ha very funny

2

I’m reading Kakushigoto by Koji Kumeta and then suddenly

Fanon Lotor be like

i am not even sorry just take this

im not saying nina taught sonny to read, but that is what she tells people

The Reader and the Writer

Originally posted by mieczyslwstilinski

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

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

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

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

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

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,188

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


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


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

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

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she stood up.

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

“(Y/N),” the girl answered.

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

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

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


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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a drama queen,” she commented.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honestly I don’t either.”

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 2 here   Part 3 here   Part 4 here

i find the whole “character being their own love rival” trope very funny so imagine lance telling keith he has a crush on someone and keith is devasted. he thinks he’s lost all of his chances so he runs to the others for help/support.

“He likes someone already Shiro!!!! You don’t understand…maybe it was one of those alien we met the other day. MY LIFE IS OVER…… I can’t believe I have a love rival i’m gonna challenge them to a duel or something.”

Keith no.”

Keith yes.”


“Hunk tell me who Lance’s crush is.”

“….Keith you know I can’t. Best friend’s duty.”

“BUT WHY CAN’T I KNOW”

“Why do you care so much anyways?”

“I…well… just wanna make sure they won’t hurt Lance?? He’s my friend too you know.. ahah…”

“Yeah…sure” *looks at the camera*


(Keith tries to ask the mice to know because they know all the gossip but he doesn’t manage to get any informations from them and he’s dying inside) One day (and many conspiracy theories about who the lucky person might be later) he gains the courage to directly ask Lance who he likes. Lance decides to mess with him a little bit.

“If I tell you will you promise you won’t do anything about it?”

“Wha–What could I possibly do…pffft I’m just making sure they’re good for you…You’re my… fr..ival…? I didn’t…set up a conspiracy wall on my room or anything.”

“Okay. Well then… I have a crush on you”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Be serious now please.”

*dead silence*

“Wait….WAIT……YOU ARE SERIOUS”

“Yeah????”

“Oh my god. Oh my god…………….I can’t believe…. I was my own….love rival?? What the fuck I spent so much time trying not to hate…the recipient of your affections…aka….myself???”

“You could have just asked me directly before jumping to conclusion or ask other people???”

“Okay…you’re right… sorry”

“I’ll forgive you only if you tell my crush I want to go on a date with him. Does he say yes?”

“Oh, he will.”

Say It Again - Jughead Jones

If requests are open, could you make a jughead x fem Reader where he never asked what her real name was (everyone just calls her by a nick name and has been doing so for years.) and when he finally figures it out and calls her by that name, the reader falls in love with the way it sounds when he says it. Sorry if it’s confusing, I just thought it’d be cute :)

Originally posted by diltons

Y/N/N = Your Nick Name

Y/N = Your (real/full) Name

L/N = Your Last Name

I loved this idea so much! I hope you like the way I wrote it!


The first time it was brought up was at the diner. You sat next to Jughead, and the two of you were sitting across from Betty and Veronica. You all were sharing stories from your childhoods, including Jughead, when it finally got to you. 

“Y/N/N, did you ever have a nickname?” You smiled at Veronica, who had admitted a few of her own embarrassing nicknames.

 “Y/N/N,” you replied, sipping at your milkshake. 

“What,” Jughead asked and you laughed while turning to face him.

 “Y/N/N is my nickname,” you said, but he still looked confused, “I’ve gone by Y/N/N my whole life. Even my parents use it rather than my actual name.”

“No, I get that,” he said, meeting your eyes, “but what’s your real name?” Veronica raised an eyebrow and Betty let out a laugh. “You’ve been best friends with Y/N/N for how long, and yet you still don’t know her full name?” Jughead squinted his eyes at Veronica and you let out a small giggle. “Now I have to know,” he said, turning to face you, but you just stared at him. “You’re a smart, independent, young man,” you said, causing Jughead to smile at you, “you can figure it out.” Betty rolled her eyes, “stop flirting you two, we’re trying to be nostalgic.” You felt a blush creep up onto your cheeks and with a glance at Jughead, you saw he was blushing too.


The second time it was brought up was at your locker door. School had ended and you were grabbing your jacket and text book out of your locker. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Jughead walking towards you, looking annoyed.

 “What’s up Juggie,” you asked as he leaned against the lockers next to yours. 

“So I went to the library during my free period,” he said and you started to close your locker door.

 “Sounds adventurous,” you said, looking up and smiling at him. 

“Ha! Very funny,” he said, “I went there looking to check out some yearbooks. When I asked for them she said, and I quote, ‘they’ve all been checked out.’” 

You gave him a smug smile, “Hmm, how strange.” He nodded, “isn’t it?”

Keep reading

The Hulk’s Daughter

Originally posted by hamilll

Peter Parker x Reader

The Hulk’s Daughter

Warnings: None?

Author: Morgan

Prompt: What about you being like a new avenger (and working in the lab wit father figure Bruce) and you “meet” the others for the first time at the party

Note: I took some creative liberties here…hope you don’t mind. I’ve been in a super Peter Parker mood lately, so, here ya go. Also, I’m not dead, and I think this will serve as the first of like seven-ish fics in what I call: The Morgan Reniassance.

