Request: “Can you make a Bucky imagine in which he’s like the bad boy who is really cool and falls for y/n and is super sweet around her?” // I did it as a Greaser AU because I was listening to the Grease soundtrack while writing lol
Word Count: 1167 // My requests are still open!!
The Greasers didn’t like to be messed with. If you’re not at their level, you can’t speak to them. You go near them, you’re dead.
Pacing quickly down the sidewalk, you avoided the glare of the boys in the red Chevrolet parked across the street. A message alert on your phone made you stop, pulling your phone out of your pocket.
Steve: Just overheard that the Greasers are gonna be at the coffee shop. Be careful.
Mentally groaning in fear of anyone hearing you, you slipped into the door of the cafe, walking with your head down.
“Hi, uh, Miss? What would you like?” The barista grinned at you, as you looked up from your phone. “Sorry, can I just have a juice please?”
“What’s your name?” She asked, holding your cup in one hand and a sharpie in the other. “Y/N.” You pronounced, smiling back.
Soon enough, your name was called and you took your drink, walking out of the store.
You looked around before pushing the door open, seeing the Chevrolet had moved. Breathing a sigh of relief, you pushed the door open and began your walk home.
Going to grab your phone from your back pocket, you bumped into someone.
Feeling a hand on your back, you looked up, making direct eye contact with one of the leaders of the greaser gang, Bucky Barnes.
“I am so sorry, I really wasn’t concentrating. I should look where I’m going, sorr-” You mumbled, rambling away, “Hey, don’t worry about it. Y/N, is it?” He smiled warmly at you, “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”
“We have English together, right?” He asked, trying to making eye contact as you looked everywhere but his into his eyes.
“That we do,” you laughed nervously, “See you Monday, I guess.”
“See you Monday, Y/N.” He smiled, brushing past you as you walked back home, texting Steve about your ‘incident’.
Soon enough, Monday rolled around.
School always dragged along on a Monday. Whether it be the non existent enthusiasm from the students, or the bore of lessons from teachers paid less than they’re owed.
Grabbing your bag and heading out of the classroom, you avoided the glare of the same boys from the coffee shop stood outside your classroom.
You felt their eyes leave as you trailed outside to try and find your friends, Steve and Peggy.
Walking past the bleachers, you felt all eyes on you as hands gripped your shoulders.
“If it isn’t Little Miss Y/N.” You span around to be met with the eyes of one of Bucky’s gang, another member of the Greasers.
“H-hi?” You questioned, looking away from where he stared deeply at you, backed by two more Greasers; the rest sat on the bleachers.
“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. May I ask why this pretty little mouth of yours was talking to Barnes outside the coffee shop last night?” You looked up, horrified that anyone had seen yours and Bucky’s conversation.
“I-I didn’t mean anything by it! I bumped into hi-” He pressed a finger over your lips, his minions trailing behind you, as he whistled for more of them to come over.
You were surrounded. You’d seen this happen before, and you prayed every night that they would never do it to you.
Grabbing your bag roughly off your shoulders, you gasped as they pulled your books out one by one, until they reached your sketchbook.
“Well what do we have here? A sketchbook! Let’s have a looky here shall we?” He smirked, picking up the black book from your feet.
Flipping through your doodles and practices, you prayed they wouldn’t find your illustration of the picture Bucky had posted recently.
But they did. Just your luck.
“And it gets better! How 'bout we show this to Buck when he gets here, hey? Is that what you want, Y/N? Attention? Well, sweetheart, that’s what you’re gonna get.”
Tears began to spill down your cheeks as he cascaded the sketchbook to the ground once again, the pencil drawing looking like a watercolour.
“Now, Y/N. How 'bouts we deal with you.” He spat, getting closer to your face. Grinning, he grabbed your hair and pulled your face up to meet his eyes.
Taking a harsh slap to the face, you looked into his eyes as he laughed, “Fuck. You.” you spat.
“What was that, Y/N? Say that again.” He looked shocked, but hid it. “I said fuck you.” He looked at you again, “You’re gonna regret that Y/N.”
Taking another hit, you saw the blood hit the concrete on the other side of the book.
“Hey!” A loud voice echoed from outside their circle, as the rest of the group scattered, you sank to the floor.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” Bucky asked the boy stood opposite you, as you let more tears flow. “You know what, I don’t wanna hear it. Back off.”
Bucky kneeled in front of you, smiling softly. “Y/N?”
“Y-yeah?” You held your nose in fear of it bleeding further.
“I’m so sorry the did that to you, I promise I would never have let them if I would’ve known. Are you alright?”
“Apart from nursing a headache and this nose bleed, I’ll be okay.” You smiled back up at him, his eyes glistening as he looked at you. “Shit, you need to get to the nurse.” He looked around you at the destruction of your bag, trying to pick up your scattered books.
“Did you draw this?” He asked, awe taking over his features. “Um, yes, I did. I’m sorry, it’s lame. I just saw the picture on my feed and I needed prac-”
“Y/N, babe, this is incredible.” He grinned from ear to ear, holding the book so delicately. “T-thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” He slung your bag over his shoulder, offering you a hand as he led you to the nurses office.
“I’m still so sorry, Y/N. Can I please take you for coffee or something to make up for it?” He asked, brushing your hair behind your ear as you held tissue to your nose.
“I don’t drink coffee, but I’m definitely always down for pizza.” You laughed, Bucky joining you. “Well, pizza it is. Are you free tonight?”
- 6 months later -
Finishing the final sentence of your last-minute homework, you shoved the books into your bag as a knock at the door snapped you out of the world of your science work.
Opening the door with a smile, you saw Bucky, donned in his leather jacket and all black outfit.
“Mornin’ baby.” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips as you grinned into it. “Good morning, Bucky.”
