definition of tall dark and handsome

imoyu-trashblog  asked:

While reading your Gaston headcanons and just imagined where he picks you up to carry you across a large puddle, only for him to trip on a loose stone. Oops, both of you are covered in mud now. Fluff ensures...?

I said no but i couldn’t stop mySELF.

Originally posted by good-gay-sherlock

Title: Muddy.
Pairing: Gaston x Female!Reader.
Words: 3,104.
Rating: T.


It had just rained not ten minutes ago, and vendors were already back on the street. Some didn’t even bother protecting their produce and products and let the rain do what it wanted. It wasn’t the typical gentle sort of rain either, it was a consistent downpour that wasn’t expected by anyone in the village. You had sought shelter under a small patio of a neighbor as it happened on your way to get some eggs. As a result of the heavy rain, the Earth now smelt clean and fresh. It was a soothing scent, one that made you forget your worries, if only for a few minutes. Giving your kind neighbor a smile for letting you stand under their roof, you waved at them, saying, “I’ll see you later,” before stepping out. A few drops of water hit the top of your head as they dripped from the roofs edge.

Drawing a deep breath in, you began walking. Tightening your shawl around your shoulders, you were appreciative of the sun now peeking through the clouds above. It would warm up soon, drying everything in the process. Mindful of your steps now as most of the ground was either emerged with water or was a seeping puddle of mud, you ran into the sights of a friend.

Friend wasn’t the right word, you thought and looked at Gaston with curious eyes. He was currently checking himself out in the window of the bakery, smiling on and off. Probably checking the wrinkles around his mouth, you laughed to yourself, remembering how he told you that women found them to be rather attractive. ‘It gives me a sort of… Older appearance.’ He told you once with a wide smirk. He was right, they did make him look different than other men you knew, but not for the reason he gave you.

The lines around his mouth gave his smirk, his smiles and his grins even more prominence and seemed to captivate those around him. As if his eyes weren’t enough to get the job just right. In fact, most of his attributes were enough to get anyone he set his eyes on, really. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. There were the occasional few that saw passed this facade, and you just happened to be one of them. Not that it came in much luck because Gaston had a keen sense on picking out women and men who he didn’t quite captivate. You supposed this came into play with his need for a chase. Whether it be chasing his next prey while hunting or chasing the next woman in his life, he enjoyed it regardless.

You raised your eyebrows in amusement as Gaston shot his reflection a wink and a kiss. You took this as an opportunity to walk past him quickly, in slight hopes that perhaps he wouldn’t notice you so you could get what you wanted and not linger around to talk.

He was more of an acquaintance, you decided tip toeing your way behind him, not a friend. You both knew each other, acknowledged each other’s existence, spoken here and there, flirted a bit but ultimately kept your distance. It wasn’t as if you hated him, in fact, you didn’t. You just found him to a be a bit… overpowering sometimes and it only elevated when you figured out that he was entirely interested in you. Of course, the smiles he sent your way, the tone of voice he used with you, his gestures and body language were all alarms going off telling you that Gaston thought he was a bit more than acquaintances with you, but it only hit you full on when he finally got around to asking you to have dinner with him.

It’s not like you weren’t interested him and hadn’t thought of being together with him. You figured most everyone in the village had, even the men. Gaston was certainly appealing and was very careful on making himself seem as attractive as he possibly could. But, giving a man his way when he thinks he’s entitled to it is something you didn’t want to feed into. An egotistical man is something you didn’t want to feed attention to. You owed him nothing. You were your own person and he’d have to realize that if he was really interested.

“(Name)!” Your face balled up in defeat. Stopping your movements, you turned on your heel and faced Gaston. In the time that it took you to do that, you relaxed your expression into the most neutral face you could muster. You watched rather intently as he pulled on the bottom of his tan overcoat to straighten it, clearing his throat while doing that.

You swallowed softly and smiled politely at him. “Good morning, Gaston.”

He didn’t miss a beat, grasping your hand and kissing your knuckles gently. He smiled against them, looking down at you through slightly half-lidded eyes. Your heart churned at the meager gaze that held a bit more than invested attention. He let go of your hand, almost hesitating doing so. Your hand was left to drift in the air before making its way back to your side.  “Good morning.” He finally said, his tone dipping into his chest voice. “Any plans for this evening?”

“What’s today? Wednesday?” You thought and looked around, eager to avoid his eyes. Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you thought of an excuse. It didn’t need to be a good one, just a logical one. You spilled out the first thing you thought of, “I’ve got to do laundry.” It was unintentional for your statement to come out as a question, but unfortunately, it came out that way. You just hoped that Gaston bought it as an obtainable excuse.

Slipping his hands onto his hips, you found yourself rather fixated on the shape of his torso. His fingers expanded there, cupping and holding himself as if he didn’t get enough from the women who’ve touched that very spot. He didn’t cock his waist to the side perse, and much rather, straightened his back to make himself appear even larger. The light brown pants were tailored to fit his body specifically, and if he moved just right, it left little to the imagination. His feet were a part giving the absolute definition of confidence and self-awareness though Gaston on more than one occasion, was completely clueless. At this moment in time, he wasn’t. He was thinking about your words. There was really no sense in doing laundry in the evening because if you left it out to dry overnight, the frost would most definitely freeze most of your clothes.

“In the… Evening?” Gaston inquired, his right eyebrow arching upwards in curiousity. The white ruffled shirt under the vibrant red vest lined with gold clung to his torso and defined his shape. Under the tan overcoat, you could see that Gaston was just as gentle on the eyes. Many didn’t see this for many only say the broad shouldered war hero. For a brief moment, you wanted nothing than to reach out and graze your hands up and down his sides. They appeared smooth.

“Uhm, yes.” You tore your eyes away, deciding that walking away was probably the best way to avoid any sort of eye contact. If he’s walking beside you, preferably a foot behind you actually,  it’d be hard for you to maintain gazes. Gaston followed you rather diligently, letting his eyes fall to the back of your head as you began speaking again, “It’s a lot easier to get it done in the evening when no one else is there.” That made complete sense, you reassured yourself.

“Then, can I join you?” You knew that was coming. Laughing quietly, you stopped in front of a rather large puddle that almost looked more like a pond because of its size. “I’ve never done it myself, but I’m sure you can help me.” Gaston informed you, studying the small body of water in front of you and your mild hesitation on how you wanted to get around it.

Without any chance to ask what he was doing, Gaston bent down, grasping your hips and picking you up seamlessly. It was sudden action and with your feet leaving the ground so quickly made your head reel. For a second, you were almost sure he was going to hike you over his shoulder and carry you like a sack of potatoes, but his arm remained around your waist and within moments, he was holding you rather securely while your feet dangled helplessly in the air.

Unable to protest now, he started walking forward through the puddle you were debating on how to get around. You sighed in defeat. He was nice enough to help you so there was no point in arguing now that he was halfway across. “Or better yet, you can do it for me. You see, I usually get women to do it for me, it’s amazing how they throw themselves on their knees for the opportunity really.” Gaston smirked at the thought, readjusting his grip on you.

Shutting your eyelids to reserve yourself from snapping at him, you wrapped your arms around his neck to feel a bit more stable. You could feel his muscles shift under his clothing and found it difficult to ignore the musky smell that seemed to linger with him. He smelt like the woods mixed with the smallest amount of gunpowder. You knew this wasn’t a scent you should grow attached to, but you still found yourself taking deep breaths in just to enjoy. Fluttering your eyes back open you looked at him. Your gaze was a threat in itself, telling him that he’d pay for it if he dropped you. Then, you began speaking, “I won’t do it for you, but I can show you how to do it.”

Gaston laughed quietly. He figured you’d say something of that nature and merely nodded in agreement. He shuffled slightly, feeling something under his feet slip and slide, and before he could really process what it was, the two of you were tumbling down. A few seconds later, you were sitting in a rather large puddle, covered with water and mud. Sitting up, you blinked back the mud near your eyes. You swallowed thickly and looked down at Gaston as he actually managed to catch you and soften your landing. You couldn’t say the same for him for you had actually landed on top of him.

Resting on his back, he groaned quietly and opened his eyes. Gaston looked blankly at the sky for a few seconds before rocking back into reality. Realizing you were on top of him, a small smirk crept its way onto his cheeks. You could feel the eyes of a few villagers digging into you as they watched the entire thing play out, and some villagers who just got there and were met with a rather compromising scene as you were straddling him.

Staring down at him, you came to one conclusion rather quickly. “You did that on purpose.”

“What reason would I have for doing it on purpose? I slipped on a loose stone. It does happen, I’ll have you know. I’m sorry.” He groaned while sitting up, reaching back and holding you close to him. It was unintentional and more of a habit, but you could feel the heat dancing from the tips of your ears to your face at the action. Your eyebrows rose in slow amazement.  He wasn’t usually one for apologizing for anything, even it was his fault. Gaston had a knack of making it seem like things weren’t truly his fault, so why did he take responsibility this time? You were still perched in his lap as he slicked back some of his now drenched hair, a bit offended that you assumed that he did it intentionally.

Your laughter started, soft at first before getting louder and louder. Gaston was shocked, his face twisting into an expression of confusion. “What could possibly be so funny?” He moved his head back a bit so he could see you more clearly and something inside of him slammed against his heart like a giant wave.

“You’re a mess.” You tossed your head back in absolute pleasure. You’d never seen Gaston like this before. Physically dirty and unappealing to most because of the mud, but also a bit more human for having apologize for making a mistake, for having a flaw. Grasping your sides from laughing too hard, you heard Gaston’s laugh mix with yours. Unsurely at first, before he started literally cackling. It was something that you never actually heard prior, because he had many sorts of laughs.

The cocky laughs, the fake laughs, and the hateful or scornful laughs. Those were the ones he used more often than not so to hear his actual, human, genuine laugh made yours die down so you could admire it a bit more. There were wrinkles around his eyes, as they were shut, his mouth forming what you would describe as being one of the most beautiful smiles you’d ever seen. The sound itself was a bit different as well and instead of resonating in his chest like you thought, it was a lighter, more flowful sound. Grasping a leaf that had made it’s way into his hair, you tugged it out gently and tossed it to the side. “I’ve known you for years but I’ve never heard you laugh like that.” You stated and wiped some mud off his forehead. In the process though, you had only managed to smear it with the water on your fingers.

“You best bask in it then. Not many people have heard it.” He whispered a bit too quietly and looked away. Surely, it was a subject you could press and see why he implied that it was rare for him to laugh like that, but you were in no true position to do so. You were acquaintances. If more, then perhaps you could seep into his childhood, the days before you even knew Gaston.

Leaning towards him ever so slightly, you stared into his eyes as if you were reading what emotions were swirling in them. Remarkably, as many people have told you, his eyes weren’t a complete and solid brown. You supposed that you had never paid attention to the flickers of green that were washed around the darkness of his pupil. The sunlight seemed to elevate the appearance of his eyes, giving them a much softer glow than darker light would give. Resting your hands on his chest, you swallowed back any intentions of going any further than this mishap and tried to convince yourself that standing up would be your safest way out.

You tried, but your legs weren’t moving. A refusal would be the best way to put it. Your mind was refusing to move your body, to flee from the scene. Why?

