, but she also knew that she had to take a chance. Pushing through the front door, Betty hurried out onto the streets, searching both ways for any sign of the journal’s owner. Spotting the same old beanie that she remembered seeing the man wearing at the end of the sidewalk one street over, Betty moved quickly to catch up to him.
“Wait!” she called out to him, but he was already joining the crowd of people in front of him and crossing the street. “Wait, you forgot you’re-”
With all the chaos happening around her, Betty got swept up into a group of school kids heading to their bus stop and ran straight into a woman walking her poodle in the opposite direction.
“Watch where you’re going!” the woman snapped, glancing back at Betty to glare at her before heading into the apartment building behind them.
“Ow, why does that keep happening to me?” Betty rubbed her shoulder, standing on her tiptoes to see if she could spot the beanie again, but it was nowhere to be found.
Glancing down at the journal in her hands, a thought crossed her mind that she knew was unethical, but kept popping back up to the forefront the longer she stared at its worn cover.
“Betty, don’t read it, that would be an invasion of privacy,” she muttered to herself, quickly shaking the thought from her mind and tucking the journal safely under her arm. “But then again, maybe he has his name written somewhere in the front cover. I mean, how else am I going to get this back to him if I don’t know his name?”
Betty slowly slipped the journal back into her hands, glancing behind her shoulder in case anyone passing her on the street could tell how much of a snoop she was being.
“Oh, what the heck,” she conceded, flipping open the book to check for a name. Written in thick letters were the words: Property of Forsythe Pendleton Jones III and scribbled underneath it in tinier, childlike handwriting was the name Jughead.
“Odd,” Betty mumbled, thinking about how strange the name Jughead sounded in her mind. Yet, there was a familiarity to it that made it seem ordinary somehow. Like it was the most common, natural-sounding name she had ever heard.
Having found the name she was hoping to find, Betty prepared her hands to close the journal and head back to her sister’s coffee shop. But before she could follow through, and even though she could never explain it, something stopped her. It was as if there was a pull in the universe causing her eyes to wander over to the next page and read the story that was scribbled carelessly onto the white paper.
“No way,” Betty breathed, letting the words sink in as she flipped to the next page. After reading several entries all about the same girl, Betty slammed the journal and sprinted back to the coffee shop.
“Polly!” she exclaimed as she threw open the door, dodging several customers as she made her way back to the counter.
“What?” Polly’s eyes went wide as she took in her sister, all wild eyes and heavy breathing. “Did you give that guy his journal back?”
“Not yet,” Betty admitted, her breath coming in heavy spurts as she tried to slow her heart rate. “But I was looking through it and-”
“You read it?” Polly gasped. “Elizabeth Cooper, you should be ashamed.”
“I know, I know, but listen to this,” Betty opened to a random page in the journal and started to read the man’s words that had made her heart lurch in her throat.
“’She wanted to shape young minds. To show them that there was a place for them in the world that was better than what they might have seen in the past. And while she was never quite sure of her ability to succeed, she was positive in her ability to teach them that they could.’”
“Okay, that’s beautiful and all, but I’m not really sure I’m getting your point,” Polly told her, tossing a rag over her shoulder and leaning against the counter.
“This entry, and every entry after that, they’re all describing this girl,” Betty explained, holding out the journal for her sister to see. “But the way he writes about her - it never seems like she’s someone that he knows. She’s just this person that exists in this journal but not in real life except-”
“Except I think that she does,” Betty concluded. “And I think that I’m her.”
“Betty, you realize you sound psychotic correct?” Polly threw the rag at her sister, who lunged forward to catch it at the exact wrong moment and let the piece of cloth fall to the floor.
“I know how it sounds, but do you remember that story I wrote for English class in the tenth grade?” Betty asked, bending down to scoop up the rag and set it on the counter. “The one that mom hated?”
“Yeah, it was that piece about the boy who’s father was never around because he was some sort of drug dealer or something. And then he gave the boy a present for his birthday that changed his life before he left town for good and never came back,” Polly recounted the story and looked up to raise her eyebrows at Betty as if to say, ‘so what?’ “Yeah, I remember. Why?”
“Read this,” Betty shoved the journal in Polly’s direction and pointed to the description on the back cover. Rolling her eyes, Polly quickly read about how the owner of the journal got that very book from his father on his sixteenth birthday and then never saw him again after that day.
“It has to be some sort of coincidence,” Polly concluded, shutting the journal and handing it back to Betty.
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Betty whispered, running her fingers along the etchings on the front cover. “I think that I was writing about this man - Jughead - and I think that he was writing about me.”
“That’s insane, Betty, you don’t even know each other,” Polly reminded her.
“I know that,” Betty sighed. “But I think that this is a sign - finding this journal, meeting him today - I think that I was meant to know him.”
“Okay, let’s say that’s true,” Polly cautiously gave in, folding her arms over her chest as she narrowed her eyes at Betty. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to find him,” Betty declared, grabbing her purse from the stool she had left it on and shoved the journal safely inside. “And then he’s going to explain to me how he’s been writing about me for eight years when I only just met him this morning.”
Before her sister could protest, Betty headed out the door and made her way to the only newsroom in town, determined to find the man who owned the journal. The man who, she knew in her heart, she was meant to know. And the man who was about to change her entire world.
part of the valentines exchange for the @upperclassmennet written for the lovely @aronminyards :) i know
your favorite characters are aaron, matt and jean but i’d started writing this
and when i saw ur favorite pairing is andreil i just had to do this, hope u
like it !!