“Did you sleep okay?” He asked, interlocking his fingers with yours. “I’d sleep better if my boyfriend wouldn’t keep messaging me every five minutes!”
“Well forgive me for caring about you!” He laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“You know I love you really.” You nudged him slightly as he grinned. “I love you too, doll.”
How to become a good student (again) 3: Yearn for friendship - not worship; not debasement
Hello, fellow ex-good student!
‘tis done! This beast just got longer and longer, so I decided to cut it down a bit for the sake of readability. But let me know if there’s something that was too vague - the nuance might have got lost in the editing process.
Alright, let’s get down to business (to defeat! The Huns!)! So, if you’re an ex-good student, I’m pretty sure that you know this static in your head, right?Whenever you really need to do something but you just can’t get up and do it, so you keep procrastinating even though you hate it and keep scrolling and scrolling or gaming and gaming and feel more and more guilty?
Well, it might not be the most immediate analogy, but for this post I want you to consider that what connects you and your subject of study is essentially a relationship and that this static is (among other things) an indicator of how screwed up your relationship is. Just like with real people, your relationships with subjects can either
prosper and bear fruit (me & Creative Writing)
become cold and distant (me & French)
or, worst of all, turn sour and actively harmful. (me & PE, back in school)
Now, nobody likes to hear that they’re relationship-ing wrong. And it is true that different approaches work for different people. But here are the counter-productive relationships that I’ve personally ended up in and I’m gonna show you how I got into and out of them, so you can try to do the same. Maybe it’ll help you lift that static from your head.
Side-Note: Always remember that, since your subjects are just that (subjects), and not real people, you are the only one who can actually mend these relationships and, conversely, you are the one who screwed them up in the first place (probably with good intentions, though).
The desire to do everything, perfectly, at the same time, right now. Not to limit yourself to just one field of study, but to master them all, to reign supreme above knowledge, to keep your mind wide open to new possibilities, similarities and contradictions. You overvalue your own capacities and undervalue the needs and difficulties of your subject. (also refer to the first post for this)
How did you get here?
(read picture from right to left)
So. Many. Possible. Reasons.
it’s a cage. The idea of doing just one thing for the rest of your life scares you and you feel imprisoned at the thought of it
you know that you could be outstanding if you applied yourself
you know that you could be even more outstanding if you became accomplished in multiple fields
you want to find connections between fields nobody’s ever considered before
you feel like you’ve wasted your last few years and need to catch up to others
you’re afraid that you’re not good enough
you’re afraid of being ignorant
No matter the reason (I’ve gone through them all), people caught in this state of mind shovel more and more onto their plate. And then wonder why they can’t swallow it all.
What do you think you’re doing?
A labour of love, most likely. You think you love languages and sciences and athletics and programming and cooking and hanging out with friends and being alone and so you just want to do it all! You don’t want to limit yourself! You don’t want to lose any time! But there’s just so much and you have so little energy and ugh, if only I wasn’t destined for greatness, then I could relax like other little people, but no, I need to keep pushing! In every! Direction! At the same! Time!
I know your delusion. I’ve been there. You imagine yourself to be that one perfect friend who gets up at 6am, watches the sun rise, does yoga, eats a healthy breakfast, goes for a quick run, comes back home, answers all correspondence, is artistic for a few hours, then scientific for a few hours, then social for a few hours and ends the day with tiny masterpieces in each area, goes out with friends or family to grab a healthy dinner and goes to sleep, happy and balanced :)
Well, you know what, my starry-eyed friend?
What are you actually doing?
You’re the mental equivalent of a social butterfly. You’re being fucking disrespectful.
You’re always on the run and never able to really commit to anything, because you’ve already scheduled something else afterwards. You’re shallow, deluded, that one friend that always comes in running, screaming “Besties ~ ♥” and everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats and smiles a painful smile and humours you, because they know you mean well, but they also know that you know nothing about them. You’ve never been there for them ever, but always expect them to be there for you. Whenever they want to talk about themselves, you nod and then proceed to about yourself and your plans and “ohmygosh, this is so nice, we need to meet more often ~ ♥ “. But at least you mean well, so they’ve agreed to keep it simple and on the “The weather is nice today”-level with you.
But here you are, wondering why you’re not making any progress. Mysterious.
So what do I do?
Well, you need to go from this:
How? More on that below.
2) Undereager Debasement
What is it?
This stage is what happens when you notice that your lofty ideals from Overeager Debasement cannot be fulfilled. You turn bitter, hateful, cold. You think you’re a failure, you think you were too soft. Instead of wanting to be friends with everyone, you now want to rule over everyone, fuck what they want.
You’re burnt out. You’re done. You just want to get through these stupid classes and catch a goddamn break, goddamnit.
And you WILL get through. You’re too proud to do anything else. But you don’t really care about any of it. You just want to make it.
How did you get here?
If you were a good student, you probably heard at some point or another that you were “different” and that your complex and mysterious ways were not understandable and definitely not achievable for your average classmate.
Most people who tell you this mean well. A few want to make fun of you, but most actually do mean it as a compliment. But they don’t know how dangerous it is to hear it again and again, because regardless of whether it’s true or not, you start to believe it. You start to believe that somehow, you have a higher calling, a higher standard. And you start to long for that day when your high standards will be met - when you will go to that one mysterious class where everyone is just as eager as you are, where the “Oh, captain, my captain!”-teacher will spark a fire in your brain that will never go out and when your ominous “gifts” can finally be put to good use for the prosperous future of mankind.
And you work.
And the class never comes.
You feel the weight on your shoulders when teachers talk of “high expectations”, you feel it crush you a little bit every time your friends tease you about your genuine fear that you might not get an A, that you might lose it all, that your “gifts” could disappear and you’ll be stranded and useless and you put in the hours, you work your ass off to keep that high standard, all in the hope of having that one miraculous class that never comes.
