i did it. i finally got the last two novels so i did it

Light (Jughead x Reader Imagine)

Request by @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Jughead had been typing away on his laptop for hours now. What had started as a quiet night in watching Netflix and eating popcorn had turned into you watching Netflix and eating popcorn alone whilst Jughead’s long fingers tapped away at the keys because, as he so eloquently put it, ‘when inspiration hits, you feed it’.

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‘Learning Russian has given me a whole new life’ Mary Hobson: It took me about two years [to read War and Peace]. I read it like a poem, a sentence at a time. English writer and translator Mary Hobson decided to learn Russian at the age of 56, graduating in her sixties and completing a PhD aged 74. Now fluent in Russian, Hobson has translated “Eugene Onegin” and other poems by Pushkin, “Woe from Wit” by Griboyedov, and has won the Griboyedov Prize and Pushkin Medal for her work. RBTH visited Hobson at home in London to ask about her inspiring experience. 

RBTH: Learning Russian is difficult at any age, and you were 56. How did the idea first come to your mind? 

 Mary Hobson: I was having a foot operation, and I had to stay in bed for two weeks in hospital. My daughter Emma brought me a big fat translation of War and Peace. “Mum, you’ll never get a better chance to read it”, she said. I’d never read Russian literature before. I got absolutely hooked on it, I just got so absorbed! I read like a starving man eats. The paperback didn’t have maps of the battle of Borodino, I was making maps trying to understand what was happening. This was the best novel ever written. Tolstoy creates the whole world, and while you read it, you believe in it. I woke up in the hospital three days after I finished reading and suddenly realized: “I haven’t read it at all. I’ve read a translation. I would have to learn Russian.” 

RBTH: Did you read War and Peace in the original language eventually? 

M.H.: Yes, it was the first thing I read in Russian. I bought a fat Russian dictionary and off I went. It took me about two years. I read it like a poem, a sentence at a time. I learned such a lot, I still remember where I first found some words. “Between,” for instance. About a third of the way down the page. 

RBTH: Do you remember your first steps in learning Russian? 

 M.H.: I had a plan to study the Russian language in evening classes, but my Russian friend said: “Don’t do that, I’ll teach you.” We sat in the garden and she helped me to remember the Cyrillic script. I was 56 at this time, and I found it very tiring reading in Cyrillic. I couldn’t do it in the evening because I simply wouldn’t be able to sleep. And Russian grammar is fascinating. 

RBTH: You became an undergraduate for the first time in your sixties. How did you feel about studying with young students? 

M.H.: I need to explain first why I didn’t have any career before my fifties. My husband had a very serious illness, a cerebral abscess, and he became so disabled. I was just looking after him. And we had four children. After 28 years I could not do it any longer, I had break downs, depressions. I finally realized I would have to leave. Otherwise I would just go down with him. There was a life out there I hadn’t lived. It was time to go out and to live it. I left him. I’ve been on my own for three years in a limbo of quilt and depression. Then I picked up a phone and rang the number my friend had long since given me, that of the School of Slavonic and East European Studies, London University. “Do you accept mature students?” I asked. “Of sixty-two?” They did. When the first day of term arrived, I was absolutely terrified. I went twice around Russel square before daring to go in. The only thing that persuaded me to do it was that I got offered the place and if I didn’t do it, the children would be so ashamed of me. My group mates looked a little bit surprised at first but then we were very quickly writing the same essays, reading the same stuff, having to do the same translations. 

RBTH: You spent 10 months in Moscow as part of your course. How did you feel in Russia? 

 M.H.: I hardly dared open my mouth, because I thought I got it wrong. It lasted about a week like this, hardly daring to speak. Then I thought – I’m here only for 10 months. I shall die if I don’t communicate. I just have to risk it. Then I started bumbling stuff. I said things I didn’t at all mean. I just said anything. The most dangerous thing was to make jokes. People looked at me as I was mad. I hate to say it, but in 1991 the Russian ruble absolutely collapsed and for the first and last time in my life I was a wealthy woman. I bought over 200 books in Russian, 10 “Complete Collected Works” of my favorite 19th-century authors. Then it was a problem how to get them home. Seventy-five of them were brought to London by a visiting group of schoolchildren. They took three books each. 

RBTH: You’re celebrating your 90th birthday in July. What’s the secret of your longevity? 

M.H.: If I had not gone to university, if I had given up and stopped learning Russian, I don’t think I’d have lived this long. It keeps your mind active, it keeps you physically active. It affects everything. Learning Russian has given me a whole new life. A whole circle of friends, a whole new way of living. For me it was the most enormous opening out to a new life.

Someone’s YA Dystopian Future novel is going to feature one character being a natural leader and then revealing:

“I was at the Fyre Festival in 2017.”

The whole camp went quiet, with the exception of Daran, who swore softly. Chelsea looked like she was about to cry; Pete laughed softly with disbelief. “You were at the Fyre Festival?”

Craig nodded slowly, his gaze not leaving the flames in front of him. “One of the first ones in. One of the last ones out.”

Susan furrowed her brow, trying to piece the words together. Would it be inappropriate to ask him? Was it a religious thing? A massacre?

“What’s a Fire Festival?” The question slipped from her lips before she could help it, and suddenly all eyes were on her–all except Craig’s. The fire still flickered inside them.

“There was just one. The Fyre Festival, with a ‘y’. They thought it was clever.” He sighed, stroked his beard, and shifted a little before continuing. “It was supposed to be a simple weekend in the Bahamas. Me and a bunch of other rich kids packed our clothes, gathered our things, and took a plane down south. Everything was going smoothly…but when we hit the first landing strip, that’s when we started to realize that something had gone awry. Instead of seeing a private beach in front of us, we saw a crowded tourist trap. We were promised private jets, fancy boats, the full VIP experience…” His eyes flicked up to her, and though his mouth curved up in a smile, the eyes did not share in it. “But none of that was anywhere to be seen. We thought it would be fine, all we had to do was get our things, make sure they were together, and they’d lead us to the hotel, but…it was already growing dark, and that’s when the luggage arrived. Unloaded from one of those giant storage containers, the big ones, like you see on the docks. Just tossed out to the crowd, one after another. No conveyer belts, no lockers, no express deliveries to the rooms…and it was when I finally got my bag, with a dented crease along the side, like it had been resting under someone’s golf clubs, that I realized: everything had gone wrong.

“Anyway, I’m standing there with this bag, and it occurs to me how hungry I am, so I start looking for the restaurant. I was young, and foolish…fortunately, Gabe was young and foolish, too, so we both headed off to find the restaurant, thinking it would be there.”

His smile widened, showing those teeth again. “There was no restaurant. They fed us sandwiches–small, flat, flimsy sandwiches, with that bread you see on a gas station shelf, and some meat they said was ham. A single wilted piece of lettuce and a piece of rubbery cheese were the condiments, if you could call them that…Gabe said he saw someone with a ketchup packet. I didn’t believe him. Served in a white styrofoam box.

“Anyway, this would be regal fare to us today, but back then, to us, it might as well have been cow dung. I saw three people vomiting their food right back out; the girl next to me saw the same thing, and she became number four. I don’t know how many of us managed to actually choke our way through the meal, or how many of us actually made it back to go onto the plane, but I do know this: there were two thousand of us left in that village when the last boat left the island. Two thousand of us left to fend for ourselves. 

“When the sun rose the next day, we were one thousand nine hundred and ninety four. Four of us were missing; two were dead. It was then that I realized that this was going to be a live-or-die situation. I chose to live.”


I would continue with this but it is late and I needed sleep an hour ago.

“Mad Dog and Puppy” English Translation

Here it is. I apologize for the delay, but various circumstances got in the way. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

From Haikyuu!! Light Novel 6, Chapter “Mad Dog and Puppy” written by Kiyoko Hoshi with illustrations by Haruichi Furudate.

Introductory page 

Attached illustration on page 129:

Mad Dog and Puppy

One fine holiday in fall, there was a man standing in a convenience store nearby Aoba Jousai High School. The guy, wearing a volleyball jersey, walked out as the opening and closing door made an electronic sound. The man’s name is Kyoutani Kentarou, a second-year member in Aoba Jousai High’s volleyball club.

Kyoutani tore the wrapping of the chicken—chicken is his favorite food—that he took out of the convenience store bag before sinking his teeth into it, making an audible noise; this was how he walked toward school. The volleyball club took Mondays off. Practice starts morning today, which is a Sunday.

Kyoutani had not attended the club for quite a while since the middle of his first year due to various circumstances, though he has been recently thrown into the spotlight for coming back after being recalled by Oikawa, the team captain.

At the preliminary round of the Inter-High Miyagi Finals in June, Aoba Jousai suffered defeat at the hands of Shiratorizawa Academy, the invincible champions. It was necessary to regroup and reorganize the currently completed team in order to clear themselves of the disgrace come the next Spring High School competition, move on from second place and aim for the Nationals. What they wanted to strengthen in particular was their offense. The fighting strength that served to be the trigger of that was Kyoutani, whom Oikawa jokingly called “Mad Dog.”

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The Reader and the Writer (Part 3)

Originally posted by juptern

Part one here    Part two here

Anon requests: Will you please do part 3 of the reader and the writer

You’re writing is so amazing, it’s what keeps me alive 😂😍 so thank you for doing such an amazing job and I hope you’re having an amazing day 💜 And I was wondering if you consider writing a part 3 of The Reader and The Writer someday? Because I’d love to read more of it 🙈

Please please PLEASE do a Part 3 to the reader and the writer? It’s amazing x

Omg! Part 3 please gor he reader and the writer 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PART THREE OF THE READER AND THE WRITER PLEASE

PART 3 OF READER AND THE WRITER

Part 3 of Reader and Writer?? Cause you are too good to us??? Like thank you??? 💞I swoon for your writing 💞

I NEED PART THREE OF THE READER AND THE WRITER ASAAAPPPP

The Reader and the Writer (part 2) was amazing and so are all ouf your writings ! I can’t wait for a part 3 !

