her voice...she dug into this

anonymous asked:

Can you write a fix where Betty and Jughead have gone their separate ways but Betty is jugheads emergency contact still and one day jughead gets into a horrible accident and Betty gets a called.

Okay!
***

Walking out of the dark office she spent Most of her time in, Betty waved at Lucy, the older receptionist with the turquoise glasses and bright red lipstick.

“See you tomorrow Lucy.” She tugged her dark blue windbreaker tight around her shoulders as the white haired woman smiled

“See you tomorrow Dr.Cooper.”

Betty made her way through the sliding glass doors of the Paws and Pets Veterinarian clinic. She was an accomplished veterinarian and everyone in the town knew of her and loved her, she had saved countless hamsters from their untimely death and she could work magic on a Pomeranian with a cold. Her life was steady and exactly where she wanted it, she was due to open her own clinic in Riverdale, just a town over. While Pembrooke was beautiful, Riverdale would always be her home. So sure, she was content, happy even, but still.. something was missing.

The familiar rainforest ringtone snapped Betty out of her daze and she dug in her coat pocket in search of the offending cause of noise, the thick wool gloves she had on made answering the unknown number fairly difficult, with a triumphant “HA” she finally brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” The blonde asked confused, she rarely ever got phone calls from unknown numbers, they usually just called the clinic.

“Hello, is this Elizabeth Cooper?” The voice was serious and deep.

“Yes. That’s me , can I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Riverdale Emergency hospital, I’m calling in regards to Jughead Jones, you’re listed as his emergency contact. There’s been an accident, Im going to need..” Betty slammed the phone shut as she hopped in her car, speeding through every red light, that dared come in her way.

After an incredibly anxious fifteen minute ride, Betty slammed through the doors of the hospital, her eyes searching frantically for anyone who seemed to be working at the hospital.

“Hello?!” She called desperately. “Someone please! I need to see Jughead.. Jughead Jones.” She pushed though people, grabbing anyone. Suddenly she felt a warm hand smooth over her shoulder

“You can come with me ms.Cooper.” A middle aged male nurse, tugged her gently towards the waiting area and sat her down, handing her a cup of water and speaking quietly
“Mr.Jones’ doctor will be out very soon, for now, relax here.” He smiled again and walked the opposite way, leaving Betty with shaking hands and wandering thoughts.

Six years. It had been six years since she had heard from Jughead Jones. Six years since they had broken up and promised to keep in touch, but life got in the way, Betty’s schoolwork, Jughead new found popularity after he became a NewYork Times bestselling author. They just drifted apart. That didn’t mean she didn’t own every single copy of every single book he had written, notes scattered in the margins. But here she was, sitting in a hospital waiting for news on her first love, her heart racing in her chest, stomach in knots.

“Elizabeth Cooper?”

She whipped around at the voice and rushed over to the tall man In the doctors scrubs.
“Is he okay? What happened? Can i see him? If you let him die I will sue you for everything, my best friend is Veronica Lodge, best lawyer in all of NewYork.” She threatened, her eyes filling with tears.

“Ms.Cooper, Jughead is fine. He was in a minor motorcycle accident, the extent of his injuries is a broken arm. You can go in and see him.” He stepped aside with a knowing smile and right before Betty breezed past him, she turned around.

“His medical records, are they old? Do you maybe still have his emergency contact from high school?” She questioned, her voice the picture of faux steady and cool.

The doctor smiled softly
“Actually Mr.Jones just came in last month to update his records, he still signed you as his emergency contact.”

Betty stared for a moment longer, her eyes somewhere far away, somewhere colored with leather jackets and strawberry milkshakes, a hidden smile appearing on her face before she raced down the hall.

Slamming the door to his hospital room open, she smiled when she saw him attempting to wrap his flannel over the sling on his arm.

“I hope that’s not your writing hand.” She spoke softly, still causing him to jump and turn quickly, his eyes widening when he saw Betty standing in the doorway.

“Betty?” He asked confused, his eyes wide in awe and looking desperately handsome in his scruffy bearded glory, she was struck by how similar he looked to his father.

“the doctor called. I’m your emergency contact remember?” She smiled and took a seat on the bed beside him.

He groaned and smacked his good hand to his forehead

“This hardly constitutes an emergency, I’m so sorry Betty.” He blushed light pink and looked away.

“Hey.” She brought his attention back to her “ im happy they called me. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you and I didn’t know.. I didn’t..” she trailed off, her fingers moving to dig into her palms, even after all these years she still hadn’t dropped the habit.

Jughead was quick to catch it, just like he always had been, enveloping both of her hands with his.

“I’m okay.” He whispered, eyes burning into hers.

“When they called me I was so scared.. I thought something really bad had happened.. I thought I had lost you and I never even had the Chance…” she trailed off

Jughead brought his fingers to her chin, tilting it up so her eyes met his again

“Had the chance to what?” He urged her to finish, her dark grassy green eyes met his ocean blue and after a second she mumbled something suspiciously similar to
“Oh hell.”
And her lips were on his, his good arm gripping her waist, while her hands buried themselves in his hair. It was like two ships coming to dock. It was one of those lifetime original movie moments. Romeo and Juliet reunited and no one had to die.

When Jughead pulled away he panted, resting his forehead against Betty’s
“I come three times a year to make sure you’re still my emergency contact, I wouldn’t want anyone else but you by my side.” He whispered into the quiet air, his nose nuzzling hers as he breathed in her familiar scent. She was home to him, no matter how long it took he had always known he would come back home.

“Next time you want to see me, just call. You don’t have to get into a motorcycle accident every time. Your insurance will skyrocket.” She giggled and he grinned, pressing his lips to hers again

“You got it Juliet.”

SINCERELY, YOUR NEW FWB

Originally posted by magiccastles

anon said : can you do a yugyeom enemy to fwb smut where the reader is a bit younger? thank you!

Summary : You say you can’t stand him. He tells you to take a seat then.

Warnings : language, smut

Word Count : 2.8k+


If Yugyeom interrupted the lecturer one more time, you were going to take the stapler off of the desk and staple his lips shut. Okay… not really. That was a really gross thought actually. You discreetly shook your head, trying to get the image the thought had conjured out of your mind.

You had been thrilled to be selected as a TA during your first year of college. The thrill had lessened slightly as the year had progressed. Honestly it wasn’t the job that had lessened the thrill. Everything would have been fine if Yugyeom wasn’t a student in the only class you were working as a TA in.

Yugyeom. College Junior. Majoring in dance. Minoring in music. A complete jerk.

It seemed that he’d made it his job to annoy every serious college student, go to every college party, and to have sex with every hot college girl. And one more thing… what was it… oh yeah! He’d made it his job to annoy the shit out of you.

Keep reading

Win Your Heart

So, today was a snow day and I was able to work on Fragile Design, including ironing out some tricky plot points (thanks to @optomisticgirl for her wonderful thoughts and encouragement).  Now, I’m sitting here and thinking as my husband makes dinner (yes, I’m a lucky girl) and I need to write something short and sweet and involving no major plot other than references to potential impending storylines to come.

(also I’ve spent the past week re-immersing myself in @msgenevieve447‘s writing and loving every minute of it…this is an ode to her as well because she’s one of the people in this fandom than inspired me to write and I owe her much for that)

This little drabble is based on one of my all time favorite Captain Swan conversations, a piece of which is below:

Originally posted by the-queen-of-hell-things

Ah, yes…under the cut, for smutty reasons (you know how I do)…

Keep reading

Away Games: Part Three. [Smut]

A/N; Hello lovelies! I am so sorry it took me so long to get to this! I reaaaaally liked this chapter and don’t hate Isaac too much ;)  Enjoy xoxo

Pairing: ScottMccallxReader

Author: thelittlestkitsune

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT CONTENT.

Word count: 6,413

Listen to me.

[Part one.]  [Part two.]

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

Keep reading

things you said at 1 am (from a list i haven’t reblogged yet oops)

ladynoir for the soul /o/

“…Do you ever wonder who you’ll be when you grow up?”

Chat considered the question, twirling around the spire as a distant church rang out the first hour past midnight. “Sometimes.”

Ladybug looked up, eyes full of moonlight, and hesitated again. “…Does it ever scare you?”

“What, the future?” Chat hopped down to her level, gravel crunching under his heels and fireplace smoke in his nose. “…A little bit.”

She lowered her eyes from the sky to where the carpet of golden city lights met the horizon, a knit in her covered brow. “Not… the future, but…”

Dropping into a crouch next to her, Chat rested his chin on his palm and waited for her to gather her thoughts. Conversations like this weren’t unusual between them, and he knew the rhythm of them by now.

Ladybug breathed deep, breath clouding in the chill night air, and said, “I mean, do you ever get scared that… maybe you’ll never be who you wanted to be? That maybe you’ll just…” She shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t know, fail?”

Something squeezed tight in Chat’s chest, fueled half by the wistfulness in her voice and half by his own anxieties.

“Sometimes.”

Keep reading

One man tents aren’t meant for sharing

I wanted to write bed sharing. So I did. 

Smut ahoy.

