he should move on at this point

anonymous asked:

oh god youre complety ignoring aou, everything you said gets trumped by aou, just say you hate women and move on

the fact that you think aou is a proper rebuttal really explains everything about where you’re coming from tbh

“wow, this gay man thinks that steve could be bi? guess he hates all women. oh by the way the most misogynistic trash can movie marvel has made definitely proves my point”

The Reason I Don’t Do Cold Readings Anymore…

by reddit user Skarjo

I don’t do ‘Cold Readings’ anymore. I don’t tell fortunes. I don’t read tea leaves.

And I do not do contact ‘the other side’.

Look, don’t judge me alright? It was an easy gig. I mean, the first time I did it, it was a joke. I did it just to impress a girl. You’ve been there right? It was something I’d read about online and I thought I’d give it a go.

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Aisles  [M]

Aisle One

Summary: Jungkook was your best friend. You held onto his secrets. And he knew all of yours. Except for one. One that would change your friendship forever. You were in love with him.

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Genre: bestfriend!au, college!au, angst, smut

Word Count: 7,458

Originally posted by sugutie

Aisle One Aisle Two

“What toothpaste brand do you like?” you asked as you walked down the aisle. You were  too busy staring at the different brands of toothpaste in your hands to notice the person you were talking to wasn’t Hoseok.

“I like the one in your left hand” a strange voice responded.


Your head snapped up to look at the owner of the voice that didn’t belong Hoseok. As you took in his frame, he was definitely the complete opposite of the person you had mistaken him for.The boy in front of you was tall, muscular. His messy dark hair hidden beneath a beanie. He smiled at you and for a second you forgot how words worked, incapable of processing anything else that he was saying.


“I’m sorry, I thought you were my roommate” you nervously spat out as soon as you regained the ability to speak.


He laughed as the two of you stood awkwardly across from each other, “Don’t worry about it”


“Marco!” you heard Hoseok’s voice ring out through the otherwise quiet pharmacy.


“Polo” you responded as your cheeks flushed a million different shades of red as the boy’s face lit up even more. But you couldn’t get the nerve to look at him, avoiding eye contact by returning one of the tubes of toothpaste back onto the shelf you had taken it from. The sound of your rescue, Hoseok’s footsteps, got louder and louder as they filled the growing awkward silence between the two of you.


“Y/N, where have you been? I thought you got swallowed by a toothpaste monster or something” Hoseok teased as he walked up to the two of you.

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If you had told Dex even a week ago that he would willingly be sharing a blanket with Derek Nurse on the floor of the Haus living room all afternoon, pressed together so close they’re practically in each other’s laps, he would’ve laughed in your face.

Now, he just bangs a fist against the side of the old space heater in front of them and subtly pulls Nursey a little closer into his side. Not that there’s all that much closer to pull him.

“I told them,” he mutters. “Draft fucking central.”

He not so much sees as senses Nursey roll his eyes. “Rans and Holtzy not letting you replace all the windowpanes last year is not why the heating went out, yo.”

Intellectually, Dex know this. But it’s easier to blame their former captains for their current predicament than it is to blame the fact that he’s let routine Haus maintenance slide so much this semester that they’ve ended up here. Because if Dex doesn’t keep a close eye on things like the barely functioning water heater, or the garbage disposal that’s missing two blades and is about to fall out of the sink entirely, who will?

Except, well, he’s been distracted this year. From the moment he got back from summer break and moved into the attic with Nursey, he’s been… distracted.

Nursey is distracting.

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Too Nice || Jeff Atkins x Reader

mmmMMMM JEff and EuuGH BrycE

Word Count: 817

Warnings: Bryce Has Grabby Hands

~


    When Jeff’s car pulled into the driveway of Bryce Walker’s house, it was already swarming with wasted teens. You grimaced, pressing back into the seat, your hands clutching at the seat belt; the only thing between you and the biggest party of the year.

    “Do you need help with that?” Jeff asked.

    Before you could reply, he had leaned over and clicked the buckle. The belt snapped back, leaving you feeling vulnerable, and a little nauseous. It didn’t make it any better when he moved to climb out of the car. He jogged over to your side, pulling open the door and reaching a hand out for you to take.

    You shook your head. “I can’t.”

    “It’s fine, Y/N. I’ll be right by your side the entire time,” he said. He had to dip down a fair amount to lock his hands around your wrists. “Give it like ten minutes, and if you’re not having fun we’ll turn around and go home.”

    You relented, letting him pull you out of the seat and against his chest. His hands ghosted across your lower back, fingertips trailing along the curves of your spine. He had that look on his face again. The one where he gets that little, crooked smile, and his eyes can’t seem to look at anything but you. Or, more specifically, your face.

    “God, I love you,” he said quietly, bringing his nose down to boop yours.

    “I love you too, but I’m going to hate you if I embarrass myself,” you replied.

    He chuckled, a low, deep sound that rumbled through his chest and into yours. “If you embarrass yourself, I’ll do something stupid to take the attention away from you.”

    You nodded. “Okay, deal.”

    He pulled away and the two of you started towards the house. It wasn’t too long of a walk from the driveway before you were slipping through the door. Jeff ushered you through crowds of people—all either greeting him with smiles and pats on the back, or being too drunk to know he was there. He stopped you near the living room, pointing you towards an empty love seat.

    “Save me a spot,” he said. “I’m going to go get us some beer.”

    You grabbed his arm, hoping you didn’t look as panicked on the outside and you felt on the inside. “I’ll go with you. I don’t want to be left alone.”

    “It’ll only take a second. Just try to relax.” He shrugged you off, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before disappearing into the crowd.

    You settled down onto the love seat, watching the crowd as they danced to a song blasting from an expensive looking radio. You didn’t notice Bryce approaching until he was already stretched out next to you, an arm thrown around your shoulders. He was manspreading to the point that you were forced to press uncomfortably against the arm of the seat.

    “Y/N, good to see you here,” he said, giving his trademark smile. “You never come to my parties.”

    You felt his hand sliding down over your shoulder, too close to your chest for comfort. You tried to move away but he tightened his grip.

    “I’m, um, here with someone,” you responded. “I should probably go find him.”

    “You mean Jeff?” he asked. “He’s way too nice for you. You need someone man enough to rough you up a little.” His hand had barely cupped your breast when you felt yourself being jerked to your feet.

    You felt a cool wave of relief flood through you when you looked up, finding Jeff glaring at Bryce with the prospect of murder in his eyes. “Do me a favor, and keep your hands off of my girlfriend.”

    Bryce threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t even know you were here together.”

    “You’re a liar,” you snapped. “You did know.”

    Jeff clenched his teeth, rolling up the sleeves of his varsity jacket. You slid your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, yanking him backwards as Bryce stood up.

    “Don’t you dare start a fight,” you whispered, hoping no one had noticed them yet. “Let’s just go, please.”

    Bryce smirked. “Better listen to your girl, Jeff.”

    Jeff spat on the carpet near Bryce’s feet, letting you pull him towards the door. “You better be glad she saved your ass, or I’d put you in the ground.”

    You didn’t let go of him until the two of you had made it outside and back into the car. Neither of you said a word for a long moment.

    Jeff was the first to break the silence, craning over the middle console to wrap his arms around you. He peppered a long row of kisses down your collarbone, right where Bryce’s hand had been.

    You laughed. “What are you doing?”

    He buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Getting rid of your Bryce cooties.”

the bike shorts incident

Zimbits | Fluff & Crack | 3.2k | AO3

Bitty gets a series of texts from Jack just minutes before their shared class is due to start. Bitty is alarmed for several reasons—Jack’s preference for sending single texts, and the fact that Jack is normally in class before Bitty at the top of the list.