I realized that that class would never come when I entered university.
University, I’d told myself, would be my Arcadia, my Eden, my academic paradise where all my hard work would be rewarded! Instead, I only found more drudgery, more incompetent professors, more disinterested students and even more bureacracy. To say that I was “disappointed” would be putting it very lightly.
I became disoriented and disenchanted. I realized that I could get through most classes with half-assed effort, I was hardly ever challenged, I floated along and hated every second of it. I blamed my boring teachers, the imperfect system, the teachers who had given me hope only for me to watch it crash and go up in flames.
What do you think you’re doing?
Being badass, cool and detached, most likely.
You dream of yourself as a master and your subjects as slaves. They bow to your will, they dance to your tune, you command them with the snap of a finger.
“Look, you slave of the system”, you say, lying on a velvet sofa, “Look, at how it hardly takes any effort for me to pass these classes! Look at how I spend my time doing things I actually like and that are actually worth it, unlike these stupidly easy classes taught by stupidly incompetent professors in a stupidly screwed-up system! Look at me, being edgy and drowning in self-hatred because I can physically feel myself gliding off the rails that made me so “special” and becoming one of the average people in the masses, haha. Ha. Ha. Screw academia, but still give me good grades, amirite?”
I know your delusion. I’ve been there. You imagine yourself to be that one perfect friend that never studies for classes, comes for three lectures per semester and still manages to get perfect grades because everything you do in school is, like, so five years ago. That one friend who has read all the classics in their spare time, has conquered and enslaved all the knowledge actually worth knowing, will quote obscure Polish philosophers you’ve never heard of and plays the piano with a perfect pitch. They’re the wisest, most culture-non-conforming people you know - they’ve been up until 5am, wandering the streets and drinking vodka from a bottle while forcefully pentrating the mysteries of the universe all by themselves until they finally fall asleep on a park bench and awake with an epiphany about Klein bottles. They’re “special”.
What are you actually doing?
Caring more about appearing “special” than actually trying to be “special”, that’s what you’re doing.
But, look, what made you so “special” and “different” in the first place was not a “calling” or “gifts” or the fact that you wrote good grades and were destined for greatness.
Here’s a handy chart I’ll use later - you were lucky enough to fall into the green zone, lucky enough to be born with an innate respect and a love for learning. That’s what made you “special”. That’s what made you succeed. Not pressure, not warped ideals and certainly not the fear of failure.
But somewhere along the way you forgot that and only focussed on the results. You started to believe yourself to be so special that everybody else should cater to you. The fancy titles, the awe-struck looks, the “You’re so amazing”s and the “The genius of a decade”, the planned Nobel prize speech and the prestige, the dream others had lovingly created for you and you had slowly absorbed and warped as your own? It got to you. Hell, it got to me. And it became more important than learning itself. Somewhere along the way, you and I, we became an arrogant and lazy assholes.
You looked down on your easy courses and homework and instead of recognising how lucky you are, doing it in a minute and a half and then putting in the extra work on top to dig deeper and to maybe contribute something of value and fun, you threw it aside with a snide remark as beneath you. Of course it wasn’t fun. Of course it wasn’t challenging. You never even tried to make it either.
(And don’t get me wrong: I honestly do think that the education system as it is right now needs MAJOR reforms. But right now? It is what it is. And instead of making the best of it and doing what you once loved so much, you succumbed to societal pressures you found yourself unable to fulfill and said “meh”. You cared so much about the fame and the title that the relationship itself didn’t matter.)
But this isn’t the master-slave relationship you imagine it to be. It’s a trophy-friendship. Once upon a time, you got on really well with this person and other people loved your friendship. You fell in love with the ideal, with their connections, their money, their prestige, their name on a CV, and you stuck around just for that. You valiantly ignore the reality of the state of things between you two and take them out only when absolutely needed, only when things are this close to falling apart and so you keep walking a fine, fine line. Whenever a deadline approaches, you shower them with attention and love and, gingerly, they open up to you and you see a depth and complexity to them that astounds you and makes you think “Imagine! Imagine how much more I could have seen if only I’d started earlier?” But the moment the crisis has passed, you toss them aside once again.
Because this is enough to make your name. You may not remember much about these nights or about the person at all, but the only thing that counts is that it will fulfill your “special” prophecy and make you a legend, right?
Well, always remember this: (read picture from right to left)
You’re not “special” if you made it to university. You’re not “special” if you’ve made your name. It comes down to a simple choice: do you value appearances over integrity or the other way round? Do you dare to look like a fumbling idiot again when you start something new? Is the “appearing like an idiot”-part more important to you than the “learning/creating something new”-part? Have a think about it.
“Alright”, you’ll say, “Alright. I get it. So I’ll treat my “friends”/subjects with respect and integrity and I’ll take all the time and concentration I can bestow upon them, just as I would upon real friends. But do you want me to be like, uh - like…
What is it?
“…like one of those anime characters that lives only for their dream and gets up at like 6am, does the thing, talks about the thing, breathes the thing, goes to bed, dreams of the thing and then wakes up at 6am to do the thing?”
(Google: Did you mean Hinata Shouyou?
Yes, yes, I did, google.)
Well, no, I don’t want you to do that. See, that’s the other extreme and unless you’re an anime character, chances are that it won’t work out for you.
How did you get here?