3k words-ish


One man tents aren’t meant for sharing. Neither are sleeping bags. Too bad they don’t have any choice…


On FF.NET and AO3


Killian Jones’ rather bony elbow dug into Emma’s back. Wincing, she scowled then retaliated by shoving her icy cold right foot backwards until it was wedged between his bare legs, causing him to mutter profanities under his breath.

Today was such a fucking mess. She was cold, tired and mentally drained from an afternoon of drudging through the forest with… him .

“Swan…” he groaned, the low timbre of his voice cutting right through her body making her gut clench.

“Keep your arms to yourself, buddy,” she snapped, her frown growing deeper.

“Gladly,” he quipped, flopping dramatically onto his stomach. The extra-large sleeping bag that housed the pair lurched in his direction, spinning her onto her back and somehow wedging her arm beneath him.

“Urgh!” she cried, tugging herself free, thanking God and all the stars that the man was at least wearing an undershirt.

He turned his head. Though it was late, it was summer and the night sky still provided enough illumination to see his expression: a smug grin combined with raised eyebrows.

Keep reading

too late || isaac lahey

word count: 3954

request:  can i get an isaac imagine where he cheats on you and you two fight and he wont apologize for what he did. and then a mission comes up & it ends where you die in his arms? just really angsty please. maybe base it off of “too little, too late” by jojo?

warnings: lots of angst, breakdown, death

author’s note: this request is from my old blog, but i had the idea in google docs, so here it is! enjoy xo (not my gif)

masterlist

Keep reading

Natural Sugar

Summary: I didn’t know that she is your daughter, I’m so sorry. I thought she lost and I invited her to my house. Then I realized your number hanging on her bag, and I calld you right away. But would you like to stay and drink a cup of coffee? Because you’re fucking hot.

Pairing: Lawyer!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, tooth-rotting one, swearing

Word Count: 1.960

A/N: Thanks a lot for the love on my first shot Underwear Crisis! I hope you like this one, too! Daddy Bucky is always a kink for me, enough said.

Part 2: In a Very Dark Coffee


Originally posted by little--batman

You looked around as you felt like someone was watching you. And then you noticed a little girl, walking aimlessly in the school’s park; her eyes were watching the road, like she was waiting for someone to come to pick her up. You furrowed your brows, you wondered, if she has a family. You’ve been working at this school almost two years now, but you can swear that you’ve never seen this gorgeous little lady before.

You took a deep breath as your feet making their ways to the girl. When you reached to the girl, you put your hand on her tiny shoulder, causing her to jump.

“Hey,” you said. “Are you okay?” The girl sniffed, you realized that she had been crying all the time. Fat tears rolling on her pink cheeks, making her beautiful green eyes shine with tears. You felt a heaviness on your chest and reached out to her to cup her cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” You asked her with a soothing voice. She sniffed again but didn’t answer. “Come here.” You grabbed her by the shoulders and embraced her. “Where are your parents? Is there someone to pick you up?”

This time, she nodded. “My daddy…” She said but tears rolled again, making her gasp. You rubbed her back, trying to calm her down, so she can speak with you more easily. “He said that he was gonna come.” She sniffed again. You dug your hand to your purse, pulling out a tissue for her. She took the tissue and murmured a broken thanks.

“Why don’t you come with me?” You offered. “We can call your dad when we got to my apartment.” You showed the sky. “You can’t wait under the rain.” She looked at you, her eyes was calculating you and your offer. She nodded, after a couple of minutes.

“Okay,” she said. She was only trusting you because you were working at her school and she was kind of admiring you. You were a pretty good artist for her, and she had always loved your drawings and your students’ drawings. You were a good teacher. “Okay,” she said again. You smiled warmly at her, got up to your feet and held out your hand to her.

“Come on, then,” you said while she was taking your hand and squeezing a little. “What’s your name?” You asked.

“Natasha,” she said. “But my daddy calls me Natka.” Rebecca smiled as she was talking about her father. Your smile got bigger. She really loves her father so much, it was very obvious.

“Nice to meet you, Natasha, I’m Y/N.” She smiled at you, her few front teeth were no place to found. “Such a lovely smile you have!” You commented her and watched her cheeks slowly painted to a cute pink color.

“Thank you, Miss,” she said shyly. You laughed wholeheartedly and helped her get into your car. You buckled her seatbelt and walked around your car to sit your own seat.

“Are you okay?” You asked her, looking into her eyes through the mirror. She nodded, there was still a small, warm smile on her lips. “Let’s go!” You said and started the engine.


“I love hot chocolate!” Natasha exclaimed as you offered her a drink and gave her a few options to choose. You gigled at her reaction.

“Hot chocolate, then!” You said, turned around to making her hot chocolate. “Natasha, can you bring me your bag? We should call your father, he must be wondered about where have you been.” Natasha nodded furiosly and ran into the living room. You laughed quietly, she was fire, it was very obvious.

“Here, Miss Y/N!” She held out her school bag. You dryed your hands, put the hot chocolate filled cup in front of her and took the bag. Opening few zippers and looking small place for a phone number, you found it in her drawing book.

“I didn’t know you have some good drawings!” You exclaimed as your eyes cathing one of her drawings. It was very good, the lines and colors were right on the point and it was making the drawing perfect. “Wow,” you said with an awe expression on your face. But you remembered her father and closed her book, garbbing the little piece of paper that has her father’s number on. You quickly dialed the number and waited for him to take the call.

“Hello?” A baritone, deep voice accepted the call. You blinked for a few times.

“Uhm, is this James Barnes?” You asked for a clarification.

“Yes? Is this about some new client? I’m full right now and I have things to do, like finding my little daughter in this goddamn city.” He sounded angry and sad at a time. You felt your heart broken about how scared he must be.

“Uh, it’s actually about your daughter, Mr. Barnes,” you said slowly. You heard a break noise and few horns.

“Is she okay?!” He exclaimed. You swallowed.

“Yes!” You said in a hurry to calm him down. “Yes, she is perfectly fine, drinking a hot chocolate.” Your ears picked a relived breath sound and your heartbeat slowed down a little bit. “I can give you the address for you picking her up.”

“Ye–yeah, that’d be great. Shit, I was freaking out about where the fuck she have been.” He murmured quietly but you heard. You gave him the address.

“It was raining and I just couldn’t leave her there alone.” You heard a quiet chuckle from the otherside, your stomach filled with butterflies with the sound –but you ignored it.

“Yeah, she has that ability to mesmerize people by just looking a little lost. Thank you, though. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He closed the phone, when you said okay and you turned Natasha, who was playing with the few marshmellows on her hot chocolate.

“He said that he is gonna be here in ten minutes,” you told Natasha. “I’m just gonna change my clothes and come back, okay?” Natasha nodded and you ran off to your room. You got rid of the pen skirt that you had been wearing whole day and the blouse that hanging too loose on your shoulders. You felt relived when you were walking back to the kitchen.

And that’s when you heard the doorbell ring. Your heart skipped a beat for a second, and your brain wondered about his look. You made your way to your door while Natasha ran out off from the kitchen. You opened the door while you were –kind of– yelling her.

“Slow down! You’re gonna hurt yourself!” But, girl, did Natasha listen.

Папа!” She yelled and jumped onto the person at the door. Bucky hugged Natasha tightly.

“Hey, Коmенок,” Bucky murmured into her neck and looked right into your eyes.

And that’s when your world stopped spinning. Shit, you thought. Shit, this man is fucking gorgeous. His middle-lenght, dark brown hair was tucked behind his ears, five o’closk shadow stubble was covering his chin and part of his cheeks, but girl, it doesn’t hide his lips. They were sinful looking, plumpy and covered in some shade of pink. You swallowed hard and smiled at him a little forcefully. He pulled himself out of Natasha.

“Thank you for took care of her. I was stuck at the traffic and missed her time.” He shookt his head, a few locks freeing theirselves from behind his ears. His long, graceful fingers tucked them back at their places.

“I-It’s okay,” you managed. “We had fun.” You shrugged. Natasha nodded.

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “Miss Y/N and I had fun Папа!” Bucky laughed at his daughter’s excitement. You joined him and giggled quietly.

“Yeah, she look like a funny person,” Bucky said as his eyes were traveling head to toe on you. You felt your cheeks started to heating up and looked down. “But it’s time to go, come on get your bag.” He said as he was putting Natasha down. Your head snapped up at him, trying to find an excuse for him to stay more.

“Uh… It’s gonna rain heavily, why don’t you guys stay a little more? :It says that rain is gonna stop in a couple hours.” You offered to him.

Папа? Please? Can we stay a little more? I don’t wanna go hom just yet!” Natasha popped her redhead out of your back, her little hand clinging tightly on your comfy sweatpant.

Котенок, let’s go,” Bucky said in a stern tone. His eyes turned at to you. “Thank you but we should reall–“ A thunder growled behind him and the rain started to fall down to the earth roughly. “We should really stay inside, I think,” he continued his words with a different way. You giggled.

“Told you so,” you retorted. He shookt his head as he was laughing.

“I thınk we can stay a little more, yes,” he answered your question. Natasha giggled with the victory. You and Bucky both laughed at her. You turned to him.

“Coffee, Mr. Barnes?” He looked into your eyes intimately. You shivered under his piercing icy blue eyes.