Jack 9:56 Are there seats in the back row?

Jack 9:57 Can you move to the back row and save me one

Jack 9:57 Near the door on the east side

Jack 9:57 Please

Jack 9:58 ??

Bitty isn’t sure what’s going on, but he gathers his stuff quickly, dumping it into his bag, and heads to the back row near the specified door, trying to type as he goes.

Bitty 9:59 I’ve moved. Got a seat for you. Everything okay?

Jack 9:59 Is anyone near you?

Bitty looks around.

Bitty 10:00 A few people further down the row, and about five rows in front. Teacher just walked in and is setting up.

Bitty looks around to the door, holding his phone in case it buzzes again with a message from Jack.

The teacher calls the class to attention and there’s still no sign of Jack. It’s not like him to miss class. Bitty wants to go out and find him to see what’s going on, but he can’t now that the teacher has seen him. He gets out his books and pen again, and focuses to the front, keeping his phone visible on the desk just in case.

He keeps an ear out for the door, and just as Professor Miao begins her lecture, he hears it opening. It’s almost like Jack was waiting until he knew she’d started.

Jack sticks his head through the gap and looks around nervously. He meets eyes with Bitty, who raises eyebrows at him, trying to get some clue as to what Jack’s been texting him for. As Jack pushes the door open slowly, and hurries quietly in, practically tiptoeing over to the seat Bitty has saved for him, Bitty thinks he knows what Jack’s been worried about.

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7 Minutes || Jughead Jones

Originally posted by juptern

word count : 1,225

pairing : Jughead Jones x Reader

warnings : make-outs, cursing, hating each other.

summary : You are friend with Betty and Veronica and they invited you to this party so of course you say yes. you didn’t know you’d end up playing seven minutes in heaven and be stuck in there with someone you hate; Jughead Jones.


     Betty and you had been best friends since you were babies. You were lucky enough to occupy the house right next to hers so you spent countless hours with each other growing up. When Veronica came to Riverdale, the two of you welcomed her with open arms. Of course when Veronica and Betty were fighting you took a neutral stance, or as neutral as you possibly could. You were happy to know when they made up, at least for the most part. Veronica was even throwing some party to finalize it; which is a bit weird but you were just going with it; who could say no to a good party?

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Patater Week - Day 6

Feb. 11 - Cuddling/Snuggling – Marty finds Alexei shopping for condoms at 1 AM with Kent. It kind of goes from there, 1.2K

“For water balloons,” Tater says dumbly, looking like he wants to put the pack of Magnums back but can’t because he’s lost all motion in his arm. “Prank on Poots.”

“Hm. Alright,” Marty says, still holding the Little Colds Multi-symptom Cold Formula meant for his son, who’d started sniffling at 8 PM and have not stopped since. “Why not just use real balloons?” he asks, pointing at the balloon packs hanging not far behind Tater.

Tater seems to be strangled by an unseen force. “Penis is more funny,” he says very slowly, then he visibly winces, like he wants to pitch himself into a ditch.

(Marty’s no fool. Everyone on the team knows that Tater has a boyfriend whom he has yet to refer to by name, which is peculiar especially when the latter refuses to shut up about him. At this point, between the two of them, Marty and Thirdy can probably recite the Boyfriend’s failed recipe for chicken salad by heart and how exactly he managed to conduct a mini-explosion in Tater’s kitchen. He just hadn’t expected the nameless significant other to be visiting Providence this week, or that he’d catch Tater buying…supplies.) 

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Alternate Ways to End Combat in an RPG

Hello, readers! At the moment, I’m super busy prepping a Lovecraft Legacies LARP event, but I didn’t want to fail to offer some DMing advice this week. So I grabbed an old article I wrote for the website GeeksDreamGirl.com. I wrote it with 4E in mind, but it’s lessons translate to any game. Enjoy!

Combat is an integral part of many RPGs. In some, it’s a necessary evil. In others, like D&D, it’s an exciting part of the game. Sometimes, the PCs are facing truly evil and villainous foes that need to be wiped from the face of your campaign world. Sometimes, however, you want to have a battle end in something other than a complete massacre of one side or another. What if the PCs are facing honorable foes who’ve been duped into fighting them? Or what if they’re facing foes who vastly out-number or out-power them? Is a slaughter the only answer? Obviously, the
answer can and should be no.

Here then are five ways to end a fight before the battlefield is drenched in the blood of one side or another. You can use these ways to keep a battle short, or to offer an alternative to simple one-
sided destruction.

A Fight to First Blood

If the PCs are facing honorable foes, or are fighting in a tournament, they may choose to fight to “first blood”, and I’m not referencing any cheesy 80s action films. In 4E D&D, this is an easy
concept: have the players and NPCs agree to fight until someone hits their Bloodied value, and use this as the threshold of when someone finally draws blood on the other.

This has a lot of basis in reality. Knights at tournament wanted to show their prowess at real battle, and first blood was a way to show one’s skill, but to avoid seriously injuring one’s foe. Likewise, a duel that was serious but didn’t need to be to the death would sometimes be fought to first blood. This served as a grim reminder to the wounded – I bloodied you once. Next time might be more fatal.

Holding Out Like a Hero

This is a particular favorite of mine. In it, the PCs aren’t necessarily planning on winning a fight, but only of surviving and holding off foes until a set goal is reached. This is particularly effective for when the king can get to safety if his loyal knights can last ten rounds of combat, or if a wizard needs them to hold until he gets six successes on Arcana checks. Combined with Skill Challenges, this can make for a memorable sequence. Skeletons will keep pouring out of the crypt until the cleric successfully re-consecrates it as a skill challenge of minor actions, or the room will keep filling with water that’s inhabited with shrieking eels until the rogue resets the trap mechanism. It’s up to the party to hold off the skeletons, eels, or what have you.

You can use this device to simulate a scene like Helm’s Deep. The PCs have to hold out a certain number of rounds until the reinforcements arrive. Especially in combination with an ever-increasing number of minions, this can give the proper feeling of literally holding off an army.

Cutting Off the Head

The orcish army feels unbeatable until their leader, Gruzhgarn, is slain. When the necromancer is killed, the undead crumble back to lifeless husks. The wolves will flee in dismay if their alpha is killed. If you make one or more of the enemies the linchpin holding the rest of the monsters together, then you can give the PCs a goal other than simply slaying every monster on the battlefield. Once the leader-type monster goes down, the rest will surrender, flee, return to their home plane, etc. I especially like the feeling of “kill the wizard and his minions will return to the Elemental Plane.” It’s something that makes a logical sort of story sense, and it gives an out to the players.

A variation on this is “this monster is invulnerable until condition X is met.” In my current campaign, a great example was Auntie Mengybone, whom I’ve mentioned in other columns. She was harnessing the life-force of a captive Arch Fey to constantly heal herself, making her effectively invulnerable. Several of the PCs with Controller-type powers kept her busy and away from the other PCs who were freeing the Arch Fey through a skill challenge. Once the Arch Fey was released, she immediately went into retreat mode, leaving her minions to fight the PCs. She didn’t escape, but, if she had, she would’ve likely become a recurring villain in the campaign.

Live to Fight Another Day

There’s an adage that most PCs would rather have their character killed than have them captured. I’m not sure what the psychology around this is, but I agree that it’s true. That doesn’t mean, however, that you have to have your monsters behave the same way.

I befuddled my players in my Eberron campaign by having the changeling villain they’d been fighting step back, go defensive, and offer to surrender, but only if the Lawful Good character
promised him mercy. The party was immediately suspicious, but they reluctantly agreed. This let me draw a fight that was already a foregone conclusion to a quick close and keep a valuable NPC
alive for a future sequence. And when the PCs found out later that he’d escaped the prisons of their patrons, they cursed his name – darned, tricksy changelings!