Will you do a part 3 of the reader and the writer??

I know you just posted but WOW I NEED A PART THREE OF THE READER AND THE WRITER GIRL YOU TOO GOOD!!!

OMFG PLEASE PART 3 OF THE READER AND THE WRITER AAAAHHH I’M SO GLAD I REQUESTED IT YAAASSS YOUR WRITING IS PERFECT AND AMAZING I LOVE YOU <3

I!!! AM!!! SHOOK!!!! I NEED PART 3 OF READER AND THE WRITER WOWOWOWOW ITS AMAZING

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: The reader returns, and she offers the writer some explanations that he’s been waiting for

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,041

A/N: It’s here! I am so so so sorry for making you guys wait this long, I had so much going on this week and I had barely any time to write at all. I hope this makes up for it, enjoy!


Jughead didn’t expect for (Y/N) to return to Pop’s; in fact, he thought she’d leave town.  However, the following night he was proven wrong when she walked in and sat across him in their usual booth.

“You’re here,” he stated. (Y/N) quirked an eyebrow.

“You expected otherwise?” she inquired, crossing her arms.

“Well, to be fair, I hadn’t seen you in about a month before yesterday,” Jughead defended himself.  (Y/N) sucked in a breath and went to contradict him, but she realized he was right, so she shut her mouth.  They sat in silence, both of them avoiding eye contact with each other.  Finally, (Y/N) sighed and broke the quiet.

“So I’m guessing you want to talk about it,” she said, not even bothering to pull out a book.  Jughead nodded as he closed his laptop.

“I think I deserve a bit more information than the fact that you were born in Riverdale,” he grumbled.

“You do,” she agreed.

“So why did you think that was important to tell me?” Jughead began the interrogation. “Out of all the things to say to stop me from leaving, why that?”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” (Y/N) attempted to joke, but Jughead didn’t even crack a smile.  She sighed and continued.  "I don’t know, because that’s the beginning. I’m a reader, Jug, I like to start at the beginning of a story.“

"And so your beginning started here.”

“Yes.”

“But then you moved somewhere else?” Jughead asked.  (Y/N) nodded.  "Why?“

"Because we had to,” she responded.  "My parents were… unpleasant people, to say the least.  Bad people tend to mingle, and thus my parents met the Blossoms.“  Jughead’s head perked up at the mention of the family.

"The Blossoms?” he echoed.  "As in Jason Blossom?“

"No, the other notorious Blossom family in Riverdale,” she rolled her eyes, sarcasm oozing from every word.  "Yes, Jason Blossom’s family.“  Jughead’s silence signaled for her to continue.  “My family and their family had this long-lasting feud for as long as I can remember.”

“So is that why you left?” he asked.  “Because of the feud?”

“Yes,” she answered tentatively, “and no.  It’s complicated.  You see, I didn’t leave Riverdale with my parents.”  (Y/N) paused for a moment, biting her lip.  “My parents were murdered.”  Jughead’s eyes widened as he realized the severity of her situation.

“The Blossoms did it?” he immediately assumed.  (Y/N) shook her head.

“Not that we know of,” she replied.  “They never figured out who did it.  Yes, the Blossoms were high on the suspect list, but personally, I don’t think it was them.  They’re too snobbish to actually murder someone.”  The pair fell into a silence, Jughead attempting to soak up all the information he was just given.  (Y/N) lazily glanced around the dinner, scanning the strangers’ faces.

“Why’d you come back?” Jughead spoke up.  (Y/N)’s eyes flicked back to his face.

“They were about to sell our old home,” she shrugged.  “My aunt was infuriated, so she packed up all our things and moved here.” Jughead had so many more questions swirling around his mind, but when he observed (Y/N)’s face, he saw how tired and deflated she looked.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “this is too much for you.  I shouldn’t have pressured you to tell me everything at once.”

“No, it’s fine,” she insisted, shaking her head.  “I want to tell you, I… you deserve to know.”  Jughead reached across the table, grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, and gazed at her in a manner she couldn’t quite distinguish.  He didn’t say anything, and neither did she.  They just sat there in the booth, on a quiet day in Pop’s, Jughead holding (Y/N)’s hand and she was letting him.  Without speaking, she understood what he was trying to tell her: there was nothing left to say.


For the next two weeks, neither Jughead nor (Y/N) said anything to each other.  They still went to Pop’s every night, and they sat together at the same booth.  But (Y/N) always had a book, and Jughead always had his laptop.  Frequently, when one of them wasn’t looking, the other would glance up and stare for just a moment.

On a slow Tuesday, Veronica entered Pop’s.  She was only there to pick up the food she and her mom had ordered, but she noticed (Y/N) and Jughead sitting together at a booth, and so she sped over there.

“You’re back,” she noted, sitting down next to (Y/N).  She glanced up, putting Frankenstein down, and shot Veronica a timid smile.

“I’ve been back for a few weeks,” she responded.  Veronica furrowed her eyebrows.

“Really?” she questioned, shifting her gaze to Jughead.  He didn’t look up from his computer.  (Y/N) awkwardly nodded, turning back to her novel.  Veronica glanced back and forth between (Y/N) and Jughead, waiting for one of them to say something.  “Do you guys ever talk?”

“It’s not always necessary,” Jughead replied, rolling his eyes.

“Well yeah,” Veronica shrugged, “but you guys are dead silent.  Neither of you have spoken to each other since I got here.”  When neither of them replied to her comment, Veronica understood that she was unwanted and left.

The two sat in silence for another hour before Jughead interrupted it by slamming his laptop shut.

“Okay, I’ve spent two weeks thinking about what to say,” he started, catching (Y/N)’s attention.  She lifted her eyes from her book and stared at Jughead, puzzled.  “But I don’t know.  I don’t know what to say!  How do I respond to the fact that your parents were murdered?”

“You don’t have to sa-”

“Yes I do!” Jughead interjected.  “Because we’re… friends, we’re friends.  And I’m supposed to say something to make you feel better.”  (Y/N) tilted her head sideways as she gazed at Jughead, trying to think of a reply.

“You still have a question,” she finally said, “don’t you?  And you didn’t want to say anything else because you didn’t want to tempt your own curiosity.”

“No,” Jughead shook his head, “no, I-”

“Just ask,” (Y/N) stopped him.  “Just ask me, Jug.”  He inhaled sharply, and examined her face.  There was no doubt, no hesitation; just determination with a hint of anger. Jughead sighed, giving into (Y/N)’s, and his own curiosity’s, demands.

“What’s your real name?”

Part four here

Leave A Message: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: AU, After a night of heavy drinking, Betty Cooper realizes she’s left a series of revealing messages on her crush and roommate, Jughead Jones’s phone. 

Words: 1,600

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, swearing, sexual dialogue but mostly embarrassing fluff. 

A/N: I’ve edited this myself so I apologize for errors. 


Betty Cooper’s head was pounding. She had made the mistake of going out with her roommates Cheryl Blossom and Veronica Lodge to celebrate the end of finals. Now she was sitting at their kitchen island cradling a cup of coffee, trying to figure out if IHOP delivered.

“Good Morning!” Cheryl sang as she skipped into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her luscious red was piled up on top of her head and her skin was glowing. She looked like an angel not someone who had partied hard the night before. “How are you?” She asked Betty.

“I’m so hungover” Betty groaned resting her head on her arms. “I’ve never been this hungover.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have done all those shots of Liquid Cocaine.” Cheryl chuckled and began taking out a few frying pans. “You want some bacon and eggs?” She asked.

“I do!” Veronica answered, her silk black robe trailing behind her matching her beautiful black hair. She walked up to Cheryl and gave her a soft kiss. Cheryl and Veronica had been dating since before they had left Riverdale and their relationship was goals.

“How are you guys not hungover?” Betty asked.

“We didn’t do three shots of tequila and then perform a Coyote Ugly style dance on the bar. You drank so much you should be dead.” Veronica informed.

“I wish I was dead.” Betty said sliding off her stool and laid on the floor. “The tile is so cold. I love the tile.”

“You’ve seen better days, Cooper.” Jughead Jones exited his bedroom from the other side of the loft and sat in the stool Betty just occupied. Jughead was Betty’s fourth and final roommate and she had developed a deep crush on him since the four of  them had moved from Massachusetts to California for school.  

Jughead had blossomed in the sunshine state. He had taken up surfing and gotten a tan, transforming himself into a ripped golden god. Whatever girls didn’t like about his moodiness in Riverdale, they loved here. Betty hated that she didn’t make a move sooner and now that he was bedding Californian goddesses, she knew she didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh god.” She muttered rolling onto her back. She was so dehydrated she could hear herself blinking. She focused on Jughead messy mop of black hair when he appeared above her.

“Up we go.” He said lifting her into the sitting position. “Take these,” he dropped two extra strength Advil in her palm. “And drink the entire glass.” He instructed.

She did as she was told and steadied herself against him when she stood up. “I need to go back to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.” Jughead agreed walking her back to her room. “Do you need to use the washroom?” He asked.

“I’m not a child, Jug.” Betty snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you not just rolling around on the floor moaning?” He cocked an eyebrow and helped her into bed. She got underneath the covers and he tucked her in. “Get more rest, you’re gonna need it.” He winked and left her room, closing her door.

