Requests: Omg your stories are awesome! I was wondering if I could suggest a newt x reader with the song “Where Do We Go” or “Shatter Me” by Lindsey Stirling? Where the reader feels kinda neglected and depressed for quite some time and newt fails to notice because he is in a lot harsher mood and snaps a lot as a result of working on his book? And one day she goes “missing” and worries newt? Lots of angst pls!(Idk it sounded a lot better in my head)You can come up with the rest. Thanks! AND hi !! i really love your stories, and i was wondering if i could request an v angsty one where newt is under a lot of stress and snaps at reader? ❤️❤️
Word Count: 2,701
Pairing: Newt x Reader
Requested by Anonymous
Requests are currently open! Feel free to one in
The workshop smells about how you’d expected when you crawl into the case. A burning mixture evaporates somewhere nearby, partly covering up the odors of the various feed bags for the creatures and the plate of raw meat rotting on the table. You shake your head, disgusted, and slip past the shed. Scanning the field, hand over your eyes to block out the blinding sun, you spot Newt next to a murtlap. He’s on his knees saying something to the snarling creature. You swallow down the heart breaking in your chest. He’s exchanging more words with that beast than he has with you in the past month.
“Newt. Newt!” You shout, crossing through tall grasses and kicking stones out of your way. For God’s sake, “Newt!”
He twists enough to ensure it’s you before turning his back on you. “One minute, love.”
Hands on your hips, you wait as he chatters with the beast. It’s not that you’re against his research, it’s that he’s trying to cram chapters worth of new material into the book. You’d supported his idea when he first told you a month and a half ago. Now, though, you’re not sure you would’ve been so encouraging had you known he would spend every waking minute in the case without you.
“I don’t have all day, Newt. I have to get to the bakery with Queenie before it closes.”
He shakes his head, facing you. “I’m busy, love. Can’t it wait?”
You can feel the tension in his voice, strengthened, no doubt, by the bags under his eyes. “I just need to know if you’d prefer apple or peach pie for dessert.”
He mumbles something that sounds like ‘that’s it?’ but when you question him, he simply says, “I said it’s your choice. I’m sure you’ll make the right one.”
The Lexa Deserved Better Project (writing Lexa Deserved Better around the world)
Clexa won +45 polls
Helped to raise awareness about the Bury Your Gays trope (see what people talked about the GLAAD report vs. the part of the GLAAD report that actually talks about it) (ONU tweeting an article with a pic of Lexa)
Collectively created a character: Elyza Lex with +200 works of fiction about her
(how many?) articles about Lexa, the Bury Your Gays trope and queer rep
In which the reader gets drunk after an argument with Jughead, and he has to look after her.
“You will fail this class if you don’t get your grade up, do you understand that?” My teacher asked me, and I rubbed my face, feeling a headache coming on.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll try harder.” I told him. He excused me and I traipsed through the hallway, running through the seemingly endless list of things I had to do. I had signed up for too many advanced classes and extra curriculars, and I was swamped.
I had to talk to two other teachers and catch up on a project, before I could finally go and meet my boyfriend, and hopefully get something to eat. Unfortunately, this did not go to plan. I knew as soon as I walked into the room that Jughead was angry with me. He saw me enter and was immediately on his feet and walking towards me, seething. I stopped in my tracks and desperately tried to rack my brains for whatever I had done.
“Where were you?” He demanded, and I floundered under his gaze, combing through my calendar in my mind to remember what I had missed. I stuttered, and he shook his head disbelievingly. “You don’t even remember what you missed, do you?” He asked. I opened my mouth, but the answer didn’t come to me.
“Um… Was it…” I started helplessly, but couldn’t finish. He looked away from me.
“You know what, it doesn’t matter.” He began to turn away from me, but I desperately ran around him, blocking his exit.
“No, Jughead, please… I’m sorry, I’ve been so caught up in my work. Just tell me what it was, please.” I begged him, holding my hands out to stop him from leaving. He sighed.
“My presentation. You were going to practice it with me before the lesson.”
My stomach dropped as I remembered. Jughead had been so nervous for it, and had only calmed down when I promised to rehearse it with him and help him. I closed my eyes, hitting myself for forgetting something so important to him.