The other trick is to have monsters flee. They might be running for reinforcements, or they might be running for their lives, but sometimes monsters, especially intelligent ones, might choose to abandon a fight that they’re clearly losing. Earlier editions of D&D had complex Morale check systems to help a DM determine whether or not a monster would fight on or drop their weapons, but, nowadays, story is the arbiter of such a decision.

Stop. Just Stop.

I would never suggest that you should declare a fight against the PCs and tell them they’re all dead. But good news! Your monsters don’t have any ego beyond that which you invest in them.

If you’re down to two half-dead orcs, everything else is dead, and the PCs are still in excellent shape, you can call that fight. Sure, the orcs might do a little more damage, but is it really necessary to eke every hit point from the player characters that you can? I think not.

Some DMs, and some players, don’t like this approach. They want to know exactly who did what, who killed whom, and noodle the fight down to each hit point. That’s not my style of game play. If it’s getting late, and I have an important plot point to make before game ends, and this fight is slowing me down, I’ll sometimes call a fight once it’s clear how unlikely it is that the PCs will lose. “Well, the ogre has 15 hit points, and you’re all going to get to attack before he does. Unless you really want to know who kills the ogre specifically, let’s call it. Someone describe for me how the ogre dies.” My players were baffled the first time I did this, but they’ve
come to appreciate it.

In Closing

Not every fight has to be fought to the last HP. Sometimes, there are reasons why a fight should end early, and sometimes it’s just more convenient to move things along rather than dither down to the bitter end. Using this tool, you can make battles more about the story and excitement and less about drudging down to the last hit point.

it ain't me // dylan o'brien

Summary: Dylan doesn’t realize how much he loves Y/N until it’s too late

Requested: no, based off of this song

Pairing: Dylan & Y/N

Warning: yes, mature language, themes and smut

Masterlist

The envelope had remained untouched on the counter for nearly a week.

Every time he looked at the stupid piece of white paper an immense pain clouded over him like he lived in Seattle and there was no chance of him ever seeing the sun again.

The only thing she had left behind was the letter and a cardboard box with his name scribbled across the front in her messy handwriting.

The two objects had been taunting him for the past week, surely collecting dust by now.

As he took another sip from the bottle clutched tightly in his hand, the cool amber liquid provided him with a small amount of relief he was craving.

Extending his legs onto the coffee table, he squinted his eyes as he flipped through the channels, the only source of light in his dark apartment being that of the muted television he had been staring at for the past 3 days.

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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!!!

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RIP To My Youth

and you could call this the funeral

My first Jughead imagine, this is part one, if you guys enjoy it I’ll keep it going. 

Pairing: Jughead x Reader 

Description: Jug and the reader have been best friends since they were kids, but lately, things have changed, Riverdale has changed, Jug has changed and Y/N thinks maybe it’s time she changed too. 

Warnings: ANGST ANGST SO MUCH ANGST YO (maybe a couple o swears)

Word count: 2088

Part 2https://thatsadbreakfastclub.tumblr.com/post/158505761114/rip-to-my-youth-pt-2



It was getting to the point where I was having internal battles with myself every night. ‘Y/N he’s working on the novel and the newspaper, of course, it’s going to be harder for him to spend time with you’ versus ‘he’s moved on, he’s closer with Betty now, he and Archie are closer too, you’ve lost him, you’re irrelevant’. These were the thoughts that had been consuming my brain for the past couple of weeks. Jug was my best friend, right? Maybe I should text him? Maybe not. I started playing with my pale grey cap, my nervous tick of sorts. Jug could always tell when I was nervous because I would fiddle with the cap “Y/N” he’d say “spill it, you can’t hide anything from me, I can read you like an open book”. Thinking about this little memory was bittersweet. How can someone who’s practically by your side every day suddenly just have no real interest in talking to you? Ever since the murder of Jason Blossom, it really feels like everything in Riverdale has changed.

I glanced at my clock perched on my bedside table, 7:45 pm sigh. Maybe doing some homework will take my mind off all this bullshit, who’s idea was it to put me in advanced algebra anyway? Oh, that’s right my father, who I really wish was here right now and not away on some business trip. Tonight would have to be a lonely one. That’s when I remembered I had Jug’s math textbook, there it was sitting on my desk. I flipped it open and sure enough on the bottom left-hand corner was a small ‘property of Jughead Jones’. Perfect I could use this as an excuse to text him. 

Hey Jug, I forgot I had your math textbook? Want me to come drop it over? The two-hour wait to get a reply just built up more and more anger inside of me Hey Y/N, I’m working on an article with Betty right now, could you drop it off to me in the newsroom in free period tomorrow? This was it, this was fucking it, oh I would take his textbook to him tomorrow and I would also confront him about this whole thing, that’s what I’d do straight up ask him why I was suddenly dead weight, I’ve had his guys back for so many years and now I’m just nothing, I won’t have it. Will do I sent back, cool calm and collected and then I was going to give him a piece of my mind tomorrow.

Getting ready for school was never a difficult task for me, I pretty much did the same thing everyday. My Y/H/C was tied into a ponytail with the front strands falling onto my face framing it. I put on my classic ripped boyfriend jeans and a black t-shirt, accompanied by my army jacket. To finish off my classic look I added my signature grey cap and put on my favourite dark grey lipstick. I wasn’t the girliest of girls, that was for sure, but everyone seemed to identify me by my style and in this I found comfort. After giving myself the once over in the mirror I grabbed Jug’s textbook from my desk, shoving it into my bag and I set off for school.

The day dragged on and on, I had a tonne of classes with Kevin and Ronnie today so it was nice to hang out with them for a change. This was of course until Kevin pulled the “I haven’t seen you and Jughead together in a while, what happened you two are usually joined at the hip?” line “You guys are my otp, I hope there’s no trouble in paradise” Veronica added. “Ronnie we’re not dating, why does everyone always think that and honestly, I don’t know, I guess he’s been too busy with this whole novel and newspaper thing to remember me as well” I replied giving my best interpretation of a fake smile. Veronica and Kevin gave me sympathetic looks. 

As the bell rang, signaling our release I was packing my things together when Veronica grabbed my arm. “Y/N you need to tell Jug how you feel, I don’t know if you’ve even admitted it to yourself yet but it’s pretty obvious you’re in love with him, I can see how much not seeing him is hurting you and I think it’s best if you face this head on” I was so taken aback by this, I mean for years I’ve always had people ask if Jug and I were dating but no one had been this blatant with me. Was she right?, No he’s my best friend, I couldn’t be in love with him no way. I let out an awkward laugh “I don’t love Jughead, we’re just friends” It came out so defensive that Veronica raised both her eyebrows and folded her arms “the fact that you’re being so defensive about this just further proves my point” She said in a sing-song voice. “I gotta go Ronnie” I replied standing up from my seat and walking out the classroom “I only say this cause’ I care” she yelled after me.  

Making my way towards the newsroom, I’d never felt so nervous in my life, like get a grip girlie it was just your friend, surely this whole not speaking to me thing was just, not even a big deal and I was hyping it all up. I was still going to have a go at him though because he was angry when Archie ditched him and now he’s okay with doing it to me? Not on my watch.

I had the math book in my hand as I was walking up to the door of the newsroom, I had my best ‘pissed off face’ going on I was ready.

I had my hand almost on the doorknob when I took a quick glance through the doors glass window. That was when my stomach fell, my jaw dropped and my heart involuntarily shattered. It was just a glimpse that’s all I could allow myself to watch, but inside that dusty old newsroom was one Jughead Jones kissing Elizabeth Cooper. The feelings hit me like a truck, and then everything went numb.