Personally, I was caught in this trap for a loooooong time. Anime offered me a new way of relating to my passions that neither my family nor my school had ever shown me: unabashed obsession. I wanted to be perfect. I wanted to be obsessed. I wanted to give myself up to a higher ideal, something above human consciousness, something that would endure. I wanted to, well, get up at 6am, do the thing, talk about the thing, breathe the thing and so on - “the thing” in question being, of course, studying. I made elaborate plans, complicated lists, study-plans that shift on a daily basis and cover all grounds, I wanted to study for two hours before school, wanted to repeat lessons, wanted to give myself up to knowledge, made cool covers for my notebooks, made mock exams for my friends to use, planned to focus on each continent for a month and study it, planned to listen to one new composer each day, planned to go to the museum every week, planned to analyze Sherlock Holmes and think just like him, planned to - you get the idea.
I wanted to be like this:
What do you think you’re doing?
Being but a humble servant to the eternal workings of truth. Knowing thou art unworthy, yet suffering the perfection of study.
I wanted to go from 0 to 100, I wanted knowledge and wisdom to transform and deliver me, I wanted to feel enlightened, I wanted to feel my brain burning, pushing frontiers and breaking through to new horizons, I wanted to elevate myself to touch even the lowest levels of truth. I wanted to do something noble, something worthwhile, something that could never be critisized and would always be valued, something with eternal meaning that would echo through the ages and I wanted to be even the tiniest cog in the machinery of mind.
What are you actually doing?
Being, quite simply, an idiot.
This is one of my favourite quotes (David Wong):
“There are two ways to dehumanize someone: by dismissing them, and by idolizing them.”
The same goes for studying. As shown above, studying won’t work out if you do not treat your subjects with respect. Conversely, studying also won’t work if you continue to idolize it as work beyond all work and reproach, as the only true calling, as the realm of the genii and by self-flagellating yourself and repeating “I’m but a humble servant in your kingdom of reason and will never reach where you are, but will spend all my time trying to reach you.”
Why? Because by saying “I’ll never reach you or be worthy of you”, you’ve already sealed your fate. Some students (no matter how well they actually perform) are stuck thinking that they are stupid and incapable of doing well. Others think that the trick is in the preparation and they undergo complicated rituals of finding exactly the right study spot, exactly the right study drink, exactly the right study time, etc. in the hope of channeling the connection between their godly subject and themselves, but it never turns out quite as glamorous as they’d hoped (once again, speaking from experience).
This is because you cannot force a true friendship if you think yourself unworthy of it. It will always be worship.
And why are you worshipping? Because it takes the pressure right off of you. This always annoyed me about some of my fellow students. They treated becoming a good student as this miraculous and unlikely event that only happens to the #blessed. I insisted that “no”, it could be done. “Yes”, it was hard work, but ultimately absolutely doable. But now that I’ve been in their shoes? I understand. Admitting that you could have done it anytime implies failure on your part for not having done it. By saying “Oh no, it is so very complex and divine and a lowly worm like me could never hope to crawl in its shadows”, you shift the focus away from yourself and onto the thing itself.
But this is a synthetic, manufactured relationship with a partner that does not even exist. It is, at its heart, a kyaa ~ I hope senpai notices me! (๑♡⌓♡๑) - kind of relationship. It’s idolizing not a person’s true character, but their appearance, their aesthetic and the values that they represent for you. It’s not really listening to what they’re saying, but warping their words so they fit into your perfect idea of them. Just, unlike with undereage debasement, you do not play pretend that everything’s fine and secretly hate the other person deep down - you honestly idolize them to heaven and back, so you could never possible reach them. You’re using them to fill in the holes in your own personality.
And that … just isn’t fun? I dunno about you, but treating studying as something that must be done perfectly with exactly the right pen and the perfect face-mask after the right smoothie and in the right lighting by a window overgrown with ivy and with perfect concentration from the first moment and unwavering, knightly passion and exact planning from 6am to bedtime all because I know deep down that I will not be able to fulfill these ideals and thus don’t have to feel bad about not reaching them just … isn’t for me. I don’t like my relationships to be all overstructured and “perfect” and high maintenance like that.
I want my friendships and my studying to be authentic. And that means that sometimes it’s messy and sometimes it’s hard and sometimes it’s quoting Keats while lying on the floor at 2am in the morning and chugging milk out of a carton, but it’s real. I truly do understand this longing to make studying look pretty and like a magical realm, because when you’re in the flow that’s really what it feels like. But the beauty comes along with the practice, not the other way round.
No, but honestly - what do I DO then?
Y’remember Hippogriffs from Harry Potter? That’s how I imagine my subjects. Approach them carefully, honestly, maintaining eye contact and as equals and they will respect you. This scene:
This scene is what I’m talking about. If you were in a worship-state, you would only admire them from afar, gushing over how beautiful they are, but sad that they would never deign to even look in your general direction. (think of all the subjects you thought would be way too difficult for you) If you were in a debasement-state, you’d either try to make friends with all the hippogriffs, hopping from one to the other and forming no bond with either or you’d “tsk” disdainfully and try to force them to obey you against their will. (*cough* Malfoy *cough*)
If, however, you’re in the green, there will be mutual respect between you and you will be able to fly.
So what does it mean to be in the green? It means not to do any of the above, obviously, so
take your time for and invest brainpower into each and every one of your subjects - be a good friend. Be there. Listen. Even if they have crazy ideas at 4am in the morning.
appreciate your subjects and know that they are more than the teacher who tries to get you to know them. Sometimes, some people just have a really shitty PR department (especially maths)
don’t think too much or too little of yourself. You can do amazing things, but that does not give you the license not to do amazing things anymore, rest on your laurels and expect others to applaud you for it.
some relationships take longer than others to build, but getting to understand someone who puzzled you from the first moment and challenged your beliefs will improve your own personality as well (side-eye at PE. Yes, I love you now, you crazy athletic bastard)
do it for the sake of the relationship itself, because you enjoy their company. Results are presents which, although very much appreciated, should not be the main motivator to keep you going. This essentially means that you should think of studying as hanging out with a friend - already makes it seem so much more inviting and way less daunting, does it not?