Being a high school student was tough. Being a high school student and a student intern at the Avengers’ Tower? Tougher yet. And being a superhero on top of it all…you didn’t know how the hell you fit in time for homework, but somehow you managed. Luckily for you, it was spring break now, so you kind of had time to chill and catch up on everything you were falling behind on.

“Hey (Y/N), would you mind passing me the file over there?” Bruce Banner, your kind of sort of father figure asked, motioning across your station to a file detailing the new pieces of tech Tony had whipped up in his free time.

“Yep, no prob.” You slid it down to him. He pushed up his glasses and nodded appreciatively. You took a long sip from your mug of coffee. You hadn’t even liked it that much, but it was kind of a necessity in the lab.

“So…” Bruce smirked a little bit. “Tony’s throwing a party tonight.”

“I don’t know if I can go…you know, I have like three packets of Algebra homework to catch up on.”

“He’s not going to take that as an excuse and you know it.”

“Ughhhh, I know.”

“I think he wants you to finally meet Spiderman.”

“Wait.” This changed everything. “Spiderman is going to be there?”

“Little crush, huh?”

“W-what? Pfft, no.” Yes. “There is no way I have a crush on Spiderman.” Yes you did. “That’s ridiculous.” No. It really wasn’t.

“Don’t worry. He’s a nice kid.” Bruce removed a gear from the little bot in his hand with a pair of tweezers and then replaced it. “And I heard he has a little bit of a crush on Galactic Girl, if my sources are right.”

“OhmyGodreally?!” Your eyes glowed pink for the shortest second and you nearly fell off of your stool. “I mean, cool. That’s cool. I guess. Maybe I could meet him. Or something.”

“Okay, but if he breaks your heart, I’ll break him.”

“Okay Dad,” you smirked. He smiled. Dad. A title he never thought he would hold. And yet, here he was with this teenager who had latched onto him. And he couldn’t have been happier.

***

You walked into the party wearing a pink shirt and galaxy leggings. You had put on more makeup than usual, and you were accompanied by Tony and Bruce, one on each arm.

“And this is Wanda and Pietro and you already know Nat.” Tony introduced. “Ladies and Speedy, meet the newbie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Wanda offered her hand. Pietro smirked, Natasha smiled. You were in awe. You had heard so much about these people, and here they were, dressed in street clothes and making small talk.

“And this is Capsicle and his USO girls.” Tony motioned to Captain America himself, who was standing beside Sam and Bucky.

“Ha. Very funny.” Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Welcome to the team, (Y/N).” Steve saluted.

“T-thank you.”

“Don’t pass out.” Bruce muttered.

“I’m trying.” You replied through an awestruck smile. And yet, the more people you were introduced to, the more it became obvious that the reason you were here…wasn’t here yet.

“Spider Boy is on his way.” Tony read a message on his phone, and not even thirty seconds later, the red-clad young super hero was clinging to the window. He peered inside for a few seconds before waving awkwardly. Unlike everyone else, he was wearing his uniform.

He climbed into the penthouse, landing on his feet right in front of Tony.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Stark. There was a robbery and-”

“Relax, kid. You’re fine.” He motioned to his face. “But uh-”

“Oh. Oh! Right. Sorry.” He tugged off the red mask, releasing a head of tousled brown hair and kind brown eyes. God, he was cute. Waaaaay cuter than you had expected him to be. “You uh, must be the new girl.” He thrust his hand forward. “I’m Peter Man. I mean- Spider Parker. I uh,”

“(Y/N) (L/N).” You shook his hand with a grin. “Nice to meet you, Peter.”

“You break her heart, I’ll break you,” Bruce warned with a well-meaning chuckle as he and Tony removed themselves from the conversation.

“So uh, your dad is the Hulk, huh?”

“My adoptive dad, yeah.” You laughed. “He’s awesome. Took me in after I got involved with all of this alien shit. I really don’t know what I’d do without him.” You looked over to Bruce, who was standing at the bar with Tony. “And you’re Tony’s…nephew-ish thing, right?”

“You could say that, yeah.” Peter smiled and chuckled. “I’m um, going to get changed. I swear I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll hold you to that, bug boy.” You smiled. Peter ran off as Nat walked up to you.

“So, you and Parker, huh?”

“What? I just met him.”

“Remember: I know everything.” She winked.

“Right. Of course. How could I forget?”

“Don’t smart mouth me, young lady.” She gave you a playful shove.

“Yes, ma’am.” You playfully shoved her back as Peter walked back into the room, this time wearing a Bill Nye t-shirt with a flannel and some jeans. Somehow, he was even cuter this way. “Here comes your boyfriend.” She walked away before you could retort.

“Much better.” He grinned. You nodded. There was a patch of silence, and then Tony turned on some very loud, very danceable music. Bruce met your eyes and then tilted his head towards the slowly-assembling makeshift dance floor. Peter seemed to get the hint. “Do uh, do you want to dance?”

“S-sure!” You replied. He held out his hand. You stared at it for a second before slipping yours into it.

***

“So, looks like Parker’s gonna be your son-in-law, huh Brucie?” Nat smirked as she watched you and Peter dance like the dorks you were. It was cute.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. I’m glad things worked out.”

“Me too. But if he breaks her heart, I’ll break him in half.” Nat smirked.

“You’ll have to get in line.”