I didn’t know what to do so without giving any sign I was there I dropped the math book and ran, I ran out of the school I ran past pops and all the way home. By this time the tears were free falling, I couldn’t stop it and I didn’t care. Once I was in the safety of being inside my house with the door locked I gave in to my emotions and just slid down to the floor.

Wow, I felt so stupid and so naive, why didn’t I see this coming, it all made perfect sense now. I guess this was me also coming to terms with the fact that as usual Ronnie was right, I was painfully in love with Jug and now I was too late to ever do anything about it.

The more I sat there and thought about it the more I came to realise that this was my fault. I held Jug up to this crazy high standard and just assumed it would always be him and me at the end of the day. I had sacrificed so much to hang out with him, to keep my “image”, I avoided making too many other friends, I avoided parties, extracurricular activities you name it I wasn’t a part of it. Now it was all going to change, it had to change. Maybe this was the wake-up call I needed. I had to work on myself, be better, be stronger. Most of all this needed to happen because this meant I could quite literally not be around Jughead anymore, I think seeing or talking to him would make me cry, something the new me will NOT be doing.

I picked myself up off the floor and headed to the bathroom to wash my face. “Get a grip Y/N, ” I told myself staring into the mirror. It’s like as soon as I come to terms with the feelings I think I may have had for years, I have to immediately try to get rid of them. I think this was a coping mechanism for me, and I think the reason I’ve never let myself admit that I had feelings for him before was because I fear rejection so much so very much, and I had to do what I knew would keep him around and that was to continue to be his friend. Well, little girl it’s time to grow up.

And what’s the best way to look more mature and confident, change your style. From what I’ve witnessed from the media, what you wear can have a profound impact on how people view you. This is what I had to do first, get rid of the “old me” look. This meant bye grey cap, bye dark lipstick ( I mean what was I even trying to do with that? Look like a corpse?) (oh wow corpse jokes really funny, maybe a bit too real in light of recent circumstances.) And also a very big goodbye to my jeans and army jacket, that would have to go too.

Looking through my closet it was apparent I didn’t have much to work with, I would definitely have to go shopping this weekend, I’ll bring Ronnie and Kevin along, they know fashion and are probably more than willing to help me out. AH HUH eureka! The dress I’ve been looking for! About two months ago I bought this really nice burgundy skater dress that I was planning to wear on a summer trip away, but when that got cancelled I never really had an excuse to wear it, until now. It showed a lot of leg, which I was surprisingly pretty comfortable with. The thought of people seeing me in this tomorrow made me feel a mixture of excitement and nausea.

The next thing that would change was the hair; no more would it be hidden by a cap and just randomly pulled back behind my face. I would wear it down and give it a curl. I think that would give me a nice elegant edge. God, I really don’t think anyone’s even going to recognise me tomorrow, kinda funny really. The next thing I had to do was go on to the school website and look for an extracurricular I would be willing to do. Hopefully, this would be a good way to make new friends and keep me busy.

I went and grabbed my laptop from my desk, as I did this I heard my phone vibrate, which meant I had a message. The name that made the screen light up made my heart skip a few beats, it was from Jug Hey, I just found my math book outside the newsroom? Why did you leave it there and not come inside? SIGH, reading that was like a knife to my chest, I immediately deleted the message, this may be immature but I needed time, I can’t bring myself to talk to him and if he can do it to me I can sure as hell do it to him. 

Shaking those thoughts away I was brought back to the task at hand. Logging onto the schools web page I found the list of extracurricular activities going on at Riverdale high. Chess club? Pass. Girl’s soccer? Hard pass.  Mathletes? No way in hell. Come on there has to be something here. After fifteen minutes of looking to no avail I scrolled past the extracurricular activities. Eventually I saw an ad posted by the she-devil herself Cheryl Blossom, apparently, one of the river vixens had broken her ankle and a new vixen was needed immediately, auditions were tomorrow after school. Hmm, could I do this? Maybe I could? The old me would never dream of being a cheerleader but the new me, maybe she could. You know what, fuck it. It was decided, I caught myself slightly smiling as I clicked ‘attend’ on the event. It felt like a breath of fresh air, tomorrow I would walk into school confident and new. I was going to cure my own broken heart. I just hoped a run in with Jughead wouldn’t make it all come crashing down.

Shy || Jughead Jones

Request by @myteenwolf-world: Hi Rose :) I love your stories so much and I was wondering if you could write something where the reader is really shy and barely speaks to anyone? Jug is the only one she talks to and the rest of the group are surprised to see them having a conversation and being close. They question Jug about it and they find out he has a crush on her. Thank you in advance <3

A/N: I feel like this was kind of shaky since I haven’t written prompts in a while but I’m getting back in the swing of things! Hope you enjoy. <3

Gif by @juggiehead

—————

Being the new kid was never easy. Being the shy new kid was never easy. You were the perfect target for bullying from people like Reggie and Chuck who always catcalled you in the hallways and knocked your binders out of your arms. But you never said a word. You didn’t want to cause any trouble.

A few people noticed you. The “Sad Breakfast Club” saw you in the hallways. Sitting alone at lunch. Reading alone. Keeping to yourself. Day after day, almost every member of the group (with the exception being Jughead) attempted to talk to you. They tried to coerce you into at least sitting with them at lunchtime. Each time you quickly shook your head, eyes returning to your book.

Weeks passed and the group was still no closer to getting you to even speak a word.

“I just don’t understand!” Veronica exclaimed as she slammed her lunch tray down on the table. “We’ve tried everything. Does she just not like us?”

Betty shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s what it is, V,” the blonde said. “She’s just really shy. Sometimes you can try everything only to have nothing work.”

Veronica groaned.

“She has a point,” Archie said as he took a bite of his apple. “Maybe we should just stop.”

As the group talked amongst themselves, Jughead watched you from a distance. Unlike the others, he had taken a personal interest in you. The raven-haired teen loved mysteries and you were one he wanted to crack.

Why did you move here? Why did you move here so late in the school year? Why were you so shy?

“I can try,” Jughead interrupted, silencing the entire group. “To talk to her, I mean.”

Archie sighed.

“Jug, I don’t know…” he began. “You tend to be… really upfront. What if you scare her away?”

Jughead snorted.

“Wow, thanks, Arch,” he remarked sarcastically. “Like you guys haven’t terrified her enough.”

With that, he was off and making his way over to your table.

“This isn’t going to end well.” Betty said.

Veronica sighed as she opened her bag of chips.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

You heard someone making their way over to you before you saw them. You gripped your book tighter, forcing your eyesight to stay on the small words. You wondered who it would be this time. Would it be the jock or one of the two cheerleaders? It wasn’t that you didn’t like them either, it was just that you were literally terrified to talk to them. They seemed so cool and you didn’t understand why they wanted to talk to someone like you.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You looked up from your book, your eyes meeting blue-green ones. Your heart skipped a beat once you saw who it was. Jughead Jones. The boy in your English class who you had a massive crush on. But of course, you could never find the courage to talk to him. If you couldn’t even talk to Veronica Lodge or Betty Cooper, arguably the nicest girls in the school, how were you supposed to talk to the boy you liked?

“Can I sit here?” Jughead asked.

You returned your gaze to your book, not answering. Jughead took a seat anyway.

“What’s your name?” the beanie-clad teen pressed.

Again, you didn’t answer.

“Well,” he sighed. “My name’s Jughead. I’m in your—”

“English class,” you said softly before you froze.

Jughead seemed equally surprised that you spoke.

“Yeah, I, um,” you began again, clearing your throat. “I know who you are.”

“Is she… talking to him?” Veronica asked incredulously.