(Logic and I, being saltmates. Real friends judge other people together)
be aware that all friendships go through rocky patches and some subjects might take a while to warm up to you or you to them. But if you think that it’s worth it, then you gotta power through that. If you don’t think it’s worth it, you gotta be brave enough to say good-bye.
Look, what I’m actually saying is … be Souma Yukihira from Food Wars.
Food Wars is a crazy and at times pretty pervy manga/anime, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t also one of the best pieces of fiction I’ve ever consumed and if Souma isn’t one of the most admirable main characters I’ve ever encountered.
The relationship between him and cooking is filled with trust, love and equality. He trusts his cooking skills, because he knows that they have spent a long time together - cooking won’t let him down and he won’t ever let cooking down by stopping to look for ways to improve.
That doesn’t mean, however, that he’s always deadly serious - he loves to play around with cooking and to try ridiculous new things. He never forgets the joy that even the simplest form of cooking brings him.
There’s one great episode where he puts his life as a chef on the line and someone fearfully asks him what he’d do if he lost. He shrugs and says he could become a lawyer or a teacher or something. So while he loves cooking profoundly, he does not worship it and he knows that there are other relationships he could build up if he had to. He just …doesn’t want to, because cooking is his bff.
He loves to take on challenges to see how far he and cooking have come -
- and he takes challenges very seriously -
- but takes it even more seriously if he loses -
- and nonetheless knows that they are stronger for the challenges they have faced together.
So, yes, this is what it means to be in the green. Cherish your friendships, hang out together, be honest, funny, clever, curious and you.
You’ll be surprised at how much fun the two of you will have, now that all the pretensions and pressures are gone.
Just …hang out and have fun.
(and maybe watch Food Wars!, because damn, Souma is the MVP of my inspirational heroes)
Have a great day and I’ll see you in the next (and hopefully shorter) part 4 :)
A/N: This fic takes place right after the sheriff’s office scene and Papa Jones leaving Jughead. It was requested by @tsmiimitchie . I hope I did it justice, hun! <3 Thank you very much!
“Yeah. I believe you, dad.”
Jughead’s words flowed from his mouth
without much subsistence, while he bobbed his head weakly. He could
still feel his dad’s cold hands messily cupping his face, then the
drag of his fingers down the sides of his head as if he was trying to
remember every feature of his son. The Jones had one common feature –
their eyes clinging to hope. His father did try, he did, or at least
the teen let himself believe he was. His dad waited for his son’s
approval before giving a faint smile and then his boots clunked
against the pavement as he turned away. Jughead could feel his chest
tighten, his heart begin to chip, his body hunching forward somewhat
in attempt to keep himself from falling completely apart. The tears
were beginning to pool in his eyes, but before he turned to face his
friend and girlfriend, he wiped them away.
Feeling sadness, abandonment were
something Jughead Jones was used to. The phone calls with his mother
weren’t enough to make up for the fact she packed up, along with
Jellybean, and moved in with his grandmother. The question that
weighed on his mind was why didn’t she try harder? Why didn’t she try
to keep their father from going down the liquor-comforting path? But
once he learned about his father’s side job, after being fired from
the construction gig, he couldn’t hold it against his mother.
Jellybean needed stability, especially since she was still in a
fragile age. Jughead was always wise beyond his years. He was ahead
in classes and got bored easily. The teachers would gush to his
mother about how brilliant he was, but his behavior was always
questionable. Attempting to burn down a school wasn’t something
parents would share with friends over tea.
Once the boy seemed to pull himself
together in that moment, Jughead shuffled towards Betty’s direction.
She was immediately by his side without missing a beat. Her warm
hand, such a contrast to what he felt a few seconds ago, was pressed
against affectionately against his cheek. The boy’s hand touched the
middle of her back, ushering her slowly away from the sheriff’s
office. The two teens meandered away from the mess, Betty’s arm
tangled around his. They loosely intertwined their fingers as they
continued down the path.
No words were spoken until they were a
safe distance away from the building where Jughead was being accused
of murder. It was ridiculous, Jughead thought, that the law
enforcement believed he was capable of taking another life. The
sheriff tried to paint a fictitious picture, motive, as to why
Jughead was an ideal suspect in the case. The teen’s head couldn’t
wrap around it. He had rage tendencies, but his family was drifting
apart, he thought they were justified. Betty didn’t allow him to
defend himself to her - she believed him. It was something he
was in desperate need of. Someone who didn’t pass judgment on him
because of his stupid file and where he grew up. Everyone in town
knew his dad as the drunk. The last thing the teen wanted was that
stigma floating over him like a dark cloud. He’d be damned if he was
going to pay for his father’s sins.
“Juggie…” Betty’s voice was small
and cautious. They had been walking for awhile, with no real
destination in mind, just holding hands and keeping each other close.
The raven-haired boy’s head was hanging downward and finally lifted
when he heard her speak. Their eyes locked with one another and they
held the gaze for a moment. The girl stood in front of him and held
the side of his face, watching him lean into her comforting touch.
Her smile wasn’t forced, but he could see she was fighting back a
frown. Her red lips were stuck between showcasing felicity and utter
woe. He turned his head and planted a sweet, tender kiss on her
wrist. The over exaggerated smack of his lips echoed, but he kept his
lips lingering against her soft skin, bumping his nose playfully
against her palm. A tiny, breathy laugh left her chest as she pushed
his face back towards her, raising her eyebrows as if silently saying
There is literally no Reggie content out there so this is for the people like me who love Reggie and need some imagines involving him
Pairing:Reggie Mantle x reader Warnings: [N/A] Fandom:Riverdale
You felt eyes on you. Not caring about what the teacher was saying you turned around to see that there was someone in fact staring at you. Reggie Mantle, you didn’t know him too well. He wasn’t apart of your crowd and he kind of seemed like a jerk. You couldn’t lie and say the guy wasn’t hot as hell though. Why was he staring at you of all people?