Silence ensued between the two of you as he stared back at you. From the vague expression on his face, you thought that he was going to lean forward and plant a smooth kiss onto your lips. You were positive that was what he would do had any other girl fallen with him. Why else would he need the excuse to get so close to you? His movement seemed almost hesitant and as he rested back on one arm, he reached the other up and wiped some mud off your cheek with the wet sleeve of his tan coat. You didn’t want to tilt your head towards his graze, but that’s exactly what you did. Your action led to Gaston cupping the side of your face, his fingertips damp against your soft skin. You were almost positive he could feel your heart beating against his touch.

It would be so easy to kiss you right now, he thought to himself and let his eyes drop to your mouth before seeking your gaze once again. One swift motion towards you and he’d have his lips on yours, something that he had thought about since the first day he met you. That was years ago. To pine after someone for so long was typically not his style but here he found himself wanting nothing more than to embrace you and to let you have him. Gaston swallowed, the muscles in his neck contracting as he did. He wouldn’t say that he was nervous because he wasn’t. He just found himself… Unsure of what to do now. He could kiss you and change things between the two of you forever or he could stand up, help you up and go on with life the way things were.

He had chased you long enough.

Now was the time to take some action.

You laughed quietly, pulling away from his touch, “We should probably start laundry earlier-” The sentence came to an abrupt stop as Gaston craned his head forward and captured your lips. Your eyes were wide with surprise, though deep down, you knew he was going to kiss you. And, despite that deep down feeling, you did nothing to stop him. The second he started kissing you, you had stopped lying to yourself. You wanted to kiss him just as much. You wanted to hold him closer and never let go.

It wasn’t quite a kiss, as half of his mouth actually landed on the space next to your mouth. He didn’t move for what seemed like eternity, constantly reassuring himself that he had done the right thing. And when he did move, it was to readjust his mouth so he could kiss you fully. Lifting both hands, he cupped your face tenderly while the hands that were resting on his chest rose up to hold onto his shoulders. 

You wondered what it must look like, the two of you kissing in the middle of the village, in the middle of a puddle, both soaked to the bone and covered in mud. You didn’t care about that for very long though as your eyes fell shut. Gaston didn’t completely devour and allowed you dominate slightly. Kissing him back, you squeezed his shoulders and laughed slightly when the small amount of facial hair tickled your face. He laughed as well, pulling his mouth from yours. They remained puckered, almost asking for another kiss, his eyes still blissfully shut.

You didn’t allow him the pleasure, at least, not yet as you finished your sentence from before, “because we need to get the mud out of these clothes.”


Holy crap that ended up way longer than I had anticipated. Reblogs and likes are appreciated guys, thanks for reading!

Touché // j.j.

You can’t pin point when. Somewhere between the steady typing and the flipping of pages, between the constant supply of french fries and chocolate milkshakes, between the occasional eye contact and the brief smiles. Somewhere between the hours of three and seven o'clock, you fell.

To be specific, you fell in love with Jughead Jones, Riverdale’s resident tall dark and handsome, at least in your opinion.

It started one afternoon when Pop’s was busier than usual, every booth and table full except one.

“Do you…do you mind if I sit?” You ask, rocking slightly on the balls of your feet. “Everywhere else is full.”

You expect him to say no; he is, after all, Jughead Jones, and this is, after all, Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world and everyone at least knew of everyone else, and you definitely know of Jughead and his preference to being alone, especially when he’s writing.

Jughead ceases his typing, locking eyes with you. He glances around the diner, almost surprised at how many people were in it.

“I’m not the best conversationalist,” he says, looking back at you, “I can’t promise anything good.”

This surprises you, you expected a flat out no or for him to even just ignore you.

“I’m not looking for conversation,” you say, shrugging, “just somewhere to sit and read my book while enjoying a milkshake.”

“Depends,” he smirks, folding his hands in front of his laptop, “what flavor milkshake?”

“The best one of course,” you smile back, “chocolate.”

Jughead smiles, actually smiles, and nods.

“Yeah, yeah you can sit,” he says.

You thank him, sliding into the booth and setting your bag next to you. You pull out your book, thanking the waiter as he set down your milkshake.

“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way,” you say, stirring the drink a bit.

“I know.”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side.

“You know who I am?”

You remind yourself again that this is Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world, where everyone knows everyone.

“I know more than you think,” he smiles.

“You take this dark and mysterious thing seriously don’t you?”

“I thought you weren’t looking for conversation?” He raises an eyebrow, half a smirk on his face.

“Touché,” you say, opening your book and settling into the plush seating, sipping occasionally at your milkshake.

This continues for days. Regardless of whether Pop’s is bursting at the seems or it’s just you and him, you always sit together. The two of you sit in that booth, you with a book in one hand and a milkshake in another and Jughead with his laptop on the table and fries next to it.

“You know,” Jughead says one day, fingers still whizzing across the keyboard, “you can sit somewhere else if you want.”

“And ruin the work we’ve been doing?” You smile, “I’m good.”

He stops typing, you feel his eyes on you.

“And what work are we doing exactly?”

“Bonding, Jug,” you say, turning the page.

“Is this what bonding is?”

You look up at him, shrugging.

“What would you call it?”

“Touché.”

Weeks pass, the time you spend at Pop’s growing from a one or two hours into several, your time together stretching into early dusk.

“Hey Jug?” You ask quietly one day, closing your book for once.

He notices, he stops typing, he even half way closes the top of his computer.

“What’s up?”

“How’d you know who I was?” You ask, stirring your milkshake. “That first day…you said you knew who I was before I told you. How?”

“This is Riverdale,” he says, “I think it’s physically impossible to not know someone in this town.”

Jughead opens his mouth to continue, then closes it. You can see the wheels turning in his head.

“I notice things, I notice people,” he resumes finally, “I notice when people are different and you’re different. A good different, but different.”

With that, he raises the lid of his laptop, eyes focusing back on the screen.

“You noticed me?”

He looks back up at you, a smile on his face.

“Course I did.”

When you get to Pop’s one day about a week later, Jughead’s not there, Archie is.

“Oh um…hi,” you say, stopping short in front of the booth.

“Hey, Y/N right?” He asks, motioning for you to sit.

You do.

“Yeah, that’s um…” you shift your weight slightly, feeling uncomfortable, “that’s me.”

“Sorry, this must be awkward,” Archie says with a smile, “I’m Archie.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Archie’s eyebrows scrunch up slightly in confusion.

“Sorry, that sounded weird,” you rush, “I just mean, you’re a sophomore on varsity football, the whole school knows who you are.”

Archie smiles a bit, nodding.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he shrugs, “anyway, Jughead sent me.”

You feel your shoulders relax involuntarily, leaning back into the seat.

“Okay.”

“He had to stay after school, make up a test or something,” Archie explains, “he told me to come tell you that he’d be here though, just a bit late.”

You smile.

“Thanks Archie,” you nod, “that’s really nice.”

“Anytime,” the boy replies, smiling, “look uh…this may sound super weird but um…you and Jughead…is that anything more th-”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “no we’re…we’re just friends. At least…I think we’re friends. We just…we sit together and we do our own thing. That’s all.”

“I know Jughead, that’s definitely a friendship,” he smiles, “okay, I gotta head back to practice before I’m missed but yeah, he’ll be here.”

With another smile he scoots out of the booth.

“Archie,” you stop him, looking up at his face, “look um…god this is going to sound crazy but…is Jughead…is he seeing anyone o-or som-”

“No,” Archie cuts you off with another smile on his face, “he was, for a bit but…not anymore. Do you like him?”

You’re surprised by his bluntness, your eyes widening a bit.

“I uh…n-no I was just curious,” you shake your head, pulling your book out of your bag, “you better get to practice, don’t want coach to bench you.”

Archie smiles again, always with the smiling, and walks out of the door just as Jughead walks in.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he says, sitting down across from you.

“I didn’t know we had a set schedule,” you smirk, tilting your head slightly, “nice of you to send your friend though.”

Jughead looks at you, a sarcastic smile on his face.

“Didn’t want you to think I stood you up,” he says, pulling out his laptop.  

“Don’t you have to be on a date to get stood up?” You ask, sipping at your milkshake as Pop places a basket of fries in front of Jughead.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he replies, shrugging.

“So are you telling me that these are dates?”

This time you surprise yourself with your own bluntness, and Jughead as well. He recovers quickly though, the shock on his face only evident for a few brief moments.

“You tell me.”

There it is, his smile, his actual smile. Not a smirk, not some no effort half smile, an actual, full blown, Jughead smile.

Looking back on it, you think that’s when you first knew, when you first realized that you were falling for him.

The rest of the night is spent in silence, well, besides the sound of Jughead’s typing and your book pages begin turned.

You arrive at Pop’s the next day to see Jughead already sitting at the booth, typing furiously. That didn’t surprise you. What did surprise you, however, is the chocolate milkshake already sitting on the table in front of your side of the booth.

“I didn’t see you at school today,” you say, sitting down, “did you skip?”

“Yeah, yeah I um…” he pauses, finishing the sentence he’s typing before looking at you, “I got here this morning because I forgot one of my notebooks and I sat down to finish this paragraph I was on and uh…next thing I knew it was one o'clock in the afternoon so I…figured I’d just stay here.”

“Archie asked me if I knew where you were,” you say, “he came up to me during lunch and asked if I knew if you were sick or not.”

“What did you say?”

“The truth,” you reply, “that I didn’t know.”

Jughead nods, looking back down at his computer screen.

“Jug?” You ask, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

He continues to type, oblivious to your calls of his name.

“Juggie!” You exclaim, finally drawing his attention.

“Sorry, got caught up in the story,” he shakes his head, “what’s up?”

“What’s going on with you?” You ask, sliding your book off to the side. “You seem…I dunno, off.”

“Sorry just um…a lot of stuff on my mind I guess,” he says, shrugging.

“About Jason or…other things?” You ask.

“It’s nothing important.”

“Juggie,” you say softly, sliding your hand across the table to touch his arm, “if it’s bothering you this much, it’s important. You can talk to me, always.”

“We’re friends right?” He asks, closing his computer all the way.

“Yeah, yeah course we are Jug,” you nod, “please, tell me what’s going on.”

And he does, he tells you everything. About his parents splitting up, about his dad being part of the Serpents, about his mom taking his sister and leaving, about living at the drive in, about living at the school, everything. And you let him talk, you let him go on for as long as he needs with no interruption, just listening.

“Sorry if that’s a lot but um…I needed to get that stuff off my chest,” he finishes, taking a deep breath, “thanks though.”

“Come stay with me,” the words are out of your mouth before you even think them through, but you don’t take them back, “seriously Jug, my dad’s away on business and my mom won’t care, we’ve got room.”

“No Y/N I can’t expect that from you I do-”

“Juggie, you’re my best friend,” you say, cheeks burning slightly, “please, let me do this for you.”

Jughead looks down, staring your hand touching his, both of your fingers practically intertwined on top of the table.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks after a minute or two silence, looking around the diner. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“I’m absolutely positive it’s okay,” you reply, catching his gaze, “but I’m not going to force you.”

“As long as you’re sure,” he says, nodding, “I’d really like to not live under the stairs like Harry Potter.”

You were right, your mom doesn’t care, she even convinces your dad that it’s okay for Jughead to stay with you, and after three weeks of it, you’re convinced it is the single best idea you’ve ever had.

The two of you still spend most of your time at Pop’s, something about the neon lights and plush seating and the constant supply of chocolate milkshakes makes you feel more at home than you do at your actual house. Or maybe Jughead does. Maybe Jughead makes you feel like you’re home.

“Do you ever wonder how some people end up with the worst luck?” He asks one day, eyes never leaving his computer screen as he chews on this thumb nail.