Archie nodded.

“Looks like she is. Who would’ve guessed?” the ginger asked.

“But why?” Betty asked.

Archie frowned at her question.

“Why is she talking to Jughead?” he tried to clarify.

Betty shook her head.

“No, why is Jughead talking to her? When has he ever showed an interest in the new kids? He never showed an interest in Veronica.”

Veronica rolled her eyes.

“Thanks, Betty.” she joked.

“You know what I mean.” the Cooper girl said.

The three students returned their gazes to you and Jughead who were now talking and smiling amongst each other. At the moment, the bell rang signaling the end of the period. The gang saw you pack your stuff up as you and Jughead said your goodbyes. Jughead walked back over to the group with a smug smile on his face as you walked into the school.

“How?” Veronica asked once Jughead was close enough to hear her.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asked as he picked up his book bag, swinging the strap over his shoulder.

Veronica smirked.

“I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with the fact you have a crush on her? And, oh, I don’t know, maybe she likes you too and you guys are going out to Pop’s after school to get a milkshake together?” she joked, improvising everything as she went along.

Betty and Archie laughed but Veronica didn’t miss the way she saw Jughead tense up for a fraction of a second.

“Very funny, Veronica.” he deadpanned.

Veronica’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God,” she murmured. “You like her!”

Jughead turned beet-red as Betty and Archie turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

“And she likes you! And you asked her out!” Veronica continued.

“God, Veronica, scream it to the world, would you?!” Jughead hissed as the four of them walked into the school.

Veronica went silent but couldn’t stop her beaming smile or the way she was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Aw, Juggie, this is so cute!” Betty squealed.

“Not bad, Jug.” Archie said as he clapped the writer on the back.

Jughead’s red face didn’t go away.

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he mumbled. “I’ll see you guys later.”

With that he was gone, escaping to his next class.

“Our Juggie’s growing up.” Veronica said, wiping a fake tear from her eye.

“You’re so lucky he wasn’t around to hear that.”

—————

A/N: Hope you liked it! Please send me feedback! Thank you!

Taglist

@lydixstiles @jughead-from-riverdale @pinkhappypanda @iamthegoatmaster @subsi4123 @deanskitten @latenightbooknerd @lostinpercyseyes @captainelsaeverdeen @itsjaynebird @allineedisconnor @superoriginalteenwolf @sastielstan @1amluke @satanwithstardust @babearchie @theselfishllama @katshrev @juggiesjuliet @betty-coopers-number-one-stan @imperfectanatomy @casismyguardianangel @irrajj @fangites @apocalypticangell @sparklingriverdale @jvghead-jones-iii @onceuponagladerhead @isabellaskyliner @vodkaluh @tegan-eva @murderyoursoul @regenpony @xbobaaa @farmfreshcoldsprouts @hellolittlebigstudent @audreyxhorne @faithmichaluk @thebloodyshuckface @castawayalicia @lost-in-wonderland-x @holoqraphik @nadya0128 @soulception @jughead-archie-imagines @juggys-betty @twizzlersnizzler @riverdale–trash @barbarachern @likesiriusly @thatsavagehufflepuff @multi-madison @mrs-fangirl @thatcraxygirl15 @frobert20 @miss-mia-rae @buckyplease @myblackwings5 @thecrossroad-demon @writing-in-riverdale @jghdjns-iii @johnmurphys-sass @killjoyloki @the-local-dreamer-star @stephyra17 @reginaphlanageadams @river-vixns @genderabused @wetsknn

If I could be just a dad

“I am not just a mom,” Mary said, trying to hold back her frustration but she was failing, “And you are not a child.”

“I never was.” Dean quickly responded with sadness in his voice, “I gave up knowing my own daughter so that she could be a child. Do you know wha-what I’d do if I could be just a dad? To know my own kid? You have that chance and your-” Dean stopped himself before he got too worked up. “So between us and them-”

“It’s not like that.” Mary interrupted her oldest son.

“Yeah Mary, it is.” Dean cut in with a serious face which Mary returned, however it was easy to see that Dean’s words had hurt her. “And you made your choice. So there’s the door.” Dean finished, pointing up towards the door as his emotions nearly broke through. He walked away, unable to be in the same room as his mother anymore.

Sam moved out of his seat to follow Dean, however Mary called to him, “Sam-” She said.

Sam looked up at his mother with tears in his eyes, “You should go.” He told her. 

“Dean has a daughter?” She asked, drawing Sam’s attention back into the conversation.

Sam simply nodded his head, thinking of you caused more emotions to rise within him, bringing more tears to his eyes. “Yeah, Y/N, she-she’s five.” Sam replied thickly with emotion.

“And why doesn’t he see her?” Mary questioned.

Sam looked back at his mother with unbelieving eyes, “This life that we live, Dean wanted better for her; he wanted her to be a child. So we stay away.”
Mary slowly nodded her head as she took in her youngest child’s words, “You really should go.” Sam repeated himself,

“And never mention Y/N again.”

Sherlock fucking Holmes was ticklish.

John at first realised this at a crime scene – naturally, given their unique lives.

Sherlock was standing over a dead body (but then again, there were few times when he wasn’t). It was the fourth murder, all of them done in the same way – their throats were ripped out, and an ‘x’ was written in blood on the wall,

It started to rain down suddenly – no mention of rain in the weather, or else John would have brought his umbrella – and John put his arms around himself to keep warm.

“Sherlock,” John said, trying to communicate with his friend so that they could leave. He was ignored, obviously… not that he was expecting anything else. A few of the police officers around him were growing impatient as well, muttering and staring at their watches.

“Sherlock. It is raining and I am freezing, and you probably are too. You can come back tomorrow.” Once again, he was ignored.

It was pouring down now. John’s hair was sticking down to his face, and from where he was standing he could see that Sherlock’s curls were flat and hanging down in his eyes. Something in him couldn’t help but call it adorable.

“Sherlock!” he called, still trying to get the consulting detective’s attention.

Nothing worked.

He moved closer, and saw that his friend had his eyes closed.

“Great,” he muttered bitterly under his breath, “mind palace time. We’ll be here all day.”

Sherlock’s hands were clasped together, and if John didn’t know him better he might have thought that he was praying – given that he did know Sherlock though, he knew that it wasn’t even a possibility. It was the gesture he always made while he was thinking especially hard about something in his mind palace.

His middle finger was almost touching his chin, which, if he was tired and thought about it enough, was funny to him for reasons he’d explained to Sherlock before.

All of these were things John had noticed in Sherlock hundreds of times.

Meanwhile, Sherlock looked like he was in no mood and had no intentions of leaving, so John walked closer to him.

He was soaking wet, the coat hanging limply around him and the shirt that had somehow seen the light of day almost see through, and John would be lying if he said that he didn’t look for a second longer than he probably should have. John couldn’t understand why all of this wasn’t bothering him. Then again, there were a lot of things he didn’t understand about Sherlock, and he was growing used to it.

John sighed and kneeled next to him, making sure not to accidently destroy any evidence on the body, and waved his hands in front of Sherlock’s face.

No reaction.

He then poked his cheeks, three times. Sherlock still didn’t move a centimetre, to John’s dismay.

He sighed, and then poked Sherlock in the side.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

Sherlock, at that point, seemed unable to hold it in, and out came a burst of laughter. John looked at him in amazement, and Sherlock seemed to realise what it was that he’d done, and blushed.

Some officers looked at him strangely, and then started muttering amongst themselves.

“So…” Sherlock cleared his throat, “was there something you wanted?” He was still blushing, his cheeks dusted with red that John for some reason just wanted to poke even more.

