i even like 'what as' better than 'if i was a duck'

100 Dialogue Prompts: Part 3

And we did it again, amigos! 

  1. “My sock is missing.”
  2. “I must say it can be rather therapeutic”
  3. “Shit, they spotted us. Quick, put your Obama mask on.”
  4. “You raided my village, killed my parents and slaughtered tens of innocent people. I was able to forgive you for all of that-tell myself it was in your nature. But then you did something heinous. Something beyond all possible hope of redemption. You killed my dog.”
  5. “What do you mean you accidentally assassinated the Pope!?”
  6. “I would love to give a fuck about you but sadly my last one went off to war and never returned”
  7. “If you think I’ll stop my quest for world domination for a bag of cookies, you are,,, right… Now, gimme that!”
  8. “What are you doing with that rubber duckie toy– OH DEAR GOD LORD HAVE MERCY”
  9. “I’m more afraid of myself than you.”
  10. “I already told you, there’s nothing we can do about the fights. We COULD if you stopped spoiling shows and books to everyone.”
  11. “You, my friend, are the most unnecessary when it comes to your excessively sassy attitude.”
  12. “I love you.” “…..What? OH APRIL FOOLS.”
  13. “What is this, a concert for ants???”
  14. “I made it! I’m in the list! This is being a great day since I remembered it’s a Thursday, not a Monday!”
  15. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just that, well, I’ve got a sink full of dishes and a cat to wash.”
  16. “When you said i had pretty eyes i thought you were complimenting me,not trying to buy them!”
  17. “The wolves eat tonight.”
  18. “Gee, thanks for nearly killing me because of ____!” “Listen up here, are you dead? You’d better be greateful you’re still alive tou little shit.”
  19. "When you said you could fly, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
  20. “Sarah, I love you and all but hOW ON EARTH DO YOU KEEP SENDING OUR PETS TO SPACE?!”
  21. “Look, just because you kidnapped me doesn’t mean I’m going to marry you.”
  22. “How in God’s name did you even get up there?!”
  23. “I think I misplaced my right hand”
  24. “I did it! I got into university!” “That’s great! What course?” “Uh… Would it be a bad thing if I told you that… Dark magic and villainy?”
  25. “Well, it just so happens that I have been a homeless man for three years now. That must mean I’m the chosen one!”
  26. “Have your eyes always been that colour?”
  27. “I’m going to fight the sun!”
  28. “You can’t just run around punching people you don’t like, ____!”
  29. “I’m not into that kinda thing.”
  30. “Dude why did you eat all that cake on your own?”
  31. “I just wanted to know if we could use a plastic knife”
  32. “Uhhhh, guys? Don’t hate me, but I think I just released Satan”
  33. “Well, fine… Just wait a little bit before you do something stupid.” “…”
  34. “What do you mean there’s no bacon flavored ice cream!?”
  35. “What do you mean you’re my sister? I don’t have a sister!”
  36. “Why the hell do we need a duck to hunt Bigfoot?”
  37. “Oh, so you can do pink explosions too”
  38. “This isn’t my kitchen, is it?”
  39. “Ohhh, so THAT’S what you meant by ‘shooting starts’.”
  40. “ACHOO” “bless you” “Thank you, wait a minute I live alone”
  41. “Put my creepy cat in a different room? Don’t be silly! I don’t even have a cat!”
  42. “Katie, please stop shooting me with tranquilizer darts.”
  43. “Why did you think it was a good idea to only bring a potato to this heist?”
  44. “Okay, we make this promise now - nobody look at that fucking goat ever again.”
  45. “Sarah, why is the cat naked?”
  46. “Wait. You’re aroused?”
  47. “Why would that surprise you?”
  48. “It does on account of you being covered in blood. Wipe that smile off your face. You look like a cat in heat.”
  49. “okay so let me get this straight, you’re not actually my long lost twin…” “yes.” “…because you’re me from another dimension” “…yes.”
  50. “I’m sorry, but did that thing just talk?”
  51. “I thought we promised to never speak of that incident again!”
  52. "Sweetheart”“Yes dear”“Some of your morally challenged friends are trying to kidnap me again.”“And?”“And!?”“You’re a big girl, you can take care of yourself.”“Of course I can, but the gesture would have been nice!”