“Jug, I am so-“
“I had to do it without you, Y/N. You promised you’d help me.” He said angrily.
“I know, I know I did. I had to talk to my teachers and I just got caught up.” I tried to explain myself.
‘Yeah you said.” He snapped. “Look, you’re my girlfriend, and I only trusted you to practice it with me. I needed you, and you weren’t there.” My breath caught in my throat at his words. He was right.
“Jughead…” I started, but didn’t know what to say.
“Whatever.” He muttered, pushing past me. “See you.” And with that he was gone. I stared at the space he had left, berating myself. I sighed, picking my bag up and walking to my next lesson. All through the class, I reprimanded myself over and over, wishing I had done today differently.
After school, I saw him leaving and wanted to catch up with him, but I had to go to a tutoring session. I watched helplessly as he walked away from me again, wondering how I would make it up to him.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how I could have done things differently. I could have set an alarm on my phone, or just been more organized, and Jughead and I would probably be together right now. The stress of the argument with Jughead and my workload, as well as my general anxiety built up when I got home, and I had to forget, so I took a bottle from my parent’s cupboard and started drinking. I didn’t know what it was, but it burnt my throat, made my eyes water, and worked quickly.
I grew flustered and warm, the alcohol and my thoughts overwhelming me, and so I walked into my dark backyard, letting the cold air float over me. I sat on the icy stone steps of my garden and tried to drink my reality away as the sky darkened. It didn’t take a lot of alcohol for me to start crying. I raised my hand to my forehead, clenching my teeth. How could I have done this to Jughead? He had been there for me so many times, and I let him down. I continued drinking, drowning in my guilt and misery. My self-deprecation reached a climax as I vividly replayed the day’s events in my head, Jughead’s words running over and over in my head.
I needed you and you weren’t there
You weren’t there
You weren’t there
You weren’t there
The late-night air grew freezing, but the hot liquid inside my body made me unaware of my numb appendages and chattering teeth. That was until my trembling fingers failed to properly grasp the neck of the bottle, and it slipped out of my grasp and onto the dark stone. It shattered violently and glass flew everywhere, startling me and snapping me out of my thoughts. I opened my mouth, my eyes wide at the amber liquid spreading out across the steps. I felt a sharp pain in my hand and looked down to find a small piece of glass caught in my skin, with a trail of blood leaking out. I pulled it out without thinking, ignoring the pain as I struggled to stand. I needed to talk to him. I needed to apologise. I jumped up and ran up the steps, stumbling when I reached the top. My head felt hollow and I think my hand was still bleeding but I couldn’t tell. Find Jughead.
I found myself at the drive in, where I knew he’d be. I blundered towards the door of the screening room. I was sober enough to know that I was drunk, but my thoughts weren’t clear.
I knocked anxiously on the door, leaning against the wall and feeling utterly desperate. After a few moments, the door swung open and there Jughead was, in all his glory. His hair was a mess and he was in sweatpants, his feet bare and his eyes tired. As I soon as I saw him, the floodgates opened. In my intoxicated state I began desperately rambling and crying at the same time.
“Jughead, oh my god, I had to find you, because- because I need to talk to you. I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot, and I hate myself and I don’t even know what time it is, but I messed up and I have to fix it.” Hot tears were streaming down my face, and I was struggling to take breaths between what I was saying. His eyes were wide, and he opened his mouth to say something but I couldn’t stop talking. “I was so, so stupid to forget about your thing, your presentation, I wish I hadn’t done that, and I just really need you to listen to me and I need you to forgive me. I’m an idiot, and I hate myself but I need you.” I stopped talking and continued crying, vaguely aware that most of what I had just said had been unintelligible.
“Okay, okay.” Jughead’s calm voice broke through my stupor as he grabbed my arms and pulled me inside. He pushed me gently onto his bed and kneeled in front of me. I tried to calm myself down but I couldn’t seem to slow my breathing.
“Are you drunk?” He asked me in a deliberate way, as if he already very well that I was. I didn’t answer but just stared at the floor, my breaths uneven. He sighed, standing up and moving around the small room. He came back with a glass of water and put it in my hand, making sure my fingers were tightly grasped around it before he let go.