Car Troubles

Mechanic!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,120

Warnings: nothing….just yucky fluff lol

A/N: This is for @dancingalone21‘s AU Funny Quote Challenge!! My funny quote was “Are you having a stroke? Do you smell toast?”
Hope you guys (especially Lau!!) enjoy it, thanks to @mamapeterson for the beta and feedback is greatly appreciated!!!

Keep reading

“Can’t see quiznak, Captain…”

Just Ask - Part 2

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: “The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.” You think, after being alive for this long and leading an team of superheroes, Steve Rogers would’ve perfected his communication skills, but apparently, when it comes to women, he just likes to assume, and that is never a good thing.

A/N: Wow, I’m literally overwhelmed with the amount of positive response I got for the fist chapter, thank you guys so much for commenting/liking/reblogging!

Thank you @nathalieruaudel for letting me use you as the best friend, I love you

Part 1

Keep reading

to you, i thee wed (chapter nine)

They didn’t know they were marrying each other until the bride got to the altar. And then panic ensued. Married at First Sight AU.

(AO3//FF.net)

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

WC: 8.5K

thanks @booksfullofme for the edits :)


The morning air is crisp, an icy wind settling into her lungs as Marinette gazes into the Atlantic Ocean shining brightly from the warm sun. They have oddly been blessed by good weather despite the first snowstorm that trapped them here. Not that Marinette is complaining; Faroe Islands—Vagar, to be exact—has been wonderful and a breath of fresh air.

Keep reading

charmer week day 1: meet-cute

wow, me actually try to keep up with a writing challenge? sounds fake. but it’s only day one, so we’ll have to see. anyway, @charmerweek, this one’s for you.

***

Six minutes before his 9 A.M. class started, Chowder was in his usual seat when the girl who always sat two seats over from him came in. Normally, this wouldn’t have been remarkable, but today it was, and it was for a few reasons.

1. She had a massive coffee stain down her white t-shirt.
2. Her right wrist was in a black brace, the kind kept together with velcro.
3. She was crying. Not quietly crying, either. Big, ugly, snotty sobs. Her face was blotchy and red, shiny where she had wiped tears away.

Keep reading

ktwesterna  asked:

Don't be a ass- lady noir please :)

“Hey Kitty,” Ladybug said as she landed at their predetermined meeting place.

“Hey,” he replied, not bothering to get up from his place lounging against a stone gargoyle. 

“You know I almost didn’t recognize you without the cloud of flowers,” she teased. 

“ha ha, very funny,” Chat grumbled slouching further down into the shadows. 

“What no poetry this time?” she grinned sitting down next to him and giving him a playful nudge. 

“Don’t be an ass,” Chat said, although she didn’t miss the lack of his usual good humor in the reply. 

“Hey,” she said softly, “you know I’m just teasing right?” 

“Yeah,” he replied glumly, “I know.” 

She gave him an assessing look. “You know that nobody blames you for what happened today.” 

“I never thought they did, but that doesn’t really make what happened any better.”

“You are hardly the first person to get affected by an akuma.” 

“No I’m not. That might mean more if this was the first time this had ever happened and not the half dozenth.” 

“Chat, nobody is perfect all the time.”

“You are,” he retorted bitterly. 

Ladybug raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to Lila. Or Chloe. Or that Santa Claus. Oh yes I am so perfect, I managed to turn the literal embodiment of joy and good cheer into a monster.” 

“Ok, maybe you aren’t perfect,” Chat said with the smallest hint of a smile. 

She grinned back encouragingly. 

“Still,” he said softly though this time finally meeting her gaze, “you’ve never gotten possessed by an akuma. Today might have just been an inconvenience but, what sort of hero am I if I am just getting in my partner’s way, or worse? What happens the next time we get another dark cupid?” 

“Chat, do you remember why you got possessed by the akuma?” Ladybug asked reaching over and grasping his hand in her own. Chat didn’t say anything, his eyes fixed on their joined hands with a look of awe that made her heart pound in a way she wasn’t quite willing to own up to. “You were protecting me, you took that hit for me.” 

He looked up at her, his brilliant green eyes hopeful but still full of doubt. 

“Let’s look at the scoreboard shall we?” Ladybug pressed. “Princess Fragrance- you got taken out trying to protect Prince Ali, the akuma’s intended target. Dark cupid- you got hit to keep ME from getting affected. Same thing for Chrono girl! are you seeing a pattern here?” She gave his hand a light squeeze. “You tell me all the time that you’re job isn’t just to protect the city, it’s about protecting me so that I can purify the akuma. And if that’s the case I don’t think anyone could say you have been anything less than amazing at it.” 

Chat blinked, his lips twisting into a watery smile before he leaned forward and pulled her into a smothering hug. 

“Thank you, My Lady. You always know just what to say to make this cat feel a-purrr-eciated.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, allowing him to hold her tightly for a few moments before gently breaking away, her face flushing. Hopefully he would be too distracted to notice. 

“Besides,” she laughed lightly “it’s a good thing you were there to keep me from getting affected by ‘The Bard’. Do you realize how worthless I would have been writing love poems and chasing after Adrien Agreste?” 