“Um… yeah, it’s raining, I thought we could leave and come back tomorrow?” Sherlock looked around, as if just noticing that it was raining. John though that he probably was; chances were he hadn’t even felt it so deep into his mind palace.

Sherlock cleared his throat again. “Right, yeah. I’ll get us a cab.” And then he walked off. John raced after him, and watched as a cab pulled in to where they were standing; how Sherlock always managed to find one so quickly, John had no idea.

They both climbed in, and Sherlock looked out the window as John stared right at him.

“So, you’re ticklish?” John exclaimed. Sherlock stared at him and replied quietly, “No.” and John just looked at him once again in amazement. And then he reached out again and poked him sharply in the sides, which prompted another burst of laughter that left a smile on John’s face.

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with this,” John exclaimed, leaving Sherlock in horror as he jumped up out of the cab.

It was a few weeks later that he managed to actually have fun with it; Sherlock had once again, left some thumbs (or were those toes… John didn’t get close enough to tell) in the fridge, and was now attempting to solve a case.

John walked up to the detective and put his hands on his hips, looking straight at him. His eyes were still closed, so John didn’t bother warning him, and instead reached his hands out around Sherlock’s stomach and sides, and started tickling him.

At first there was nothing, but soon enough Sherlock was laughing quietly, which evolved into straight up laughing hysterically. His eyes were very open now, and John watched as his tall friend managed to curl himself into a ball, which was absolutely the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life –

Sherlock was still laughing, but with the position he had manoeuvred himself into, John was finding it harder to actually get a reaction out of him.

He adjusted where he was sitting so that he was basically on top of his best friend and continued to tickle him as he thrashed around, until their limbs were entangled and John’s face was basically on top of Sherlock’s.

He could feel his erratic breathing on his face, and blushed as he realised the position the two were in. He went to move away but instead fell further into the embrace, landing himself less than an inch from Sherlock’s face.

Something inside of John must have just said “screw it” because next thing he knew he was leaning down and oh my god he was kissing Sherlock Holmes and it was amazing and everything he had ever hoped for

Sherlock kissed back slowly, and John couldn’t help but start smiling, and next thing he knew it so was Sherlock, and then both of them were laughing and neither of them could explain why, and then they were back to kissing, and John’s hands were running through Sherlock’s hair…

Sherlock broke the kiss and smiled up at him. His grin was contagious, and soon both of them were just smiling and holding hands and John couldn’t even think straight, and he was just so amazingly happy.

They stayed that way for a while, until Mrs Hudson walked in and saw the two of them now cuddling on the couch. She smiled at both of them.

“It’s about time, boys. Any longer and I would have owed Mycroft £20.”

12x10 - “Pterodactyl Screeching into the void” - Part 1

My title is borrowed from @postmodernmulticoloredcloak comment on my crazy blogging after first watching this episode earlier. I feel like it is a fitting title for how this episode made me feel. To clarify, these are very very happy pterodactyls.

Steve Yokey wrote this episode and he appears to have well and truly taken up the gap left when Robbie Thompson sadly left the show. In fact this episode to me channels the ghost of Robbie in many different ways. From the fanfiction-esque moments of poor suffering third wheel Sam, to the meta nod to Charlie Bradbury, there is much of Robbie to be found here. Basically, it was bloody perfect.

I feel like there is so much to talk about in this episode that fandom will be chewing on it for months if not years to come. Yokey has picked up the characterisations brilliantly, and seems to have an understanding of what the fandom desperately craves in terms of Castiel, his character, his personality and his development. I adored his sass in this episode. Some other writers *cough*bucklemming*cough* struggle to really capture Castiel’s sass and humour. Showing their lack of understanding of Castiel’s persona and his intelligence and instead writing him in a way that is jarring and sometimes basically stupid. Castiel is far from stupid. In this episode he was written perfectly, in a way I haven’t seen since Edlund’s time. Is that a sweeping statement? Maybe. But I’m still riding my high so let me have it this time.

This episode gave us three of my favourite things. Badass and Sassy Castiel, Overprotective grumpy husband Dean, and poor long suffering brother Sam. (baring in mind this is how they are usually written in fanfiction nowadays this is exactly my jam and I am so so happy to see it play out on screen. Seriously who sold their soul to Crowley for this episode?)

This review will also be in two parts. Because I have so freaking much to say about it.

The first part will focus on destiel, the second on everything else including Castiel’s emotional arc (as separate from destiel), his relationships with angels, angels and gender and Lily Sunder’s character.

PART 1 - ALL THE DESTIEL

Keep reading

Siniy (Chap. 1)

A/N: yaaay! I finally posted part 2! :D The time line will be slightly different than the original CACW, but only by a bit, especially in the next chapter! I hope you guys like it! ENJOY! - Delilah  ❤️

P.S. How do you think alien sex would go with Bucky? ;) 

Siniy: Reader is an Avenger with her good friends, but unlike them, she’s not a demi god, millionaire, super soldier, or a science experiment. She’s got a whole other dilemma: she’s not of this world. Things happen, and she finds herself on the run with Team Cap in Bucharest, along with catching the eye of Bucky Barnes.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Alien Reader

Warnings: Swearing. Slight angst. Slight suicidal thoughts. Teasing. Emo Steve lol. Sassy Sam. 


Do you know who I am?” 

You’re Steve,” Bucky replied with a small, nostalgic smile. “Your mom’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

You gently ran your tongue over your busted lip, tasting the saltiness of the blood that formed there each time you did so. You could feel the bruise forming underneath your eye and you were positive it was swelling now. You didn’t mind it, though, you would heal soon. You always did.

Today, you had found out that Bucky Barnes was strong; really fucking strong. Strong enough to catch you in mid-teleportation and slam you into various objects, including T’challa. Somehow, he’d managed to go into full Winter Soldier mode after speaking to a therapist, which resulted in numerous casualties. You were the first one in his way, which meant you got the full package.

You were able to stun him though; you didn’t even have to touch him. Your appearance alone was enough to throw him off. You let out a snort as you realized he’d probably never knew about the modern hair styles, only, yours wasn’t from a dye job. You were an actual alien.

But your appearance wasn’t enough apparently, as he drove his flesh fist into your face, amongst other things. You weren’t going to hold that against him or anything and you would get over it soon.  

“What did I do?” Bucky asked as he avoided everyone’s eyes.

“A lot.” Sam sassed, crossing his arms in disappointment. He hadn’t seen the man for more than three hours, and he hated him already.

He’s a lunatic. 

You heard his thoughts as if they were being spoken aloud.

Perhaps he was right, but that wasn’t what concerned you at the moment. Usually, you could hear any person’s thoughts, no matter how big or small they were. You could hear every single word clearly, but for some reason- you had no idea why -you couldn’t read Bucky Barnes’ thoughts even if your life depended on it. And that scared the living shit out of you.

All you could gather was single words, but the one he was thinking of was extremely eerie.

The only thing you could pick up was: kill 

And he was talking about himself.

You found yourself staring at him shamelessly. you had no idea who this man really was, but if Steve was willing to flat out trust him after what had just happened, then you were putting this all on him. You had no intentions of involving any other people, but the way this was going, and the way Sam whispered to Steve that he “knew a guy”, you weren’t so sure about keeping a low profile. 

“We should get a car at some point.” You chimed in, causing everyone to look over at you. Immediately, as soon as Bucky’s eyes landed on you, his jaw nearly hit the floor. His eyes focused on your face, his brows furrowing. You had no idea why he was staring, but it was making you so self conscious. 

Steve nodded, grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it over his shoulders. 

“Alright guys,” he spoke, his voice echoing along the walls of the warehouse. 

“Let’s get moving.”



The gentle rumbling of the small car you were in was the only audible thing. Along with Sam’s game of Tetris on his phone. 