Her brow furrowed at her choice of words but she was too tired to give it much more thought than that.

She woke up at 3 in the afternoon feeling much better. Still hungover but manageable. She stumbled out into the living room and found Jughead reading a book. “There she is!” He exclaimed. “I got more Advil out and grabbed some water. There is some left over Thai from lunch in he fridge if you are hungry.”

Betty grabbed the Advil, headed over to the kitchen and began heating up her food. Once the Thai was nice and hot she made way back over to the couch.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked not looking up from his book.

“Mmmm” She answered with a mouth full of food.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He questioned.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“So you don’t remember dancing on the bar?” He inquired.

She shook her head.

“You don’t remember leading the whole bar in a rendition of ‘Come On Eileen’?”

“How do you know this? You weren’t even there”

“Cheryl was sending me videos.” He paused. “Do you remember making a phone call?”

“It’s 2018, Juggie, no one makes phone calls anymore.” She rolled her eyes and took a gulp of her water.

“You sure about that?” He asked again.

“I haven’t spoken on a phone in like two years.”

Jughead took out his cell, began scrolling and finally pushed a button. He held it up so they could both hear it.

“Jughead, mother fucking, Jones.” Betty’s gravelly drunken voice rasped out of the phone.

Her eyes widened and she started choking on her food.

“You fucking idiot with your stupid hat and your stupid attitude and your stupid face like you don’t know how amazing you are. Well, I guess you kinda do now with that revolving bevy of girls in our apartment all the time. And what is wrong with me huh? I’m hot, I’ve had six guys hit on me tonight. Six!”

She heard herself yell through the phone and she buried her head in her arms. “No, no, no.” She repeated over and over again.

“I’m smart too and my personality is okay, so what’s your problem Jughead, huh? I’ve been told that my vagina is like, the actual best. Like, what do I need to do? I guess there is a possibility that you aren’t interested in me but I’m the tits so why wouldn’t you be.” She paused. “Another thing, you actual piece of shit-” She was cut off and he lowered the phone.

“Please tell me I didn’t call you back.” She asked, looking at him through her fingers.

He was smirking and she wanted to smack him. “That was the first of fifteen messages. My favorite was how you told me that you obsess over how big my penis is but it’s probably just normal size and that you should stop worrying about it because this isn’t a romance novel.” He chuckled.

She made a whiny, crying sound, her face burning hot.

He didn’t say anything like she expected. She expected him to tease her, she expected him to tell her that they were friends but their relationship wouldn’t be anything more than that but he didn’t. She felt his weight on the couch beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“Would it made a difference if I did?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of a big difference, do you know how you appear to others? Do you know how intimidating you are?” His voice was soft and sincere.

“What are you talking about?” She snapped, rubbing her temples.

“You’re beautiful, smart and funny. You make everything seem so effortless, you should date an architect or something.”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with architects?” She moaned, falling back into the cushions of the sofa.

Jughead sighed. “Betty, did you ever think about just asking me out?”

She threw him some serious side eye. “Oh yeah Jug, I’ll just walk up to you and be like, ‘Hey, I know we’ve known each other forever and I’ve ignored you for most of it but now that you’re all hot and dating models and shit, you wanna go out on a date?’” She scoffed.

“Okay.” He replied.

“What?” She sat up quickly, wincing when he head throbbed.

“I’ll go out with you.”

“Why? You date hipster girls who wear glasses they don’t need and are way too big for their face. You date girls who always look good in a romper, always have perfect Coachella hair and eat avocado toast everyday. I go days without showering, I’ve slept in the library more than once, I’ve dropped a McDonalds hamburger on the ground and still ate it because I had spent my last dollar on it and it was all I could eat for 17 hours until I got paid. Last night I threw up in my hamper-”

Jughead cut her off with a kiss. Betty was taken aback by the sudden gesture and it took her body a moment to relax and really accept what was happening. Betty had fantasized about this moment every night for months. What he would smell like, what he was taste like, how he would feel. He tasted like the cinnamon tic tacs he was always eating, spicy and sweet. He smelled like clean laundry, the sea and coconuts from using the girls shampoo all the time. Betty ran her hands through his hair bringing him closer to her. His body was hard and muscular and he pushed it against her, his skin warm and tan and so different from what she expected.

He parted from her, a smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Liar.” Betty whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Betty, I’ve had a thing for your since the ninth grade.” He admitted, kissing her again.

“Do you want to take this into the bedroom?” She cooed running her hands over his chest.

“No, Bets.”

Her head jerked back. “What? Why? You take all these girls to bed and not me?”

“Betty, you aren’t all girls, you’re the girl.” He smiled and kissed her again.

She smiled back. “Can you please, for the love of god, delete all the messages I left you.”

“Um, absolutely not, this shit belongs in the MOMA.” He took out his phone. “Prepare yourself for message number two.”

The Only Exception (Part 1)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,442

Warnings: language, fluff, wishful thinking, hot firemen, sarcasm, cynicism, bad jokes

A/N: Okay, so I saw a movie a long long time ago that was terrible, but it inspired the ‘bad’’ love advice and the firemen. I’ve been dying to have fireman!Bucky in one of my AUs.

And yes, the title comes from the Paramore song. I felt like it’s how reader feels throughout. Hope you guys like it. I had some writer’s block, and some house guests, so this is a little late being posted.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Originally posted by 8bit-arc-reactor

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The Bookstore

Hey guys! It’s me again, and I sorta wanted to write a Tom meet-cute because I daydream about those 25/8? This is just soft, fluffy and sweet, I hope you like it!
Author’s note: Tom is my screensaver and I went to Barnes and Noble today and the girl that was ringing me up was really, really nice and we were talking about Marvel because I was buying a comic, (I finally found Spider-Man Blue, three cheers for me!) and she was literally like, “oh my gosh, you and Tom would be super adorable together! I can just see it now!” And I sort of died? So this is just a story branching off of that?
The Bookstore
“Is that your boyfriend?” The saleslady asked, referencing the girl’s phone, as a smile that stretched from ear to ear crossed over her features. “He comes in quite often, has mostly good taste in books, although, sometimes his choices are questionable at best. Likes fantasy and adventure, some good, some not.”
The girl’s eyes widened and her mouth flopped open and shut like a guppy’s as she attempted to stutter out an appropriate response.
Tom Holland was the girl’s screensaver, and no, he most definitely wasn’t her boyfriend because he had no idea that she existed. Even if he had stumbled across her fan account, she’d just be another fan to Tom, maybe she’d even stand out for being an ultimate creep.
“He’s a very polite boy, you’re so lucky! My daughters are only interested in self-obsessed assholes.” The lady began to scan her choices, continuing to rant about her daughter’s apparent bad taste in men.
The girl was still struggling to comprehend her situation. The saleswoman clearly knew Tom, who apparently came in often, as did she, so she couldn’t really say that he wasn’t her boyfriend without looking like an utter and complete weirdo.
Pondering, she bit the inside of her cheek. Their paths had never crosses, so what could be the harm in indulging in a little fantasy? “We’ve been dating since last Spring,” She said, not daring to look into the kind eyes of the saleswoman.
“Ah, I see. I bet you two look absolutely adorable together, maybe turn him onto some high quality literature next time he comes in, eh?” The woman smiled from across the counter, waving the girl’s new Philip Roth books in the air before handing them over.
Reaching for her five purchases, the girl smiled and nodded, “I’ll do my very best!” She called and waved as she left the store.
Over the next few days, Tom wandered back into the bookstore. Navigating his way down the store’s narrow aisles, Tom searched for something that he could read on the plane that he’d inevitably be boarding sometime soon. He paused every so often to pick up a book, glance over the summary on the back, and reshelve it to it’s proper home.
After shuffling down another section, he came across the very same saleswoman who had helped the girl moonlighting as his girlfriend.
“How come you guys never come in together? She knows some good authors, I’m sure she’d love to help broaden your horizons.” The saleswoman said, maintaining her position, crouched over to straighten and tidy the shelves.
Tom looked around, unsure of who the woman was speaking to, because as far as he knew, none of his friends knew about this store. They opted for Barnes and Noble, while he prefered to dig.
“Yes, you. I just met your girlfriend and she’s lovely. Great taste in books.” The woman said again.
Scratching his head, Tom wasn’t exactly sure what to say, so he played along, not wanting to be rude. Surely she must be confusing him with someone else, because he didn’t have a girlfriend to share books with, as much as he’d like one.
“Yeah, we just have different schedules, she’s usually in class when I peruse the bookstore.” Tom said, bending down to help the woman on the floor.
“She’s very cute, and very sweet. It’s nice to see young people reading something that isn’t their twitter feed.” The woman said, taking one last glance at the fixed up shelf, before nodding decisively and standing up.
Tom stood as well, chuckling, “My Dad’s an author, so reading has always been apart of my life.”
“You guys are lovely, let me know if I can be of any help.” The woman began to walk away and Tom shook his head and laughed.
“How do you know that my girl is my girl? We never come in at the same time.” Tom asked suddenly, curiosity leaking into his bloodstream.
“She comes in more often than you, buys more books than you, and you’re her screensaver. It’s quite cute, actually.” The saleslady called out.
There it is, Tom thought, she might be a fan. He couldn’t think of any other reason that he’d be her screensaver. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tom smirked and picked out not one, but two books. One to leave at the register for her the next time that he came in, and one for him to read while he was on the press tour.
“That is so thoughtful! She’ll love it!” The woman said from behind the cash register, clapping her hands together. “I’ll make sure that she gets it, alright? Wanna put a little message in it, promise I won’t peak! I’ve got a pen right here!” She chirped happily.
“Yeah, alright, I’ll actually do that. Could I please borrow your pen?” Tom asked.
Drawing a heart to conclude the note to his ‘girlfriend’ that he’d never met, he said thank you one to the lady one last time and left the store.
The very next morning, the girl pushed her wallet back into her purse at the bookstore’s register, waiting for the same saleswoman to finish ringing her up.
“Saw your boyfriend yesterday, left a little something for you.” The saleswoman smiled, turning around to sift through the books on display behind her to find Tom’s choice for the girl.
The girl felt the fiery licks of scarlet coloring her skin again. Her hands shook, surely Tom thought that she was a mega, ultra stalker. He’d probably left her a note begging her to kindly fuck off. She wished Mother Earth would swallow her up the same way it did to Sita in ‘The Ramayana.’
“Don’t be embarrassed, silly, it’s endearing.” The woman handed her a book titled, ‘Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair’ by Pablo Neruda. “He’s paid for it, of course, and he left you a little note on the first page. Lent him the pen myself.”
“He really shouldn’t have,” the girl stuttered, her hands almost noticeably shaking as she held the book within her palms.
Inside, Tom had scribbled out,
Seeing as you’re my girlfriend, I thought it was only fitting to leave you at least twenty love poems. Left you a song of despair as well, seeing as we haven’t met yet.
Love always,
Your devoted boyfriend, Tom