“Hey, what happened to your hand?” He caught my hand gently and brought it towards him, studying the cut and frowning. He looked up at me, but I just shrugged helplessly, unable to answer him. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I’ll get something for that, just… drink this.” He sounded disappointed, and I was reminded of how much he was supposed to hate me at that moment. I threw back the water, downing it in the hopes that it would stop how I was feeling. I set the empty glass down and put my head in my hands, feeling sick and dizzy all of a sudden.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had let Jughead down, and tears began to slip down my face again, my whole body shaking. I heard him exhale as he sat down next to me on the single bed.
“Y/N.” I screwed my eyes shut, trying to shut him, and everything else I was feeling out. “Y/N.” He said louder, and I looked up at him, sniffing. He held up what looked like a bandage. “Give me your hand.”
I held my arm towards him and he delicately took my hand in his own. I watched him as he cleaned it, but he didn’t look up at me once, keeping his eyes on what he was doing. I didn’t even wince as he poured alcohol on it, the burning sensation nothing compared to the pain in my head. He finished, gently pressing a bandage onto the cut and making sure it was stuck down properly before finally looking up at me. I left my hand in his as he stared at me, his light eyes studying my face before meeting mine. I took a deep breath, determined to make him hear me this time.
“Jughead.” I tried to force the whirlwind of thoughts in my head into coherent sentences. “I am so sorry.” My lip shook and tears built in my eyes again. “I let you down, and I have no excuse. You… you needed me and I wasn’t there.” A tear slipped from my eye and rolled down my cheek. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” I looked him in the eye, trying to get across how serious I was. There was quiet for a moment as he looked at me, nodding his head ever so slightly. He was still holding my injured hand, and started lightly rubbing my knuckles with his thumb as he smiled tenderly at me.
“It’s okay.” He whispered, and I took a sharp breath in. I briefly wondered if I had misheard him.
“Are you sure?” I asked unsurely, my eyes wide. He chuckled quietly.
“I’m sure.” An emotional smile spread across my face at his words, and I gripped his hand tightly as tears continued to run down my face. I desperately attempted to wipe them away with my other hand, but to no avail. He shook his head at me, smiling.
“Come here.” He murmured, moving his hand from mine to reach for me. He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, his hand on the back of my neck. I put my hands on his chest and relished the feeling of being close to him. When we separated, I leant into him automatically and he put his arm around me. He shifted his body along the small bed, leaning back and bringing me with him so we were lying down, me against his chest. We lay silently as I listened to his heartbeat and tried to calm myself down. He began softly playing with my fingers, being careful to avoid my wound.
“What did you do to yourself, hm?” His lips ghosted my forehead as he whispered the question to himself. “I never wanted this.” I closed my eyes.
“I know. I’m sorry.” His chest vibrated underneath me slightly as he laughed softly, and it brought an instinctive sleepy smile to my face.
“I think you’ve said that enough for one night.” My face was pressed against his body in the quiet room, and I felt my senses numb as my head grew heavy and my breathing slowed. He might’ve said something else after that, but I wouldn’t have known, as I slipped into a drunken, emotionally-exhausted sleep. I knew I would feel like death in the morning, but it didn’t matter. I had him, and I wasn’t going to let him go again.
a sad drunk
aaaa this was fun to write (it’s really bad though sorry)
btw in this imagine Jughead is still living at the drive in, because I thought it worked better than Archie’s house
There's a lipstick stain on your shirt. Jealous and fierce Betty all the way
I’m all for that Betty, nonnie! Hope you like this! <3
47. “There’s a lipstick stain on your shirt.”
“Oh, the remorseful husband
returns.” Betty murmured with venom, violently changing the channel on the flat
screen across her that she was far from watching. She could hear the door of
their apartment click closed and then the casual muffling sound of coat and
shoes being taken off before his lazy footsteps brought him to the dimly lit
living room she was being suffocated in and internally screaming for an hour
“Hey, babe.” His easy-going
smile found his lips at the sight of his beautiful wife, lounging in a loose
t-shirt of his and a pair of tight yoga pants, the baby monitor on the side
table on her right emitting the sounds of their son peacefully dreaming. “You’re
still up? I thought you’d have gone to bed by now.” He popped open the top
buttons of his dark blue shirt and plopped next to her, going in for a kiss only
for him to come across thin air, as she turned her face away.