Reggie looked away from you a few seconds after you met his eyes and began to tap his pencil on his desk. He looked extremely bored. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that you happen to turn around just as his eyes were wondering around the classroom. That’s happen to you several times. Shrugging it off you decided to turn back around and attempt to listen to your teachers boring speech.
About a minute later however to your great surprise you felt something hit the back of your neck. Turning around you met eyes yet again with Reggie. He pointed toward the floor and once you looked down you saw a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor. Did he seriously throw a piece of paper at you? You couldn’t help but glare at him in annoyance but you still reluctantly picked up the paper and unfolded it.
The note read…
You want to get a milkshake some time?
You were completely shocked. Like you said before you’ve never really talked to Reggie before, even though part of you wanted to. Where was this coming from? Not to mention Reggie seemed like the type of guy who could just walk up to a girl and ask her out no problem, but when it came to you he seemed nervous. It was actually kind of cute. You felt the temperature in your cheeks heat up as you stared at the note. Reggie was still staring at you from behind, impatiently awaiting your answer.
After a little thinking you took out a sheet of paper and scribbled down…
Only if you’re paying
Crumbling the paper up with a grin on your face you turned and chucked it at Reggie. He caught it and opened it quickly, his eagerness quite evident. You watched as his eyes scanned the note then a smile made its way across his face. Reggie chuckled before shooting you a thumbs up.
“Friday?” He mouthed and you nodded. Man you couldn’t wait.
A/n: Inspired by The Ones Who Walk
Away From Omelas and Life by Rap Monster. The world is very different from what
I’ve written before, so please tell me how you feel about it, both the positive
and negative. Thank you!
Description: In the world there are two types of people, them and Carriers. You’re a Carrier, one of the people that have been selected the bear the sadness of the world. You thought that was how you would live and die–at least you did, before tonight.
always wonder why I write if I’m the only one that will ever read it. But even
if someone else did, would it matter? It’s not like they could ever understand,
at least not the average person. I wonder, if they read what I had to say,
listened to my thoughts and experiences, if they would feel guilty. Or maybe
they’d fool themselves into thinking it’s not their fault, telling themselves
that there isn’t anything they could do about it, so why care, right?
a long time, I wondered, why? Why me? At times I even ask, “Why couldn’t it be
someone else?” but then I realize that despite everything they’ve put me
through, I would never wish it on another person.
hear them talk about people like me sometimes, like if I’m not there, which I
guess further solidifies their act. Yesterday I overheard some boy say something
like “It can’t be that bad. It’s not she’s bleeding and dying on the floor. It
could be worse.”
He’s lucky enough that he’ll
never have to find out that there are things that hurt more than physical pain,
things that stir something so deep and disgusting in your heart that it makes
you want to tear into your chest and rip it out, hoping that maybe if you
hugged your own heart, you would finally have company.
I wonder if anyone else wakes
up every day wishing they were dead.
In my middle school we had an unofficial holiday called fight Friday. Every Friday there would be a fight in the bus parking lot while everyone was trying to go home. Sometimes it was really boring and the teachers would break it up. But sometimes there would be multiple fights going on at the same time and on many occasions the teacher would try to break them up and they would get hurt in the process. Fight Friday was very entertaining to 12 year olds.
Title puns ‘cause I can…..
fite me. Also @prinxietys here go, I just threw it together so don’t expect greatness :p
Warnings: Swearing, light bullying (and as always, remember to tell me if I missed something!)
Anxiety was so goddamn tired.
First he had gotten maybe-not-even thirteen hours of sleep the whole week. He had forgotten to practice his routine and probably screwed up the whole audition. And to top it all of, he forgot to grab regular clothes, meaning he had to spend all day in a backup hoodie and his dancing clothes.
Then his alarms didn’t to go off, Logan wouldn’t share his homework answers even though he knew Anxiety couldn’t stay awake during history. It was just so boring and the teachers voice just drawled in a tone lower than the ocean floor.
Finally it was Friday. He could get through this. Eight hours, that’s it. He took a deep breath, pulling his backpack up and walked through the doorway into the classroom.
“Hey Angel~” Oh god. “And I thought this day couldn’t get any worse. “Anxiety said, not looking up. He knew who it was. Roman, the self proclaimed “Prince of the school” and an official pain in Anxiety’s ass.
“Come on Hot Topic, you don’t even want to know why I’m here?”
No. “Not in the slightest.“Anxiety said, patting Prince on the shoulder and pushing past the taller boy and going to his seat.
One of Roman’s stupid friends slid into his seat just as he was about to sit down. An arm wrapped around his shoulders as Anxiety felt his irritation start to grow. “Now now, you have to at least listen to me. "Anxiety felt his eye twitch and he opened his mouth to give a cutting and probably very salty remark when Mr. Sanders walked into the room."Sit down everyone!”
Anxiety used that as his out and shrugged Roman’s arm off his shoulders. "Screw you jack…wagon. ”
With the little snippet of “if you insist~” To test his will to live a little more, Anxiety slid into a seat.
Anxiety was going to lose his mind. He raised his hand to catch the teachers attention when another little thump on the back of his head made him slam his hand down on the desk.
The teacher looked back, brows furrowed. “Everything alright Anx?”
Snickers came from behind him, ricocheting off his will power like baseballs at a glass window. Anxiety smiled humorlessly.“Yup, everything’s good Mr.Sanders.”
A folded piece of paper landed on his desk as the teacher turned, going back to explain whatever formula was on the board. Anxiety had been so distracted on not decking Roman in his perfect face that he missed everything. Oh well, Logan would have the notes.