“Could I go back and pick one out for him as well?” The girl asked, feeling a tiny bit braver after reading Tom’s cheeky message for her.
“Of course! I love this, I wish more couples did things like this for each other, it’s endearing!” The saleswoman smiled, shutting the register.
After picking out an appropriate novel, she left the store, smiling, blushing and practically gliding on air.
Later that very afternoon, Tom was chased by the overbearing coldness of the afternoon breeze, and his own excitement over whether or not she’d received his present, back into the bookstore.
Not even bothering to look at anything, he came to a halt in front of the saleswoman, who upon seeing him enter, tore through her display to retrieve the novel that she’d left for him.
“Did she get it? Did she like it, I haven’t heard from her yet.” Tom asked, beaming at the woman.
“She loved it! She loved it so much, in fact, that she’s left one for you as well.” She handed him a novel called ‘One Day.’ “She’s left a love note for you as well!”
Tearing the book open, Tom came across her delicate handwriting sprawled in black ink.
Here’s to hoping that I meet you one day.
With all the love in my heart-
Your mystery girlfriend
Fighting the urge to hug the book closer to his chest, Tom made a choice.
“I’m going to go pick her a book out right now, and I’m going to wait right here until she comes back in. I want to give her this one in person.” Tom turned on his heel to search for the perfect book for to give her, when the saleswoman informed him that she’d already been in today.
“Alright then, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.” Tom blushed, but continued on his way down through the shelves, desperate to find the perfect book for her.
Deciding on ‘You,’ by Caroline Kepnes, Tom paid and left the store, planning to return right when the bookstore opened.
The very next morning, Tom was perched in a cushy, plush chair, obscured by stacks and shelves housing novels, waiting for her. He’d positioned himself perfectly, ensuring that he could see the register at all times, but that the people at the register wouldn’t be able to spot him, unless they knew where he was hiding.
He was completely on edge. Every time the door opened, he’d practically leap to his feet, only to be met with disappointment because mostly everyone who wandered in off the street was either male, or too old to be his mystery girlfriend.
Finally, when Tom had all but lost hope, a girl so otherworldly beautiful that Tom truly debated in his mind whether or not the girl was even a girl, he briefly wondered if she was an ethereal fairy of sorts, floated into the room.
Her hair reflected light the same way that waves in the sea did, and her voice was so soft and warm that it sounded as he imagined his favorite hot drink would taste. She waved hello to the saleswoman before diving into the poetry section, hidden deep within the store.
Jumping to his feet, Tom rushed to finally meet her, rolling the book he planned to give her in between his palms.
Checking his hair one more time, Tom came to a stop next to her.
“Excuse me miss, I was just wondering if you happen to be my mystery girlfriend, who apparently has better taste in books than me?” Tom’s confidence was evaporating as she turned around to face him.
She was even prettier up close and Tom wanted to scratch his own eyes out for beginning the conversation with such a shit line.
Thankfully, she smiled, a strawberry jam colored blush widening across her delicate features. “That would be me, but unfortunately, you’ve caught me off guard and now I don’t have anything to give to you.” Her eyes refused to meet his own for more than a few seconds.
She could barely believe any of this. First, her celebrity crush and her happened to both shop at the same bookstore. Then, he goes along with the charade of being her boyfriend, and even leaves her gifts, and now, he was standing in front of her.
He looked like Prince Charming and her brain was turning to mush.
“Lucky for you, I don’t mind. But, I do have a book for you.” Holding the novel, ‘You,’ out to her, he began to sway from foot to foot, nervous that she’d hate it.
“Funny enough, that’s one of my favorite books,” She laughed, “But are you planning to kill me?” She referenced the plot of ‘You,’ which was more or less a horror story, hardly the conventional romance.
Stuttering, Tom attempted to clear his name. “I just thought it was fitting, seeing as we met in a bookstore, and so did Joe and Beck,” the main characters who become romantically involved in the novel, “And really, I just wanted you to have the line about the mouse in the house.”
“Are you going to get a cat to chase me out?” She teased, and Tom laughed.
“Absolutely not, you’re just all I’ve been thinking about. I wanna know you, and learn from your apparently epic choices in literature.” Tom said, leaning in closer to her.
“Than sit, and I’ll pick you something out?” She questioned, shyly moving to sit on the floor, her arm curled around more than a few options.
The pair scooched into one another one the floor, and the saleswoman watched, smiling from her spot at the register. Her two favorite customers were finally together.
Her eyes twinkled as she turned the radio onto a station that played only love songs.
They read love poems, and love stories together, so it only seemed fair that they listened to only love songs as well.

Secrets - Jughead x Reader Imagine

anonymous asked:

Can you do an imagine where Jughead loses his laptop and the reader and him split up to find it the reader finds it and finds out he’s been writing about the reader

Originally posted by juptern

I had a lot of fun writing this, hope you enjoy!

warnings: none

word count: 827

The school bell rung at the end of the lesson signalling the long awaited home-time for the students of Riverdale High. Your best friend - and partner in crime, Jughead Jones, was particularly eager to get out of school today so he could work on his novel, which by the way, was highly classified. Nobody, not even you were allowed to peak. 


The two of you walked out of class together as always to head over to Pop’s Diner where he would type away endlessly and you’d occupy yourself with Homework or reading a book - secretly admiring the way Jughead’s concentrating face looked when every so often his brows would furrow in the cutest way when he got stuck. Yes, you were crushing on your best friend. You have been for a while, but you try to ignore it since you know Jughead wouldn’t feel the same.


“(Y/N)!” You were pulled from thought as you walked along side Jughead down the school hallway. “Hmm?” you turned to face your friend as he stopped dead in his tracks, searching through his backpack frantically. “My laptop! It’s gone!” he panicked. “What? Where did you last leave it?” you ask concerned. He looked at you as if he were about to say something snarky but decided against it. “It should be in here! I never leave it anywhere, it’s with me at all times.” Jughead was looking extremely worried now. “What if it’s been stolen? All my work is gone! wha-” You cut him off; “JUG! We’ll find it, okay? I’m sure you just left it lying around somewhere. We’ll split up and look for it. You check your place and Pop’s, and I’ll search the school.” Jughead glanced at me and paused for a second, worry etched on his face. “uhh.. Okay. Yeah, just.. Call me right away if you find it, yeah?” You simply nodded. “Thanks.” He said, and with that the two of you parted.


The first place you thought to check was the school paper room, where you know Jughead has been helping Betty out lately, and not to your surprise, Jughead’s laptop was safely sitting on the desk he’s been working on. You got out your phone to call Jughead but halted when you saw a familiar picture peeking from the half-open screen. It was a picture of you and Jughead when you were little, You both sat hugging each other and grinning widely in Jughead’s tree house. A small smile crept to your lips at the memory, curiosity got the better of you. Was this Jughead’s murder novel? Why was this picture in it? You couldn’t help but to peak. Filled with confusion and guilt, you slowly lift the screen up and scan your eyes across the page. Your heart drops and you feel a tight sensation in your stomach. This looks like some kind of love poem.


A tear escapes your eyes as you read it. Jughead has really put so much emotion into this. You had no idea your best friend felt this way. There was so much passion you didn’t even know Jughead had. He describes the way that he’s addicted to the way he feels when he thinks of you, The feeling of adoration every time he looks into your eyes and the world just stops. “(Y/N!?)” You jump back so fast that you almost fall over. Jughead had remembered where he left the laptop and came as quickly as he could. He stood at the door frame watching you. “What did I ask you about not reading what was on there!?” He snapped. “I’m so sorry Jug, I really am. I just saw that picture and I couldn’t help it. I shouldn’t have. I’m such a terrible human being!” You rushed your words out, distraught. You felt utterly terrible.