“Yes, please,” he said. “And it’s Bucky, Mr. Barnes makes me feel old somehow and I’m just 32 years old for God’s sake.” You laughed at his words. He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, then, Mr. Barnes, this way.” He threw you a bitch-face and made you laugh a little harder. But there was a smile on his gorgeous lips.

“Seriously?” he asked. You shrugged playfully. He rolled his eyes again, knowing that you are going to conitnue this until he made you shut up about it.

“Any sugar to your coffee, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, your eyes were shining amusement. Bucky smirked at you, checking around for Natasha with a quick glance, he turned his playfull-smirk into a devilish-smirk.

“Just put a little you in it, that’d be enough for me.” He teased with you. You froze at his words, almost knocking over the coffee pot in your hand. “Because I like my coffee with natural sugar in it, and I’m sure you’re one of them.”

“Really?” You whisper shouted at him. “Natasha is around, you know.” You reminded him with a roll in your eyes. Grabbing the two coffee glasses and putting them on the table.

“She won’t be after one and a half an hour later,” he said, shrugging. “She never skips a minute about her bed time.” He winked at you. You opened your mouth for somewhat respond but Natasha barged into the kitchen, with pens and her drawing book in her little hands.

“Miss Y/N can you teach me draw?” she asked you innocently. You looked at Bucky first, just to find hi smirking at you devilishly, and then you turned your eyes to Natasha.

“Sure, honey,” you said to her with a huge smile on your face. “Let’s leave your daddy in here, by himself and we have fun inside.”

“Okay!” Natasha said and ran into the living room. You got up to your feet and got ready to pass him.

Enjoy yourself, Mr. Barnes,” you said to him and left him there, and followed Natasha into your livining room. Bucky laughed at himself.

You were in trouble but the trouble he is in it right now, is bigger than yours. And he was okay with that.


*Папа: Dad
*Котенок: Kitten

I love you.

“I just thought… I love you Jughead. And I know.. I just…. I love you”
She whispered , shaking hands and watery eyes. It felt like she was drowning, her chest was aching and her head was pounding. She was pushing it all back, please no. Please not now, not here.

Jughead stared at the stricken girl in front of him. Love him? How could she love him? He couldn’t love anyone, he wasn’t capable of it. It was such a normal human emotion, so common in his generation but yet so distant in his eyes. Why was she doing this to him? Why now?

“Betty” he started, taking a step back from her, watching as her fingernails dug into her palms. He needed to get out of here, part of him wanted to run to her, keep her panic attack at bay, he saw the sure signs that it was coming, but he couldn’t, not after she had said that. Not after she had ruined everything.

“I have to go.” He mumbled, grabbing his backpack from the ground and slowly backing up, his feet still felt like lead, his body wanted to stay, his heart wanted to stay, but that loud piercing voice in his brain, the part that screamed how unlovable he was, it was telling him to run. He needed to leave, now.

“Juggie. Please.” The heartbroken blonde whimpered, tripping over her feet trying to reach for him.

This was it, this was his chance. Take the love that she was offering him, take the one thing he so desperately wanted, the one thing he needed. All he had to do was walk into her arms, tell her how much she meant to him, they could be together, be happy. It was so simple, right in front of him.

So he ran.

He ran from her backyard, his heart clenching as he listened to the muffled sobs carrying over the fence. He ran so fast he didn’t register where he was heading until he stood awkwardly in front his fathers trailer, uncharacteristic tears falling from his eyes and his lungs burning. F.P opened the door, his eyes going wide as he saw his son, crying helplessly on his front porch. Natural instincts took hold of him as he wrapped his arms around his son, squeezing him tight and whispering into the familiar mess of dark waves.

About twenty minutes later he found himself, head hanging low, pressed against his dads side as he squeezed his shoulder, neither of the jones men said a word as they sat in comfortable silence. Eventually Jughead broke the silence

“Why did she leave? Why didn’t she stay? Did she ever love me?” He whispered, his eyes staring at nothing.

F.p slumped further into the couch, he knew who his son was referring to, he often found himself staring at the bottom of a bottle repeating those same words.

“Your mother loves you. She always has, that never changed. She had to leave, none of it was your fault. It’s on me Jughead. But never doubt that she loves you.” He turned his body to look Jughead directly in the eyes. “She loves you, I love you, your sister loves you, and Betty Cooper loves you.”

Jugheads eyes widened as he stared at his father “how did you..” he started

F.P laughed, raising a brow
“You think I don’t talk to your girlfriend? How do you think this trailer got so clean, she’s here pretty much every week, brings me damn pies boy. The best pies I’ve ever eaten.” He smirked at his shocked sons expression before he continued “she loves you Jughead, and you love her. You may not know it yet, but you do. You wouldn’t be here, talking to me, trying to figure this out if you didn’t.” He challenged.

Jughead felt his body finally fall limp against the couch. He was so tired. Tired of fighting it, tired of hiding how he felt about her, he never knew what he was missing, what was holding him back. He knew now, guilt, heart break. He couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t hold all that pain on his shoulders. It was too damn heavy.

“You gotta talk to her.” F.P broke his train of thought as he tapped his son on the shoulder

“I can’t.” Jughead stated “I hurt her dad, you should’ve seen her. I ran away, just like mom.” His voice was hoarse and tired.

F.P sighed and pulled out his own phone, quickly tapping a few buttons and putting his phone on speaker, Jughead popped his head up staring at his father confused

“Dad? What are you…?”

Suddenly the familiar, sugary sweet voice of his girlfriend filled the tiny trailer.

“Mr.Jones? Is everything okay?” Her voice was scratchy and low, resigned. he had heard that tone so many times. It made him sick to think he was the one causing it.

“Betty, I need you to come over to my place.” F.P ordered, leaving no room for argument. After a few seconds of silence, Betty answered.

“Okay. I’m on my way.” With that the line went dead and his father turned to his son,
“Apologize, tell her how you feel. Tell her what she means to you, she’s something good son. She’s one of the best. Don’t lose that.” With that F.P walked out of the house.

After ten anxiety ridden minutes, the gentle knock on the door, shook him out of his nerves as he ripped open the door coming face to face with his beautiful girlfriend.

Her eyes went wide and she crossed her arms
“I’m here to see your father, he called me” she poked her head around the door looking for his dad.

“Betty” he tugged her inside, closing the door beside her. “I shouldn’t have run away, I just.. I shut down. I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

Betty uncrossed her arms and moved towards him “of me? You’re scared of me?” She asked softly.

Shaking his head quickly, Jughead took her hands in his “no. I’m afraid of losing you, I’m afraid of you leaving me, rejection. I don’t know, but I’m not doing this anymore. I want to be with you. I… Betty Cooper, I love you.” He tilted her chin up, smiling shyly as tears filled her eyes.

“Really?” She whispered.

He nodded happily, pressing his forehead into hers
“Really. I love you, and I know I’ve been awful, but I’m kind of hoping you still love me?” He questioned timidly, his hands moving to draw lazy circles on her waist.

Giggling softly, she pressed a slow kiss to his lips.

“I love you.” She spoke quietly pulling away and kissing his nose.

Closing his eyes as he melted in her embrace, he thanked god for blonde haired sunshine and dads who were trying.

anonymous asked:

What if Claire travelled through time from her life of the 18th century to Jamie who lived in the 1940s ?

Fast-Forward: Part One.

Hoisting her skirts, Claire dragged in another jagged breath as she ducked and dived through the low hanging branches of the rowan trees that surrounded her. She could hear the far off hollering of the redcoat soldiers, their bugles piercing the silence as the dusk began to creep in.

Her back throbbed painfully as the almost-healed scars of her first run in with the army grated roughly against her tightly pulled bodice. The memory of her recent flogging sat painfully behind her eyes as she fled through the dense underbrush of the Scottish forest. As soon as she’d been able, she’d run. Picking her way through the underbelly of Fort William, Claire had successfully navigated her way through the cells, eventually picking the lock on the door that led out onto the pile of bodies dumped from the most recent hangings. Half blind and in agony, she’d crawled through the stench,  up and out into daylight, her legs protesting as she moved without grace, falling and catching herself as her vision blurred.

Fight or flight had raged, her mind telling her one thing, her body another. But flight had won. To stay there meant death and she wasn’t willing to accept that just yet.

Randall’s words pulsed through her, causing her stomach to clench and she stopped to throw up what little she had in her belly, clenching her fingers around the rough bark as she gasped and expelled water and bile into the mud that lay at the base of the trees.

One loaf of bread, an innocent desire to simply feed herself and she’d been thrust into disarray, her life rendered forfeit for her theft. With no family and no allegiances to a husband, Claire had been living the life of a spinster, doctoring the sick and roaming from village to village to make a living. Captain Randall had been the dark mark that brought that living swiftly and sharply to an end.

Her father and Captain Jonathan Randall had been acquaintances…once upon a time. Knowing Claire was soon to be too old for marriage, and in a political move that seemed beneficial for his career, Henry Beauchamp had pledged her hand to the redcoat captain, deeming the match prosperous for all.

Claire had not agreed, and as such had made extremely vocal complaints on the matter.