“Alright, is this about me not
taking out the trash this morning?” Jughead sighed, already aware of their
ongoing argument about how easily forgetful he was of that particular household
chore. “I know you keep telling me every time and every time I forget but
please is this such a big reason for us to go to bed angry at each other?” he
tried to negotiate seeing as she kept staring at the muted TV with no desire in
talking to him anytime soon.
“Betts, come on.” He urged her
to communicate with him, like they always did with each other, dropping a light kiss on the shoulder the loose hem of his t-shirt left bare, only for her to squirm away
from his touch and him to frown. “Is that not it? Am I forgetting something else?”
he tried to work his mind around any other possible thing he might have done
wrong but he found himself at a dead-end, clueless seeking her feminine
“What you keep forgetting is
that I’m your wife.” She finally spoke slowly and in barely a whisper, her
anger and stubborn tears threatening to come to surface.
“What?” Jughead spat in total
confusion, bouncing his head back to take a better look at her profile.
“Where have you been all day
today, Jughead?” she turned to face him for the first time, eyes stone cold
upon his oblivious and worried ones.
He cleared his throat. “I had
a meeting with Beck that got dragged a little out of our usual time schedule; I
texted you earlier to let you know.” He informed
her casually his plans with his manager that she was already aware of, a little more
casually and aloof than necessary, and Betty scoffed with a shake of her head.
“You do know that you can’t
lie to me, don’t you?” she curled her arms defensively over her chest, eyes
turning dark green with fury.
“I clearly don’t have a clue
what you’re implying right now.” He maneuvered himself out of the situation
cleverly, dropping back on the couch to focus on the TV like she was doing
“So then I’ll stop implying
and straight up ask you.” She decided to cut in to the chase, her heart
drumming violently against her ribcage. “Who is she, Jughead?” she threw in the
million dollar question.
“Who is who?” he blurted in a
heartbeat, eyebrows knitting in complete confusion right now.
“The whore that left this on your shirt.” Her voice raised an
octave angrily, snatching one of his plaid shirts from the cushions behind her and showing him the hint of burgundy
lipstick on the lapel before throwing it to his face with venom. “Care to
explain to me why there’s a lipstick
stain on your shirt?”
“Betty” he hesitated,
examining the faint shade of color on one of his shirts with bewildered eyes. “I
don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you don’t know?” she
babbled in mockery, jumping up to her feet. “Let me enlighten you then. This whole week you come and go
like you’re a visitor in this house!” she accused towering over his slouching
posture on the couch. “You’re gone all day, you come home late, you shower… And
then this!” she grabbed the shirt from his lap, waving it around like a red
flag between them. “Do you think I’m blind? Or this stupid, not to understand
that something is going on with you?” her voice gained a high-pitched tone of
frustration, eyes narrowing challenging for an answer.
“You’re overreacting.” Was all that
Jughead said, standing up from the couch to walk away.
“Oh, don’t you dare!” she
scoffed while following quickly behind him, his large strides equivalent of
multiple of her running steps. “Tell me who she is!” Betty demanded in a hushed
yell. “Is she that slutty editor, Janet Marrow, or-or that fake blonde
secretary, what’s her name, oh, Macy? Macy!”
she laughed with no humor at all at the mention of the young assistant, Betty fuming
and still following her calm husband down the hall and to their bedroom. “She
is always rubbing up against you, don’t even try to deny it! Tell me her name,
Jughead, or help me God!” some stubborn tears fell silently down her cheeks as
she grabbed him by the material of his shirt over his shoulder, twisting it in her
fist and succeeding in making him stop pacing and turn around to face her.
“There isn’t a name, there is no
one, I can promise you this.” Jughead stated with all honesty, blue eyes
pleading for her to believe him.