You didn’t realise until Jughead ran over and engulfed you in a tight hug that you were crying. Tears streamed down your face, whether it was from the poem or your guilt you couldn’t tell. “Hey, it’s ok.” Jughead shushed you. “It was a stupid mistake. I don’t know how I managed to leave that page open for you to see.” You both pulled back and Jughead went bright red, the realisation that he’s been busted finally hitting him. “uhh.. About that..” He trailed off, rubbing his hand behind his neck awkwardly. You reached up and crashed your lips onto his. He kissed back with almost desperation, a fire in the pit of your stomachs. The kiss died down into a more slow and passionate one until you pulled apart and stared into each others eyes. Jughead’s smile reached his ears. “The poem was beautiful, Jug.” You simply stated and he replied sarcastically of course; “Oh that thing? that was just about Pop’s.” You let out a laugh and lightly smacked his arm. “speaking of Pop’s..” He started, “I’m hungry.” He said “Let’s go eat then, Pendleton” You teased.

whatrparks  asked:

Heyyy! Love your blog, I've read possibly every fic under the "accidental relationship" and "pining" tags and was wondering if you could update one of them? much love to you people

I did the pining update yesterday and here’s the accidental relationship one. - Anastasia

Originally posted by edigarledezma

Diamond Side Down by hazelandglasz

(1/1 I 659 I Not Rated I Allydia)

Prompt 24- Accidental marriage

put a ring on it. by doctorkaitlyn

(1/1 I 1,120 I General I Sterek)

Stiles wakes up with a mouthful of dirt.

Werewolves + Alcohol = Married? by audrey1nd, RsCreighton

(1/1 I 1,260 I Teen I Stiles/Isaac)

What do you do when you wake up in bed next to your least favorite wolf and find that you got married the night before at your best friend’s bachelor party?

On the Other Shore by Strangeredlantern, Vague_Shadows

(1/? I 1,765 I General I Isaac/Stiles)

Stiles and Isaac have started building a life together with Eloise, but they still have a lot to work through.  

That’s What I Get For Waking Up In Vegas by dontletyourheartdistractyou

(1/1 I 2,821 I Mature I Erica/Malia/Allison/Lydia)

“This is so much like the Katy Perry song,” she groaned, throwing a hand over her forehead.

“Really?” Derek asked. “I was thinking of the Ashton Kutcher movie.”

(In which Erica Reyes accidentally marries four people while vacationing in 9Vegas.)

Turn a Little Faster by skoosiepants

(1/1 I 3,207 I Teen I Sterek)

He shifts back and forth on his feet and tries to psych himself up. He can do this. He’s a badass werewolf, he can totally tell Stiles that they accidentally got werewolf married because—because Stiles was thinking about him, and happened to give him a token of his, uh, affection under the silvery light of the last full moon. Platonic affection, Derek thinks sourly, so he doesn’t get why his wolf feels all warm and fuzzy and bonded all of a sudden.

Honestly, it’s like—why aren’t people accidentally getting werewolf married all the time, if it happens this easily?

Bacon Is The Answer To All Life’s Problems by eeyore9990

(1/1 I 3,322 I Teen I Sterek)

After the election results come in, Stiles uses his long weekend to go visit Derek in Nevada because running away from all of life’s problems sounds like the best of all possible choices. Shenanigans ensue.

Sealed with a Kiss by Inell

(1/1 I 3,628 I Explicit I Stackson)

The fairies seem to like to Stiles, and, unfortunately, the only other person they’ll even let around him is Jackson Whittemore, who he totally doesn’t have feelings for at all. Nope. Not at all.

And Also, I Love You by alisvolatpropiis

(1/1 I 7,155 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek didn’t look at all like Stiles expected. After all, he deliberately chose a school where being a nerd was cool, so he certainly wasn’t expecting his hotter-than-a-thousand-stars roomie to be an actual cool person. Derek has muscles, like everywhere, which he has a tendency to display in skin-tight, sleeveless t-shirts for bands Stiles has never heard of; his jeans are always tight and ripped too, and he has an impressive five-o’clock shadow, the tips of his jet-black hair dyed purple. And his eyes. Stiles is pretty sure he’s only seen eyes like that in comics, or on a movie screen, or in his freakin dreams. They’re somehow simultaneously all of the colors and none of them, transcending something so pedestrian and insignificant as words to encapsulate their beauty. Stiles would come to learn that he’s also wickedly smart, and he plays the guitar and speaks multiple languages, and his sunshine smile is even more alarming that his resting murder face.

The Valentines Thing and Other Fiascoes by Pandaabeer

(6/7 I 8,705 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek has recently succeeded in a lot of things. He has a job, he has a place with electricity and heck he even has netflix. What he has never succeeded at and probably never will is relationships. He’s a sad sack when it comes to love. This Valentines is nothing new.

Or

The sequel to Valentines Strike no one wanted.

The Unexpected Marriage of Peter Hale by moonstalker24

(5/5 I 9,383 I General I Steter)

This is the story of how Peter gets married without technically dating anyone.

“You can bring your boyfriend with you,” Talia says.
Peter stops giving Henry more bits of dried fruit to stare at his sister “Boyfriend?”
“Of course!” Talia gestures at Stiles who looks around behind him with wide eyes. “I’m sure the whole family would be interested in meeting your young man.”

Best Men by zcinmalik

(1/1 I 11,422 I Mature I Boyd/Scott)

Boyd, in a moment of startling clarity, finally feels the unnatural weight of the gold band adorning his ring finger.

To Form a More Perfect Union by WritersAreLiars

(3/? I 11,503 I Mature I Deucalion/Stiles)

Stiles never expected that helping an injured dog would result in him living out the plot of one of his novels. Now he’s accidentally married himself to the alpha of the esteemed Blackwood pack and hoping that Deucalion isn’t too good to be real.

The Hangover by van_helsa124

(13/13 I 15,826 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles and the pack visit Vegas to blow off some steam, only to wake up with no memory of the night before. After interrogating Peter for information they quickly realise that: Boyd is missing, a rival pack has declared a blood feud, hunters are on their trail …and, oh yeah, Derek and Stiles are married.

Steel Blue: A Fractured Fairy Tale by FiccinDylan

(15/15 I 29,251 I Explicit I Sterek)

The real reason Stiles and Derek stopped sleeping with each other was because Stiles was the first to break the feelings dam. For Derek, love and sex were placed in two separate compartments, but for Stiles, love was 9chocolate and sex was peanut butter, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups were always his favorite candy.

He knew he’d fall head over heels in love with the wolf and he did. And he didn’t know if he could handle Derek not feeling the same way. So instead he agreed with Derek to remove chocolate, and add in the jelly of sarcasm and ribbing banter and jerking off alone.

It sucked.

But Stiles respected Derek and valued his friendship over everything else., he’d do anything for the wolf.

Oh, and he also just found out that he might have a twin brother that’s a porn star for Neckz&Throatz, but oddly… that’s the sidebar in this tale.

Fools Rush In by origamifrogs

(3/3 I 30,673 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Stiles wakes up in his hotel bed in Las Vegas, sticky eyes blinking open to the sight of a stranger sleeping beside him.

A stranger who is male.

And naked.

Stiles promptly falls out of bed.”

Or, the one where Stiles and Derek get drunk in Las Vegas, accidentally get married, go on a road trip, and find love along the way.

UST (An Unfortunate Series of Tropes) by ureshiiichigo

(20/20 I 54,259 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.

Wait, what?

Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.

We Prefer Good Love to Gold by i_am_girlfriday

(9/9 I 63,371 I Explicit I Sterek)

This week on Millionaire Matchmaker: Supernatural Edition - Derek Hale, a thirty-year-old millionaire venture capitalist and beta werewolf, finally gives into his sisters’ pressures to start dating again and reluctantly agrees to use the services of a supernatural matchmaker. Stiles Stilinski, at age twenty-five, just sold his start-up to Google for undisclosed millions, and ends up on a reality dating show when his true alpha best friend tries to help him get over his broken heart.

***

The last thing anyone expects is for the two eligible bachelors to fall in love with each other behind the scenes.

The Purloined Letter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

(34/34 I 83,123 I Explicit I Sterek)

Kate Argent learns that Peter Hale has a letter, the contents of which, if known, would ruin her, and decides the best place to find it would be the hunting party arranged for the Whittemore-Martin engagement celebrations, but there are some issues with her plan, Peter has brought his nephew, the house is full of omega meaning everyone is watching everyone else, Lydia is not as happy with the engagement as her mother casting her eyes on someone else, her niece, who she’s meant to be chaperoning has eyes for a penniless Scottish Lord, and she’s not even sure that Peter brought the letter with him.

3

****

“What the hell?!” Jughead jolted upright from his position on the blow up mattress, dangerously close to the ground. Archie followed quickly, falling out of his bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs.

“It’s my phone! It’s just my phone!” He shouted more to himself than to Jughead, they had both been woken up abruptly by the obnoxious ringtone coming from Archie’s speakers. “We connected my phone to my Bluetooth speakers last night, I must have forgotten to turn it off!”

Jughead put his hands to his ears as Archie fumbled with his phone, he was still half asleep and in his daze he couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.
“It’s just Betty, we were supposed to meet up this morning to pick up Veronica’s birthday present from the jewelers, I totally forgot! Will you turn this damn thing off!” He chucked his phone at Jughead, who caught it with surprising ease.

Rubbing his eyes, Jughead looked down at the phone, instantly stopping dead in his tracks. There on Archie’s iPhone screen was the most beautiful picture of Betty he had ever seen. She was in a simple tank top, her long blonde hair down and straight looking like it was made of pure silk, and the lightest red lipstick, the most amazing thing about the photo was that it seemed to capture her eyes shifting from green to blue, a sign that she was content and relaxed. He couldn’t stop staring.

“Dude what the hell? Is it broken? Why won’t it turn off, just answer it!” Archie moaned, throwing himself back onto his bed and burying his face in his pillow. Jughead cleared his throat as he tore his eyes away from the screen and pressed accept.