The two of you are going on four hours at Pop’s that day, and you notice that Jughead has barely written anything.

“Are we talking about Jason?” You ask gently, closing the book you were reading and placing it on the table.

“We’re talking about everyone,” he says cryptically, “how some people are born with everything they could ever want available on a silver platter and others are born with nothing, but somehow the golden boy ends up with the worst kind of luck.”

Jughead rarely ever spoke directly about Jason Blossom, you knew by now how to read between the lines of his novel-ish tone of voice.

“I think that it doesn’t matter what you’re born into,” you reply, “I think what matters is the choices we decide to make throughout our lives, and that that’s how we end up with good or bad luck, by the choices we make and by how we live our lives.”

“Jason never had to make a choice though,” Jughead exclaims, closing his laptop and sliding it out of the way, “that’s the thing, he never in his life had to make one choice for himself and somehow he still ended up murdered.”

His bluntness surprises you, this being one of a few times he directly tells you he’s talking about Jason.

“He did make choices, Jug,” you explain calmly, “everyday, just like you and me. He made the choice to let his parents give him whatever he wanted, he made the choice to follow that stupid book Chuck made up, he made the choice to be with Polly regardless of what his parents said, he made the choice to try and fake his own death so he could be with her without fear of them, he made hard choices, some of them more tough than you and I will ever make in our entire lives.”

Jughead stares at you, and for a minute you think he’s going to get up and leave.

But then he grabs his computer, mumbling a quick thank you under his breath and he begins to type furiously.

That night you’re laying on your bed, Jughead in the guest room across the hall and you can’t help but feel like he’s a million miles away.

You can’t sleep. Grabbing your phone, you squint at the brightness before you’re able to turn it down, looking at the clock.

2:37 am

“He’s probably asleep,” you whisper to yourself as you unlock the device, fingers moving almost on autopilot to Jughead’s message thread.

Can’t sleep, you awake?

You lay the phone on your stomach, staring up at the dark ceiling and willing your body to sleep. The vibration of the device pulls you out of your thoughts.

You okay?

You smile, two simple words causing happiness to bubble up in your stomach.

Yeah, just can’t seem to sleep.

You want to come talk?

If you don’t mind.

You’re always able to come talk to me.

You don’t reply, instead you get up out of your bed, quietly opening your door and then closing it behind you. You take three quick steps across the hallway, opening and closing Jughead’s door as quietly as you did your own.

“Hey,” you say softly, standing in front of the door.

Jughead props himself up on his elbows, the first thing you notice is the lack of a grey beanie upon his head.

“Hey,” he says back in the same tone, “you okay?”

Those two words again, this time sounding even better as you can hear him say it in his own voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, pushing some hair behind your ear nervously.

Why are you nervous? You ask yourself as Jughead motions for you to come join him. It’s only Juggie.

You slide under the covers, but only because the room is cold, and you’re next to him, but only because it’s his room, and his arm is around your shoulders, but only because he’s a good friend and he wants to comfort you.

“Why can’t you sleep?” He asks, rubbing his eye with one hand.

“Did I wake you up?” You ask.

“No I was working on my book,” he explains, pointing at the computer on the bedside table, “don’t change the subject.”

“I dunno…overthinking I guess,” you reply, shrugging a bit.

“About what?”

“Everything I suppose,” you say, “about how if Pop’s wasn’t full that one day or if I had decided not to go then we probably wouldn’t have ever met. About how if I hadn’t continued to sit there we probably wouldn’t have become best friends, about what Archie sa-”

“Archie?” Jughead cuts you off. “What about Archie?”

You curse yourself silently. You didn’t mean to say anything about Archie.

“Nothing, nothing,” you reply quickly, but the look on Jughead’s face told you that he wasn’t going to let it go, “okay um…back that one day when you sent him to Pop’s to tell me that you were going to be late uh…he said that you had been seeing someone but that you weren’t anymore and I was…I guess I was just thinking about who it could’ve been.”

He’s silent, more silent than you’ve ever experienced with the many months of knowing him. Minutes pass, they feel like hours. Finally, you decide to break the silence.

“Juggie?” You whisper.

“Sorry I um…” he shakes his head, raven colored hair flying everywhere, “why were…why were you thinking about that?”

“Curious, I guess,” you explain, “sorry if that seems intrusive or weird or whatever bu-”

“No no it’s…it’s okay,” Jughead replies, wrapping his arm around your shoulders a bit tighter, “it…it was Betty. We had a thing for a few weeks but in the end we decided we were better off as friends.”

“A few weeks?”

“Before I met you, we stopped about two days before that day at Pop’s”

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“You and Betty, are you better off as friends?”

“Definitely.”

You nod, falling into silence once again.

This time Jughead breaks it.

“Look I’m not…I’m not good at this whole feelings thing,” he says, “Betty was the first girl I ever really had those types of emotions for but it wasn’t…it wasn’t what I’m supposed to feel. Or rather what I want to feel.”

“Do you know what you want to feel?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at his face.

He looks almost angelic in the pale light streaming through the semi-closed blinds.

“Yes.”

“Do you know anyone that makes you feel like that?”

“Yes.”

The answer comes quick, almost too quick.

“Who?”

Another pause.

“I can’t say.”

Your stomach drops on slightly, but enough for you to feel it nonetheless.

“Oh.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he rushes, running one of his hands through his hair, “it’s just that I don’t really know how to.”

“You’re a writer, Jug,” you say, “I know you’ll figure out how to tell her. You’re good with words.”

“Not when it comes to these kinds of words,” he laughs lightly, “I don’t want to mess up.”

“Don’t psych yourself out,” you encourage, regardless of the weight on your heart, “maybe you don’t need your words this time, maybe actions is the way to go. I believe in you, I know you’ll figure it out.”

Jughead finally looks at you, dark hair falling in front of his face as it’s still free of the infamous crown beanie.

“Actions?” He repeats.

“Yeah, you know what they say,” you smile, “actions speak louder than words.”

He blinks a few times, it’s almost like you can see the thought processing through his brain.

And then suddenly his hands are cupping your face and his lips are on top of yours, your eyes closing as if they had minds of their own. You’re shocked, who wouldn’t be, but it only takes a fraction of a moment for your mind to kick into gear and then your kissing him back, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck.

If I’m dreaming I hope I never ever wake up.

He pulls away too soon for your liking, both your chests rising and falling little faster than usual.

“That thing you said about actions,” he says breathlessly, “I believe it.”

You smile wide, Jughead pressing his forehead against yours.

“You were talking about me?” You ask, still a bit shocked.

Jughead nods a few times, a smile on his face as well.

“I like you, Y/N,” he finally says, “I know that’s not poetic or artistic or anything like that but I just…I don’t have any other words. I really like you.”

You think your face is going to split in half by the giant smile you can’t keep off your face.

“Juggie,” you bite your bottom lip lightly, shaking your head, “god I can’t even tell you how much I’ve been wanting you to say that.”

Jughead’s smile widens and you swear the room brightness a bit.

“I’m really glad you couldn’t sleep tonight,” he whispers, laughing quietly.

“Me too,” you smile even wider, if that’s possible, “Juggie I’m…I’m really really happy right now.”

“God I am too,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “do you maybe want to have dinner with my friends tomorrow? I know they’re going out after the game, I can finally introduce you, properly too.”

“Ooh, dinner with the friends,” you say sarcastically, “I don’t know, you think our relationship is ready for that? We’ve only been together all of five minutes.”

Jughead laughs loudly and you shush him, the two of you falling silent to make sure your parents were still asleep.

“My dad will kill you if you wake him up and he finds us like this,” you whisper, shaking your head, “but in all seriousness, do you think it’ll be awkward for Betty? I don’t want to cause any trouble or anything I know you guys ar-”

“Y/N,” he stops your rambling, a soft smile on his face, “it’ll be fine. Betty and I are good, like I said, we’re better off as friends. Trust me, she’ll be okay. I wouldn’t bring either of you to meet each other if I didn’t think she’d be okay.”

“Okay, I’ll come to dinner with your friends,” you say, “on one condition.”

“Oh god, what?”

“I get to wear the infamous beanie,” you rush out, reaching over Jughead’s body and plucking the hat from on top of is computer.

“Y/N!” Jughead exclaims, trying to grab the hat back from you.

“Hold on hold on,” you say, pushing his hand away.

You put the beanie on your head, smoothing your hair out under it and looking back up at him.

Jughead stops struggling, half a smile on his face.

“Well you do look adorable,” he says, brushing a stray piece of hair off your cheek.

“I wear the beanie tomorrow,” you ask with raised eyebrows.

“You can wear it to dinner,” he compromises, tilting his head to the side.

“Touché.”

Jughead keeps his word, and when the two of you leave your house that evening and head for Pop’s, he takes the beanie off his head and places it on yours, shaking out his hair. Jughead intertwines your fingers together, smiling at you and at how happy you look.

Jughead explains his friends to you, telling you a bit about each one of them as you both walk towards the diner.

“They’re probably going to say something,” he says, “about the beanie.”

“Have any of them ever seen you without it?” You question.

“Archie has a few times, Betty once or twice,” he explains, “but other than that, no.”

Jughead’s warnings were a bit understated. In fact, when the two of you walk into Pop’s and find his friends at a booth, it seems all conversation in the entire diner ceases.

“Jug,” one of the girls, Veronica, says, mouthing wordlessly for a few seconds, “you made it, we thought you weren’t going to come for a while.”

“Yeah, yeah we left a bit late,” Jughead shrugs, “guys um…this is Y/N. Y/N, this is…well this is everyone.”

Once the awkward formalities were out of the way and Pop had brought over everyone’s celebratory milkshakes (the football team won that night), everything felt normal.

You laugh at all the jokes, even tell some of your own. You feel like you’ve been part of this group for years, and you know Jughead can tell.

“Hey um…sorry guys I gotta take this,” Jughead says after he pulls out his phone.

“Juggie?” You ask. “Everything okay?”

“What? Yeah,” he replies, “it’s just…it’s my mom. I should take it.”

“Yeah, yeah of course go ahead,” Betty says, “we’ll keep her company,” she smiles at you.

Jughead thanks them, walking out the door to the diner with the phone up to his ear.

“So,” Veronica says, holding her head up with her hands, “you and Jughead.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“Oh come on, don’t make her spell it out!” Kevin says, “he’s letting you wear his most prized possession for pete’s sake!”

You feel a blush spread across your cheeks, looking down at the half empty milkshake in front of you.

“I think you guys make a cute couple,” Betty says, licking some whipped cream off of her straw.

“Thanks Betty,” you reply, smiling again.

“This is going to sound awkward but uh…” Archie trails off, “has Jug told you anything about what’s going with his family an-”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, “he has. About everything, including his dad and that stuff. He’s um…he’s staying at my house. Has been for a couple weeks.”

Veronica smirks, Betty elbows her in the ribs. Archie and Kevin rolls their eyes at the two girls.

“Hey, I think he’s talking about you,” Kevin says, nodding in Jughead’s direction.

The four of you look over at him, you watch as he talks into his phone with a huge smile on his face, running a hand through his hair to push it back every couple of seconds.

The night draws to a close all too soon, everyone heading back to their houses as you and Jughead walk hand in hand down the asphalt road.

“I think that went really well,” you say, smiling at him.

“I agree,” Jughead says, stopping you both from walking and standing in front of you.