“Wait what?!” 


anonymous asked:

Loved how Jamie gave claire the medical book in the Boston story. Can we maybe see her starting to look at which one she wants to go to? Does she have her sights set on Harvard??

Flood my Mornings: The First Step 

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment:  Samhain (Jamie stumbles upon a new community)

November, 1950 


{CEBF}

“Jamie?” I called urgently across the evening-shadowed house, rustling the pages on the rolltop. “Jamie? Did you move my essay?”

Ah yes, My Essay: 

Why should you be admitted to Harvard University’s Program for Correspondent Students?

Well, you see, honorable gentlemen of the admissions committee, my applications for medical school a few years hence—even if not at Ivy League institutions— will need to look as goddamned impressive as can possibly be mustered, since they will almost certainly be reviewed by a panel of elderly male fuddy-duddies like yourselves. 

Thus, having Harvard University on my CV (even if it’s only for these pre-requisite courses), will only serve to impress said fuddy-duddies, and as a female with a spotty-at-best record in formal education, I need all the bloody help I can get. 

The almost-final draft of my personal statement had been more subtle, but it was God’s honest truth. 

I’d been working incessantly on the damned thing for weeks, sleeping little and poorly from the stress. I’d downed more coffee than I’d previously have deemed safe for human beings, and was looking and feeling decidedly the worse for wear for it all. 

Meanwhile, my sainted husband had tirelessly picked up my slack with the house and with Bree night after night as I hunched over the desk, scribbling and scratching out. This last week, in particular, he’d given me more than enough space, bless him, speaking softly, keeping Bree out of my hair, giving kisses, but not initiating sex, nor even the casual touches that were so much a part of our daily rhythm with one another. I knew he meant well by it—to allow me to focus my non-hospital- and non-sleep-hours upon the task at hand… but LORD, another part of me wished that he would just hoist me out of my chair, throw me onto the ground, and give me an hour’s rough relief from my own mind and Harvard blasted University! I didn’t hold it against him, of course, and it would be over soon, in any case, but his walking on eggshells around me was its own breed of stress. 

‘Stress’—such a tiny word for so much inner turmoil. It wasn’t just the essay in front of me or the way my gut had felt all tied in knots for the past week; it was the entire trajectory of which this was only the first step: the prerequisite courses, the MCATs, applications, interviews, medical school, internship, residency, fellowship—the next decade or more of my life! So much would hinge on every single decision I made from here on out. I couldn’t afford any mistakes, starting with this bloody essay. 

I had put the entire packet together last night in the Manila envelope: application, references, ESSAY. Stamps, on. Addresses, penned. Seal…well…left UN-sealed, because I wasn’t bloody ready. And good thing, too, for I’d spent my entire shift that day replaying the words in my mind, every phrase sounding wretched, every choice of words trite or cliché or childish, and screaming for another revision. I’d rushed home, called a ‘hello, darling,’ to Jamie, who was tucking Bree in for the night, and then gone directly to the rolltop, still in my coat and hat, to read it through again and exorcise this demon. Except my packet wasn’t there.

“Jamie??” I called again, louder, my anxiety mounting. I hissed at two sudden papercuts as I rummaged frantically again through the stack. “Darling? Did Penelope say anything about moving my—”

“Sassenach, keep your voice down, for God’s sake—” Jamie whispered loudly as he came around the living room door, looking harried. “Brianna’s only just gotten to sleep, lass!”

I lowered my voice but not my urgency, and I barely even looked up. “The envelope with my application and personal statement? Have you seen it? I swear, it was right on top of the stack with the blue folder here on the desk.”

“Oh, aye, I sent it in.”

“What?” I laughed weakly, still rummaging. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I did,” he said simply, “I mailed it in.” 

I froze. And STARED at him. “What?” 

“It was complete. The deadline was coming up in a few days; so,” he shrugged, ACTUALLY shrugged, “I mailed it in for ye.”

“It was NOT complete.”

The words came out low and lethal, and I could see Jamie’s shirt-too-tight-shrug that indicated he heard the danger in them. “Ye packed it all in the mailing envelope, no? It was ready to be submitted.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t ready to send it yet!”

He made a small sound of carefully-controlled exasperation. “Claire, mo chridhe, how should I have known th–”

“You should have asked! You should have called me at work to ASK!” I threw up my hands. “Not just assumed that I was ready to have it sent off without my permission!” 

He squirmed perceptibly but wasn’t giving in. “Lass, you’ve been slaving over that essay for weeks. You’ve barely slept—You put it in the envelope, wi’ the address and stamps and everything. I read it again last night after ye went to bed and it was perfect.”

“It wasn’t

The truth was that despite my obsessing over it, it HAD probably been as bloody close to perfect as I could get it. I’d double-checked and triple-checked and quadruple-checked; revised and wordsmithed it to within an inch of its life. But I’d wanted to wait ‘til the very last moment to send it in, to feel absolutely certain it was as good as I could make it; and having that control so unexpectedly pulled out from beneath me—

“—Even if it had been, Jamie, you still had no—NO—bloody right—”

He ran his hands back through his hair. “Sassenach, come now, it’s no’ as though—”

“Jamie, this isn’t a recipe I’m sending to a Ladies’ Magazine!” I didn’t know what to do with my hands but they gestured wildly in my livid rage and tears. “This is—was—Harvard!”