“Hello?”

“Good morning! Geez, it took you quite some time to answer the phone. Wait? Is this Jughead? I recognize that voice anywhere.” She giggled into the speaker and he instantly felt his shoulders relax and any tension leave his body.

“You caught me, it’s just your friendly homeless teen, Archie said he’ll be there soon, he overslept. After you and Archie finish up, wanna grab a burger with the gang? My treat.” Jughead could practically feel her nodding excitedly , she wrapped up the conversation with a quick
“See you later Juggie.”

Closing the call Jughead stared at the picture Archie had assigned to her contact. He couldn’t get over this picture.
“When did you take this?” He asked the red headed boy.

“What?” Archie asked looking up from his pillow.

“This picture. When did you take this picture of Betty?” Jughead asked handing Archie his phone.

Archie stared at the screen for a second and smiled with a shrug

“I don’t know, last year maybe, I’ve really gotta update it, don’t let Betty know I have that one of her, she’d kill me. You should see the one Veronica has of Betty” Archie whistled lowly “smoking” he grinned at the beanie wearing boy and nudged him, Archie was the only one Jughead had told about his fairly deep crush on the beautiful blonde next door, at first it had been awkward but slowly Archie realized he just wanted his two best friends to be happy.

“Veronica has one too?” Jughead asked incredulously, how did he not know about this?

“Sure thing.” Archie threw on his letterman jacket and waved at Jughead promising to be home for Burgers at Pops. Walking over to the window he looked down and saw Archie running over to Betty and scooping her up in a hug as she shoved him away and flipped her ponytail.

What he’d give to be able to just hug her whenever he felt like it, he wanted to have pictures of her on his phone. He wanted to be the one she called up at eight in the morning. He knew Archie and Betty were just friends, both of them having clarified this to the group multiple times, but it didn’t ease the ache he felt when he saw her name pop up on Archie’s phone. Damnit, now he had no choice but to see Veronica’s picture of Betty .

The day passed slowly as Jughead worked on his novel and raided Fred Andrews snack cabinet, before he knew it Archie was calling for him from down the stairs.

“Come on Bro, burgers await. Betty’s already there with Veronica!”

Jughead nearly tripped down the stairs,
burgers and Betty?
Total package.

Walking through the clear glass doors of Pops, he instantly spotted the honey blonde ponytail, it was almost like a halo calling him over. He slid into the booth right beside Betty as Archie plopped down beside Veronica.

“Hey.” She smiled softly at Jughead, he smiled back before asking

“Can I borrow your phone?”

Betty seemed taken aback for a minute but quickly recovered with a giggle

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking” she pulled out her phone and placed it in his open palm.

“Thanks” he smiled goofily turning to Veronica.

“Can I borrow your phone?” He asked, the same smile gracing his face

“Hey!” Betty started as Veronica hesitantly handed him her phone

“You are so weird” Veronica rolled her eyes with a smirk.

He quickly used Betty’s phone to dial Veronica, staring at the screen as a glowing image of Betty popped up.

“Oh god, that picture.” He heard her mumble from his right.

The picture was absolute sin, Betty’s tan skin glowing and her blonde hair left loose and wavy.
He had never seen “bed eyes” before but he knew now he would never be able to look into Betty’s bright green ones the same again, they were so sensual and seductive staring into the camera as she pouted, don’t even get him started on that Shirt. He wanted this picture and he wanted it now.

“Veronica took that at a sleepover, I was just being silly. I’ve asked her to change it over and over again.” Betty rolled her eyes, snatching her phone away.

Jughead had to stop himself from physically moaning as the picture disappeared from the screen.

“What’s up with your infatuation with phone pictures?” Betty asked questioningly.

Jughead looked up at her and shrugged
“I don’t have one of you, I’ve never even seen a picture of you, other than your school pictures.”

Betty smiled scrolling through her phone before handing it to him

“That’s you.” She giggled pointing to Jugheads name and the picture beside it. It was one she had taken a few months ago when they went to visit the national history museum, Jughead was beanieless and staring right into the camera, his hair messy and his eyes relaxed, if you looked close enough you could see the hint of a smile popping through
“It’s my favorite picture.” She whispered, close to his ear.

Jughead turned away from the phone and swallowed hard
“I still don’t have one of you.” He mumbled out, reaching to take her hand underneath the table.

Betty smiled softly, her eyes sparkling
“Well that just won’t do.”

And so two weeks later after Jughead had finally gained enough courage to ask the love of his life out on an actual date, Betty’s picture appeared on the screen of his phone on a Saturday morning at 8 o clock. It was a picture of the two of them actually, faces smooshed together in a goofy looking kiss. And when Betty got angry at him for never answering his phone his answer was always the same

“Sorry, I just get distracted.”

Perfect illusion. - Loki x reader.

Words: 1232

Warning: feels and angst.

A/N: low key *wiggles eyebrows* inspired by Sherlock season 4 episode 2.

And still not native English speaker, so i apologize for any typo!

Originally posted by avengers-of-mirkwood

Loki turned the final page of the book he was currently reading. He didn’t want to read the final words, he never wanted to, but he did it anyway. So the story was finally over, so he could immerse in another world.

“You know, you should really read another book.”

His usually stoic face broke into a genuine smile, one he tried to hide but couldn’t. Not a lot of people got to see this brilliant, happy smile, but luckily, you were one of those who had.

Keep reading

Dear Younger Students,

I completed the last of my semester coursework yesterday and made an interesting observation that might assuage some of your worries.

I used to be a procrastinator. I was the kid who started their science project at 9pm the night before it was due. I was the kid who cranked out 20-page AP lit essays the day before it was due. I was the kid who did the reading for my next class in the class I was currently in. I was a hard core procrastinator until sometime during my MSc (around age 22-23). 

Slowly, I started doing my work earlier. Studying earlier, reading earlier, drafting earlier. Then I started finishing a week early, getting classmates to proofread my work, and writing 2nd and 3rd drafts (I used to just turn in my first). At times when I would’ve blown off my work, I started to sit down for a couple of hours and hack away at it. Fast forward four years and I managed to get 2 critique papers, 2 presentations, a final draft of a mock dissertation proposal, a stats homework, and a stats paper asking a novel causal question all done within the past two weeks (when they were assigned), and I got them all completed early.

I’ve thought for a while how weird my transformation was. Procrastination felt like a pretty embedded psychological trait of mine, so how was I completing my work early during the hardest semester of my academic career?

1) Maturity. It’s worth recognizing that my 26-year-old brain is more developed than my 15-year-old brain or my 20-year-old brain. At those time points, my prefrontal cortex was still developing, so naturally I had less discipline than I do now. It’s also had a lot more practice regulating my behavior in a variety of settings. 

2) Practice. People tend to cite perfectionism as a reason for procrastination, and I think that’s true, but I also think it comes down to practice. I’ve been doing academic work since I was a wee toddler, and I’ve been writing hefty (~20 page) academic pieces since high school (thank you Mr. H!). So after roughly 10 years of practice, I know how long it takes me to read information, synthesize an argument, draft it, and edit it. More to the point, it isn’t painful. It isn’t always fun, either, but the mechanics themselves are pretty fluid.

3) Enjoying the topic. Like most people, I do my best work when I like the topic. I was a procrastinator for years because I just didn’t enjoy spending that much time on the topics. I loved reading and debating ideas, but I didn’t like them so much that I wanted to write about them for days, especially when the prompt only wanted regurgitation and not unique thought. Only when I hit my MSc in Forensic Psychology did I think, “Yes, now this is REALLY cool.” Because they did want novel ideas and critical thinking. I did really well in that program because I didn’t just copy ideas and parrot them back; I took heaps of literature and gave them something new, or at least gave them nuance, and they loved it. I have enough practice now that I don’t need to enjoy the topic so much to perform at par, but I still do my best work when I do.

I’m addressing this to younger students so that you know that if you’re dissatisfied with your current study habits and discipline, you can change. And to some extent, if you’re in an environment that demands better habits and discipline, some of this change will occur naturally; be patient. Don’t get stuck in the mindset of “This is how I am and this is how I always will be.” Because it isn’t true. Keep practicing. You’ll get there.

Only You || Cheryl Blossom

Request from @gentlydean: You said angst is good so here’s one that I guess would be angst/fluff? Basically the reader is a really shy girl who likes Cheryl, but catches Chuck kissing Cheryl and assumes they’re dating. It’s a misunderstanding because Cheryl ended up rejecting Chuck. Cheryl of course, pulls a Cheryl and does something huge like kisses the reader during a cheer routine in front of everyone at a football game or I dunno you can decide on the ending of course!! (Sorry I’m not good at explaining these gah)

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! It’s been a while since I’ve done prompts so forgive me if it feels a little rushed!

Gif by @dailycwriverdale

—————

Two years. It had been two years since you realized you had a crush on the Blossom girl. You sighed as you walked down the hallways of Riverdale High. Okay, maybe you didn’t just have a crush on Cheryl. Maybe you loved her. Despite your best friend Jughead begging you for months now to ask the ginger out, you always vehemently refused. Cheryl was the most popular girl in school and you were known as the loner, even more so than Jughead. Unlike Jughead, people knew nothing about you. You had moved to Riverdale in the fifth grade for reasons no one knew of and no one was aware of where you lived. So, yeah, the loner asking Cheryl Blossom out? Not going to happen.

You groaned internally.

Why did you have to love her? You only talked to her a couple times in class and that was only when she asked to borrow a pencil! Get it together, Y/N!