Before you can ask what he’s doing, he places his lips on yours, cupping your cheek with one hand while simultaneously tilting your head up. You feel him lift the beanie off of your head, but honestly you don’t really care. He pulls away with a smirk, fixing his hat back on his head.

“Archie,” you say, looking over Jughead’s shoulder.

“Really?” He asks with semi-wide eyes, “that’s what you’re thinking about in the middle of our moment?”

No, god you’re an idiot,” you shake your head, pointing over his shoulder, “Archie’s window, which happens to show Archie watching us right now.”

As soon as Jughead turns around Archie slides his curtains closed, causing you and Jughead to burst out in laughter.

“Did you kiss me just to steal your hat back?” You ask in a fake shocked tone.

“Possibly,” he replies, quirking an eyebrow.

“Touché Jones, touché.”

The Girl from Around the Block-Lip Gallagher Imagine

Requested: No

Warnings: some sensuality and language (Shameless imagine, don’t be surprised)

Originally posted by adventuresofjulia

  Lip didn’t have many strictly platonic friendships with other girls. In fact, he never considered he was capable of having a relationship with a female that didn’t involve them screwing into oblivion. But Y/N Y/L/N was different. For one thing, they’ve known each other since they were two years old, when Fiona and Hailey, Y/N’s older sister, arranged a play date for the two of them. They bonded over a love of Legos and had been friends ever since. He helped her with homework and she helped him get out of trouble when trying to persuade him from getting into it failed. He taught her how to smoke and she taught him how to play the piano. They were perfect for each other but neither of them would admit it.

  “Come on, Lip, you’re telling me that you’ve never thought of asking Y/N out?” Ian asked.

  They were smoking on their porch in the hot Chicago summer. Ian had the day off from work and Lip was still thinking up his latest scheme to make money fast.

   “Y/N’s like a sister to me, you know. You don’t f—k your sister,” Lip said. “We aren’t royalty or anything.”

   Ian laughed. “Well, I’m pretty sure Y/N’s thought of f—cking you, you can see it in her eyes.”

   “Shut up.” Lip smacked Ian in the chest, making the ginger laugh.

   “Oh, that hurt so bad. Can’t you hit harder, pussy?”

   And that led to them wrestling jokingly, making Debbie roll her eyes inside and Carl begin cheering them on. Once they stopped (ie: when Ian pinned Lip down in their front yard), Lip sighed.

   “For the record, I let you win.”

   “Yeah, whatever.” Ian’s smile disappeared and he looked serious. “So, you’d really never consider getting with Y/N?”

   Lip rolled his eyes and shoved Ian off of him. “If you’re so into her, why don’t you date her?”
  “Because I’m gay.”

   “Oh yeah, use that excuse.” Lip took another long drag of his cigarette as he stood. “Look, Y/N’s a cool girl and stuff but I can’t see us being serious. I mean, we used to take baths together and I had the pleasure of being the only person with her when she first got her period. There’s too much history.”

   As the words left his mouth, Lip knew he was lying to himself. He knew that he was madly in love with his best friend who somehow managed to be sweet but scrappy when it came to defending herself or any of the Gallaghers. Plus, there was the way she threw her head back when she laughed really hard, making her gorgeous y/h/c locks flow around her. Then, there was the way she’d scrunch up her nose whenever she was confused about a homework question. Plus, she was the one who first confronted him about Karen, telling him that he shouldn’t take her kind of bullsh-t anymore. Also, her y/e/c eyes would light up whenever she was staring out at Lake Michigan and she would jump whenever someone/something freaked her out.

   Ian glanced behind Lip. “Too much history, huh?”

   “Yep.”

   “Then you wouldn’t be too upset at the view behind you right now.”

   Lip turned around and what he saw nearly made him drop his cigarette. Across the street, standing on the corner, was none other than Y/N smiling widely as she kissed Will Brooks. 

    “What’s she doing with him?” Lip asked.

    “Well, Lip, it appears as though they’re making out. It probably has to do with the fact that she’s had a crush on him since second semester,” Ian said.

   “How the f–k do you know all that?”

   “Because I’m the gay friend she tells all this to,” Ian said. “And I can’t blame her. Will is the star of the basketball team, has muscles for days, and is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome.”

   “He’s an idiot. He thought that a square should count as a rhombus in geometry,” Lip muttered.

   “Someone sounds jealous,” Ian sang.

   “Shut up,” he hissed.

   But the green monster was making his blood boil as he watched Y/N laugh at something Will said before hitting his arm playfully. Her smile was beautiful and genuine, if only she was smiling that way for Lip. She kissed Will one last time before circling around him and heading down the street. However, Will didn’t let her get by before swatting her butt and making her jump. Lip could’ve strangled him right then and there.

   “Lip, Ian, you are not going to believe what just happened!” Y/N said when she got up to them.

   “You got syphilis from that idiot?” Lip asked.

   Y/N frowned. “No, but Will did just take me out.”

   “Where?” Ian smiled widely and crossed his arms just to spite Lip.

   “He took me to lunch and then we walked along Navy Pier, just talking. Your advice worked, Ian!” Y/N squealed as she hugged him.

    “Wait, you gave her advice on this?” Lip asked.

    “It’s what the gay best friend does,” Ian said.

    Y/N turned to Lip and frowned. “Why are you getting so upset about this?”

    “Because you didn’t tell me about it.”

    “I didn’t think you’d care if I went out with Will. It’s nothing serious.”

    “But it might be. The Bulls are looking at Will to draft him. I hear he’s going to be Chicago’s Kobe Bryant.”

    “This is the Bulls were talking about, Ian,” Lip said. “Besides, Will get a new girl every week, you should probably just forget about him.”

   “For your information, Mr. Negative, we’re actually going out again tomorrow night. He got us Bulls tickets!”
   “Nosebleeds?” Lip asked.

   “Nope, near the floor, center court!” Y/N grinned. “I can’t believe this is happening. I never thought that Will would ever notice me.”

    “How could he not? You’re gorgeous,” Ian said.

    “Just be careful, okay. I don’t like the guy.”

    “You don’t like many guys, Lip. Besides, you should be happy for me. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll get you court-side seats to see the Bulls.”

   “No thanks, I’m good.” Lip threw his cigarette down and snuffed it out with his boot. “I’m gonna go take care of some business.”

    “What business?” Y/N asked as she began following him down the sidewalk.

    “My usual business with Kev,” Lip said.

    Y/N’s eyes widened. “Lip, you can’t do that. You’re already high up on the cop’s radar, right behind Carl.”

   “I’ve been doing this since we were fourteen, Y/N, I know what I’m doing.”

    “But you getting arrested could f—k up your chances with MIT or U of Chicago or any other fancy school,” Y/N argued.

   “Hey, why don’t you worry about what dress you’re gonna wear to see Will again and I’ll worry about my future, alright?” Lip snapped.

   Y/N flinched at his words. They had had arguments before, but he never got this mean with her. “What’s your problem, Lip? Are you on the rag?”

   “No, just leave me alone.”

   “Fine, come around the block when you decide to stop being such a jackass,” Y/N said.

   Though her words were sharp, she sounded hurt and it hurt Lip that he had hurt his best friend. As much as he wanted to admit why he was really angry with Y/N, he was too prideful and scared of her reaction to say anything.

   For two weeks, Y/N didn’t come by to see the Gallaghers nor did Lip try to go up around the block to see her. Fiona, Ian, Debbie, Carl, Kev, and V did their best not to mention her name whenever Lip was around. But ever since their fight, Lip had begun drinking and smoking more. He was miserable. However, everything came to a head when Fiona confronted him one day.

   “Alright, Lip, go talk to her,” Fiona said.

   “What?” 

   Lip was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee while Fiona and Debbie were making breakfast.

   “You heard her, we’re sick of seeing you moping around all the time and drunk you is only so entertaining,” Debbie said.

   “I don’t want to talk to her. Besides, the only person she’s interested in talking to is Will.” Lip spat out the boy’s name.

   “That’s not true,” Ian said as he walked into the kitchen with Liam in his arms, “she talks to me all the time.”

   “If I want to talk to her, I’ll talk to her, alright? Can we stop f—king talking about her?” Lip snapped.

   Fiona set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Lip and bent down to his level. “Lip, I know you’ve been in love with Y/N pretty much since the day you met and it must be killing you that you fought and that she’s with Will—”

   “Will Brooks? He’s a babe,” Debbie said.

   Fiona, Ian, and Lip collectively shot her a look that made her instantly regret her words.

   “Sorry.”

   Fiona sighed. “But you need to man up and talk to her. I know this is gonna be hard comin’ from me but I know love when I see it.”

   Lip groaned. “She’s not gonna forgive me.”

  “She will, we’ve all had to,” Ian said.

  Lip playfully shoved him before taking a long swig of coffee. “I’ll be right back.”

  “That’s my boy,” V said as she entered the kitchen from the rear entrance.

   “Did you hear all of that?” Ian asked.

   “For the most part. Please go talk to that girl, I’m sick of seeing you look more pissed off than usual.”

   Lip laughed. “I will, see ya, V.”

   As he left the house, Lip began going over everything he could possibly say to make everything up to Y/N. 

   “Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry for being a dick and getting pissed about you and Will. I’m sure the NBA accepts idiots too—no, can’t say that, she’ll get pissed that I insulted him. Y/N, I’m sorry for being a dick and I’m really happy for you and Will. Maybe the Bulls will start winning if he joins. Yeah, that’s better.” Lip paused. “Y/N, you probably hate me, but we have to talk…”

   “I thought that only crazy people talked to themselves,” Mandy said as she strolled up to Lip.

   “Oh, hey, Mandy,” he said.

    She was wearing a tight black tank top and short denim cut offs. They had a short-lived fling but decided that they were better off as friends. Besides Ian and Lip, Mandy was Y/N’s closest friend.

   “I’m guessing that you’re off to talk to Y/N,” Mandy said.

   “Yeah, I said some real sh-tty stuff to her and she didn’t deserve it.” 

   “She never does,” Mandy said. “It’s just too bad about her and Will.”

   Lip frowned. “What happened?”

   “You didn’t hear? She found out that he’s been cheating on her ever since they got together. I offered to have my brothers beat him up for her, but she said it wasn’t worth it. I haven’t seen her around in a long time.”

   “Sh-t.”

    “Yeah, so whatever you have to say to her, don’t f-ck up.”

   “Thanks, Mandy.”

    As Lip walked away from Mandy, he was both elated and furious. He could beat Will’s face in for what he did to Y/N but at the same time, he was ecstatic that she was single again. Now he really had to perfect what he was gonna say.

   “Y/N, I’m sorry about what happened between us. You didn’t deserve it and I was just being a dick. I’m also sorry about what happened between you and Will. He deserves to get the sh-t beat out of him.” Lip sighed. “And…and I got so mad about the whole Will thing because, you’re like a sister to me and I didn’t want to lose my sister or my friend…the friend I’ve been in love with since we were two.”

   At this point, Lip was standing in front of the Y/L/N’s house. Mr. Y/L/N was most likely back at work in the loan office and Mrs. Y/L/N was off being a maid in the W Hotel. Whether or not Hailey was home was a bit of a toss up since she would skip class more than Lip did. The navy, two-story house seemed a lot bigger than it usually did and part of Lip wanted to turn around and run away.

   “Don’t be a pussy,” he muttered. 

   He walked up the front steps and knocked on the door.

   Seconds later, a dog was barking and Hailey was yelling at it.