Anxiety grabbed the paper, mumbling softly about how he knew Prince was still in middle school. He read the couple lines and felt his will power start to crumble like a biscuit.
Will you go out with me?
Nod for yes
Back flip for no ;)
Anxiety felt the blood rise on his cheeks and just like that, he snapped. Without a word he stood, pulling his hoodie over his head. Everyone turned to look at him almost in sync and the teacher was the first to break the silence.
“Angel? What are you-”
Anxiety jumped, his hands landing on the solid desk surface behind him as he flung himself backwards, making sure to look Roman and all his stupid friends in the eye as he bounced from desk to desk right to the door and then continued into the hallway, only stopping when out of sight.
Part Two // Somebody Else [A Stiles Stilinski Story]
Prompt: Stiles broke her heart and now she can never look at him the same. They remained friends, but she can’t exactly find it in herself to truly forgive Stiles and he doesn’t know how to accept her new relationship with the one person he can’t stand. Overtime, they both eventually got over each other… or have they?
Realtionship: Stiles Stilinski x Reader/ Stiles Stilinski x OFC/ Theo Raeken x Reader/ Theo Raeken x OFC
Warnings: Making Out, Erotic Touching, Swearing, and Angst
Word Count: 1,600
Taking a deep breath, Katalina walked into the chemistry lab and already sat in her assigned seat. She didn’t even bother to greet anyone, too embarrassed on how much she spent the night thinking about and missing Stiles. It made her annoyed and so confused, she just couldn’t take it anymore. And, so, with everything she had in her, Katalina tried to push it all down.
“Hey, partner.” A smiling Scott McCall greeted her when she sat next to him at their lab table.
“Hi.” Katalina cleared her throat, her voice a little rough from not using it until now. “Good morning, partner.”
“Good morning.” Scott chuckled, opening his chemistry notebook to get ready for class. “Did you sleep well?”
Katalina sighed at the question, the memories of her constant thinking and nostalgia over her ex had her up the entire night, tossing and turning in her bed. She tried everything she could to sleep. She listened to classical music, she tried reading to tire her eyes out and she even counted sheep, but none of them actually worked. Thank God for Lydia Martin, however, and all of the makeup classes she has ruthlessly given her. Because of her red headed best friend, Katalina was able to cover all of her dark circles with just the right amount of concealer.
“Yeah.” Katalina forced a smile and before she can ask him the same question, the chemistry teacher began teaching his class.
Katalina could feel his gaze on her and it made her skin tingle. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring at her, Stiles Stilinski has no boundaries and he certainly isn’t ashamed of that. Theo, on the other hand, was also watching her like a hawk. Well, her and Stiles that is. Katalina wasn’t a werewolf or anything supernatural, and yet, she could still sense the jealousy coming off of her boyfriend.
After giving a boring explanation, the teacher handed out an assignment to do and she and Scott immediately got to work. It had something to do with mixing chemicals and Katalina was very thankful that Scott had actually been paying attention, the girl too focused on the stares she was getting from two different people at the same time.
“So, why’d you leave the party so early last night?” Scott asked nonchalantly as he poured a green liquid into another empty test tube.
“Oh, uh, I just felt like going home.” Katalina answered and the werewolf scoffed at her answer.
“Even if I wasn’t a werewolf and could hear your heartbeat increase, I would still know that that lame excuse is clearly a lie.”
“Okay, you know I really hate that you’re always one step ahead of the rest of us, right?” She chuckled, accepting the fact that she just got caught like a deer in headlights.
“I do.” Scott laughed and she laughed along with him before a comfortable silence took over.
The Alpha werewolf cleared his throat and turned to look her straight in the eye with a look of protectiveness and care. Two characteristics Scott always has on and she admired him for that.
“Was it because of Stiles?” He asked, his voice soft and careful not to possibly hurt her.
Katalina just nodded, not really trusting her voice to verbally respond. Scott knows about everything that happened better than anyone else. He knows just how much Stiles truly hurt her and he was the greatest friend Katalina could have at that moment. Scott listened to every word her wounded heart had to say and gave her some of the best advice she had ever heard in her life.
“Did you know that he asks me about you everyday?”
“He does?” Katalina asked, her voice more perky than she expected.
“Yeah, he does.” Scott nodded, giving her a weak smile. “Stiles cares so much about you.”
Katalina’s eyes fell to the floor with that small and, yet, painful statement.
“Yeah, well, someone who cares about you doesn’t use you for their own personal interests.” Katalina scoffed, focusing on her terrible handwriting in their notebook.
“He made a mistake-”
“Scott, we’ve been over this way too many times.” She stated with an exhausted voice, looking back up at him. “How about we just drop it?”
“Okay.” The werewolf swallowed, agreeing with her terms. He didn’t want to push her and make her feel worse than she already did.
Class ended soon after Scott finally finished the experiment perfectly. Katalina helped with what she could, but he did most of it. Scott was focusing on his grades more lately, finally knowing how to balance the supernatural with school. It made Katalina proud and happy to see him so invested in his future and not just on the threats that surrounded them all the time.
Once the bell rang, indicating that the students were finally dismissed, Theo immediately made his way towards his girlfriend. He didn’t want Stiles anywhere near her and would do everything in his power to prevent it. The anger on Stiles’ face was so obvious that it wasn’t even necessary to glance at him to know just how furious he was. Theo could smell the chemo signals coming off of the human and he smiled, pleased with himself for causing that.
Stiles grabbed his things and left without even bothering to say a word, his patience too thin to spend any second longer in the same room as Theo Raeken. Katalina watched as he angrily trudged out of the classroom and felt slightly hurt. She just wished things could be like how they used to. She wants to be his friend again and to have him in her life, but everytime she tries to fix things between them, Katalina remembers how he just used her to get to the real girl he had a crush on and it pains her everytime.