“I ken it IS Harvard,” he said pointedly, putting his hands firmly on my shoulders “—and I ken you’re going to be ACCEPTED there when they read your—”

“And what the hell would YOU know about it?” I snapped, perceiving only the hurt flashing across his face before I was down the hallway and into the bathroom, locking the door. I yanked the shower handle and sunk down against the tub, letting the water mask the sounds of my weeping. 

A few minutes later, Jamie was knocking softly on the door. 

“Sassenach?” 

His voice was quiet, and, I thought, abashed.  “Claire…? May I come in?”

I covered my mouth so he couldn’t hear me. I felt tears trickling over my hand but I wouldn’t open my eyes. It’s not the end of the world, Beauchamp. 

Another knock.

A long silence. 

“Lass….I’m sorry…” 

He was leaning against the door, I thought. 

“It was…an impulsive thing I did— I—” he sighed miserably. “—I thought better of it throughout the day, but…Christ, i’m sorry…It was foolish. I was wrong to do it…” 

A long silence. 

A long…long silence. 

“I’m truly…truly sorry, Claire.” 

I took a deep breath. 

Then another. 

Once more. 

It would be alright. I hadn’t been ready, but the essay was fine. Jamie regretted what he’d done. It would be alright. 

But I was too spent and too upset to consider opening the door. 


{JF}

He HAD been wrong to do it—knew not ten minutes after the post had gone that he’d made a grave error in judgement. But the essay had been perfect, BRILLIANT, and Claire had been so plagued by self-doubt over it. It was as if she had placed her entire sense of her own worth upon success in this single endeavor, this single writing. He’d simply wished her to feel as if she had finally accomplished the thing, after such a harrowing period these last few weeks. 

But she was completely right: what he wished her to feel was irrelevant, and he had betrayed her trust. She was well within her rights not to be ready to forgive him. 

He waited more than an hour, until long after he’d heard her enter the bedroom; giving her the space she apparently wanted. At last, though, he entered the darkened room. 

She was already in bed with her back turned to him. Asleep? He couldn’t tell—but even if she were awake, he didn’t expect her to speak until morning. He deserved her fury for at least that long.

He undressed and slipped quietly under the covers, taking care not to jostle her. Without really thinking about it, he mirrored her posture, coming to rest on his side, facing away from her. 

He listened to the clock tick and tried to let it lull him to sleep. 

One minute. 

Two. 

Three.

Four. 

“Can’t you at least bring yourself to have sex with me?”  Sharp. Wide awake. Dangerous. 

Startled, he blurted, bewildered. “Bring myself—?” 

He felt her bolt upright beside him, her hands slamming onto the bedspread. Her voice was still laced with anger, but desperate, forbye, and hurting. “Jamie, you haven’t touched me in a week! I need to—to feel close to

“You’ve never wished me to have ye during your courses before, Sassenach,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his face as he rolled onto his back. “Do ye really want to that badly tonight?” His ‘especially when you’re not too keen on me at the moment, in any case,’ was implied. He would serve her, of course, if she wished it, but–

“I’m not on my goddamned ‘courses,’ you absolute bastard!”

Jamie opened his mouth to fire back.

—but then, she gasped— 

—a tiny sound, barely more than a sharp breath, really, but so deeply unlike Claire that—

He was on his knees beside her in an instant.  She was kneeling on the mattress, too, clad in only her underclothes, both hands clapped over her mouth.  “Oh, God,” she croaked between her fingers, her eyes wide and wide and wider.

Mo ghraidh—?” He grappled for her face, pushing back the wildness of her hair to hold her between his hands. “Mo chridhe —?  you're—?”

“Oh—God!” she said again, eyes brimming and hyper-focused upon nothing, her mouth gaping open and shut,  “—I didn’t—I was so busy, I hadn’t been—No—” she moaned softly as he lifted her and gathered her, cradled her to him. Her body was rigid, pushing back, and her head shaking violently back and forth. “No,” she wept, “no, no, it’s—Jamie, it’s too soon.“ He could see her eyes sparkling with life through her tears, even as she tried to resist the truth. “We can’t—can’t know for certain—not yet.”

Six days, Claire—” he gasped, his free hand roaming up her back to cup her cheek, hard. “One day—two days, maybe, but—SIX?”  

She lowered her fingers tentatively to graze the natural curve of her belly. Jamie watched in a trance as her palm slowly came to lay flat against her skin.  “Oh, God,” she whispered, swaying on her knees and leaning her forehead against his shoulder as her arms came around him. “Jamie…Jamie…” 

He held her and rocked her (THEM!) and kissed her, crying, laughing—but then remembered—

“I'm—truly sorry about the application, mo nighean donn,” he choked out, feeling the guilt seize this moment of joy. “It was your task—your choice—It wasna my place at all to—”

Forgiven,” she whispered, putting her fingers to his lips and shaking her head. “Forgiven…. And I’m sorry, too….for what I said—I didn’t mean—”

He kissed her, and she kissed him, and there was nothing except her arms; her fingers cupping the back of his head; the taste of her tears and his; her lips; her sweet voice, breaking. “Jamie...Jamie, I’m so—happy—” 

He couldn’t say a word. He could only nod his head slowly over and over again, completely overcome, his shoulders shaking. His heart felt ready to burst as he watched his wife, her face shining, go softly to her back and reach up for him. “Come to me?