Spurning Randall, she had vowed never to be linked with the man, his reputation for being a bit of a brute notwithstanding, she couldn’t see herself married to such a cold hearted man.

Her father had been devastated, his anger at Claire seemed never ending. But when the winter came, and with it a fresh batch of smallpox, those concerns paled into insignificance.

It wasn’t long before her mother was dead, followed quickly by her father, leaving Claire completely alone in the world.

The all too real threat of Randall caused her nothing but anguish and so she fled. Carrying only what she must, Claire had taken herself off into the highlands and reinvented herself. And for a time it had worked. She’d built up a grand relationship with the locals, her vast knowledge of the plants coming in very handy with sickness.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Claire forced away the urge to sob uncontrollably, her arm gripping her middle as she steeled her shoulders and began to calm her throbbing heart.

She could still see the look on her father’s face the night she rudely destroyed his vision for her future. She could still see the look of thrill on Randall’s face the night he’d pulled her in for stealing, his eyes alight with pleasure as he’d had her hog-tied to the wagon and flayed until she’d nearly passed out.

‘You’ve got to keep going, Claire,’ a small voice whispered to her, the nightmare of her ordeal not yet over as the dull reminder of her predicament whistled through the air and reached her ears.

The army were closing in on her, and fast.

Bashing her fist against the tree, Claire swallowed back another wave of sickness. The light was slowing dwindling and her familiarity with this part of the forest was severely lacking.

Ahead a brief glimpse of sunset through the diminishing tree line caught her eye, the hints of orange and red sparking like firelight on the almost invisible horizon. The wind rose as she puffed her way through the heather and bracken, her toes bleeding and cut as she trudged barefoot upwards.

Pushing away the imminent urge to curl up and sleep, Claire forced herself out of the forest. The hill itself seemed innocuous, the tall stones standing proud at its peak catching the last of the light as she dug her hands into the damp grass and forged her way up further, closer to the top.

Her hair swung wildly in the wind as she reached it, the mass of curls tangling further as the sweat of exertion poured from her brow. Scrambling through the detritus that sat harmlessly in the centre of the stone circle, Claire turned her head, her eyes just catching a flash of maroon through the trees.

“No” she whispered, her knees quaking as she thrust herself low to the ground, pulling the threadbare tartan blanket over her shoulders as if to shield herself.

The voices were louder now, their coarse cries swirling around her in the rising breeze. It wouldn’t be long, she realised, and they’d be upon her. Not having the momentum to continue, Claire slid herself forwards on the ground, crawling through the filth at the base of the largest of the central stones, her hands shivering with cold and fever as her wounds began to throb harder, the cuts opening and allowing fresh droplets of blood to roll down her already moist spine.

Smacking her back against the solid stone, she cried out as the pain shook her.

Suddenly, and without warning, the ground seemed to shift beneath her bottom, the earth trembling uncontrollably under her as the world began to spin right before her eyes. Shifting her head, Claire clenched her fists in an effort to keep herself still, the piercing shriek that replaced the soldiers calls echoing in her eardrums, deafening her. Her arms flailed wildly as her body seemed to tear apart, her limbs being pulled from their sockets as the hurricane continued.

As the maelstrom ceased, Claire felt herself dip in and out of consciousness, her hands screwed up tightly in her hair as she sunk her head closer to the grass. Tickling her nose, the distinct smell of smoke roused her and she uncurled herself slowly.

Fear took root at the base of her spine as she crawled on all fours around the stone, not daring to touch it again, afraid of what it might do.

Peeking her head around, her eyes caught sight of the scent that had brought her round. A fire had been lit just to the side of the hill, it’s flames drifting up into the night sky as it burned away.

Something was off, Claire realised, her chest constricting as she glanced behind her.

Lights twinkled below in the valley, a whole range of them glowing at the base of the hills.

Inverness? She questioned to herself. But how could she see it so distinctly?

Furrowing her brow she turned back to the immediate call of the fire, her frigid body cold to the bone.

The same unknown feeling that told her something wasn’t quite the same flared. She should have been captured by now, clad in irons and marching with the soldiers back to Fort William. They had, after all, been right behind  her just a moment before.

But she hadn’t been.

In fact she felt the distinct feeling of safety. Only the prickle of a notion that seemed to whisper to her that she had nothing to fear from those men here.

Taking the chance, Claire stood once more, letting her shaking knees bear the weight of her as she crept as silently as she was able towards the heat.

“Where am I?” She sighed, her voice trembling as she spoke to the darkness, her hands forming fists at her side as she prepared herself for the unknown.

He heard the snap of the twig before he saw her. Raising his head from his position collecting kindling from the sparse forest that lay to the righthand side of the hillock, Jamie gazed at the battered woman who now stood bashfully in front of his wee fire.

“Ah Dhia!” He whispered, his voice catching in his throat as he hid himself behind the largest tree.

The fire lit her face, the dark streaks of muck illuminated by the light. She was pale, far too fair skinned for a healthy person. He could tell from the way that she held herself that she was in pain, but he couldn’t pinpoint why from his hiding place.

Not wanting to spook her, he crept on his tiptoes to the edge of the trees, holding his hands up in surrender just in case she turned at an inopportune moment and he caught her off guard.

Her dress was peculiar, he realised, her bodice old and torn but still not of this time.

A costume, perhaps. But something about her told him she wasn’t an actress or a member of the local historical society. No, she seemed all too comfortable in her outfit for it to have been a replication of 18th century highland attire.

Wiping his hands on his kilt, Jamie readied himself. Curiosity won out and he began to walk slowly back towards his fire as he watched the strange girl fall to her knees, the relief on her face endearing her to him further.

Without a word, he stepped even closer, the heat of the fire reaching him from where he stood. She still hadn’t seemed to notice him, and the closer he got the more afraid he became of startling her.

“Hey…lassie…” he called out, keeping his voice low as he approached.

Claire threw herself to her feet with some force, her joints protesting as she turned on her new companion. From the tone of his voice, and from the Scots lilt, she didn’t immediately assume danger, but as shaken as she was, she wasn’t completely assured of her safety either.

Her eyes went wide as she caught sight of the man who’d called out to her. His red hair sat slicked back atop his head, fighting in the breeze to free itself from whatever concoction he’d smeared through it. His kilt was bright, something not quite befitting any other plaid she’d seen worn before and his boots were large and shiny.

Shaking her head, she held her hands up in a similar pose. Still she couldn’t pluck out the sounds of the army close by, and the thought that they’d magically disappeared began to sit nervously in her belly.

Where was she?

“You don’t need to fear me, aye?” The young man interjected, stopping only inches away from her as he dipped his head in mock surrender. “I willna hurt you. Promise.”

His smile was reassuring, and Claire dropped her hands and drew in a much needed breath.

Seeming genuine, she allowed him to walk closer, his hand reaching out now as he tried to remove some of the loose leaves and twigs from her mussed hair.

“Got yerself into a wee bit o’ a swivet have ye?” He spoke, his voice soft and calming as he took her in. “I’m James Fraser, Jamie to most. Who might you be?” He asked, curiosity obviously getting the better of him.

Inhaling a deep breath, Claire made to answer him. But as she did a wave of nausea overtook her and her throat trembled with the force of it.

Faster than he’d imagined, Jamie reached out just in time to catch the stranger as her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted.

“Christ!” He yelled, seeing her face pale and her shoulders slump.

Gathering her up, Jamie slipped his arms beneath her legs and held her to his chest as he strolled back towards his car.

“I guess this means yer coming wi’ me,” he chuckled, placing her softly on the cushioned leather of his back seat. “My mam always said I ha’ lassies falling for me. She isna wrong, aye?” He joked, brushing her curls away from her forehead as he covered her with his own clean blanket, closing the door softly behind him as he climbed into the front seat.

Placing the key into the ignition, Jamie switched on the headlights and glanced back over to his unconscious companion, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he took in her prostrate form.

Memories of old stories filled his mind as he tipped his head, viewing her with a sort of caution that seemed to spring from the idea of her miraculous appearance.

He had been alone up here. Craigh na Dunn was a notorious spot for the local druid woman, but only at certain times of the year. Beltane had just passed and as such, those who came here to dance had been days before to complete their ritual. That’s why he’d chosen that moment to flee his sisters monotonous wedding preparations. That’s why he was still in his kilt and not in his trousers.

The thought hit him then. A fairy. One of the magical folk.

The stories his grannie use to tell him sprung to mind as he put a name to the sourcery.

Madness, he scoffed, shaking his head at the myriad of daft thoughts that had begun to spiral in his mind. What a daft notion, of course she wasn’t a fairy!

“Please…” he heard as his guest began to cry out behind him, “don’t…no…please!”

Reaching backwards, Jamie laid his large palm against his cheek as he maneuvered the car towards the main road.

“Hush, lassie,” he cooed as he drove slowly, the lanes narrow and windy as he steered the car in the direction of Lallybroch and home. “Nobody will hurt ye here, rest up.”

The calm voice penetrated her nightmares as Claire twisted herself away from the harsh slap of the lash. Kind eyes and a flash of ginger broke through the angry vision of Randall and her capture. Clambering for some sort of foothold, she managed to find purchase on skin. A hand encircled hers and she gripped it with all her might, holding on as if it might rescue her from drowning in the hell that held her hostage.