   “Geez!” she blew a piece of dark hair out of her eyes and narrowed them once she saw Lip. “Lip.”

   “Hi, Hailey.”

   The barking Rottweiler stopped when he saw Lip and began licking all over his face.

   “Hi, Buster,” Lip said as he scratched the dog. “I’ve missed you.”

   “Well, he’s missed you too, I don’t know if I can say the same for Y/N,” Hailey said.

   Lip sighed as he straightened up. “Look, I know I f-cked up majorly with Y/N and I’m sorry. I just want to apologize and if she doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore, that’s fine, I’ll understand. Is she okay?”

   Hailey’s e/c eyes softened slightly at Lip’s words but she kept a tense body language. “She’d be better off if that idiot hadn’t cheated on her weeks after she lost her best friend. But she’ll get through it, she’s tough.”

   “I know, is she here?”

   Hailey pursed her lips. “That Will guy might’ve hurt her but you really broke her heart, you know that, Gallagher?”

   “Yeah…”

   “I could kill you for how much you made her cry and then Will on top of that—” Hailey breathed.

   “And I’ll do my best to never make her cry again. Believe me, the last thing I want is to hurt her.”

   Lip hoped his sincerity showed through since Hailey was one of the most stubborn people when it came to protecting her family and doing what she thought was right.

   “She went to the Symphony. They let her listen to the music from the entry way as long as she doesn’t disturb anyone.”

   “Thanks, Hailey, I really appreciate it.”

   The L couldn’t have operated any slower that day, which made Lip even more anxious. He began chain smoking, hoping it would help him think more, but it didn’t. It calmed him down a little, but he still had no idea what he was going to say to her. Fortunately, downtown wasn’t very crowded and it was easy for him to find his way to the Symphony. Sure enough, Y/N was sitting near one of the door, cross-legged, listening intently to the passionate music. She looked gorgeous though she was wearing a simple white summer dress that went off the shoulders. Her hair was twisted up into a pretty bun on top of her head and her back was facing Lip.

   He carefully walked up to her, his mind racing with words.

   “Mind if I join you?”
    Y/N gestured for him to sit without turning away from the door. Her eyes were puffy and he could tell that she had been crying.

    “Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

    “Sh, it’s Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9,” Y/N hissed.

    “Oh, right, sorry.” Lip managed to say quiet for five more seconds before saying, “no, you know what, f-ck the music, you can get this sh–t on YouTube or iTunes. We need to talk.”

   “Keep your voice down or we’ll get kicked out,” Y/N said quietly. 

   “Fine, but at least look at me when I talk?”
   Y/N hesitated before turning to Lip. “Talk.”

   Lip paused. Everything he had rehearsed seem to leave his mind. “You’re beautiful.”

   Y/N rolled her eyes. “Go away, Lip.”

   “No, I’m serious. Even though that a—hole made you cry and did all that to you, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Always have been.”

   There was a long pause between them but Y/N looked stunned.

   “Is that all you have to say to me?”

    “No, I’m sorry about what happened between us. I shouldn’t have gotten so pissed off about you and that jerk.”

    “You were a real jackass,” Y/N muttered.

    “I know, and you didn’t deserve that. And I’m sorry about what happened—-no, you know what, f-ck that, I’m not sorry. He didn’t deserve to be with you because you are amazing and sweet and talented and tough and strong. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you and neither do I.”

    Y/N looked stunned but suddenly looked dejected. “If I’m all those things, why did he cheat on me with Ashley Opperman, Jane Henkins, Mariah Little, Penny Gilbert, Vanessa Langley, and Iman Ashton?”

    “Because he’s an idiot who’s probably trying to get the clap if he got anywhere near Vanessa Langley,” Lip said.

    Y/N smiled. “I think she’s had ever STD under the sun besides AIDs.”

   Lip smiled. “I’m so sorry about everything that happened between us, Y/N. Is there any way you could forgive me?”
   Y/N jokingly tapped her finger against her chin. “If you teach me how make things explode using that fancy technical vocabulary, maybe.”

   “Of course.”

   “And you help me pass my ACT.”

   “Okay.”

   “And you come to my piano concerts.”

   “I already do.”

   “Sober, though.”

   “Then you’ll have to play something less boring.”

   “Deal.”

   They jokingly shook hands before Y/N wrapped her arms around Lip and basically fell into his lap. He immediately pulled her close, inhaling her sweet scent.

    “I’ve missed this,” she whispered.

    “I love you.”

    They both froze. Lip couldn’t have said that any less smoothly if he tried. He couldn’t believe that he had blurted it out like that.

    Y/N pulled away slowly and looked at him with wide eyes. “Lip?”

    “I’ve loved you since we first met and I fell in love with you around the same time, I think. It drove me crazy seeing you with Will and I’m sorry I was so mean to you. If you don’t feel the same way then—”

    Lip was cut off as Y/N pressed her lips against his. He immediately pulled her closer as he kissed back. All those emotions they had for the past sixteen years came out in that exchange. They were so caught up they not only forgot where they were but also that they would need to pull away for air.

     “Eh hem.” An elderly security guard looked at them with distaste.

    “What’s your problem?” Lip asked.

    “Sorry, Ivan, we’ll be leaving now.”

    “No, that’s fine, Y/N, just try to ease up on all of that.” Ivan gestured to their current position.

   “You got it, Ivan.”

   He wandered away and Lip pulled Y/N into him again.

   “So, I’m guessing you like me too?”

   “No, I love you, I thought as smart as you are, you would’ve caught onto that when we were at least four,” Y/N teased.

   “Well, I’m smart enough to never let you go again.”

   “Good.”

    And that was how after many years, Lip Gallagher ended up with the girl from around the block.

A Winter’s Ball

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: flirting, the 40s, hamilton, gay peggy, unprotected sex, no foreplay, sex in a tent, soldier!kink, she wears his hat, musicals, 

Word Count: 1848

so this is a 40′s bucky tale based off of the song from “Hamilton: An American Musical” and i don’t own the song or the concept, i just thinking it’s a pretty saucy number thanks (#dontsuemelin) this also includes a wee bit of “Helpless” because Eliza sure knows how to set a scene, thanks sweetness <3

also in this you, the reader, have two sisters. sorry if you don’t have two sisters, you can just pretend they’re your two best friends or something. if you don’t have two best friends, then pretend it’s me and my sister. also i gave them the classic names, so that’s what you gotta refer to your sisters/friends as now. not sorry tbh <3

Originally posted by complete-fandom-trashhh

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Yousana AU: whatever your soulmate writes/draws on their skin appears on your skin too

——————————————————————————————————

The first time Sana has heard about it she was 6. At least that’s the first time she remembers hearing of it.

“You need to stop scribbling your To-do list on your hands!”, she had heard her father complain about her Mamma to her Mamma. He was still laughing about it though. “That’s what notebooks are there for.”

Sana was sitting at the dinner table. Her eldest brother sitting across from her, Elias next to her. Their parents on each end of the table.

Sana remembers sitting there, confused of what her dad meant. Why would it bother him if she wrote on her hands? That’s something Sana did sometimes too. When she was drawing pictures she sometimes accidentally drew on herself and sometimes she just tried to see if she could draw flowers on her hands and arms. And other times little drawings just appeared on her skin. She didn’t think much of it because it happened often and the drawings faded and vanished not too long after they appeared. 

At that time at the dinner table, being too preoccupied with fighting over the last slice of dessert with Elias, she didn’t think about it any more.

Not much time passed, in Sana’s first year of school, she heard older girls talking about their soulmates. One time, when waiting for her dad to pick her up from school, she heard two girls of the highest grade in school talk and one of them was complaining and almost crying.

“How am I supposed to find my soulmate? I don’t even understand what he’s writing on the back of his hand all the time. It looks like Russian or something.” She had held her hand up to show it to her friend. But Sana saw the untidy writing too. “I don’t know any Russian people, what if I never find my soulmate?”

That girl was hysterical but Sana didn’t understand why. She was too young to care about soulmates. Neither did she understand the concept of soulmates completely.  So when her dad came to pick her up, Sana instantly asked him.

“Does everyone really have a soulmate? How do you find them? Is Mamma your soulmate? Do you always find your soulmate?”

She was fascinated by her dad’s explanation.
Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they are destined to be with. Their other half. And whatever you write on your skin appears on your soulmate’s skin; whatever they write on their skin appears on your skin.

“Your Mamma and I were friends for some time and I had already fallen in love with her before we realized we were soulmates.” This story makes Sana’s heart grow every time she thinks of it. That was the first time somebody talked to her about soulmates, the first time she really understood why she had random drawings or scribblings on her arms once in a while, the first time many small conversations she overheard made sense.

Still, she was only 6 years old and didn’t realize that her dad didn’t answer all her questions. He had left Sana’s last question unanswered.

It all sounded like a fairy-tale to her. Going about your life and finding random drawings on your skin every once in a while which will tell you who your soulmate is. 

Well, unfortunately this feeling didn’t last forever. 

Until she turned 14 little words or tiny drawings kept appearing on Sana’s skin. But nothing out of the ordinary. Usually just reminders for homework, or other insignificant things that didn’t have a bigger meaning for Sana.

After that, for a very long time Sana didn’t see anything on her skin that she didn’t write or draw. It’s not like she looked for something new every day, that’s not what she did. Not many people do that. Usually, it just happens and you laugh about a bad drawing or the poor handwriting. Many people don’t put much significance on the fact that your soulmate indirectly paints your skin. 

Unfortunately, in contradiction to what Sana believed when she was 6, not everyone finds their soulmate. Many people fall in love with someone whose drawing on their own skin doesn’t end up on their wife or husband’s skin. 
It’s accepted, it’s almost the norm by now. Only a small percentage of people are lucky enough to fall in love with their soulmate. Sana’s parents are one of those lucky couples.

Sana was fine with that. She might not find her soulmate because maybe, she thought, soulmates are over glorified. You probably don’t need to find them to be in a happy relationship. 

So when Sana found herself looking forward to every time her brother brought his friends home, she didn’t care if that one boy with the dark, slightly curly hair who always found a way to spend a few minutes alone with her, just making small-talk, was her soulmate or not. All she cared about was Yousef smiling at her from across the room whenever Sana was in his field of vision. All she cared about was Yousef going out of his way to make Sana feel better whenever he notices something is up. All she cared about were the butterflies she felt when Yousef was near her.

Sitting at a table on the school yard now, talking to Chris, Eva, Vilde and Noora made Sana remember all of this. Vilde talks about the essay she wrote in her exams today and that she wrote about the topic of soulmates and how big the chance is that they meet.

None of the girls at the table have found their soulmate yet. No surprise here that most of them have a rather pessimistic view on finding your one and only soulmate. The older you get, the less you care about that. Because you know how small the chance of you actually meeting them and additionally falling in love with them is. 

“All my soulmate ever writes on his hand are reminders on when to do stuff. But he never writes what he has to remember. Just the time.”, Chris explains and absentmindedly covers her left hand with her right hand. 

“Mine doesn’t write anything at all.”, Sana mentions. She had mentioned it before, when she talked with Chris about this. But all of them discussing this topic is very unusual. It’s not something this group of friends talks much about.

Right when Eva starts talking about very immature drawings that sometimes appear on her left arm, Sana’s phone beeps three times back to back. She unlocks her phone and bites her lip to not grin too much.

She received three texts from Yousef.

“Did your exam go well?”

“Wait, no. It definitely did.”

“But how well? That’s the right question.”