And he came to her, made love to her—the only woman he’d ever had; the only one he would ever have in his lifetime.

And as he lay awake long after, holding her, cupping the bairn that slept within her, he prayed; but unlike the night more than two years ago when he’d held Brianna in this same fashion, heart breaking from despair and fear and the looming specter of death, his prayer this night was hopeful and strong.

Lord…that this child will be safe.


[next chapter: Eggs]

Trouble - Jughead Jones

ikkaylove said:

can i have a jughead imagine where he accidentally forgets our anniversary and i give him the silent treatment but then we make up in the end. (something like that)

Anonymous said:

Could I please request a Jughead imagine where the two of you get into a big fight and then make up afterwards with lots of fluff

Anonymous said:

DKSFWHER can u do fic where the reader finds out about jughead’s situation and convinces her/their parents to let him crash w/ them since he has nowhere else and,,, he’s just so, grateful and it’s just rlly fluffy bc he’s so lucky 2 have the reader (romantically or platonically, either is fine) ;0;

Originally posted by dailycwriverdale

Okay, I hope all of you were okay with me mixing these requests. As soon as I read them I had an idea, so let’s see if you like it!!!

Jughead : Y/N I’m sorry.

Jughead : Please answer me

Jughead : At least let me explain.

You watched as your phone screen continued to light up with texts from your boyfriend, Jughead Jones. You didn’t dare reply, you were still fuming about today. It was your one year anniversary as a couple and Jughead, he forgot about it. You felt a little petty that it annoyed you so much, but it was important. So important that, after school before he could go home, you found him and chewed him out for forgetting about it.

“What the Hell, Jones,” you had said, shocking your boyfriend. “What?” You had felt so much anger in that moment, you snapped. “You forgot about our anniversary!” Realization reached his eyes and he dropped his overloaded backpack to the ground. “I’m sorry Y/N, I just have,” You just shook your head, “yeah, I get it. You were too busy with something more important, probably your stupid novel. That’s fine Jughead.” You were about to turn around when you felt him grab your arm. “Y/N please just hear me out,” you simply pulled away from him. “Not now Jughead, I’ll call you later.” You had stormed away from him,  leaving him distraught.

Keep reading

Purely Platonic

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader
Request: I’m so happy requests  are open again. I would like one where Bucky gets jealous of Steve and the  reader because they are kinda “flirting” even though the reader  really likes Bucky and Steve is like a brother to her. Sorry if it was confusing.- @masevaldez
Warnings: Jealousy + Swearing
A/N: Happy Valentines day everybody! Sorry I’ve gotten so shit at posting again, but I’m really trying I promise! Anyway, I’m making a start on the requests you guys have sent me so look out for those! Anyway, I’d love to know what you guys thought so feel free to shoot me a message, anytime! 
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Being an Avenger meant friendships were far and in-between. If it wasn’t another member of the team, then it was hard to maintain any kind of relationship. However, there was one exception to this rule. You. You and Steve had become close friends after moving into the same apartment building, and since then had become practically inseparable. Most people, at first sight, believed you two to be a couple, an idea that you both found utterly hilarious. There had never been anything remotely romantic about your relationship, with you both treating each other more like siblings than anything. In all actuality, you had more of a thing for his best friend, the supposed Winter Soldier. Steve teased you about this fact relentlessly, trying to nudge you towards Bucky every opportunity he got.

“I don’t get why you won’t just tell him how you feel!” Steve implored, taking a swig from his beer bottle as he slouched back into the couch.

“Says you!” You scoffed in response, nudging him in the leg with your bare foot, “Aren’t you the self-proclaimed authority of waiting too long?”

Groaning, Steve let his head fall back against the cushions, shaking his head as you laughed beside him. “Well then, learn from my mistakes.” He smirked, tipping his bottle in your direction as you rolled your eyes.

“You gonna go all Captain America on me?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you downed the last of your beer, “Cus I could really do without the rousing speech.”

“Ha ha, very funny, and no. I’ll let you off for tonight, but remember, we’ve got a team fundraiser next week and I’m sure Bucky would love to take you as his plus one.” He smirked, chuckling as you hit him in the face with a pillow. “Okay okay, I get it! I’m dropping it!”


You and Bucky had a strange kind of friendship. There was always this constant tension when the two of you were together. Like you were both teetering on the edge of something more, but too afraid to take the leap. At times, you felt like jumping in, throwing caution to the wind and just laying all your feelings on the line. But then, your doubts would resurface. What if he wasn’t interested in you like that? What if he did and then it didn’t work out between the two of you? How would that affect your friendship with both Bucky and Steve? You just didn’t know whether it was worth the risks. Steve insisted that A. Bucky did see you as more than friends, and that B. No matter what happened between you and Bucky, nothing could affect the friendship the two of you had.

The night of the fundraising gala came, forcing you to squeeze yourself into one of your fancier dresses. You hated events like these. You’d always arrive at these things with Steve by your side, only for him to be snatched up and waltzed around like a prized pony. After exactly that happened, you found yourself sat at the bar, sipping at one of the fancy cocktails that Stark always served at these things.