You specifically asked Steve to find a low profile car, but one with leg room so that you could breathe without feeling like you were being suffocated. But nope, as soon as he returned in the little navy blue beetle, you made a mental note to never trust him with cars again. 

You let out a sigh as you heard the same lousy word over and over again, clouding your mind and breaking your train of thought: blue.

And it was coming from one person. 

It was being repeated over and over to the point where you were growing highly agitated. You peered over the seat at Steve, who was focused on the road ahead of him. Sam was playing Tetris on his phone silently, his face set in a concentrated frown. Bucky was staring out the window, but occasionally, he’d send you side glances before looking away quickly. If you weren’t annoyed, you’d find his actions a bit cute, just like him.

It was so wrong, you knew that. However, it was pretty much a scientific fact. Bucky Barnes was really handsome for someone who’s an ex brainwashed hydra assassin of seventy years and you were just looking. That’s all. The way he looked at you in the warehouse confirmed that he didn’t find you attractive one bit. 

But you didn’t blame him. Who would like some girl with unnatural blue hair and matching eyebrows. You were a giant target for bullying. 

But now, the word was growing louder and his looks were becoming less cautious and more frequent, which was pushing all the wrong buttons. Why couldn’t he think about the weather like Steve or chicken nuggets like Sam?

You felt the last of your restraint leave you as you heard another word from his mind.

Weird.

You ripped off the little navy blue cap from your head and turned so that you were staring directly at Bucky. The man jumped slightly and turned to you, his face in a small frown.

Yes, my hair is blue!” you snapped, your brows furrowing with annoyance. “Just fucking look at it and get it over with, okay?” You took a strand of hair and placed it in his face dramatically and flailed it around. Bucky let out a grunt and craned his head in the opposite direction.

His metal hand reached out and grabbed a hold of your hand with a little too much force.

“What’s going on back there?” Steve eyed the both of you in the rear view mirror, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Tell your friend to stop staring at me!” you exclaimed.

“I wasn’t staring, I was admiring. There’s a difference!” He responded with the same amount of malice as he pushed you away from him. You grabbed another piece of hair and jammed it in his face, forcing him to look at it. You were so fed up with everything. This entire week had been extremely tiring for you and you were at your breaking point.

“Oh my god,” Sam groaned as he ran his hands over his face. You could hear his thoughts, which consisted of nothing but insults and complaints that were aimed towards you and Bucky, also Steve for not driving fast enough. He hastily reached over to the small radio and cranked up the volume button as high as it could go, much to you and Bucky’s annoyance. You squeaked, covering your ears with your hands as the loud rock music blared through the speakers and vibrated throughout the car.

“What is wrong with you three?” Steve exclaimed, before turning the radio down until it was at a normal frequency. “You’re acting like children right now!” When you realized that you were still leaned up on Bucky, you blushed and scooted as far as you could. He, on the other hand, seemed slightly bothered.

From then on, the three of you were completely silent, with the exceptional complaint from Sam and the occasional sigh from yourself. You were aching all over, but Steve made it clear at the beginning of the drive that there would be no stops unless it was an absolute emergency.

As you leaned against the window, watching the scenery pass you by, you perked up once you heard the familiar sounds of a weather broadcast. Unfortunately, it was only in German, which you had absolutely no idea how to speak, much less understand.

“What’s going on?” you asked as you peered over and rested your chin on the leather shoulder of Steve’s seat. He shrugged before turning the radio louder. Once again, you had no idea what was happening. What if there was a tornado or something?

“I have no clue. I can’t speak German.” Steve confessed with a small sheepish smile.

“I can only speak profanity,” Sam chimed as he gave you a small thumbs up.

You frowned as you sat back into your seat. You were staring up at the sky as you listened to the German forecast. You couldn’t help but notice how dark the sky was getting and it was bothering you quite a bit. What if there was an actual emergency? You didn’t want to get sucked into a tornado or get caught in a hurricane. You couldn’t swim to save your life.

“They’re saying that there’s a thunderstorm coming.” Bucky chimed, causing the three of you to turn and look at him in surprise. “There’s a high chance of softball sized hail and thirty mile per hour winds as well. Also, we should get to safety. It’s not a good idea to drive during something like that.” He included with a small nod.  


After arguing with Sam about the German directions on the map, you plucked it from his hands and set it in Bucky’s lap, asking him to show you all to the nearest motel. 

And to your luck, there was a small, run down little motel just a mile away. 

But to your dismay, it was practically filled. 

“All the other rooms were filled,” Bucky explained as he handed Steve a motel key. A single hotel key, might you add. “All they had was this one, but there’s only two beds.”

The four of you were standing outside the motel room. You managed to grab some snacks and sodas from the vending machine, which you may or may not have picked the lock to get. Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

You raised your eyebrow as you stared at the man. You weren’t shy, not at all, but you didn’t know him at all. From what you experienced earlier, he wasn’t as crazy as everyone made him out to be, but still, you were cautious. You’ll admit now, you liked how he was staring at you, but this was a mission, not one of those bachelorette series from TV.

“That’s fine,” Steve said with a tired smile. “Let’s just get some rest. We’ll leave in the morning.”

What Bucky failed to mention, was that the room was the smoking room, which would’ve been nice if he had given you guys a heads up. You hated how cigarettes smelled, it made you nauseous.

The two king sized beds were covered with stiff sheets and comforters, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to shower and get whatever rest you could before tomorrow. That is, if Tony didn’t come busting in here in the middle of the night and arrest all of you.

Steve unlocked the hotel door and opened it, immediately you were bombarded with the stench of cigarette smoke. You felt a wave of nausea hit you at full force. You covered your mouth, trying to block out the smell, but it was practically everywhere now and you couldn’t stop the bile that slowly began rising up your throat.

You felt Sam’s hand on your shoulder and gently shake you.

“Y/N?” he asked, the wariness was evident in his voice. “Are you alright?”

You felt yourself heaving as you headed straight for the bathroom. You slammed the door shut with a loud boom and fell to your knees, emptying your stomach into the porcelain bowl. 

“On second thought,” Sam called from the other side of the door. “You can have the first shower. Just please don’t puke in there either, kiddo.” 

You let out a small groan, placing your elbows onto the toilet bowl and running your hands through your hair. How you were going to sleep in this mess was beyond you. Maybe if you slept with the window open, that would help? But given the two highly paranoid super soldiers, that was probably unlikely.

With a small, defeated sigh, you gathered enough strength to stand and began stripping off all of your clothes. 

You pulled back the plastic shower curtain and turned the knob, filling the room with the sounds of water cascading down the tiles. 

This was going to be a long night. 


“I am not sharing a bed with him!” Sam spoke, crossing his arms as he stood at the edge of the bed.

You and Steve both let out matching groans, only yours was full of rage instead of annoyance. It was a bed, for Christ’s sake! Bucky wasn’t going to fondle him in his sleep, if that’s what he was afraid of. And Sam, bless his soul, the worst he could do was fart in his sleep, because there had been many times where the team had both witnessed and heard it happen. 

You agrily kicked off the covers, sending them flying off of Steve in the process. You had no kind of sleeping shorts, which meant you were left only in litlte white cotton panties and one of Steve’s oversized shirts, which seemed to only cause more of a hassle. Your clothes were currently in the small washing machine down the hall, which meant you were having to borrow Steve’s, which practically went down to your thighs.

Bucky and Steve practically had heart attacks when they came back room from their gas station run and saw you sprawled out on the bed, watching the the news channel. Steve immediately shielded his eyes, while Bucky avoided yours with any means. 