Sana forgets to try to contain her smile while she answers him that it went better than she expected because it was a hard exam.
And she also writes “But aren’t you supposed to be working right now?” and sends the message.
Sana only looks up from her phone when the girls call her name all at the same time.

“Huh?”, is all Sana can ask. Her eyes fall down on her phone once again and she sees Yousef is typing something.

“Sana, is a handsome, tall, dark haired boy you’re in love with texting you right now?” Noora asks which makes all the other girls laugh. Even Sana laughs a little but quickly presses her lips together to make herself stop.

“It definitely is Yousef. Nobody else makes Sana smile this much.” Vilde answers instead of Sana who refused to say something to that.

But now Sana looks up at them again and explains:“ He only asked how my exam went.”, while he should be working, she thinks to herself and smiles a little. Sana’s phone beeps two times in a row but she doesn’t look what the texts are because she knows the girls are waiting for it.

She sees all four of them smiling broadly at her, their smiles almost unnervingly wide. 

“O yeah. He’s only ever asking how your exam went.”, Noora says with an ironic tone.

“Or how your basketball game went.”, Chris adds.

“If he wasn’t there himself.”, Eva mentions with her eyebrows raised. Yousef barely ever misses her Basketball games. It started as him tagging along when Elias came to watch and now Yousef is almost always there, in the audience, clapping and cheering.

“Or how the Russe-van is coming along.”, Vilde adds, “Russe girls rule the world, right?”

Sana can’t help but smile widely because even when the girls just want to tease her in this moment, Sana is aware that Yousef does all that because he cares. She blushes at that thought but tries to shake it off before the girls notice.

Sana acts annoyed and says:“ I’m not telling you anything ever again.” Sometimes she regrets sharing so much with her friends because they find a way to use it to tease her. Since her and Yousef have been getting closer, the girls don’t miss a chance to do exactly that.

“Aww, Sana. Don’t be like that.”, Chris says laughingly and hugs Sana to her side for a few seconds.

“But honestly, who needs a soulmate if they have someone like Yousef already.”, Eva blurts out, not intending to do so. The girls know Sana doesn’t care about that but being reminded is still not pleasant. 

Vilde leans a little forward in her seat and asks: “Sana, are you sure he’s not your soulmate? You two fit perfectly into the description of how soulmates are supposed to be.”

Sana doesn’t realize she does it but she sighs, maybe even a little disappointed. She shakes her head and answers: “There was not an instance that made it seem like it.” Her soulmate hasn’t been very creative on his skin and Sana has not seen anything she wrote on his skin. That could be because what she writes vanishes from the skin of her soulmate not long after she writes something on her own. To be honest, she didn’t look for it either. Maybe, just maybe, she feared to be disappointed.

A few minutes later Eva, Noora and Vilde need to get to their next class but Sana and Chris have the rest of the day off. 

Sana finally gets the chance to look at her phone again and reads the two messages from Yousef.

“I had a five minute break. I’m never on my phone while working, you know that :) ”

“I’ll get off work in half an hour. Wanna meet me here and go eat something together?

Sana looks at the time and calculates that he’ll be done with work in 15 minutes. Just enough time to walk to the kindergarten, the place Yousef means with ‘here’. She texts him back, which he will see when he’s done.

“I’ll be there :)

Chris and Sana end up walking the same way. The kindergarten Yousef works in is on the way to Chris’ house. Sana enjoys just walking around and talking with Chris because even though she is light-hearted and funny most of the time, Chris is one of Sana’s favorite people to talk to. About anything and everything.
When they arrive at the kindergarten Chris and Sana have finished discussing their exams and they hug goodbye. However, when they part from the hug and Chris wants to go past Sana to walk home, she stumbles. Sana quickly holds onto Chris’ arm. She stands up straight again and both girls start laughing because something like this always happens to them. 

Chris, however, stops laughing before Sana which confuses Sana. Chris is staring down and to see what made her stop laughing Sana follows her gaze. Chris is staring at Sana’s hands.

“I thought your soulmate doesn’t ever draw?” Chris asks. The question sounds more excited than anything else. This confuses Sana and she quickly raises her left hand. A little stick figure, a small flower and something that looks like an upside-down V appear and vanish a few seconds later.

Sana doesn’t know how to feel. It’s the first time in forever that this happens but she doesn’t care because she is about to meet Yousef who is perfect for her; it doesn’t matter if it wasn’t him who drew that stupid little stick figure on his hand.

Chris just waits for Sana to say something, which she doesn’t. Sana just shrugs and smiles which Chris takes as a sign to leave then.

“I’m outside :)”, Sana texts Yousef and leans on the wall.
She turns her phone in her hand a few times and gets nervous because she’ll see Yousef in a few minutes. A good type of nervous. She feels more than comfortable with him and hasn’t seen him yesterday so her excitement is even bigger than usual. She might not always show it but she is really glad that Yousef is in her life, and not only as her older brother’s best friend.

Sana’s phone beeps twice. Two messages from Elias.

“I’m getting Pizza for lunch”

“Want your usual pizza? You deserve it after your exam!”

Sana smiles to herself and texts him back.

“Thank you, Elias.”

“But I’m eating lunch with Yousef. See you later :)”

Five minutes later Yousef walks out of the building and his eyes immediately search for Sana and find her. She pushes herself off of the wall and waits for him and smiles at him. He looks a little stressed but once she smiles, he smiles. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”, they greet each other at the same time.

Yousef puts his jacket on, which he was holding in his left hand and his backpack in his right hand. Sana goes to take his backpack to hold until he puts his jacket an.

“Sorry for making you wait.”, Yousef says, looking genuinely sad about it, “But three kids drew on me while I was busy with another kid and when I pulled my hand back two of them got mad. Because drawing on someone doesn’t hurt the person being drawn on. So I had to explain why No means No even if it’s something small like that. And I tried to get the color off my hand.”

Sana stands there, engrossed in his story. She loves how passionate he is about the kids he works with and that he puts so much effort into teaching them even the smallest things. 

“It’s fine, really. I didn’t wait that long anyway.”, Sana says. Yousef who was preoccupied with his backpack he took from Sana again, looks up at her and smiles broadly when he sees her smiling at him. They stand like that for a few seconds. Just smiling and looking each other into the eyes.

Finally, they snap out of their little bubble when Sana asks if he’s ready to go. Yousef nods but first points at his head but says: “There’s a bug on your hood." 

Sana just raises her eyebrows and doesn’t get to say anything because Yousef asks: "Should I ..”, and motions to get the bug off of her hood. Sana nods and Yousef comes closer, takes the bug and puts it on one of the bushes close to them. Then he goes to stand in front of Sana again who says Thanks. Yousef just nods and drags his left hand through his hair. Sana’s eyes follow that movement and something catches her eye. Her heart beats even faster for a second. Sana steps closer to him and instinctively takes his left hand in hers and looks at it. 

“Eh.. Sana..”, Yousef says pretty confused with the situation. He doesn’t mind it in the slightest that she’s so close but her staring at his hand is a little weird. 

Sana looks up, into his eyes and tries to catch her breath. Sana sees a little smudged line right in the middle of Yousef’s back of the hand. Exactly where the upside down V appeared on Sana’s hand, on the same spot, not long ago.

“What did the kids draw on your hand?”, Sana asks. She doesn’t even know what kind of answer would make her happy. But she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

Yousef furrows his eyebrows, still confused. “Well, I’m not sure. A stick figure, a flower and a girl tried to write my name but because I don’t like anything drawn on me I pulled my hand away before she could finish the Y.”

Yousef explains oblivious to Sana’s thoughts. Once Sana processes what this means she breaks into a grin and can’t contain it. Yousef, who was too confused to react first, finally understands what Sana could be thinking. Sana drops Yousef’s hand and hastily goes through her bag to get a pen out of it. She really hopes she is right. Otherwise the next thing she is going to do will be awkward as hell.

Now, Yousef understood what Sana is doing and he definitely knows what she was thinking seconds ago. Both of them hold their breath as Sana holds the pen close to the palm of her left hand. Yousef raises his own left hand and turns his hand so that his palm shows upward. 

Sana and Yousef stand very close, not even one step between them. Sana looks one more time into Yousef’s eyes before she draws in the middle of her palm. She closes her eyes for a moment and hopes she was right. She never hoped she was right so much. 

“Sana.”, she hears Yousef and raises her head to look at him. The biggest grin on his face, Yousef is holding his left hand up, sporting the same heart in the middle of his palm as Sana drew on her own palm.

“Aah!”, Sana shrieks without being able to control it and her pen falls out of her hand as she jumps to hug Yousef. She wraps her arms around his neck and he doesn’t hesitate to hug her back, just as closely. 

Sana didn’t care if Yousef wasn’t her soulmate. She loved him anyway. But having the confirmation that he is indeed her soulmate made her happier than she thought she would be about this. Sana can’t stop smiling the whole time they hug and even when they part from the hug and look at each other. Yousef has the same big smile playing on his lips and he takes Sana’s left hand once more and turns her hand to see the heart again. Sana does the same as him; she takes his left hand and turns it to see the heart. It already started to fade but it doesn’t matter.

“We’re soulmates, I guess.”,  Sana finally says.

Yousef laughs at that and nods. 

“But you know, I didn’t need to see this…”, he lifts his hand once more, “… to know that you’re my soulmate!”

The Boy Next Door

Jason Todd x Reader

Requested by @natasha-baggins - “Hello! Could you write this au with Jason please? “You just moved into the house next to my mom’s and she has you doing her yardwork” and Jason has a thing for the reader? Please and thank you!“

A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind hun, sorry it took so long!! I really hope you like it!

Tagging: @jadedhillon @laryssa-the-jedi
@tim-help

_______________________________________


You had lived in Gotham all your life. It was dirty and crime-ridden and teeming with social problems, but it was familar and comforting and beautiful in the way only home could be. That was why when you finished school and offers came from Metropolis and Bludhaven and Jump City, you turned them all down in favour of Gotham University.

People called you crazy, but you didn’t care. It was a little too far from your neighbourhood to commute everyday so you’d still had to move, but it’s proximity to home meant that you could visit your mom as often as you liked. Which, admittedly, was often. Growing up it had just been you and your mom, and now that you were in college she was living on her own. You knew that she didn’t mind too much, but she had always been your number one confident and best friend, and you missed her company more than you would admit.

It was during one of your routine nightly phonecalls that she told you about her new neighbour. You were sitting at your new kitchen table (student standard, nothing to brag about) drinking hot cocoa in your pajamas.

“We have a new neighbour by the way,” “Oh yeah? Have you met them yet?” You drummed your fingers on the tabletop absently. It wasn’t an unusual statement, people were moving in and out of the house next door all the time. Apparently the roof leaked, and the landlord was a pain. The news didn’t exactly surprise you. “Mmhmm. I met him just this morning, even though he says he’s been living there for almost two weeks now I’ve never seen him before. He’s a very nice young man.. and handsome too,” You could hear the teasing tone in your mom’s voice, and groaned exaggeratedly.