  53. “how many epilepsy pills can you take before you overdose?” “Just one or two.” “I’m gonna have to call you back.”
  54. “…I was GOING to ask why there’s a pink goo all over the kitchen floor but I think that can wait whilst I ask what the FUCK IS GOING ON?”
  55. “For the last time, can you stop calling that thing 'human’”
  56. “Okay, that is a seriously dodgy looking hat-are you certain you’re right about this?”
  57. “Really Darling, you can stop trying to scream, we’ve already espablished that no one cares and it’s giving you unflattering lines on your forehead.”
  58. “_______, why am I on the ceiling?”
  59. “What the heck happened while I was at the store?
  60. "What the actual fuck!” “I did warn-” “Yes I know you said you were crazy, but this…. This is…” “Just another Tuesday. Oh we’re late for tea!” “With who?!” “With the Queen of course, who else?”
  61. “Despreate times call for cows.”
  62. “Did you burn the last piece of toast again?”
  63. “You didn’t TELL me there’d be free food!”
  64. “Did Jesus really die for this bullshit?”
  65. “Do you want the apocalypse?!! Because that’s how you get the apocalypse!!!”
  66. “Goddamit, I’m dead again aren’t I? How the hell did I do it this time?”
  67. “Dude, no.”
  68. “I may be a horrible person, but at least I am an honest one.”
  69. “I told you, I dress to kill, now fetch me my fancy stilettos, mama’s gonna slay tonight!”
  70. “I left the room for 3 minutes and you really want to tell me you started a war with every single planet?” “Well, I told you 3 months ago to not leave me alone.” “And I told you I have to use the bathroom 3 months ago!”
  71. “Wow, only took 3 minutes to destroy the world.” “Let’s see if I can do it in 2!”
  72. “So… Wh-Why- How did you flush the duck down the toilet?”
  73. “dude. i liked that carpet. do you know how hard it is to wash bloodstains out of carpets.”
  74. “Don’t worry, it’s much worse than it looks.”
  75. “What are you doing ___?” “I’m camping.” “No you’re beside tree with a blank-” “CAMPING”
  76. “WHAT THE FUCK IS A DUCKPOTATO”
  77. “PUT THE PUPPY DOWN AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!”
  78. “PLEASE DON’T HANG UP! YOU AND YOUR FAMILY ARE IN DANGER!”
  79. “What the hell kind of scream was that? And how did you make it?! ”
  80. “Hey, uhm… Hate to interrupt your conversation, but why the fuck is there a giraffe on the soup aisle”
  81. “You mean to tell me that somebody decided it was a good idea to cross plums and apricots, but nobody can figure out why my cat has RABBIT ears?”
  82. “Sorry but um… why is there a fox and a bear singing Ooh la la by Britney Spears on the balcony? And where is my chicken, Pudding?!”
  83. “Where did you get LIGHT-UP COMBAT BOOTS? THEY CHANGE COLOR?!”
  84. “So you’re telling me there was a genie trapped in that can of soup? And you accidentally ATE THE GENIE?!”
  85. “Listen…don’t take this the wrong way, but…I love the OTHER you better.”
  86. “Tell me why,  exactly, did you need the rubber chicken? ”
  87. “Look, I’m not a liar, alright?  And I ain’t overdramatic or hyperbolic or whatever else you wanna call me.  So when I say I would sell my soul for a pancake right now, I mean I will literally sell my soul for a pancake right now.  And maybe a million dollars.”
  88. “Wait a second, you’re telling me that….. YOU’VE BEEN DATING SATAN BEHIND MY BACK FOR FOUR WHOLE YEARS?!!!”
  89. “Well dad did say he would be gone for five days…what the hell? Let’s go to the corner store!”
  90. “Why did you buy 74 melons?!”
  91. “Where’s the toaster?” “It’s in the kitchen… Why do you have a fork?” “K, thanks.”
  92. “Death, out of all the things in this world, why are so afraid of ____?”
  93. “This floor is like my life; Cold and Hard.”
  94. “So you’re telling me that I am the only thing that is preventing a Third World War, right?” “Yeah, pretty much.”
  95. “I don’t know your name and you don’t know mine but I promise it will turn out okay.”
  96. “Little did you know, they were slowly turning into werewolves.”
  97. “Umm… I may have possibly accidentally blown up another planet”
  98. “I told you not to do that… now look, you’ve lost your hand!”
  99. “Every time you speak I literally die a little”
  100. “One baby soul please, Adult souls give me gas!”