“Y/N…” A voice spoke from behind you, causing you to swivel in your seat before a wide smile broke out on your face.

“Bucky!” You grinned, moving to your feet to press a kiss against his stubbled cheek.

“Hey Doll, you look… amazing…” He murmured, pulling back slightly to let his eyes trail up and down your figure as his hand rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“You’re not looking too bad yourself, Barnes. Who knew you scrubbed up so good.” You smiled, slipping your fingers under the lapels of his jacket as he smiled down at you fondly.

“Hey Buck! How’re you two enjoying the party?” Steve’s voice suddenly sounded, causing you and Bucky to jump back from one another.

“Stevie!” You grinned, tucking yourself under your best friend’s arm. “You finally made it away from the vultures?”

“Yep! I managed to sneak away, wanted to see how my best girl was doing.” He grinned down at you, not noticing the way Bucky’s jaw clenched at the words. “So, how’s it going?”

“Same as usual, bunch of stuck up business men and politicians trying to find out dirty secrets about the team.” You huffed, eyes flickering over to Bucky as he turned away with a frown. “What about you Buck? Liking it so far?” 

“Hmm? What, oh yeah, sure…” He grunted, signalling the bartender for another drink, eyes trained everywhere but the two of you.

Frowning, Steve just shook his head slightly, confused momentarily by his friend’s sudden mood change. When he realised just why his friend was now downing a scotch like it was his lifeline. Trying to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips, Steve squeezed you slightly closer to his side. “So, Doll…” He murmured, hand moving to grip your hip. “How about, we get out of here? Do something just the two of us…” He smirked down at you, trying to smother the laugh that bubbled due to your puzzled expression.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Bucky huffed out, barely loud enough for you to hear as he threw back yet another drink.

“What’s up Bucky?” Steve asked, making a show of dropping a kiss to the top of your head. Grinning as Bucky’s knuckles turned white around his glass.

“Nothing.” Bucky practically growled, eyes glaring down at the bar as he twirled the now empty glass around in his hand.

“If you say so. So, Y/N, you want to get out of here. Or would you do me the honour of a dance first?” Steve asked, threading his fingers with yours as you continued to look at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Really? You’re really gonna do this shit?” Bucky exclaimed, moving from his seat with a loud screech. “You’re gonna preach like the two of you are ‘just friends’, and that you’re basically siblings. Insisting that there’s nothing going on, when you know damn well how I feel!”

Smiling like the cat that got the cream, Steve unwrapped his arm from around you, shoving you gently in Bucky’s direction as you stood dumbfounded. Had Bucky just gone halfway to admitting some kind of feelings for you? “Buck?” You whispered, mouth gaping slightly as Bucky stood, chest heaving, in front of you.

“Shit.” He muttered, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Steve murmured, clapping Bucky on the shoulder as he walked away, triumphant smile on his lips. All he could think was that hopefully the two of you would finally get your heads out of your asses and admit your feelings for one another.

“We need to talk, somewhere quiet…” You murmured, quickly grabbing Bucky by the arm and tugging him out of the crowded room.


“Bucky!” You called up the stairs, trying to rouse the super soldier from the deep slumber he tended to slip into. Sighing when you got no response, you headed back to the kitchen. Plating up the pancakes and bacon, you hummed along to the song that blared out of the speakers. 

“Hey baby.” Bucky’s voice murmured in your ear, strong arms wrapping around your mid-section as he dropped soft kisses to your neck and jaw. “How’re my girls doing today?” He hummed, dropping his hand to caress your swollen stomach as he smiled against the skin of your neck. 

“We’re good baby.” You murmured, hand resting atop of his as you tilted your head. “You need to quit worrying so much.”

“I know, I just love you both too damn much, I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.” He mumbled, burying his face in your neck as you gently caressed his hair.

“Well, I think both me and our baby girl will be just fine. She has the most protective father and godfather to look after her. And I know neither of you would ever let anything happen to us.” You smiled, turning in Bucky’s arms to press a kiss to his lips, not being able to stop the smile that pulled at your lips. “I love you so much…” 
———————————————————————————————————
Tag List:
@itskatiejames98@missmalfoy1703@piercetheveilthatgrows, @dracodormiensnunquamtitillandush@masevaldez, @pinkhappypanda, @marvel-kiss@graysonmalfoy, @mp938368@sassmasterqueen, @shamvictoria11, @ballerinafairyprincess, @brandinicole911, @thatonerenegade, @piercetheveilthatgrows, @theepicbvbninja, @tired-alpaca, @artprincessbree, @greasepan, @bobabucky, @thxsoldixr

(If you want to be tagged, then send me a message HERE letting me know which imagines you’d like to be tagged in!)

P.S- Thankyou to my wonderful beta readers who helped me with this one! @nerdgirl78, @supernatural-pants + @hosgmeade

anonymous asked:

Could you write pastel!mute!dan and punk!phil? I live for pastel! punk! AUs. Maybe Dan can still talk he just doesn't out of shyness? It can be smut or fluff, I don't care.

He thought he was a ghost at first; the boy who silently stood next to him at the bus station every morning with his cheeks tinted pink from the cold or maybe just from blushing, Phil couldn’t tell.