A couple wolf whistles made you look up and you froze when you saw Cheryl and Chuck at Cheryl’s locker, passionately kissing.

“Get it, Chuck!” Reggie yelled.

You felt hot tears well up in your eyes as you quickly turned away from the… the couple in front of you, running off as fast as you could.

You didn’t notice Cheryl looking after you.

As you ran, you quickly pulled out your phone, dialing Jughead’s number.

“Hel—”

“Pop’s. Now.” you croaked before you hung up.

You needed to get out of there.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jughead said as he handed you a vanilla milkshake, sitting across from you. “I really am.”

You shrugged as you took the milkshake, setting it in front you. You weren’t really all that hungry.

“It’s fine, I guess,” you mumbled. “I mean, what’d I expect? She’s Cheryl. He’s Chuck. I’m just… Y/N.”

Jughead sighed and shook his head.

“Y/N, you’re not “just Y/N,” he said. “You’re the Y/N. My best friend. The funniest and smartest girl I know. If Cheryl doesn’t see that, well, then screw her.”

You smiled at your best friend’s words.

“Thanks, Juggie,” you said. “You’re the best.”

Jughead nodded.

“I really am.” he agreed.

You rolled your eyes.

“Now you’re pushing it.”

The raven-haired teen shrugged.

“Well, it was good while it lasted,” he said. “Oh, and, um, does this “situation” mean you want to skip the football game tonight? Since, you know, the Ice Queen is gonna be there?”

You kicked the teenager under the table.

“Don’t call her that,” you said as a smirk made its way onto your face. “But no. I can go to the game. Support Archie and all. It is the championship game after all.”

Jughead shrugged again.

“Alright.” he said before the two of you entered a comfortable silence, you drinking your milkshake and Jughead typing away on his novel.

“Can it be halftime already?” Jughead groaned as he leaned against the chain fence separating the two of you from the football field.

You rolled your eyes.

“We have fifteen seconds left in this quarter,” you said. “Chill.”

Jughead groaned but remained quiet otherwise.

As the football team began to formulate their final play of the quarter, you happened to glance over at the cheerleaders. Cheryl in particular. To your surprise, she was looking right at you. You quickly looked away, feeling your cheeks heating up.

Why was she looking at you?

“Hey, you okay?” Jughead asked.

“She’s looking at me,” you said quietly. “Cheryl’s looking at me.”

Jughead looked up at the ginger girl.

“What do you know?” he began. “She is.”


“Why?” you hissed.

Before Jughead could answer, you heard the referee’s whistle blow, signaling the end of the period. You weren’t even aware that the last play had just taken place.

“And now,” a voice boomed. “For our halftime show, the River Vi—wait, where’s Cheryl going?”

“Incoming.” Jughead announced.

Noticing the change in your best friend’s tone, you looked up only to freeze once you saw Cheryl making her way over to you.

“Wh—”

Before you could finish your sentence, the ginger cupped your cheeks with her palms and crashed her lips against yours. You heard loud cheers erupt from the bleachers and the football field and when you finally pulled away from the head cheerleader, she was smirking at you.

“What? Something the matter?” she asked coyly.

“Wh-But I saw you with—”

“It was a dare, Y/N-kins. How could I like him when I love you?” she asked.

Your cheeks reddened at her words.

“I-I-” you squeaked.

“Y/N, don’t say. Just do.” Jughead said from behind you.

With that, Cheryl’s lips claimed yours again and you just got utterly lost in her.

Maybe the head cheerleader did have a little thing for the loner after all.

—————

A/N: Hope you liked it! Please send feedback. Now I’m off to watch the season finale of “Riverdale!” Who do you guys think is gonna fall through the ice? My guess is Cheryl!

Taglist

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Ephemeral || 01

(adj) lasting for a very short time

Originally posted by lonastic

pairing: Jimin | reader 

genre: slight angst, not too much

word count: 2.4k

summary: six months ago, Park Jimin broke your heart, though getting over him isn’t quite as easy if you’re still in love with him

warnings: none

a/n: I don’t hate any of the people who are portrayed as dislikeable characters in this story!


prologue ; next chapter


You stared out your bedroom window as the sun started to rise and illuminate the previously nightly black sky with warm tones of yellow, orange and pink. After Jimin had called you, you couldn’t get a hold of any more sleep that night, but still there was a feeling of proudness lingering in your chest. Despite not being able to fully ignore his call, you still managed to say ‘No’ to coming over to his dorm.

It’s something he’d frequently do, call you at random times of the day, more in the early hours of the morning than when it was actually mundane. You guessed that he probably had no other mindless toy, that would willingly get up and come over at 4am when it was class the next morning. But what can you say, you’d already lost count over how many times you sneaked out of your dorm, trying not to wake your roommates, who were already hating the fact that you were still wasting your time on someone like Jimin, and quickly ran across the campus just to see him.

Him.

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anonymous asked:

Why was Dean acting like an ass to Cas in season 6?

Don’t worry about it, though. We’ve all been there, and especially me. 

So, I won’t get into this a lot because season 6 has been discussed so much - some meta bloggers, like @elizabethrobertajones, even have weirdly specific tags for it (hers is ‘we don’t talk about season six’, which I always assumed was a veiled threat and, as it turns out, she thinks it was a very romantic season and we don’t discuss it nearly enough). 

There are various theories about how this season was built, and one of them is that it was supposed to turn Cas for good - to make him into an enemy and then eliminate him from the show, if I remember correctly, so the general consensus seems to be, Why wasn’t Dean more of an ass to Cas in season 6? This was a narrative centered on misunderstanding and miscommunication, and from Dean’s point of view, Cas was acting like a demented Callahan type for no reason, which, given angels were (they still are, but back then it was particularly noticeable) the most powerful creatures Dean’d ever encountered, was incredibly dangerous, not to mention unpredictable. Dean should have wanted to take Cas out just to be on the safe side, and if it had been anyone else, he would have done it. But, of course, deep bond and stuff. Even after Cas’ done the unforgivable and hurt Sam, possibly for good (protect Sam: remember that’s Dean’s genetic imprinting, and he steamrolls over both friends and enemies to get that done), Dean still has enough empathy and affection for Cas to come clean about his own feelings, and to try and help Cas, or even save him, if he can. That, I think, is unprecedented?

Something that doesn’t come up a lot as a reason why Dean was so awful to Cas during this season (and therefore, what I’ll focus on here) is how Dean constantly refuses to see Cas for what he is - not a human being, but an unknowable, alien, otherwordly creature

Now, from Dean’s perspective (at the beginning of season 4), angels are not monsters, or things he hunts, or things that exist in the real world; they are, instead much more close and personal than that. They are a cherished memory of his mother, and they are, therefore, an emotional concept which symbolizes peace and being safe and thinking that things could, one day, be alright. This is thrown into particular sharp contrast if we compare Dean’s religious beliefs to Sam’s - we know that Dean doesn’t believe in God, and therefore angels, and that he doesn’t pray. So, for him, angels really are this intimate, childish thing he’s allowed himself to cling to all these years: his mother’s voice, full of love, biding him goodnight. And when Cas shows up, it’s painfully clear that Dean takes his very existence personally, and he’s not at all happy with any part of it. Cas is important in the narrative because he sort of ‘pushes’ Dean out of his comfort zone; he challenges him, and makes him feel out of control in a life where Dean’s fought so hard to be in control at all times (because someone had to be). In a way, I wouldn’t be surprised if Cas’ overt sexual aggressiveness was planned for exactly this reason - because Dean’s been written as bi from the start, and yet this is a part of himself he keep a tight rein over, and Cas’ behaviour very nearly shatters all that. We’ve seen Dean’s uncomfortable with being flirted at, and he’s uncomfortable with anyone being too close to him (in every sense) and Cas, in this sense, is a nuclear reaction. All those secrets Dean’s fought so hard to protect from his brother and Bobby and everyone else - now there’s someone who knows them. All of them, including what he really thinks about himself and the shameful things he did in Hell and how they made him feel. And the fact Cas was always in Dean’s personal space was partly meant, I think, to symbolize this intrusion into Dean’s mind and soul. 

(It must have been terrifying, really.)

And the thing is, out of all the possible responses Dean could have to this gobsmacking, life-changing revelation (that God exists and angels exist and one of them saved him from Hell and is now following him around), what Dean chooses to do is extremely revealing: he starts treating Cas like a human

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2

The raven-haired boy held his hands underneath the running faucet inside the corner store’s restroom. His t-shirt and jacket laid crumbled on the floor on top of his backpack that was leaning against the wall. He took the bar of soap and ran it under the water, rubbing it until suds began to form. Once the soap was foamy enough in his hands, he began to scrub his arms, up to his elbows and then to his armpits taking a little extra time there. He had deodorant and body spray tucked away in that backpack of his.

Jughead Jones was homeless. This little sink was going to be his bath for right now. At least he didn’t have school the next day, but he didn’t want to walk around smelling like he walked out of a dumpster. He would shower at the school, but since it was Saturday morning and they were having some sort of sports game, he knew it would be too risky. Once his body seemed to be covered in soap, he took some water into his palms and began to rinse it off. He slipped off his beanie, tucking it into his back pocket and then used the soap bar to rinse his hair. He took the towel he had lifted from the locker rooms at school and began to dry himself off.