“I need you, yes you (you should feel targeted), to come up with a new dialogue prompt for part 4 and leave it in the comments below. It’s fun and the first 100 replies will make the next list. As always, one prompt per amigo and don’t forget the doubles quotes “”. Pantoffel” (Click here for part 1 and here for part 2)

Wanna park and act like an a**hole? Enjoy paying thousands.

Years ago, I worked as a security officer in a high-traffic tourist area (graveyard shift).

One of my responsibilities was to make sure my building’s loading/unloading zone is kept clear because at all hours of the day we’ve got vehicles coming and going for people going to meetings, visitors, tourists, cabs, etc. The curb is painted white and marked in big bold letters ✶ LOADING AND UNLOADING ONLY ✶ NO PARKING ✶. At the end of the zone there was a single handicap parking stall painted bright blue.

Now the building I worked at was nearby a few large night clubs, so every Friday and Saturday the area would be crazy busy with drunken fighting, vomiting, occasional alleyway sex, etc. All night long there’d be cute girls milling around in skimpy outfits, so the job had its perks too.

Clubbers would take advantage of my building’s valet parking service and pay to park in our garage before heading out to one of the clubs across the street.

Some clubbers would think they could get away with parking in our loading zone all night. My coworkers and I would aggressively patrol the area in the earlier evening hours and advise as many people as we could so they’d leave and avoid getting a ticket. It was also better for us if they left, because when there were too many vehicles parked out front, traffic would become a complete clusterf*ck regardless of the time of day.

Most people would be grateful for the information and leave. Occasionally, some douche would laugh in our faces, say something about pigs or rent-a-cops or whatever and leave their car anyway. In those cases, we’d call our city’s parking enforcement and they’d get a $90 ticket for their troubles.

One Saturday night, after finished a round of patrols, I went to take a leak. On my way back out, I walked past Dispatch and my buddy calls me over to the surveillance bank.

“Hey bro, you got one out front.”

I turned to the grainy feed just in time to see a piece-of-junk ‘97 BMW sloppily parking in front of our building. I murmured that I’d go out and advise the driver, but before I could leave, the driver exited his vehicle.

My buddy and I watched in silence as the driver, a young black male adorned with flashy cheap bling, hiked his pants up at the crotch and blocked the path of a couple girls walking by. He started hitting on them in the slimiest way possible, even trying to grab their hands and asses at one point, staring shamelessly at their tits while he was schmoozing them. He took out his phone and shoved it at them, presumably asking for their numbers.

Eventually the girls were able to dodge his grabbers and ran off toward the club across the street. He repeated this routine several more times with various groups of girls walking by, even taking out a small bottle of vodka from his back pocket and offering swigs. With each rejection, he’d get angry and presumably cuss out the girls as they hurried off (our cameras didn’t pick up audio but this seemed a reasonable assumption).

I sighed and looked at my buddy.

“Well, I guess I’ll go talk to him.”

I made my way out to the front and approached him just as another group of girls ducked away from him. I called out to him. He turned and stared at me blankly.

“Hey, man, just wanted to let you know that this zone is for loading and unloading. Normally it’s not a big deal to park for a bit but if everyone does it on the weekends, traffic gets backed up pretty bad here.”

The douche looked at his vehicle, then at my badge.

“F*CKYOUB*TCHASSN☻☻☻☻I'LLF*CKYOUUP. PIGASSWANNABECOPMOTHAF*CKA.”

I looked at my watch. It was about 10:30PM. I continued my spiel.

“Parking enforcement here is pretty strict. You should move your vehicle or you might get ticketed–”

“F*CKYOUN☻☻☻☻SUCKMYD*CK. BETTERNOTTOUCHMYSHITN☻☻☻☻ILLF*CKYOUUPN☻☻☻☻.”

“Have a good night sir.”

He flipped me off and went across the street, where he was promptly denied entry for dress code violations. He cussed out the bouncer and wandered off down the block. I walked over to his vehicle and saw that it was parked crooked, the rear of the vehicle partially blocking the lane of traffic. Half of his vehicle was in the white zone, the other in the blue zone. I key’d up my radio.

“8million to dispatch.”

“8million, go ahead.”

“Can you call parking enforcement for this vehicle? Lemme know when you’re ready for the plate.”