He didn’t wear enough white for a ghost though, his clothes were mostly soft hues of purples and pinks and blues and the occasional green or yellow. He looked more like a fairy, and the flower crown that usually sat delicately settled on top of his chocolate-y brown curls helped quite a bit.

Phil was captured. He was absolutely fucking lost to him.

He wanted to talk to him.

Phil didn’t ride the bus, it wasn’t his scene, he usually rode his motorbike to school. But that day he decided to do it, if it meant seeing the pastel angel up close. And maybe he would let Phil sit with him.

The boy was sitting on the bench that day, his eyes scanning a page of whatever book he was reading. He seemed very immersed; his brown curls falling in his face and eyes so he had to keep brushing them away with his lilac sleeve.

Phil slowly sat next to him, tapping his fingers on his black clad knees and picking at his black nail polish. Finally he leaned over, tapping the boy on the shoulder.

He looked up, his eyes slightly wide, his pupils dilating when they landed on Phil. And for a second, Phil couldn’t speak.

His eyes were a soft warm chocolate color, like his hair but more intense and deep looking. Phil could see a shimmer in them, and small gold flecks stood out as if he had dumped glitter in his eyes years ago and just never got it out. His lips were pink, a nice pastel color that matched his dressing choices as if he was wearing lipstick. It occurred to Phil that maybe he was.

The boy was quiet, silently watching Phil and waiting for him to speak.

“Uh, hi,” Phil mumbled, slightly taken aback by what an affect Dan had on him just by looking at him. “I’m Phil.”

Phil held out his hand for Dan to shake and Dan stared at it for a moment before slowly shaking it, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I just, um… I see you here every day and I…” Phil cursed himself under his breath; he was usually much smoother than this but it didn’t help that the boy looked like a fucking angel and he was just staring at Phil like he had never seen a boy before. “I think you’re cute,” he muttered.

The angel was still for another moment before a gentle smile melted onto his features, and he tilted his head to the side just slightly, as if in question. Then something occurred to Phil.

“Can you… talk?” He asked, his brow furrowed curiously.

The boy paused before shaking his head slowly. Phil scooted closer on the bench, even more intrigued now.

“Are you… deaf? Or just shy…?” Phil blinked. “Sorry if I’m being offensive.”

The boy shook his head again, as if to assure him he wasn’t, before pulling his oversized sleeves over his hands and rocking slightly.

“Shy?” Phil repeated, and Dan nodded, before shrugging. His face suddenly lit up, and he held out a finger for Phil to wait a second.

He grabbed a pen out of his bag, nodding at Phil eagerly and Phil smiled, digging through his own bag and grabbing a notebook. He handed it to Dan, who took it, and began scribbling rapidly.

‘i haven’t talked for a really long time,’ the paper read. ‘i kind of forget why, but i know it’s partly shyness. it’s like my version of being a vegetarian, i can’t break it’

Phil laughed at that part, and the boy let out a quiet giggle.

“What’s your name?” Phil asked, and Dan wrote something on the page.

‘Dan Howell’ it read in careful cursive.

“Cute,” Phil mumbled, and Dan rolled his eyes.

'it’s not cute. it’s boring’

“No it’s not,” Phil argued after reading it, shaking his head. “I think the name Dan suits you, and the name Howell is cool.” Phil grinned widely. “You know what I would name my kid if it had your last name?”

Dan raised his eyebrows.

'what ?’

Phil smirked. “Wolf.”

Dan laughed without noise, shaking his head.

'oh, like wolf howell. i get it. ha ha very funny.’

Phil bit his lip, brushing black hair out of his eyes. “What music do you like?”

Dan smiled, picking up the pen.

'muse, mostly. do you like muse ?’

Phil laughed out loud, raising his eyebrows. “YOU like Muse?”

Dan nodded defensively, frowning softly and cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah, Muse is my favorite band actually,” Phil answered, shaking his head in shock.

'nice ! i like muse, you like muse, let’s be friends :)’

Phil smiled at that, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a grin.

“Yeah, let’s,” he muttered, pressing his lips together. “But i have to be honest, i came over here hoping for a bit more than friendship.”

Dan’s face instantly went red, and he held his sleeves up, covering his face. Phil chuckled. Dan picked up the pen and paper, avoiding Phil’s eyes as he wrote.

'why??’

“Because you’re cute.” Phil shrugged. “Honestly i’m very interested in you. I wanna know what your deal is.”

'what my,,, deal is ?’

Phil laughed. “Yeah.”

Before he could say any more the bus arrived, and Dan stood up, throwing his pen back into his bag. Phil grabbed his notebook and his own bag.

“After you,” he muttered, letting Dan step up first. Dan smiled at him.

There weren’t enough seats for them to sit together so Dan sat two seats behind him; Phil wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t upset, especially because he got stuck with a very chatty first year. But finally they pulled up at their school, and he was able to escape.

He was at his locker when Dan approached him again, holding something out. Phil frowned, taking it; a folded slip of pink notebook paper. Dan smiled, walking away silently.

Phil unfolded it, dropping his bag so he could use both hands.

'here’s my number :)’ Under it was a phone number, written in very careful letters as if he was scared Phil wouldn’t be able to read it. 'also, wanna have lunch off campus today ?? i want to hear more about our future kid named wolf. xoxo , dan the weird pastel mute