“Ready for lunch?” Theo asked his girlfriend, glad Stiles was finally out of the picture.
“Yeah.” She sighed, looking back at him and getting her backpack. “Let’s go.”
The cafeteria was already full of students getting their meals when she and Theo had arrived. They would’ve gotten there earlier, but Theo wanted some alone time with her. Katalina’s pink lipstick smudged on his lips as evidence on just what they were doing before getting there.
Once they got their lunches and sat down at a cafeteria table with their friends, Theo immediately settled his hand on her thigh. She turned to look at him with a confused expression when he rubbed small circles on her bare skin.
Katalina gazed at him with a confused expression, but Theo was too busy looking elsewhere. She didn’t understand why he was being so straight forward, sure they’re very passionate with one another, but they never really show any public displays of affection. It made Katalina nervous and Theo didn’t like to make her uncomfortable in any way.
Her breath hitched in her throat when he slid his hand higher and under the fabric of her skirt. Anxiety rushed through the blood in her veins and she didn’t know whether or not she wanted him to stop. However, the second Theo’s finger lightly touched her over her panties, she knew she wanted him to keep going.
That’s when she noticed just where he was staring at and everything, finally, made sense. Theo was cockily smirking at her ex-boyfriend as Stiles angrily glared back. Everyone sitting at the table didn’t even seem to notice what was going on since they were too focused in their own conversations, but the moment Katalina realized just what Theo was doing, her entire body boiled with rage. It made her so upset that Theo would do such a childish thing just to spark some anger from Stiles.
The tension between the three of them was strong and once Scott, finally, noticed what was going on, Katalina had enough. She roughly grabbed his hand and urgently ripped it away from her body, Theo’s head immediately snapping towards her. Katalina didn’t say anything, she just watched as Stiles smirked to himself and focused on the meal before him.
“Are you okay?” Her boyfriend whispered in a hushed tone into her ear, his breath sending shivers down her body and she cleared her throat before answering.
“Just stop, Theo.”
Katalina groaned at his attempts of being innocent and it made her angry just how hard Theo always tries to be the victim and never the one doing the wrong thing.
“Stop trying to make Stiles jealous!” Katalina shouted a little too loudly and everyone snapped their attentions towards the couple. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as they watched in awe.
“I’m not trying to make Stiles jealous.” Theo lied right through his teeth and her ex-boyfriend scoffed from across the table. “Well, it was working until you took my hand off your thigh!”
“You’re such a child, Theo.” Katalina shook her head, annoyed at her unbelievable boyfriend.
“And it definitely wasn’t working.” Stiles stated, pushing a spoonful of food into his mouth.
“Please, Stiles.” Theo chuckled, the sound making Katalina cringe. “I can smell your jealousy from over here.”
“Yeah, for me to be jealous would require me actually liking Katalina.” Stiles answered with his mouth full.
The response was something she already knew, but still stung a small pang of hurt in her heart. It’s not like she has any feelings for him either, but ever since last night all she can feel is nostalgia clouding her mind. And it was stupid of her to think that things could ever go back to the way they used to be, yet she couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit hopeful. It was reckless and she knew that. Katalina can’t take back what he did and their relationship can never return to the peaceful state it used to be.
Lucky you, your last period of the day was with the most achingly, painstakingly, boring teacher you’ve probably ever had and will ever have. You walk into the class faking a smile to the teacher to increase your chances of getting that stellar college recommendation. You sat down and mentally rolled your eyes as he displayed the new lesson of the day on the board.
You jotted down the notes pretending you were listening and understanding by bobbing your head every now and again. Your attention was fixated on the teacher and board though every now and again you looked down at your phone out of pure, sheer boredom.
You furrowed your eyebrows in uncomfort. You swore you could feel eyes at your lower left. It made you feel a bit unsettled, but you disregarded it as you continued to stifle down notes and pretend to care that, “Corneas are the only tissues that don’t require blood.”
You felt like you were actually going to collapse from boredom. You slightly moan out of exhaustion. A light chuckle follows. You furrow your eyebrows and feel yourself blushing out of uncomfort.Your eyes try to look as far to the chuckle as possible but you see it as an embarrassing action to turn all the way around to locate the source.
Ring! The school bell finally rang meaning your unwanted vacation to hell was now done! You happily pack your bag with your notebook and pencil bag when you suddenly remember that the jerk that laughed at you is possibly still there. You then, due to being the biggest genius in the entire school, decide to pack slower in hope that he’ll most likely leave and you can get the chance of seeing his face without the consequence of striking a meaningless, cringey conversation with him. As you can see, you had this all well-thought out like the smart hoe you are.
“Ahh,” Mr. Yin sighed. “My best and worst students in the same room. This is quite the sight.” You blinked out of confusion and turned to see the jerk himself, though performing an action you didn’t expect. He was flipping Mr. Yin off. Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help but smile. You bit. your lip in means of supposing a laugh. The expressive student looked towards you with a right-sided smirk. He winked and looked back at the teacher with his left-handed middle finger still in the air.
“That’s another detention Mr. Gallagher! I swear it’s in your blood the ignorance you Gallagher’s possess!”
Ethan’s eyes suddenly widened and his nose flared. He smirked and stifled a chuckle. He raised his right-hand and gave a double middle-finger to your biology teacher. “Rot in hell you fuck.”
“That’s another detention Gallagher!” He exhaled and left the room immediately.
You looked back to the infamous Gallagher you hear stories all the time about. His eyes are already on you and he’s leaned in to talk to you.
He pulled a right-sided smirk and lightly chuckled. “I’m Carl.”
I recently started working as a teacher. Some of my students were talking about League and one of them was boasting about his Gold rank and how everybody below him sucked. I so wanted to tell him that one of his boring old teachers was in Diamond :D