Fifteen minutes later, the parking officer arrived. He looked at the vehicle and promptly issued a $90 ticket for parking in the white zone and a $900 ticket for parking in the blue zone without a permit.

I thanked the officer and went back inside to have a snack.

A couple hours later, two of the local cops stopped by to say hi. As Officer Morris and his partner walked over, Dispatch radio’d me.

“Hey 8million, is that Jones and Morris?”

“Sure is.”

“You gonna do what I think you’re gonna do?”

“Yep.”

Officer Jones and I lit up our cigarettes as Officer Morris looked on disapprovingly. We all smoked and chatted for a bit, then I casually motioned over my shoulder at the BMW.

“Hey, Jones, check out the parking job on that piece of shit.”

We all walked over to the corner and looked at the vehicle, the two tickets stuck on the windshield flapping in the wind. Officer Morris grabbed one of the tickets, read it over and looked at me.

“What’s the story here?”

I told them what happened and the driver’s response. Officer Jones and Morris looked at each other.

“8million, you got the time?”

“Yeah, it’s… 12:27AM.”

“Well it’s a whole new day now isn’t it?”

Officer Morris proceeded to write another $90 ticket for the white zone, then another $900 ticket for the blue zone. He paused for a moment after finishing the second one.

“Hey Jones, looks like this vehicle is parked more than twelve inches from the curb. What do you think?”

“Sounds about right.”

Officer Morris wrote another ticket for $120 and slapped it on the pile of tickets on the windshield. I shook both officer’s hands and they left to continue their patrols.

The next few hours of my shift went by fairly quickly. Around 5AM, Dispatch scared the hell out of me.

“HEY 8MILLION, ARE YOU STILL ON THAT CALL?”

“Negative, I just finished clearing it.”

“RESPOND TO DISPATCH ASAP.”

I ran down to the surveillance bank, where my coworkers were all gathered and laughing their asses off. Sunday was street cleaning day and the BMW was getting ticketed again by parking enforcement.

After that, we all stopped by Dispatch every 5-10 minutes to see if the owner had returned. Finally, at about 6AM, douchebag came stumbling up the block, looking completely worn out. His formerly-white t-shirt was stained and dirty and it looked like he’d lost at least one fight.

We watched in suspense as he looked at the pile of tickets crammed together on his windshield and slowly removed them. He stood there, pants sagging below his knees, shuffling through each ticket as if he were a toddler with a handful of Pokémon cards.

With a look of abject defeat on his face, he got into his vehicle and drove off. The whole room erupted in laughter and high-fives.

As the laughter died down, I picked up the office phone and started dialing. My coworkers eyed me curiously. I put the call on speaker just as the call connected.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“Yeah, hi, I’d like to report a possible drunk driver. I have the vehicle and driver description when you’re ready.”

Sheriff Knows Best

Stiles/Derek, G, 2K words, Sheriff POV, Coffeeshop AU, matchmaker!Sheriff

(Credit for the title to @cobrilee!)

This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:

the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)

John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.

Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.

They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”

Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”

He nods. “Can I get you anything?”

John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.

“Your son?”

“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”

Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.

“Happy to help,” he says.

John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.

“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”

Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.


“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.

“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.

Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.

“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”

“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”

Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”

He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.

“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”

He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”

John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.

“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”

And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.

“And who exactly is he?”

John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.” 

Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”

“Okay,” he says seriously, and Stiles grimaces.

“No, Dad, don’t actually—”

Keep reading

Closet Softie

Or, How Bucky Barnes Nearly Ruined His Tough-Guy Rep

(On AO3)


The trail mix was gone. 

The nice, expensive trail mix, with twelve kinds of nuts and the big sunflower seeds and dried fruits, the kind Tony only rarely left sitting on the common floors for everyone to get at, was gone. 

Clint had been looking forward to that stuff all morning

All the way through a hellish morning “jog” with Steve, all through Nat handing him his ass on the training mats, all through firing the same batch of misweighted arrows over and over so Tony could take scans and fix the design, he’d been thinking, when this is done I get to go upstairs and hang out on the couch and watch Dog Cops and eat the good trail mix, guilt-free. 

And it was gone.

Clint was gonna shoot somebody.