“Like you promised that I’m
the only woman you’ll ever love?” she spat to his face. “What changed, huh? Is
it because I became the mother of your child now? What, I lost my value as a
woman?” she was whisper-shouting now, not to disturb the peaceful baby in the
next room, but feeling her anger boiling at the apathetic attitude of her
husband. “Because I’m still beating my ass every day to lose that damn pregnancy
weight or because I lounge in this apartment all day in milk stained sweatpants
and messy hair? Tell me a reason why you are not here anymore!” she whined
heartbreakingly and Jughead dropped his head to the ground, nodding vigorously
a couple of times, before doing an one-eighty and going to the
very end of their walk in closet, bringing back a small box. He opened it up
and handled her an opened small notepad that held the date of her birthday on
top and then a list of plans under it.
“For this.” He sighed
defeated, rubbing the back of his head before focusing back on her. “Polly and I are planning a surprise birthday party for you. We
booked your favorite restaurant and all those days we were planning how to fly
everyone to Boston without you knowing; her with Ethan and the twins, your mom, my dad, Veronica, Archie,
Kevin and everyone else from Riverdale because you miss them all terribly and
now with little bug we wouldn’t be able to fly there.” Her heart broke at the
revelation, lips opening in surprise at the change of events, as she read his
words on paper along with reservation dates and menu instructions. “And then I
had to organize these.” he gave her a travel leaflet, again with a paper filled
with plans and flight times and dates stashed inside it. “A week-long trip in Bali
because you love warm, sunny places and we both, and especially you, deserve all the
rest in the world after all those months with the baby.” New tears were now
streaming down her face, Betty feeling awful at how unfair she had been towards
him, when all he did was continuing to be an amazing partner for her.
“As for the stain, I assume
that’s left by Jellybean when I went to pick her up from the airport two days
ago, right after I stopped by the jewelry shop to confirm that my order was
ready to be picked up in a week.” His eyes softened against her own now soft
features, taking every plan-containing paper from her hands and dropping them to their master
bed, before refocusing on her. “She came to help with the preparations and then to stay with little bug when we leave for our trip and you know how she sports those
freaky dark lipsticks all the time, so I believe the smudged stain came from
when she hugged me in full force upon running off the arrivals like a mad
woman.” He laughed slightly at that, before turning serious again. “I can call
Polly or Jellybean to confirm all of these right now, or if you think they would
be lying on my behalf, you can call the restaurant yourself or I can drop by
the travel agency tomorrow and see if I can get our tickets earlier, I don’t
know…”He tried to list all the possible solutions for her to believe him with a
sigh. “I just want you to know that—” Betty cut him off, fingers going to his
“You love me.” She whispered
through her silent tears, green eyes turning up to look at him in remorse.
“Of course I do, you dork.” He
smirked adorably down at her, enveloping her inside his arms.
“Even when I become a psychotic
bitch still from all the bumped up hormones?” she pouted in all cuteness, hiccupping
a little around the words.
“Then, even more so.” He told
her truthfully bopping his nose against hers. “Even though we both know that’s
not the hormones talking; you’re being a spitfire like always.” He reminded her
with clever raised eyebrows, making her fake a groan in defeat.
“I was just scared that you
were going to leave me.” She admitted in a small girly voice, letting her
concerns flow out of her now burden-free chest.
“How can I possibly leave the
source of my breathing?” Jughead stated beautifully in a heartbeat. “Seriously,
Betts, after all those years, do you really think that I would ever cheat on you?” he pulled back a
little to look at her, eyes turning a tad sad at the thought of her not trusting
him or his genuine and intense feelings completely.
Betty shook her head to ease
his mind. “I just… I mean I still look like a whale on steroids, I wouldn’t blame you
for losing your interest.” She shrugged with a perpetual pout on her wet lips,
buttoning and unbuttoning a button of his shirt, not daring to look him in the
“What are you talking about?
You look more breathtaking than ever, babe.” He rushed to validate her worth as
a human being and as an amazing woman. “And I believe you know what you’re
doing to me every time my eyes linger a little longer on that sinfully sexy
body of yours.” His voice dropped an octave and became huskier, effectively sending
shivers down her spine as he whispered next to her ear and dropped a simple
kiss against her pulse point, though enough to make her heart hummer inside her
“However, you being jealous of me, is still quite entertaining to watch.” he teased her with a cocky smirk and earned a smack against his chest and a “watch it, mister” look under her eyelashes, both of them landing in a fit of giggles.