‘Hush now…I’ll protect ye, I promise….’ the voice said, the waves of it breaking the shores of her horror and dissipating the pain. ‘Sleep now, mo nighean, rest.’

It’s been 400 years since... ~Naughty November~

Prompt: Hey :) It’s my birthday in three days I’m excited ahah! :D right ok, could you do a Kol smut where the reader is a badass vampire, bitten in like 1509 and is best friends with Rebekah. Kol meets her once, back in the 1600’s but they meet again at the Mikaelson ball, after the party, Kol leads her upstairs and they have rough, vampire, sex :)))))) (66)

Pairing: Kol x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning: kinda long

TAGGED: @crysxtal @dunbarkiss @kirsty-lou666 @emo-chick-59-stuff@xxshewollfxx @horror-movies-and-disney@kittencutie245@thejulietfarciertlove @jwowwluv

P.S Happy early birthday ANON!

P.S.S GUYS WHEN YOU SEND IN ASK FOR SMUTS, MAKE SURE TO SEND IN CLEAR AND KIND OF DESCRIPTIVE PLOTS SO MY STORIES DON’T RUN TOGETHER!

Keep reading

Human Shield - A SuperCorp fic

I don’t always have time to make complete comics. I work. A LOT. But this was a really interesting idea I wanted to explore. And @luthoring​ encouraged me, sooooo… here you go.

Beyond the cut is the result, expanding on this comic. Written entirely from Lena’s perspective.

Fair warning: there is violence, injury, and angst. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

More Vietnam AU PLEASE!!!!

Vietnam AU


Claire Fraser didn’t realize she had dozed off until the mattress dipped beside her.

She blinked in the candlelight – Jamie had insisted, shyly telling her that he had wanted to watch how it threw shadows over her face while they made love in his bed for the first time. In a split second she had seen the faces of countless Fraser men and women – Jamie’s ancestors – who had lived (and loved) by candlelight in this room for two hundred years.

Jamie didn’t go far – just to his desk on the other side of the room. He bent to unplug something – giving his wife the most perfect view of his posterior – before returning to the side of the bed.

It was a small clock radio – and, now that it was plugged in, he smiled at her and fiddled with the dial.

“What kind of music do you want?”

Claire edged up a bit on her elbow. Ellen Fraser’s pearls softly clacked between her breasts. “Do you get anything except country-western down here?”

He threw her a withering look, but continued twisting the dial.

“We’re not *that* far out – in fact, there – ”

They froze.

That song –

“No reason to get excited // the thief he kindly spoke // There are many here among us // Who feel that life is but a joke…”

Claire threw her arms around Jamie’s shoulders.

He clung to her for dear life.

“Outside in the cold distance // A wildcat did prowl…”

She felt his heart stutter beneath her own –

“Two riders were approaching // And the wind begins to howl…”

His nails dug into the bare flesh of her hips. Anchoring her to him.

Her mouth sucked on his neck – tasting the dirt and sweat and pine needles of their afternoon together.

“I listened to that song so many times that I wore out the 45. But I wasn’t brave enough to buy a new one.” His voice was so far away, his eyes seeing not the plaster on the wall but rather the fathomless night of the jungle surrounding Chu Lai. Those precious hours they had spent together after the attack – the only time they knew they’d ever have to be honest with each other, when he was hers and she was his and he just didn’t give a damn about anything anymore.

Claire locked her legs around his hips, and pulled back from his neck. “Every time it came on the radio, I had to change the station. I – I wasn’t brave enough to listen. To feel. To remember.”

Goosebumps prickled his flesh.

“But Claire,” he rasped. “You and I – that wasn’t our fate. It’s done now. It’s in the past. Here we are. You’re my wife.”

“Yes,” she whispered, straightening up to find his eyes – so dark now in the candlelight. “And you’re my husband.”

“Yes,” he gasped. “Oh, God. Yes.”

His mouth was fire and desperation and HOME.

Gently Claire rolled them back to the mattress, helping Jamie settle his hips between her legs.

“Does it ever stop, Claire? The wanting you?” he murmured, threading his fingers through hers, licking the side of her neck, biting her chin.

And then he was inside, and they cried out at how good it was.

“I – Jamie –” she gasped, willing her eyes to stay open, tangling her fingers in his hair.

“*Seas, mo nighean donn*,” he stuttered. “I know. *A Dhia.* I know.”

After a while, the clock radio harmlessly, soundlessly skidded from the mattress to the thick carpet covering the wood floor.

“I’ve been to Hollywood // I’ve been to Redwood // I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold…”

Jamie dropped Claire’s hands and pushed himself up on his elbows. Claire’s head jerked to her left, eyes shut, gasping for ecstasy.

“I love you, Claire,” Jamie sobbed. “I love you.”

Her back arched. “…love you…” she panted. “…so much…”

“Keep me searching for a heart of gold // I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold…”

His mouth fused with hers, and they peaked, and they knew it would never stop.

—–

Jimi Hendrix - All Along The Watchtower

Neil Young - Heart of Gold

snow-fragments  asked:

13 and 27 ;) + nalu...oh boi

13. 7 minutes in heaven + 27. go commando

Sod’s law always came knocking at her door. They were supposed to go clubbing tonight, instead, they were crashing around Erza’s. And Erza was drunk, meaning the evil dominatrix cometh. Adding to the situation, Jellal and his posse had arrived – with cases of beer. A classy night out turned into a typical student house party. Music, beer, and embarrassing drinking games.  

Her pain didn’t stop there.

Natsu arrived with Jellal, closely followed by his best friend Gray (to Juvia’s delight). At the start of her second year she decided she needed to keep on top of the beer weight, multiple nights out had consequences past a bad hangover. At the fresher’s fair, she spotted a mop of pink locks among the throng of students. On closer inspection, she found the man was delicious, a meal she would happily partake in any night. He was manning the MMA society stand.  

Lucy may have joined a testosterone filled society that day because she fancied the pants off their events manager. Arriving at the gym she was right in her assumption of it being male dominated, however, the president was the one and only Erza Scarlet.  So rather than convincing Natsu to teach her, Lucy found herself taken under the wing of “Titania”.

The good side to this, she’s now fitter than ever (Erza’s brutal training regime made sure of that).

The bad side, she was no closer to getting laid.

Settling for stealing glances of her crush practising across the gym, Lucy looked forward to socials. It was socials that gave her a chance sink her claws in. If she had the guts to maintain a prolonged conversation.  Today was the day. Lucy Heartfilia would make a move on Natsu “fuck me now” Dragneel. Not that she would ever say that to his face.

Getting back to her pain, two hours had passed into the evening. Teetering on the verge of tipsy and wasted, Erza demanded they play spin the bottle, seven minutes in heaven. As luck would have it, the spinning bottle landed on a certain pinkette.  Hearing the door click, she jumped into action. If she waited her brain would start thinking instead of her vagina, that wouldn’t do. No, she wanted him.

“It’s okay Lucy. We don’t have too.” Swivelling in the direction of his voice, reaching blind to find his position in space. Feeling her fingertips contacting his warm body she flattened her hands. Toned perfection under her palm felt divine, she could hear taking a sharp inhale. Trailing curious fingertips over his obliques, she pressed herself flush against his body.

Seven minutes is all she had to make the most of this man. Craning her head, feeling her nose hit his underjaw, soft skin and teasing bristles giving it away. Lucy placing gentle open kisses, allowed her tongue to play occasionally. Natsu went stock still, his lack of participation niggled at her mind. She didn’t think of the possibility of him not wanting her. Nevertheless, she wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Natsu.” A purr against his jaw, sober Lucy would be embarrassed at the needy whine.

“Lucy, you…“ He didn’t finish. Instead, she found herself backed up against the wall. Strong hands now gripping her thighs squeezed, getting the hint she jumped wrapping them around his waist. She gasped. Desire and embarrassment shooting through her simultaneously. Wearing a little black dress, underwear wasn’t part of her outfit. A necessary sacrifice for no panty lines. It had to be the day she finally made out with Natsu.

Hot lips found her own, pecking at the corner of her mouth. She captured his top lip between her teeth, giving it a quick suck. Natsu groaned, running his tongue over her teeth pressing her further into the wall. Lucy let a strangled yelp, feeling his hips push into her bare core. Instinctually grinding back, her hands dug into silky pink locks.

Their kiss deepened, Natsu rumbling into her mouth exploring her cavern, his tongue dragging across the roof. He responded to her push with a dirty grind of his hips. Lucy couldn’t help the keening moan leaving her lips, feeling the rough texture of his jeans stimulating her so beautifully.

Her eyes shot open as she felt his hand travel under her dress, calloused hands teasing her skin. Lucy anticipation skyrocketed when he reached higher. Breaking the kiss, his hand massaging her hip.

“Are you…going commando?”

The incredulity in his voice would have been funny if she wasn’t so turned on and mortified.


The next installation of Dirty Jenga. 

This turned into a University AU, oh well. I hope you like it, this one turned out raunchier than the others ;) 

Other completed prompts: 10, 23

Starco Week 3 - Day 1

“Damn, it’s hard to get to that pathetic princess.” A large brute said.