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Play Date/Ethan Dolan Smut

Originally posted by pix3lh3arts

Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)

Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*

Request:  Yay, I love her so much too and I totally agree! ^3^ Okay, here’s the deal: I was thinking of having plots that revolve around the songs Gingerbread Man and Play Date for the twins… The only challenge that I’ve encountered is figuring out which one should correspond to who, heh. What do you think? I’ve been leaning towards pairing Gray with GM and Ethan with PD personally. ~ 🎀

Gingerbread Man/Grayson Dolan

“Hello?” I say answering the phone from an unknown number, “Come over, I wanna play.” The familiar voice said and without another word the line went dead. I let out a sigh, I stood up and I quickly got dressed. I checked the time and it’s was well past midnight, I climbed out of my window onto the roof before jumping down. It’s pitch black out, the lamp posts being my only resource of light. I knew nobody was home, he wouldn’t call me otherwise. I’m walking to his house nobody’s home, just me and him alone. I lay three soft knocks on the door, the wooden door immediately swung open. It revealed the familiar boy tall, dark, and definitely handsome.

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Slow Burn - Part 1

Pairing: firefighter!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,995

Summary: The reader is reluctantly setup on a blind date and it doesn’t go as planned. Is there an instant spark or is it a slow burn?


Ding dong!

Ding dong!

“Y/N! Open up!”

Shit. You were hoping he forgot.

You lazily walk over to the door and pull it open. “Yes, sir? What can I do for you?” You say dryly.

Your friend Justin looks you up and down and shakes his head.

“Why aren’t you ready?” He asks annoyed.

“Ready for what?” You say trying to sound as innocent as possible.

Justin just gives you a bitch face and then invites himself in.

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hamburr cop/person getting a speeding ticket au no one asked for. you’re welcome

(btw, want to donate to a charity and get a fic outta it from me? hmu @ IM or check out FBFA to learn more)



Alex is leaning hard on the accelerator, chanting a panicked mantra of fuckfuckfuck in his head, when he notices a police car behind him flashing him a light.

“Shit,” he curses. Alex debates internally for about half a second if it’s worth speeding up and pretending he doesn’t see - but he imagines the field day the media would have then so he lets out a defeated huff and pulls over.

He drums his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, getting more restless with every - wasted - second, as he watches a cop exit the car and walk towards him at a leisurely pace. Alex tsks with indignation. Finally the cop reaches the car door on the driver’s side and knocks on it in a particularly aggravating manner. Fighting down an annoyed scowl, Alex rolls down his window.

“What’s the problem, officer?” he asks, stretching his lips in what he hopes is a friendly smile. He must not be very successful because the cop just raises a single eyebrow at him over his aviators.

“Sir, are you aware that you were going 20 miles over the speeding limit?” he says, matter-of-fact. “And that you ran over two red lights?”

Alex winces. Fuck, he didn’t think this guy has been following him that long.

“Look, man,” he starts, leaning over the open window. He tries to maintain eye contact but it’s hard because of the damn sunglasses. Who the fuck this guy thinks he is? Black Horatio Caine? Please. “What’s your name?”

Officer Burr,” the man says flatly. Alex fights down another wince. Okay then.

“Look, Burr,” he tries again. “I’m kind of in a hurry right now, if you haven’t noticed, I’m on my way to a very important Congress voting.” Alex glances at Burr, gauging his reaction, but the man looks unimpressed. Damn. “And I’m sure you’re a busy man yourself,” he finally says. “So let’s just not waste both your time and mine and say what it will take to make it go away.”

A beat. Alex holds in his breath.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” Burr asks.

“No!” Alex exclaims loudly. “Not bribe you, I… What, is it working?” he asks hopefully. Even with the aviators on, Burr seems to look at him with something like pity.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the car.”

“Are you serious,” Alex says incredulously. Burr just raises his eyebrow again.

“Fine!” Alex huffs. “Fine. This better be quick,” he mumbles under his breath, grabbing the door handle with attitude.

Alex follows him to the police car, where Burr takes his sweet time writing up a report. Alex can’t be sure but he thinks Burr is being difficult on purpose.

“Listen, can we get this done faster?” Alex asks not for the first time, fidgeting. “Like I told you, there’s a very important voting in the Congress that I can’t miss.”

“I’m sure they’ll be just fine without you,” Burr says dryly, not looking up from the report.

“Just hurry up,” Alex bristles. He thinks he sees the corner of Burr’s mouth twitch.

With nothing else to occupy himself with, Alex focuses his attention on Burr. He didn’t notice it at first, because of the uniform and the uppity way the man insisted on acting, but there is a distinguished air about him, almost noble. Elegant. He’s not exactly tall, but he is definitely dark and handsome, and Alex is struck with an uncomfortable realization that, under different circumstances, he’d probably be trying to get into his pants. It makes something churn uneasily in his stomach.

“Will it take much longer?” Alex complains loudly, definitely not thinking about better ways for Burr to waste his time. No, sir.

Burr crosses something on his report and looks up.

“Just one more thing,” he says. “What’s your number?”

Alex opens his mouth and closes it.

“What do you need my number for?” he asks suspiciously.

Burr takes off his sunglasses and flashes him a smile. It’s so fucking corny but Alex still feels his entire face heat up.

“So I can buy you a drink to make up for the $200 fine I just wrote you up.”

anonymous asked:

May I please have a short story where Reaper's S/O is an avid writer and he's actually genuinely interested in their writing? Thank you in advance!

Originally posted by bayonettaton

Author’s Note: all the gifs for reaper are of sombra shutting the door on him lmao This took much longer to get out then I expected. I changed the plot so many times. Nonetheless, here it is! I hope you like it! ^^ NSFW Zenyatta fic should be out tomorrow btw!

Everyone had a story.

As a writer, you knew that up and foremost about anything. It had stated out as a hobby. Little writings and phrases here to distract your wondering mind from the paperwork that fell up top your desk. It was fun trying writing about the little things you’d for people met. It was a small guilty pleasure that sometimes got the better of you.

That’s where Commander Gabriel Reyes had come into the mix.

Your idea of his was vague. He often kept to himself, a strong stoic face with patience that ran thin. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome to some aspect. You, however, refused to accept that. There had to more to him than meets the eye as so you proudly assumed.

That was when you began to write about him. Small details of your ever so attractive commander that caught you eye whilst he briskly came for his reports.

“Eyes are cold as stone, with edges so sharp they cut through skin. It’s like he see’s the soul.” He definitely knows I spilled coffee on his other reports and had to redo them. He looked at me like I was guilty of something. Ughhhh (written rather brashly).

“A gun in each hand. Too afraid to let go. Too afraid to feel the weight of his actions over the weight of his weapons.” Does that even make sense? Probably not. (A small sad face drawn carelessly next to your notes.)

Jesse had caught on fairly quickly having often stayed within confines of your office to hide from his superior. If it was a ploy to get you two to talk more often or not, you couldn’t tell. He was generally good company, when we wasn’t being a smart ass, so you let him lounge around for the time being.

“You writin’ about Reye’s again?” He asked looking as you began to type on a fresh document displayed on your Holopad.

“And what if I am?” You ask, continuing to type away your thought process.  Jesse placed his boots up on your table casually.

“Ya know he likes those type of things.” He motions vaguely with his hands. “The writin’, I mean. Always catch him readin’ some sort of book or another. Maybe you should show him yours?”

You mentally laugh at the thought. “Yeah, no thanks. The last thing I wanna do is get laughed at or reprimanded for writing about him.”

“He won’t do that.” Jesse assures you. You shrug it off.

“MCREE!” Both of you jump,startled. The door to your office bursts open as a very upset Gabriel scans the room. When his eyes land on the man in question they glare daggers. “Stop messing around and get to work!”

McCree turns to you with a tilt of his hat. “Well then, I’ll be seeing you.” The teen proceeds to get up and walk towards his commander, who steps aside so he can exit. It’s then Gabriel’s eyes meet yours and there is silence. His stare makes you feel nervous before you finally offer him a smile.

He seems caught of guard but says your name curtly before taking his leave


You didn’t know how, but you had a real good suspicion as to who.

Mortified. You were absolutely mortified. One of your writings had escaped within the mess of reports that you’d turned in. Even more so when now that Gabriel approached you, paper in hand, about what this was and why it was there. The room suddenly felt warm, a red blush gracing your face as you stammered out an explanation.

“I’m very sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.” You managed to say, heart pounding in embarrassment. There was a silence as he studied you before placing the papers down on the table. He stands straight almost intimidatingly while his arms cross over his chest.

“Your writings pretty good.” He remarked, waiting for you to meet his eyes. “Although, next time can you write about me in a more positively? I’m not as dark and mysterious as you think.”

You look at him hesitantly. “Sorry, sir. It’s from my assumptions of you.”

“Don’t assume, get to know me.” He shoots you almost a knowing smirk as your face heats up even more. “I would like to see more of your work.” He pushes the paper closer to you. Your eyes trail down as your attention is caught by the action.

On the bottom, there is a time and date for you two to meet for dinner. You look up but before you can answer he’s already out the door.

How You Met (Teen Wolf Preference)

Originally posted by moan-s


Scott McCall:

You were freaking out. Was it necessary? Probably not. In fact, it definitely was not. Dr. Deaton assured you, Maxx was fine. Although, he was giving him a thorough once over just to ease your mind (he was looking over test results at the moment). You watched as the the 80lb ball of lovable mischief and fur happily let the vet tech pet him.

“If you don’t mind my asking… How did this happen exactly?”

“Well, I was planning on starting this diet, so I threw all my food away even though…” You stopped yourself for a moment, thinking maybe you shouldn’t go into details about your diet to the cute stranger that looked oddly familiar, “Anyways, I came home from school and this guy was in the trash with his stupid adorable face covered in chocolate…. He is lucky he’s so cute.”

“Hey, my mom says that… Not that I’m saying that I’m, well, I uh- Hi, I’m Scott.” He stuck his hand out to you with a goofy grin.

“(Y/N)… Wait, are you in my English class?”

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‘’Ok, you’re next oldie.’’

A/N: I saw this prompt, and the idea came to me. It’s a little silly but I’m proud of the outcome!  Please note that english is not my first language so there might be grammar mistakes

Pairings: Bucky X Reader

Prompt: On a night out with your boys, you’ve suddenly become a wing woman for the oldies. The question is, could you hook Bucky up with the girl he’s been eyeing all night? 

Warnings: A little language, mentions of smut if you squint your eyes and alcohol consumption 

Word count: 3447 (Bitch , I’m back)

Originally posted by buckypupbarnes

This wasn’t your ideal situation but you couldn’t complain about the company you were with. Feeling the heavy weight of Sam’s arm slumping over your shoulders, you rolled your eyes at him as you walked with him and Bucky into the crowded bar.  Music was playing in the background, not your preference but you thought nothing off it as you followed your two boys up to the counter to order some drinks. You felt the weight of his arm leave your shoulders as you sighed in relief of finding three available barstools and sitting between your two male friends. 

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Peter Quill x Reader

Originally posted by pajamasecrets


Date : Thursday 6th April 2017

Requests : Open

Imagine / Series? : Imagine

Title : Dance floor

Warnings : Mentions of sex and theft


If you didn’t love him - he would be dead.

Your boyfriend Peter, was so amazing. He was almost flawless. First of all. The thing that attracted you to him in the first place. He was amazingly good looking. Not only was Peter the definition of tall, dark and handsome. But he was also slightly dorky looking in all honesty giving him a sort of innocence to his otherwise lusty ways. Another thing about Peter was he was the only person who could make you laugh so hard you could cry on Que. You don’t know, and probably never will know why he’s so hilarious, but guessed the mystery was just another added bonus of being in love with him. There was just one problem

His dancing. Now, you weren’t saying he was a bad dancer, he was actually rather good and it was amusing to watch. But, when he was dancing around you for an hour straight, the same tape playing over and over again,his pelvis repeatedly thrusting near your face - which by the way made you very flustered and uncomfortable - There was only so much you can handle. Finally he had gotten on your last nerve and you pushed him away lightly standing up, an action that simply encouraged him more.