“I really don’t deserve you.
And all those things you organized, Juggie, you shouldn’t have.” She ran her
hands up his arms and rested them behind his neck, lifting herself on her tiptoes to
rest her forehead against his in affection.
“Oh, of course I did.” He whispered,
pecking her lips once. “Anything for the woman of my life.” He stated with so
much love and devotion in his eyes that Betty swore he fell in love with him
all over again in that moment. “Just please, try to act surprised on the actual
day, okay? Polly and I had a bet on whether or not I’ll crack and spill
everything to you and I really don’t wanna face the life-long mockery of your
sister.” He admitted in all seriousness and Betty laughed, head thrown back in
joy, before promising him that and many more inside the heated kisses that
“Good morning,” Steve greeted you, still tired from sleeping. He leaned down to kiss you, then started towards the door.
“And where are you going?” you asked.
“My morning jog,” Steve replied.
“Are you forgetting something?” you asked.
Steve glanced down at himself and checked his pockets. “Nope, I think I’m good,” he replied, before heading out the door.
You glared after Steve. You couldn’t believe he forgot your anniversary. The two of you picked a memorable date for a reason, exactly a week after Valentine’s Day.
You decided to go up to the roof of the facility, where you could see the full grounds, including the path around the building that Steve used to jog. You shot your powers out to Steve, seeing the bolt of black smoke hit him. The moment it did, Steve slipped and fell. You knew he didn’t get seriously hurt, but you were a little miffed that he forgot.
A few minutes later, Steve came back into the building with dirt on the knees of his jeans. “What happened?” you asked, feigning ignorance.
“A rock slipped under my foot and I lost balance,” Steve said. “I was able to finish my run, though, so it doesn’t hurt too bad.”
“Well, that’s good,” you said.
“I’m going to make breakfast. Want anything?” Steve asked, heading to the kitchen.
“Scrambled eggs?” you asked, sitting at the counter to watch him. Steve gave you a nod, and started making eggs for both you and himself. You knew he liked his eggs sunny-side up with an in-tact yolk to dip his toast in, so you sent another bolt of bad luck at Steve when he wasn’t paying attention, causing him to break the yolk.
“Dang it,” Steve grumbled. He then turned to you. “I am forgetting something, aren’t I?”
“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.
“I know when you’re using your bad luck powers on me,” Steve pointed out.
“What’s the date today?” you asked.
“It’s February- oh,” Steve said, finally realizing. “I’m really sorry. Happy anniversary!” He walked over to kiss the top of your head. “Anything I can do to make it up to you?”
“There’s plenty you could do,” you replied, kissing Steve’s cheek in return. “But a fun anniversary date would be a great place to start.”
“How about we start with a breakfast date at a diner?” Steve suggested. “Since the eggs I was making are burnt now.”
It has been months since my attack. The healers said it was a miracle that I even survived. I know my life has changed greatly since the incident… it is taking awhile to write this letter. Life is better but I cannot help but feel I am forgetting something…
Pairing: Steve x Reader Words: 1018 Requested by Anonymous:
Hey, can I request something? Its okay if not.
Could you write a cute Steve x reader fic where Steve walks in on reader taking
a shower and gets all flustered and leaves, and maybe he can’t look at reader
without blushing anymore, just adorable steve
You continued singing to the song playing from your speaker
as you got out of the shower. You dried off your body pretty well before
throwing your hair up in a towel to dry some while you got dressed.
Just as you
were about to put on your underwear, the door swung open, making you scream
sorry,” Steve stood there frozen as you did your best to cover yourself up,
“Sorry,” he said again, backing out of the room and closing the door again.
bad for Steve. He looked so embarrassed that he had walked in on you. You had
to assure him that it was okay. You didn’t want him to feel bad.
hurriedly got dressed and got your hair down out of the towel so you could go
find him. You hurried through rooms, but Steve was nowhere to be found. Had he
really left completely?