The situation he was in sucked. It was embarrassing but he had to make it work. He didn’t have much money on him and his dad would barely offer anything to him. Maybe he would offer one or two words of encouragement, but words can’t buy food or clothes. He grabbed the deodorant from his bag and rubbed it onto his armpits. Taking a quick sniff of himself, he nodded in approval. Jughead got changed, packing up his bath supplies and slipped out the beanie from his back pocket. He adjusted it onto his head and draped the backpack over his shoulders. Walking out of the bathroom, he snatched a few candy bars and went to the counter. The clerk looked at Jughead and then started to scan the bars. Jughead hadn’t noticed the droplets of water sliding down his face until they dripped onto the counter.

The teen paid for the bars and then walked out, unwrapping one of the chocolate bars. He took a bite from it and then started down the sidewalk. He munched away and surveying the neighborhood. Inside the teen’s mind was his plot about where he was going to sleep. Which house was empty or had a for sale sign? It wasn’t going to take long to figure out how to shimmy through a window or unlock the door. However, he did have to watch out for those alarms. The last time he pried open a window, a loud beeping started and dogs in the neighborhood started to bark. Before he could close the window, he took off running in the opposite direction. He managed to find an empty warehouse and sought shelter until the cops passed, but then he ended up falling asleep.

All that remained of the candy was its wrapper. He headed to the nearby park, tossed the wrapper into the trash can and went to sit down at a picnic table. He set his bag down and exhaled. The silence broke when he heard his nickname. The boy turned his head in the direction and saw his friend, Betty approaching him with a cute smile on her lips.

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The One With The Dragon (Jeff Atkins x reader)

word count: ~3,410

Request: anon- this sounds weird but I love dragons and I love jeff so could you write something about jeff and dragons? love your writing btw :))

Warnings: mild bullying, badass reader, Jeff being perfect in every way, descriptions of art even though I know absolutely nothing about it, Bryce is in it really briefly, I think that’s it.

A/N. This fic has become notorious in my friend group as The Dragon Fic. My girlfriends are very invested in this one, and are really disappointed that Jeff doesn’t turn into a dragon at the end and fly away. I’m sorry to disappoint guys. Despite the lack of Dragon-Jeff, please try to enjoy :)


The landscape covering the canvas was impressive by anyone’s standards; a great, sweeping expanse of land, on which the bodies of fallen soldiers were scattered. Smoke curled from the dying fires, and the sun cast a hazy glow upon the scene. The colours shone with vivid brilliance, the image so clear, so real that the scent of smoke clung to it. Still, it was the centrepiece that dazzled the eye. A dragon, pure silver and shining, it’s long neck arched as it spread it’s mighty wings, roaring into the sky a jet of blue flames. 

The beast was massive, forty feet tall, its scales serrated and rippling. The colour grew softer as the eye moved towards the great snake’s belly. There the scales were rounded and almost soft. It’s wing span was almost double it’s height, and their great shadow almost covered the canvas. It’s teeth, long and black, shone like Onyx, and it’s one eye was gold, molten and burning. In the space where it’s other eye used to rest was a jagged scar leading to a gaping wound, blue light burning from deep within the socket. It was a masterpiece.

Of course no one at Liberty High appreciated it. It hung in the art room, the work of nine months and too many hours, and all (y/n) got as recognition of it’s creation was ridicule.

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Title: Teenage Rebellion
Fandom: Stranger Things
Characters: Jonathan Byers x Reader
Reader Gender: Female
Word Count: 1,355
Warnings: Some swearing, mentions of bullying
Notes: Based on a request from an anon for “Could you do a Jonathan Byers fic with the prompt ‘I always hide in this one stairwell whenever I’m having a mental breakdown / existential crisis / etc but today when I came here you were already there’ Thank you!”

Originally posted by therealspideyman

Jonathan Byers had grown very accustomed to people whispering about him, often pointing and giggling amongst themselves as they did so. Because of this, it didn’t bother him when a few of his peers began gossiping about him – until he heard his mother’s and brother’s names come up.

“I still don’t think that Will Byers ever really went missing. That freak show of a family probably just wanted to land some paid interviews or something.”

I think the mom is a bit of a schizo. She probably just had a psychotic break and made the whole thing up.”

Jonathan could hear the teacher yelling after him as he left the room. He knew that if he had to sit there and listen to those idiots for another second, he’d have ended up getting suspended. The teachers would undoubtedly be looking for him, so he went to the one place he knew they’d never check.

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Fort || Jughead Jones

Prompt from @allineedisconnor: okay im having a serious case of feels bc of episode 4 so can i request one where like jughead goes to the readers house after the drive in is razed and they just talk about stuff and have a lazy afternoon curling up and watching movies like their own drive in

A/N: I know I said this would come out tomorrow night, but I was able to finish this prompt tonight and I wanted to post it ASAP! Hope you enjoy!

Gif by: @juptern (I just realized this is the second time I’ve used your gifs, is this alright?)

—————

Saturday night. Also known as the time of the week where you could have your peace and quiet. Being involved with the Blue & Gold with your boyfriend Jughead and best friend Betty, and with updates on Jason Blossom’s murder coming everyday, you had been writing constantly. Saturday night however, was your relaxation time. You had finished all your homework on Friday and Saturday morning and planned to study for your tests on Sunday. Your parents were out of town for the weekend meeting up with old friends of theirs. You were home alone for the first time in a long time and you’d be damned if you didn’t make the best of it.

Unfortunately, your peace and quiet time had been disrupted twice so far. First there were the Girl Scouts. Usually you loved them and their cute little ways to try to get you to buy their Thin Mints but today’s girls just wouldn’t chill with the bargaining. They even upped the price of their Thin Mints which they didn’t tell you about until after you had agreed to buy two orders of them. Then there was the fact that Jughead hadn’t texted you in two days. Now, usually you wouldn’t have minded, knowing that he was focused on his novel, but ghosting was unlike Jughead. Besides, you knew your boyfriend loved the drive-in theater that had bulldozed the previous day, and you wanted to be there for him. If you knew where he lived, you would’ve gone over to check on him, but you didn’t know where he lived. When you asked Jughead about it, he just mumbled something about having a rough home life and how it wasn’t a good place to hang out. He didn’t like to talk about it and you got the message. So you left it alone. You guys either stayed in your house and watched movies or went to Pop’s and chatted about life. Despite your worry, you figured Jughead just needed some time to deal with the drive-in’s destruction and tried to relax. Just as you snuggled under the blanket with your mug of hot chocolate and Netflix playing on your laptop, a knock at the door reverberated around the house. You groaned in frustration, slamming the mug down on the coffee table and throwing the blanket off. What now? You stomped over to the front door and swung it open ready to tell whoever was there off when you were greeted by the sight of Jughead. The first thing you noticed was his humongous backpack and the posters sticking out of it. Then you looked up at his eyes. He looked like he was about to cry and your heart just broke.

“Jug…” you began.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” he said, desperately trying to keep his wavering voice steady.

You quickly ushered him in and he dropped his heavy backpack on the floor, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Jug,” you said again.

He didn’t respond. You gently turned him around and placed your hand on his cheek.

“Jughead.” you said softly.

Jughead finally looked up at you, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t have anywhere to go.” he said again, softer and more broken that you had ever heard him.

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for an answer of what could’ve happened. Did his parents kick him out? If they did, why did they kick him out?

“Come on,” you said softly, leading him to the couch. “Tell me what’s going on.”

In the next few hours that followed, Jughead told you everything. Everything about his dad, his mom, and Jellybean. The Southside Serpents, his dad’s job, his mom and Jellybean’s whereabouts, and where he had been living for the past few months. When he was done, he began to cry, finally breaking down after holding it all in after for so long. You whispered reassuring words in his ear as he cried in your arms, trying to stop your own tears from falling asking yourself, Why Jughead? Out of everyone in the world, why Jughead?

After a while, you noticed that your boyfriend’s cries went from heaving sobs to small sniffles and you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Jughead?” you asked.

Jughead looked up at you, his eyes and cheeks red. He looked so vulnerable.

“You can stay here. I’ll tell my parents what you told me. They’ll understand. You can take the guest bedroom. It’s gonna be okay,” you said.

Jughead looked up at you with the softest expression you had ever seen and nodded as he pulled away from your warm embrace, wiping his eyes with his jacket sleeve.

“Thank you.” he said quietly, his voice shredded from crying.

Your heart broke for what seemed like the millionth time that night, as you tried to come up with a plan to make Jughead happy again, at least for a little while. Then it hit you. You got up and started to take the cushions off the couch and position them so they made a wall around you and Jughead. Jughead looked at you confusedly, wondering what you were doing. You pulled the crumpled blanket off the couch and draped it over the wall of cushions creating a fort. Jughead realized your intentions and cracked a smile. Ignoring your now cold hot chocolate on the coffee table, you grabbed your laptop and another blanket and crawled into the fort with Jughead.

“I know it’s not a drive-in theater, but maybe it could be our own little theater?” you asked tentatively, hoping the raven-haired boy would like it.

To your relief and delight, Jughead chuckled and nodded.

“It’s perfect.” he said.

You smiled widely as you used the last cushion to box the two of you in and you pulled the covers over you and your boyfriend, snuggling into his side. Opening your laptop and playing Witness for the Prosecution (Jughead’s choice,) the two of you began to watch. About halfway into the movie, Jughead looked down at you and realized you were asleep. He smiled and gently kissed your head.

“Thank you, Y/N. I love you.”

—————

A/N: That was probably more angst than you wanted, but I hope the fluff in the end made up for it! For anyone wanting to know why I didn’t expand on their conversation; we know so little about Jughead’s background and family (and I’m sure they’ll go into more detail with that in future episodes) but I didn’t want to write anything that could be proved wrong as the show progresses so therefore, I’ll leave you to your theories! Also, Witness for the Prosecution is an A+ movie, I highly recommend it. :)