Today was one of the guardians lazy days. And as much as you wanted to be a guardian of the galaxy. You weren’t. You lived in Xander as a simple sales women. You got good deals for Peter whenever he stole something and needed some good money for it. Of course you would scold him afterwards, but money was money. And Peter was the one who wore the trousers in your relationship so he paid the bills mostly.

Glaring at Peter you asked. “I’m filing papers. I understand your home and you want some, fun…” He smirked cockily. “But I have work to do Peter. Stop being impatient and let me finish.” You hissed, marching over to his tape player to turn of the music which was now more of an annoyance then anything. Before you could pause the music. A hand wrapped around your wrist and you were suddenly pulled into Quills hold. He kept you close. His arms securely around your waist.

“Come on (Name insert), Im only here for two days before I’ve got to go off fending for the galaxy again. Being taken by you means I’m not allowed to get up to my old star lord habits with the ladies meaning you are my only…”

“Only what Peter?” Your glare told him to choose his words carefully.

“You know…”

“Do I Peter? Do I?” He was silent. To be fair, you did feel bad depriving him of sex. Though before you could say anything he lent into your ear and huskily whispered.

“Your my only dance floor (Name insert).” His hand then span you before dipping you down where you were met with his goofy grin,making you laugh.

“Peter stop it. I told you I’m not happy with you.” Your face went back to looking serious, though the twinkle in your eyes told Peter otherwise. He chuckled, knowing you wanted him to continue, after all, you missed him. Dipping his head down, his soft lips kissed yours and with his free hand which wasn’t supporting your waist, he swiped some hair from your face.

“Well I’m happy with you (Name insert). Always have been always will be.” Biting your lip, you supposed your paper work could wait. After all, it had been a long time since you had provided him your ‘dance floor’.

The Heartfelt Layer of an Onion

Based on: This Idea

Summary:

Harry Potter AU where Tjeffs is the equivalent of James Potter, and Alex is Lily. Our man Jeff is trying to tap that, but he sucks at flirting… Life… Alex thinks he’s rich and stuck up. Que angry Alex and sad Jeffs. This is a wild ride friendos.

Author’s note:

This title is courtesy of my father. It came about because he views onions as “Uppity” and Thomas is suppsoedly uppity becasue he’s rich. Long story short, my dad is weird and I can’t think of titles. Also my dad wants me to name the chapter titles onion related things. I give up.


                                       First Year: Introductions

Alex wriggled impatiently in his seat as they drove to King’s Cross Station. It was ten-twenty and he was beginning to think they would miss their train. John, in the seat next to him, seemed to be just as fidgety.

Seven days after Alex’s eleventh birthday, and thirty-eight days after John’s, a severe looking woman in dark clothes had shown up at their door. She had a sharp nose and knowing eyes that would have been framed by dark locks, if said locks weren’t pulled into a tight bun. The woman had introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall, a representative for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

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letsplaysomethingdifferent  asked:

Hey there :) Sun is coming back again where I am and I was wondering if you could update the "4th of july" (or summer holiday in general) tag? Thank you so much ^^

it needs to come quicker!!!

4th of July Fierworks by PacNWatheart (1/1 | 2,795 | PG13)

Fireworks of the metaphorical variety are always the best. 

Things are gonna change (next year) by orphan_account (7/7 | 8,032 | PG13)

Stiles shifted again, then, and released a long breath. He seemed relieved to have gotten out the worst of it. “And, I’m having a really shitty week, actually. And I don’t like myself a lot right now. This week or this year or, um, maybe in this phase of life…”

and, and, and, Derek chanted in his head. And, and, and, he wished wildly…

“…and if I’m giving you an insanely wide berth it’s because you’re gorgeous and good and smart and I’m trying really hard to be honest about how hard it is for me to just… be me. With me. Without anyone else. And that’s why I can’t hang out and I can’t chit-chat when I run into you and that’s why I, um, ran away from you. Multiple times.” Stiles exhaled loud and long. “In public.”

Derek allowed himself a smile at the fireworks exploding overhead.

“Sorry about that,” Stiles added softly, sounding regretful.

—-

In which Stiles and Derek work on their shit.

Face to Face by RunningErrands (1/1 | 2,177 | PG13)

Stiles gets dragged to a Fourth of July celebration by Scott and meets tall dark and handsome.

You and I Were Fire Fire Fireworks by goddammitamy (1/1 | 3,280 | G)

See, Lydia’s birthday party might be the best party everyone at school looks forward to every year, but Stiles’ favorite party after that is definitely the McCall-Stilinski Fourth of July cookout.

And this year, since Scott invited Allison, Stiles needs someone else to watch the fireworks with.

So when he runs into Derek at the store on the Third, he makes up his mind and just asks him.

                                   I’M NO MAN OF HONOR

Well hey there neighbor!

Do you like dragons? Do you like dragons that occasionally take the form of a human dude and go around doing princely things? What about male protagonists with a FIERCE LOYALTY to their kingdom? Then, hoo boy, do I have an oc for you!

Meet Yoshinada Takehiko (or Takehiko Yoshinada for you English individuals), a prince from the Northern Dragon Kingdom. If you like tall, dark, and handsome and don’t mind settling for two out of three of those things, then he’s definitely your dude. He enjoys long flights in the moonlight, drinking a glass of wine before bed, and training until his entire body is physically numb.

If you’re interested in seeing this totally cool dude on your dash, then give this little promo a LIKE/REBLOG and he’ll magically show up! 

                                  MYSELF IS MY TRUE KING

2

I would like to say few words about Hyungsik’s metamorphosis. He admitted that he had lost weight and started to care to be more fit. When he filmed Heirs his face was definitely more chubby. Now when he’s slimmer his features are sharper and it makes him look more handsome. I think that SWDBS stylist did great job with his hairstyle. He looks much better with brown hair. This color underlines his beautiful eyes and messy bangs distracts attention from his dark, strong eyebrows. Black hair are too ,,heavy" color for him and you can see it on older picture. It’s funny that inaccurate stylization can hide how good looking person is. Besides he’s tall and his body has good proportions so he looks good in any style of clothing.

It's Time

I’ve seen a lot of soulmate prompts and a few involving countdowns and stuff so I thought I’d try my hand at one.

When Elizabeth Cooper was born, she had a countdown like any other to the day when she would meet the love of her life. She used to ask when that would be and her mother would be able to tell her the exact time, day, month, and year as well as how old Betty would be and the simple math of converting seconds into real time. Years, weeks, months, days… It was everything to her and she was ridiculously excited.

When she was younger, she had a short lived crush on her neighbour, Archie Andrews, but it got crushed when her mother told her that she was being ridiculous. Why be with someone when you had another who was perfect for you, waiting? Years later, Alice would allude to the man she loved before Hal but she refused to go into detail. She barely even let that fact alone, slip. They were high school sweethearts, after all, and dating a boy before that didn’t fit the narrative.

Time went by and her neighbour Archie met a girl named Veronica when his timer hit zero. The two girls became quick friends, though Betty looked at the two wistfully most of the time, wanting what they had instead of being stuck as the third wheel. Even her friend Kevin had met his match, a mysterious bad boy by the name of Joaquin. Betty was happy for her friends but she was definitely jealous.

Veronica had to keep her busy on the last week leading up to the moment. They had mani pedis, they went to the beach, they saw a movie, they got hair cuts, and finally they went shopping to look for the perfect outfit. Veronica was a firm believer in first impressions, though she knew future lover boy would think her girl looked good in anything, which was true.
V bought her a peachy dress that flared out at the bottom. She curled her hair up and gave her shimmering makeup. On the outside, it looked like she was getting ready for a school dance. Most people didn’t make a big deal out of meeting their other half but Betty was a total romantic at heart so it was worth celebrating. Her eyes shon in excitement, glittering like diamonds.
“Oh my gosh Betty, you look like an angel.” The blondie blushed as her friend held her hand to her face and looked like she could cry. “Now we just have to wander around so we’ll be wherever we’re supposed to be. You certainly won’t meet your soulmate here at your house.”

Betty was shoo’d over to the door. She tried to put her heels on but she was more of a flats person and was having problems with the straps. She was panicking like she couldn’t get her seatbelt on in time.
“Betty, Betty, it’s okay, we still have time.” Her heart was pounding out of her chest and she was terrified that she would miss him or that she wouldn’t even leave the house by the time her clock went off. She knew she let Veronica go too far and it took too long so now they were in a rush and Betty could barely stand in the heels, let alone walk. She was panicking as she nearly tripped on her way to the door. They ended up on the sidewalk when the clock got closer and closer. They glanced over at Archie’s to see him yelling at his garage.
“If you miss this, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life!” Archie yelled, banging on the door.
“I’m a loner by nature! I don’t need some girl to make me soft! I’m weird and I like being by myself. Whoever she is, she’ll just have to find someone else. I’m not leaving this room until after it hits zero.”
“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen if it hits zero and you two don’t meet? What if some weird paradox happens and the universe is sucked into itself? You’re being really selfish, dooming us all with an Armageddon, man!”
Veronica put her hand on her boy friend’s shoulder. “I’ll go talk to him. We’re running out of time.” Archie nodded.
“I’m coming in, Jug!” Veronica stormed into the room. “Now you come out or I will drag you out! I’m running late and don’t have time for this!” Veronica pulled him by the jacket.
Betty was crying. 3, 2, 1.
It was like time had stopped. Out of the garage had come a girl pulling a boy in a fleece lined denim jacket despite the fact that it was way too hot for that. He had messy black hair as he was not dressed to impress, and he wore a crown beanie like a real Prince Charming.

Betty started to blush. He was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on and she had met him when the timer hit zero. She was filled with glee, absolutely awestruck.

He looked at her. “Shit.” He had been trying to avoid this moment his whole entire life and yet here she was, in front of him. He thought the countdown would kill him and he had to pinch himself because he thought she was an angel.

“Wow, did you know about this?!” Veronica glared at Archie, giving him way too much credit.

“No, I mean I knew their times were coming up but the thought that they had the same countdown never occurred to me.” He scratched the back of his head, feeling a bit dumb. “So Jughead, this is my neighbour Betty Cooper, and Betty this is Jughead Jones. You haven’t met him because he lives on the Southside, where I used to live before we moved here when I was little. I brought Ronnie to meet him because I wanted his approval, even though we never have time to hang out anymore. His dad said I should get him ready to meet you, so that’s why he was over at my house.”
“Yeah and I didn’t want to.” Jughead Jones glared at his childhood friend, Archie Andrews. His eyes softened when they moved over to look at Betty. “God was I an idiot. I just didn’t want to get hurt. My mom and my dad were destined or whatever and they don’t even live in the same city anymore. You’re beautiful, like an angel. Why fate would pair you up with a loser like me I’ll never know.”
She smiled up at him. “Well, tall dark and handsome, let’s just take this one day at a time, okay?” She put her hand to his face, trying to comfort him. Sparks shot through his body like Roman candles and his eyes dilated.
He swooped in and planted his lips on hers for the first time in his life, and it felt amazing. It was like the first time he tried cotton candy and he groaned. This girl was definitely going to be the death of him, but now that he had met her there was no going back and he would gladly follow her to the ends of the earth, fear of heartbreak be damned. She was worth the risk.