“Yeah, she’s long due for an initiation, but with her bodyguard agent Diaz around we can’t touch her.”

“Why don’t we shake them up a little then? Scare them a bit.” One of them suggested.

Another smiled. “I like that idea. They won’t know what’s coming.”


“C'mon, Marco! We have math now!” Star urged him as the bell rung, signaling the next period.

Marco winced. “Do we have to go to math? I’m already in a bad mood and I’m not looking forward to making it worse,” he replied.

“Geez, are we sure you’re the one who’s supposed to look after me? We have to go! If you miss class you’ll get detention!” Star exclaimed.

Marco feigned a gasp and shook his head. “No not detention!”

“Diaz, that is extremely rude.” Star seriously replied.

Marco sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Look, you can go without me princess. I don’t want you missing class and getting in trouble, which will inevitably lead to both of us getting into trouble. I’ll show up…later, okay?”

Star frowned before giving him a nod. “Okay. But don’t get in trouble!” She commanded.

Marco waved her off as she ran off to Ms. Skullnick’s room. He sighed and scratched the bandage on his cheek.

Lying down on the hill just far off the school building, Marco was taking a nap; taking in the feel of the grass below him, the air he breathed, and the warmth that coursed through him.

Suddenly he was jarred awake, being shaken by somebody. He grabbed whoever was shaking him by the scruff of their necks and threw them down to the ground, holding a fist near their face.

Marco’s victim shivered in fear until Marco stared at him for a few seconds and gave him a look of confusion. “Ferguson?”

Marco let go of his fellow classmate, standing straight and crossing his arms. “Okay spit it out. Why’d you wake me up?”

“Um, Skullnick asked me to find you and bring you to class.” Ferguson stammered.

Marco frowned and cracked his neck, which was stiff from sleeping. Damn, Skullnick knew he wouldn’t try and beat up Ferg. Being an old friend and pitiful made him more likely to survive with Marco.

He groaned and rolled up the sleeves of his jacket. “Alright, let’s go.” Marco started walking toward his class, before stopping and turning to Ferguson. “You coming or do you want to lie there all day?”

Ferguson scrambled to his feet, following Marco back to class.

“So a derivative is the - Ah, Mr. Diaz. How nice of you to join us for class. 20 minutes late. ” Ms. Skullnick sneered that last part. Marco lacked a reaction.

“As punishment, you’ll be cleaning the storage out back. I hear it’s been years since it’s seen light.” Skullnick said.

Marco rolled his eyes and took his seat by the window, paying more attention to the two squirrels fighting outside than Skullzers at the front of the class.

The bell signaling the end of school rang through the building, Marco groaning at his recent after school punishment.

He packed his things in his bag, making his way to the back of school grounds to clean the storage facility.

He already told Star to wait for him at home, but he could see her in his peripherals, always hiding behind something. He didn’t pay much attention to it, but soon he couldn’t keep up the obliviousness and called her out on her lousy stealth tactics.

“Princess, why are you following me?” Marco deadpanned.

Star jumped. She hadn’t noticed he noticed her. She stepped out from her hiding place, staring at the floor and looking for the right words. “Um…I just thought…maybe, I would help you clean. Less load on you, but if you want me gone, I totally understand-” Star was interrupted by Marco smirking and patting her head affectionately.

“Thanks, prin…Star” Marco corrected himself.

Star blushed and avoided his gaze. Marco rarely ever used her name when he referred to her, but when he did it made her knees buckle.

“Yeah, well, you owe me after this! I want one, no, two more nachos than I’m allowed! And wipe that dumb smirk off your face!” Star exclaimed.

“Um, you never had a limit to what you can eat, princess,” Marco said, beginning to walk away again.

“O-oh. Then I want you to attend every class ON TIME from now on!” Star commanded.

Marco couldn’t really say no. She was already doing this much for him, and with that cute demanding face, it’s hard to refuse.

“Yeah, fine. Whatever. Let’s go.”

Marco and Star made their way to the storage facility, walking up to the metal double doors. Using the key he got from the janitor, he unlocked the doors, pushing them open to reveal a large dusty room, with stuff that looked to be thirty-maybe forty-years old.

“Wow. This looks ancient.” Marco tried to switch on the lights, but due to age and the lack of much-needed renovation of the building, the lights refused to switch on.

“Damnit. Guess we’re going in dark,” Marco said.

Star suddenly seemed very nervous. “Do we have some flashlights or something?” She asked.

“Uh, maybe. Do you need them to see?” Marco asked.

“Y-yeah, right. Well?”

“I don’t have any on me now, but- OOF!” Marco grunted as he and Star were shoved into the building. Landing hard on their sides they heard the click of the lock, along with the footsteps of a few people.

Marco started to pat his body for the keys, only to realize he dropped it when he was shoved. “Stupid bastards…” Marco growled. “Princess, are you-”

Marco stopped and his eyes widened when he felt Star abruptly grab his arm. He narrowed his eyes in concern.

“Uh, princess?” He asked, starting to turn to look at her.

“Stop, don’t look at me. Please. Just, let me do this.” Star said.

Marco frowned, looking forward as Star vice gripped his forearm. He could feel her press up against him, shivering in…fear?

He could feel her heartbeat, and it was pounding pretty fast. Marco thought his own was too. Could she feel it as well?

“Star,” Marco began after a few moments of silence, “are you afraid,”

Star tensed up, and Marco could feel it.

“of the dark?”

Star’s grip suddenly intensified, and Marco could feel all circulating blood stop flowing in his left arm. She was surprisingly strong for such a timid girl.

“Ow! What the fu-!”

“Yes! I’m terrified of the dark! Shut up about it and please do something.” Star said, burying her face into his shoulder.

Marco furrowed his eyebrows together. “Don’t you have your wand?”

Star shook her head. “I…left it…in my locker. I…wanted to show you…I’m capable…without it.” Star took short breaths between each pause, and Marco thought she’d start hyperventilating.

Marco turned around and embraced her, kneeling on the floor. He closed his eyes and began to speak, “Deep breaths, princess. I know you’re capable. You fought monsters with me, a person you’ve never met and was a jerk towards you because you were concerned for me. You went through brainwashing and managed to stay your old self a bit. So prove me right. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m here with you. So calm down, now.” Marco said firmly.

Star’s breaths slowed down, and her tense form eased up a bit. Still hugging Marco, she spoke into his shoulder. “Thanks, Marco. I think I’ve calmed down. But can you just hold on for a little while?” She asked.

Marco tightened his jaw and nodded. “Sure.”

So they sat there. Marco’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now, and he could make out a silhouette of a box of props and costumes.

He got an idea of how to distract Star from her fear.

“Okay, Star. Don’t freak out, but I’m gonna let go for a few seconds.”

Star’s eyes widened as she looked up at him. “No, no no no no no no no! Don’t let go! I will throttle you if you do!” She begged,

Marco’s eyebrow lifted at the unexpected threat. “It’s okay, I’m only gonna let go for a few seconds, I’m gonna be back, I promise.” Marco hushed her. “Do you trust me?”

Star wiped her eye and silently nodded. Slowly Marco let go of her. He stood up and began to back away, their arms sliding against one another before it was only their hands connected, then fingers.

Then his warmth left Star, and he blended in with the inky blackness. Damnit! Why must his jacket be black!? Star began to feel alone now, the sense of abandonment creeping up on her for the first time in years. She curled up into a ball and almost began to tear up before Marco’s voice rang out from the darkness.

“I’m still here, princess. I’m still with you.” His assurance gave her courage and she managed to outlast until Marco came back holding a cardboard box. He placed it down in between him and Star before sitting down.

“What’s…what’s that?” Star asked.

“Just something to pass the time.” Marco pulled a couple of sticks from the box and bend them, a cracking noise coming from it.

The sticks suddenly started to glow, and Star stared at them in amazement. “Whoa! Is that more earth magic?” She asked.

Marco smirked at her childlike curiosity. “No, just some old glow sticks to light it up a little.”

He placed down the colorful glowing rods in a circle around the pair, leaving them in a dim, but brighter than before, setting.

Marco reached back into the box. Pulling out a red headband with horns on it, he placed it on his head and put a massive frown on his face.

“I’m Tom. I’m in denial and think l can get Star to like me, but I’m just hopelessly desperate and angry.” Marco mocked.

Star giggled at his impression, his voice not even close to Tom’s.

“Marco, stop, that’s mean.”

He smiled and pushed the box towards her. “Here, you try.”

“Um, I’m not sure…”

“It’s okay princess. Nobody here but us. I’ll keep it a secret.”

“Okay…” Star agreed. She dug into the box and pulled out a wig and a crown. Putting them both on, she then wore a dull, bored expression on her face. “This is of utmost importance! We can’t have this silly nonsense when you’re to be a ruler soon! Blah, blah, rules, rules, boring, discipline.” Star mocked in a mundane, strong accented tone.

Marco laughed and Star smiled.

“Lemme guess, your mom?” Marco asked.

Star nodded, not fully confident in mocking people she knew.

“Okay, my turn,” Marco said, digging through the box.

They went at this for a while, having a good time messing around with each other. They role played Skullnick, their classmates, Ludo, and even each other.