You hastily shoved past Sam as you ripped the covers back from the second bed and plopped down with an angry sigh. You were so done with his shit. How was he allowed to be an Avenger even though he acted like a pre-teen girl? You had no clue.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Sam sung as he settled into bed with Steve, sending you a shit eating grin and batting those eyelashes of his. You responded with a silent middle finger, one that you wished you could poke him in the eye with.

Slowly, as time inched on, everyone began falling asleep. 

Except for you, you were wide awake. 

You stared up at the ceiling, watching as the ceiling fan whizzed in rapid circles. The only light was coming from the giant neon motel sign, which just so happened to be positioned right by your room. It filled the entire room with eerie purple streaks of light. 

With a sigh, you rolled onto your side. You expected to see Bucky asleep like the others, but to your surprise, he was wide awake. And staring directly at you. 

“Why are you awake?” you whispered to him. Your eyes were focused on his as he stared back with an unreadable expression. The way he stared at you, made you feel so vulnerable and it brought out all your insecurities.

“I can’t sleep.” He confessed with a low voice. You felt yourself growing hot and bothered by the way his voice sounded; deep and full of sleepiness. You felt a wave of arousal grow between your legs as you watched his eyes shift to your lips.

“We’re probably going to prison tomorrow,” you whispered, along with a bitter laugh. “You should enjoy being comfortable while you can.” His brows furrowed as he watched your reaction. You would give anything to know what he was thinking right now. Was he interested in you? Did he think you were pretty? Most men didn’t unless they were into some fetish-y type of stuff.

“If that happens,” he said, his voice growing deeper. His eyes burning into yours. You fought your inner instincts to lean in closer to him. “I’ll take the blame for everything. This has nothing to do with you.”

Just like that, that’s when you heard it.

Beautiful.

You blinked, feeling your cheeks heat up. You had never been called beautiful before, much less through someones thoughts and it scared you a bit. Here was a strange man you’ve only known for a a few hours, yet he was calling you beautiful. He was pressing all the right buttons.

You let out a small, but obviously fake yawn. “We should try and get some sleep now,” you whispered, turning onto your opposite side. “Night, Bucky.” You were far from sleepy now, in fact, you’ve never been more awake. You felt as though every cell in your body was humming with some foreign feeling you had no idea how to express.    

But just as you swore you were going to pull an all nighter, you felt your mind becoming fuzzy, your eyes drooping with tiredness. 

The last thing on your mind as you felt yourself being taken away by slumber, was the word repeating one last time in your brain. 

Beautiful. 


- Fin!

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Fragility {Part 2/3}

Originally posted by fairybcby

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Slight Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Photographer Yoongi AU, angst, smut

Warnings: Minor character death

“You didn’t need to completely rip yourself apart just so that Yoongi could be whole. That’s not how friendship works…That’s not how love works.”

Part 1 | Part 3


Time had passed both slowly and quickly. Nothing had changed and yet everything had changed.

In reality, things were how they always had been. Your friendship with Yoongi continued like normal and he still had no clue that Hoseok had confided in you about Yoongi’s past that night.

You would meet up and go for drinks or spend days out together just walking around town and every time you would discover new parts that you hadn’t previously known existed. He had this strange ability of being able to whisk you away from your everyday life and he helped you to see the beauty in even the most mundane of things. There really wasn’t anyone like him.

He would always bring his camera and your eyes had quickly grown adjusted to the intense white flash that would often pour out from it.

On the surface, everything seemed perfect.

However, in your mid a perpetual hurricane raged on. You tried to calm it, you tried to gather your emotions and keep yourself stable but it was to no avail. You had hoped whatever it was you thought you felt towards Yoongi would quickly fade away. You’d longed for it to be nothing more than a short lived infatuation.  Yet, if anything, your feelings had only amplified. Every time you saw him smile it was as if another piece of you fell in love with him.

Everyday you would remind tell yourself that just being able to stand by his side was enough.You were well aware of how lucky you were. So on a rainy Tuesday as you walked through town after a night of helplessly watching various girls try to hit on Yoongi, you tried to convince yourself that everything was fine. He had turned them all down of course, he was as highly selective as ever. That didn’t stop the terrible feeling of jealously that consumed you every time he paid even a little bit of attention to one of them, the toxic emotion would thick and heavy through your veins, weighing your body down.

Small droplets of rain landed on your face and slowly slid down your skin. You could feel your hair and clothing becoming damp and uncomfortable, the cotton fabric was clinging to your body unpleasantly making you feel constricted. If Yoongi was here he would have scolded you for being so careless as to go outside with no umbrella despite knowing how bad the weather forecast was.

You veered off down one of the smaller side streets, the canopy of branches and leaves above now somewhat sheltering you from the weather that continued to rage of violently. Pulling your coat a little tighter around your body you broke out into a slow run. You didn’t even need to look where you were going, your legs would take you there automatically, as if it was an instinct hardwired into your DNA. By this point perhaps it was.

Yoongi’s house always looked the same, narrow, two storeys built in orange brick, with ugly black guttering running down the sides and across the top that stuck out like a sore thumb. The windows seemed to be perpetually dirty even though he insisted that he did clean them once a month.

The place was cheap and unrefined, but it was more like home to you than even your parent’s house was.

The door was unlocked so without knocking you swung it open and immediately stepped into the comforting warmth of his hallway. Some camera equipment and lighting lay in black bags on the grubby linoleum floor along with a large pile of shoes, all belonging to Yoongi of course.

“Yoongi, you here?” you called out after a few moments of silence, if he was in you couldn’t hear any signs of him lurking around somewhere.

You pulled your shoes off and dumped them in one of the corners of the room before hugging your arms to your chest, your body was still shaking from the bitter coldness of outside.

“I’m up here,” he finally replied, voice echoing down the stairs.

He sounded tired. There was a certain way he talked when he’d had a sleepless night, his words would be slower and voice rougher and it was irritatingly sexy.

You ascended up the stairs and barged your way into the bedroom.

The curtains were drawn so that any natural light was completely blocked out, but you knew better than to insist on opening them, he’d always hiss and complain when you tried. He sat hunched over his laptop furiously typing, fingers practically moving at the speed of light and he was so absorbed in what he was doing you don’t think he’d even heard you enter.

His hair hung down over his eyes and you could tell that he hadn’t brushed it in awhile, purple circles hung underneath his eyes and his lips looked chewed up and cracked. Yet you were so far gone that even in this state, you thought he looked absolutely beautiful.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch me like a creep all day?” he asked with a smirk, finally looking up from his laptop screen, “Also don’t expect me to sympathise with you because you’re cold and wet, you’re the one that was too stupid to remember to take an umbrella with you today.”

“Shut up.”

He moved over a little to make room as you sat down on the bed, you curiously peered at his laptop screen to see that he appeared to be writing some sort of essay. The word count was on 4,035.

“Did the genius Min Yoongi really leave an essay ‘til the last minute?” you asked playfully and without even looking away from the laptop he moved his hand and lightly hit you on your upper arm. You giggled before slumping down a little to get more comfortable. The pattering of his fingertips against the keys was oddly relaxing, he typed so fluidly, with no hesitation, as if he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

You remained quiet, just enjoying the feeling of him being next to you. That was something you treasured about the relationship you’d built with him, you were so comfortable around each other that you didn’t feel the need to talk all the time. 

When the sound of the typing finally ceased he snapped shut his laptop and turned to finally look at you properly. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said pointedly. You looked up from your phone and saw that the expression plastered across his face was one of seriousness, so immediately, you put it away in your pocket and sat up.

“What’s up?”

From the way he fidgeted and gripped the sheets in his large fists, you could tell he was a little anxious. This in turn roused feelings of nervousness within you, if Yoongi wanted to say something he would usually say it with no hesitation, with hardly any hints of emotion.

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