Neil Josten was not one to make
his birthday into a grand affair. In fact, he would have been fine if it
weren’t an affair at all. January 19 was just another day; the only thing that
made it remotely remarkable was that he’d created Neil Josten today. Neil
Josten, a bundle of well-crafted lies and half-truths. He knew he would never
be an honest man; he would always have a lie ready at the tip of his tongue,
but he was trying. He was trying to become something more than Neil Josten, the boy who came to the Foxes with only one
duffel to hold every one of his possessions. So, no, he didn’t exactly consider
January 19 to be of any significant importance.
If he had to celebrate a day, he
would’ve picked the day he forever said goodbye to Nathaniel Wesninski. When he
cut the one identity that tied him directly to the Butcher. When he made Neil
Josten a tangible reality rather than an imposter looking for a temporary
relief. When he decided, in front of multiple witnesses, the person he was and
who he wanted to be. When he made the conscious choice of accepting the family
he knew would always be by side, if only he let them be.
so alex and maggie arguing a little over naming their dog gertrude and maggie finally gives in. "fine but i'm naming our kids in the future." she turns to leave but hears a choked whisper behind her. "we're going to have kids?" she turns back wanting to pass it off as just a little joke but the words die away on her lips when she sees the love and hope in alex's eyes and her shy little smile and dear god she's falling in love with this woman again. "yes danvers, we are going to have kids."
For the anon who asked: for a enemies to lover fic (sorry lovie I can’t find the actual request and I usually write them in bullet points in my book)
Author’s Note: In Microsoft Word this is 18 pages long and has a word count of 7344 words. Hope you guys enjoy it!
y/n = your name
y/f/n = your first name
y/l/n = your last name
I Hate You, I Love You
The waves lapped softly under the bridge. The light from the street
lamps reflected off the water like orange jewels. I huffed a heavy sigh and
raised my face to the glittered sky, allowing the chilly, wind to caress my
face and toy with the loose strands of hair on my head. I swallowed the lump in
my throat, the saliva in my mouth thick making it almost impossible to go down.
I crunched the picture in my hand and leaned against the cold metal railings. A
slight wetness from the afternoon shower clung to the metal and soaked into the
forearms of my jacket.
I lowered my eyes to the crumpled picture in my hand. Dark almond male eyes
stared back at me. Gently I caressed the photo, following his long straight
nose with my thumb and tracing the outline of his strong bearded jaw. I looked
up again and stared out at the horizon, it was lit up like a Christmas tree.
“I’m sorry John,” I whispered and let the photograph slip from my
fingers into the water below.
Warnings: None for this chapter…Ivar and You are playing a dangerous game
AN: Here is the series you all very so crazy about so I expect some feedback, please!
Brilliant eyes narrowed in concentration as she surveyed the table, the piles of books and notes not what she was seeking. She gnawed her lower lip, thinking. There was a reference she needed, a passage she’d read that might cast light on her current research, but it wasn’t in the collection beside her. A large book, heavy and old. Red leather? The title escaped her, but she thought she remembered the shelf where she’d found it before.
Rising with her usual unconscious grace, she moved to the stacks, dim illumination plucking highlights from her hair. Damn! Just my luck. How likely is it that two people would be interested in the same dusty old tome? She leaned against the shelves, trying to remember what the reference had said. No joy; I need that book. A student stomped by, scowling at the world, overloaded backpack like a camel’s hump swaying a beat behind his steps. She leaned back to let him pass, smiling kindly, not that she expected him to notice. He seemed oblivious to kindness. He passed her with half an inch to spare, but the bookcase was slightly wider. His pack hit with a thud, knocking the poorly balanced top shelf awry. She looked toward the noise, but saw nothing to concern her as she grinned; the student hadn’t even paused to glance back.
“Another one?” Your friend exclaimed, pointing to a small white envelope peeking out of the top of the math book on your desk. “How long has he been at this? Almost four months now? Why doesn’t he just confess already.”
Grinning to yourself, you sat back at your desk after returning from lunch break and pulled the envelope out of the textbook. On the front, with the usual handwriting, the words ‘To Y/N.’ were jotted down.
“He’s probably not ready, it’s okay.” You shrugged at your friend, slipping the envelope into your uniform pocket to read later in private without her snooping its contents.
“What do you mean it’s okay? The romance and excitement is gonna wear off at some point.” She muttered, leaning on the edge of her desk next to you.
“I mean, that when he feels comfortable, he’ll reveal himself. I don’t mind waiting.”
This was a request for Nessian! And yes I know very original title I suck with naming things!😂 Enjoy! :))
Nesta wanted to go home.
She wanted to warm up some left overs, have a nice, quiet dinner by herself, and go to bed without being bothered, just like every other night. However, thanks to Feyre, she was stuck at a party on a Friday night.
She was well aware that almost everyone from school was here, but she didn’t care, because she was a senior and all she wanted was to get out of Prythian, the smallest town she knew of.
A group of guys walked passed her and a few gave her suggestive glances, whistling. She glared at them, clutching her red solo cup closer to herself. I f she could, she would sink into the corner behind her, so that way at least no one would bother her. Everyone was too immature for her liking, and it was causing her to have a headache.
“Nesta!” Feyre’s voice drifted through the crowd of people, and Nesta caught sight of her sister dancing like a maniac with her boyfriend, who was holding the party.