The two rolled around the floor, wheezing after laughing too hard at Star’s impression of Marco’s bad boy attitude. She accidentally cracked her knuckles, and her cute expression of pain made Marco laugh, Star eventually following in suit.

“Oh, man. That was…amazingly horrible.” Marco said.

Star smiled, nodding in agreement.

“So, you still afraid?” Marco asked.

“No, not anymore. Being in the dark isn’t so bad when you have someone to have fun with you here.”

“I don’t think you’re scared of the dark. I think it’s because of your isolation from people and loved ones during your hated experience at St. O’s, it made you feel alone and you were afraid of being lonely. In the dark, you can’t see anything. You feel cold, there’s nobody in sight. It’s like being alone, which may explain why you fear darkness.”

Star tilted her head at Marco’s explanation, a small smile telling him she didn’t understand what the hell he just said.

Marco realized what he was doing and covered his face. “Sorry, that’s Marco PhD talking,” Marco said, angry at himself for showing that part of him again. Why is it around her when his past comes out?

“Don’t be embarrassed. I don’t fully understand what you just said, but-” Star grabbed Marco’s hand, “-I hope you stay with me for now.” Star said.

Marco gulped. He blushed. A very pretty girl just grabbed his hand and pretty much said she wished they could stick together, with him. Marco Flippin Diaz. His blush intensified now that he was analyzing it. Stop thinking about it, Marco mentally scolded himself. Yeah, now he was embarrassed.

“Star, what-”

The sound of jingling keys was heard through the door and was inserted into the lock. Star suddenly stood up. “Help has arrived!” She said.

She eagerly walked forward, forgetting the heavy box between her and Marco. She tripped and fell on top of Marco, making a loud grunt as she did.

The janitor on the other end raised a brow. Since when did storage buildings grunt? He unlocked and opened the door, low and behold Star lying on top of Marco, a bunch of spilled props and costume pieces strewn about the floor.

The janitor gave the two a hard gaze before opening his mouth, “Look, I’m gonna go home and forget this. I’m closing this door and leaving it unlocked. Suggestion, keep your weird lovey-dovey affectionate cosplay sessions at home.” And with that, he slammed the door shut.

Star and Marco scrambled away from each other, faces burning crimson and tension as thick as maple syrup.

They quickly cleaned up in sync and walked out the door.

Awkwardly they turned to each other.

“So, nachos?”

“Yep, lots of nachos.”

“Movie?”

“Movie.”

“…”

“…”

“So you wanted two more nachos than usual?”

“Yes.”

“That janitor thing never happened.”

“Agreed.”

The looked at each other once more and started to burst out laughing. Marco wasn’t in a bad mood anymore.

“Let’s get home, princess.”

“Excellent suggestion, Marco!”


Marco then went on to have a bad mood again the next day, when Skullnick harshly reminded him at the volume of 120 decibels that he forgot to actually clean the storage building yesterday.

He should’ve skipped class.

(submitted by acseargentsmimph12)

FIC: Infodere Ch 2

This story was formerly know as Lost Treasure of the Zapotec but I hated that title so in the thousand years that have elapsed since chapter 1, I have changed it. Hope no one minds.

Hope you enjoy this one and chapter 1 can be found here for those that haven’t read it 



Her back arched at the sensation. Hair like fire tickled her thighs. She gasped as strong hands grasped her under her hips lifting her towards his mouth, her breath coming in gasps. His tongue worked gently but persistently and she could feel the muscles of her stomach and thighs tighten as her climax built. One of his hand reached up and caressed her breast and she brought a hand down and ran it through the red hair.

A loud crash jerked Claire awake. She blinked dazed and struggled to sit up. She was breathing heavily, sheened in sweat which wasn’t entirely to do with the tropical heat. She looked around as she realized where she was and who exactly the red hair and wandering hands belonged to. She blushed further when she realized that all that separated her from the man in her dream was two thin walls of canvas and six inches of grass between the tents. Pulling herself together she grabbed a pair of sweatpants and dragged them on, as she headed out to investigate the commotion.

Running across the clearing to where a crowd had begun to gather, she pushed her way to the front. One of the equipment trailers, which had arrived with the last of the convoy at dusk and had therefore not yet been unloaded had been forced open and some of its contents were flung about. Only the top layer seemed to be disturbed however.

“Wi’ the racket they were making, they’d no have any time to really find whatever it is they were looking for. What’s in this trailer, Sassenach?” Jamie turned to her in question and it took her a moment to realise he meant her.

“Oh, erm, this one..” She shone a torch into the trailer “Reference materials mostly. Dr Moreno’s stuff from the university.” She was referring to the cultural anthropologist from the National Autonomous University of Mexico, who along with Jamie, Claire and a physical anthropologist, Dr Zapote, made up the senior team overseeing the dig.

“Maybe they thought there was something else in her?” She wondered out loud. Jamie made a Mmmmph noise in the back of his throat and Claire fought the urge to laugh at such a thoroughly Scottish sound here in the middle of the Mexican rain forest, surrounded by the remains of another, very different culture.

“Well, we’ll lock this up the best we can and I’ll maybe talk to the camp manager in the morning about having some extra security here at night.”

Claire made her way back to her tent and laid there in the dark listening to the sounds of the camp. She heard Jamie come back to his own tent sometime later. She could him him rustling around as he undressed and her stomach flipped slightly.

“Damn it, Beauchamp” she murmured into the dark turning on her side

Breakfast had been eaten and after several hours of frantic activity which involved the arrival of the archeology students from the local university who would along with a group of interns do the majority of the actual digging and cataloguing, and Dr Zapote the physical anthropologist they gathered for a site briefing before the dig began in earnest.

“Okay,” Claire’s voice was clear and rang out across the clearing. Jamie leaned against a trailer drinking coffee and watching her. “We need to lay out some very strict rules for this dig. This is an area of immense cultural significance to the indigenous community. We have been invited here. Very strict protocols must be observed when it comes to the excavations. First up, nothing bigger than the palm of your hand comes out of the ground without running it by Dr Moreno or one of his team. They will decide if it needs special handling or if it is not appropriate for it to be handled by someone outside the Zapotec community. You photograph, document and only when you have permission do you bring it out of the ground. “ Claire looked around the assembled group, catching eyes and trying to impress the importance of her words. “This goes double if you find human remains. We have no idea what this area was used for. As a result in the case of any bones, photograph, document and haul ass to Dr Zapote, here. He and his team will make all decisions about how these finds should be treated. There are to be no exceptions to this. This might make this dig slower than some that you might have worked on, but ethics are important in archaeology, as is the understanding that we show respect to the past.”

She continued, introducing the various team leaders, outlining protocols and assigning teams. She was lovely, but there was something slightly ferocious about her, something wild and untamed. She fascinated Jamie more than any other woman he had ever met. It wasn’t just her intellect, formidable though it was. As an academic her knew any number of intensely gifted women, his last girlfriend, Geneva had been a highly published sociologist, but Claire was different. His reaction to her at first meeting had caught him off kilter.

“Dr Fraser?” He started as he realised she was looking at him along with 65 archaeologists, 8 technicians, 4 physical anthropologists and cultural anthropologist. He shook his head.

“Sorry, could you just repeat that, Dr Beauchamp?”

Claire rolled her eyes a little but she was smiling.

“I said, would you like to explain our documentation and classification process?”

“Oh aye, sorry.” He stepped forward then, explaining the paperwork that should be completed for the different artefacts and how they should be then packed for shipping to the museum in Mexico City.

By the end of the week the first trench had been dug and a significant number of small items recovered. So far they had found the usual expected items, pottery, household items and a smattering of jewellery, but they boded well for more significant finds to come. The camp sat scattered across the clearing in sociable groups, chatter in Spanish, Portuguese and English drifting through the air. Jamie sat down next to Claire on ground close to their tents. He held out a bottle of beer to her and she took it with a nod of thanks.

“You happy with the finds?” he asked?

Claire nodded as she took a swig of beer.

“I think so. There was definitely something here beyond just the pyramid, but what we’ve found so far don’t really tell us much more than that. I’m hoping the second trench will give us some structures, or at least some slightly more quantifiable artefacts. We only have a limited permit to dig here and without some significant finds it will be hard to justify our presence. There are plenty who don’t want excavations here. Its why the protocols matter so much.”

“Aye, and then there’s the legends?” Claire laughed slightly at this and chinked her bottle against his.

“The great lost treasures. Ha. Those stories are just that. If anyone seriously believed those stories someone would have dug here long before now, permits or not. There were plenty of people with less scruples about desecrating indigenous sites in the past. Our knowledge of the past is practically founded on it.” Her voice was wry and she pulled a slight face at this.

“True” He replied, slowly. “And there still are.” Claire followed his gaze towards the trailer that had been broken open a week earlier.

“You can’t seriously think…?” she practically stuttered in her incredulity. “That people might actually think…? That we ‘know’ something? Oh God that is too ridiculous, we are a serious fieldwork team not Indiana Jones style treasure hunters. God…”

“Aye, Sassenach.” was his measured response. “We ken that, but there might be others that don’t. Most people dinna realise that 90% of archaeology is digging up wee bit of pottery and trying to glue them back together. How many times have ye been asked if you’re like Lara Croft?” Claire threw her head back and laughed at this statement.

“Honestly, more than once. And I bet you get the Indiana Jones thing all the time don’t you?” She was grinning at him now. “Especially in that hat.” She nudged him cheekily in the ribs and he nudged her back. They stayed like that for a moment, both leaning against the other, savouring the warmth of the person next to them as the night cooled, both overcome with how *right* it felt. Almost without thinking Claire shifted slightly bringing her body closer to Jamie’s so that they were flush along their sides and rested her head on his shoulder. Jamie shifted in time, his arm coming round her back, bringing her close to him. Neither of them spoke, they just looked out over the camp, watching the lamps sway in the gloaming light. A shriek of laughter from the group nearest to them made them both jump and made them suddenly aware of their intimacy. Jamie turned to Claire, meaning to apologise but instead found her mouth against his. Without hesitation he returned her kiss, the heat of her lips and tongue making his stomach flip. His hands ran across her back as hers came up around his neck pulling him closer to her as she bit his lip gently. She leaned back pulling her down with him onto the grass.

“Jamie” she murmured against his neck as she moved down and kissed his throat. “Jamie”

It had been dark in that part of the camp, neither had brought a lamp when they sat down and the nearest group was far enough away that the light did not reach them. They could have been alone in the world as he kissed her, and she kissed him in the darkness.

She didn’t know what had prompted her to do it. Claire was not one for kissing men for no good reason, especially ones that she had to live in very close proximity for the next few months. But there was something about him that defied her conscious thought. She hadn’t planned to kiss him, she hadn’t even realised she was going to kiss him until the moment their lips met and it was too late by then. The weight of him above her as they kissed felt like home and his soft kisses with a hint of promise made her blood pound in her ears.

But then suddenly he was gone. He was on his feet and pulling her to hers. Light flashed around them as a row of tents went up in flames. Jamie went to move towards the commotion when gun shots rang out. Quickly changing course he turned and headed into the cover of the rainforest dragging Claire behind him. He came to a stop about 200 metres from the camp, so suddenly that they collided. The forest around them was full of people fleeing and screaming. Claire looked towards the camp and saw the main tent catch fire. She made to run towards it,  but Jamie caught her arm.

“No, mo nighean donn” he murmured into her ear, holding her close to his body both in protection and restraint.

“But the equipment,  the finds…” She was twisting in his arms trying to free herself but she could not overpower him. He pulled her closer murmuring comforting sounds into her ear, in what she guessed was Gaelic, And around her the world burned.

Love-Starved (Jumin x MC)

Jumin comes home from a long business trip hopelessly missing you.

Word Count: 980

I decided to change my blog as it really isn’t very wintery anymore. I hope you like it and enjoy this prompt! Thank you and have a terrific day!

————————————————————————————————————–

It had been almost two months since Jumin had been with you.

His business trip had gone on far too long then he’d liked, a new issue arriving every day almost. 

You both called each other every day, your words full of utter love and affection.

However, he desperately wanted to be with you again. 

He missed the nights he’d hold you in his arms before you both fell asleep, the way your hand always seemed to find its way into his own, or the way you’d ruffle his hair and pepper his face in kisses.

He missed you more than anything. 

And yet he couldn’t even see you when he returned home. 

He was to be sent straight back to work, to discuss the paperwork and decisions made. 

He was infuriated upon hearing this. 

But you assured him that you’d still be there when he came home no matter what. 

You always knew the right thing to say.

Yet he still couldn’t deny the gnawing at him at your absence. 

He had felt lonely again.

And it dug into his skin like a knife.

Everyone would merely dip their heads, hesitant to come within a mile of him. 

Their voices were cold, and awkward around him.

He felt as though he was forced to recoil within himself, reapplying the stoic expression he had hoped he would never have to use again. 

He had felt pathetic, and empty. 

And as the plane lowered, the only thing keeping him from feeling the very same way, was you.

He headed down the set of stairs as it was lowered, seeing Jahee standing just beyond it as she examined her phone. 

She lifted her head, nodding. “Hello, Mr. Han. I hope you enjoyed your trip?”

“I wish I did.” He huffed, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. 

“Hm, whatever happened you’ll have to discuss with your father. Was it the location?” 

“It was me.” 

She held her breath as they began to walk. “…Are you alright Mr. Han?” 

They reached the car, Driver Kim giving a polite wave.

“Just can’t wait to get home.” 

And yet home was the last place he’d be going. 

His father was kind and patient as they spoke during lunch. 

He had slid the paperwork, Mr. Han scanned through it, raising pitch black coffee to his lips. “You did well. I especially like the new policy you made in regards to exportations. Very nice.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You must be tired, I’m sure.” He glanced up at his son. “But at the very least I’m sure the day will go by quickly with all you’ve been handling on your trip.” 

“I can only hope.” 

“You miss MC don’t you?” 

“More than words can describe.” Jumin tapped his wedding ring, his eyes constantly shifting towards the clock. 

“I can’t believe you’re still acting like newlyweds even now.” He chuckled. “Just a bit longer don’t worry now.” 

“And how long is a bit longer?” 

“Until eight.” 

It sounded more like a century.

Yet your messages made it a bit lighter. 

“How has your day been?” 

“Without you, it’s not quite right.”

“I was thinking the same thing. But we’ll see each other soon don’t worry!” 

“Right.” 

“Elizabeth 3rd and I are very excited. See you soon!” 

“I can’t wait love.” 

When the clock finally did reveal 8 o’clock, he nearly raced out of the building, anticipation bubbling inside of him rapidly. 

As he came to the penthouse door, he took a deep breath, unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. 

He slipped open the door, finding the home to be drenched in darkness. 

As though no one was there. 

Panic.

Panic filled him in seconds, desperately searching for you.

You said you’d be home.

Where were you? 

Why were you gone? 

What if he never saw you again?

He felt a lump grow in his throat, as he couldn’t find you, his hands and body beginning to tremble. 

You probably didn’t even want to see him.

He couldn’t blame you.

But it still hurt, far worse than he could’ve possibly imagined.

He came towards the kitchen, utter fear painting his expression as he tore at his hair. 

Then the lights flashed on. 

You erupted from behind the row of counters with the rest of the RFA, a cake in your hands. 

“Welcome home!” You all cried, flailing and clapping as he stared in shock.

You hadn’t gone. 

You stayed.

You waited for him.

Relief washed over him, his shoulders dropping as he gave a shaky sigh, coughs shortly following. 

“We missed you!” You exclaimed, setting the cake on the counter as you made your way towards him. “We wanted to do something a little special!” 

You looked ecstatic to see him. 

You raised a hand to his cheek, furrowing your brow. “Is…is everything okay?” 

He melted at your touch.

“I…I missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too.” 

He tipped his forehead against your own, delighted at the familiar warmth spreading through his body. “Can I just…hold you?” 

You were shocked for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure of course!” 

“You alright ‘Mr. Trust Fund’?” Zen cocked his head to the side in confusion, frowning.

Jumin wound his arms around your waist, pulling you close. 

You pressed a tender kiss to his nose, grinning gently as adoration drenched his gaze. 

“I’m feeling much better now.” He lowered his voice, whispering towards you. 

“Thanks to you, darling.” 

anonymous asked:

We need a fic of Zach and Trini getting in trouble on purpose just to get a weekend detention with the others.

Thanks for the prompt!


It’s his idea. She swears. It all starts when Billy had complained one day at lunch that they couldn’t hang out on Saturdays very often because three out of five were stuck in Saturday detention. She remembers the way Zack had sat up, ears perked, fork midway to his mouth, brown eyes slightly larger as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. She had known then that something was brewing in his crazy mind and at first, she wanted to know what it was - mainly because Billy had a point; she didn’t have many friends here and the ones she did have were all stuck in detention - but after she thought about it, she figured not having to go to school on a Saturday was a godsend.

He still wrapped her in, though.

Keep reading

Roses are Red, Broken Hearts are Blue (Part 1/?) (Pietro Maximoff x reader)

Request: dawn-phantomhive said :Can you do a Pietro x Reader with the prompt “She opened her apartment door to hundreds of roses. She knew they were from him; he had found her.” Pietro could be possessive over the reader maybe? I don’t know up to you on that part B! (Love your writing B!)

“You seem tired,” Wanda approached, crossing the quinjet slowly towards you, “more so than after most missions.  Were you hurt?”  She stopped just before taking her place at your side, waiting for some sign from you that you would accept her; it wasn’t something that she was used to from you after knowing you almost her entire life.

Keep reading

Best Thing In My Life

Summary: Reader goes on a demon hunt with Simon who goes with the angels. 51. “I fucking love you” & 71. “I’ve never told anyone”

Characters: Reader, Raphael Santiago, Simon Lewis, Lightwood Duo, Clary Fairchild

Fandom: Shadowhunters(TV)

Word Count: 516

Requested: @snowflakexss

AN: This is the shortest thing I have written so I’m sorry about that. I know I said I would have it in a day or two but I couldn’t help it. I wrote it and I wanted to post it. I hope this is kinda what you were looking for, if not my apologies. 

Keep reading