Just as soon as he figured out who’d taken the trail mix.


kingofmemes posted:

yesterday i saw a sad duck in the park who kept getting picked on by the other ducks so today i brought some trail mix and we had a nice lunch together. also i think he might be the duck who pooped on sam last week. if so, he is officially my new best friend. 

Posted at 3:29 PM, 24379 notes

(Read More Below)


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a sterek fic inspired by this stupid thing because how could I not

It’s a common saying among Stiles’ friends that he doesn’t have a lot of dignity. To be perfectly honest, Stiles agrees with them (as much as he argues against the point whenever they bring it up).

But this is probably a new low.

Well, not new-new, because this is into the fourth week of the habit and if he was a better person, he’d have stopped by now. He’s not a better person in this instance, but he’s made peace with it.

‘It’ being watching his stubbled neighbour jog past his place every morning in sweatpants and obviously non-supportive underwear. There’s a lot of movement down there. A lot.

“I mean, with that much jiggle, he’s gotta know, right?” Stiles asks his window pane, behind which he’s fake writing on his laptop.

They’re not quite neighbours, there’s about half a block between them for which Stiles’ sanity is thankful. Otherwise who knows what ludicrous amateur spying would have occurred.

As it is, he is very thankful he accidentally set his alarm for five am two (it was four) mornings in a row, because now he knows that this is a morning ritual for his neighbour.

Today hot neighbour is wearing the cut off, grey sweats. They’re a personal favourite of Stiles’ (better than the dark blue ones, which make it harder to see) because it means not only can he get a clear view of his neighbour’s dick as it swings forward against the fabric, but also his sweaty, perfectly muscled calves.

Stiles sighs out and bangs his head once against the window pane, a small punishment that is also part of the routine.

What is not part of the routine, is hot neighbour looking into Stiles’ window, and seeing Stiles’ face smooshed against the glass, after which he trips, possibly in disgust, or just simple distraction.

Stiles’ first reaction is to panic. He pushes his chair back from the desk and slams his laptop closed.

His second reaction is that he should call someone to come help.

His third reaction is to realise that, hold on, he can go and help.

Stiles rushes out his front door and into the chilly morning air.

Keep reading

You’ll always have a home- Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead Jones x Reader

Warnings: Angst, kissing, like a makeout kinda part? Is that even a warning?

Description: Jughead seemed off lately, with Jason’s death, and the drive-min closing, reader can tell something is off, but cant really pinpoint what

—————————————————————

The first time I could tell something was off was when I mentioned the coffeemaker. It was funny how something as simple as the mention of a coffee pot was the spark of my curiosity towards the situation.
“I swear to god, you drink so much coffee, I’m just going to get you a pot for your birthday so you can save some money.” And there it was, the slight twitch in his shoulders and the split second of a tense look on his face before he began laughing along. It was so quick, I was surprised I even caught it, but I did.
 I never asked about Jughead’s home life. He always steered clear of it so I figured it was a touchy subject. I wondered why I hadn’t been invited over in… well…. ever. Then I started putting together the bits and pieces of information and realized: I hadn’t a clue what roof Jughead was sleeping under at night.
Obviously, it was time to investigate.
And I had the perfect opportunity one afternoon.
“Shit, I forgot my textbook at home.” Jughead muttered, his head ducked down and searching in his schoolbag.
“We can walk to your house and get it if you want.” There it was, the tense-up. Jughead froze in his tracks for a split second before regaining his composure and kept walking. To anybody else, it would have looked normal, but I wasn’t anyone else. I was his best friend, and he was the boy I was in love with.
“No, it’s fine. I can just use yours, right?” Jughead looked at me with almost pleading eyes, and I didn’t want to egg him on any longer. I wanted him to open up and tell me the truth, not shut me out.
“Yeah, of course.” I smiled up at my friend and he smiled back reassuringly. Deep down, I knew something was wrong.
And a week later, I began to confirm those suspicions.
“Can you believe they’re shutting down the drive-in?!” Jughead screeched at me one morning as I walked up the front steps of our school.
“Wait, what?” I gave him a confused look.
“Yeah! Apparently an “anonymous buyer” gave the mayor an offer she just couldn’t refuse” Jughead through his hands up in dramatic sarcasm before scoffing and folding them over his chest angrily.
“Juggie, I’m sorry you’re going to lose your job, but- “
“it’s more than just my job, y/n!” Jughead paused for a second. I watched his Addams apple move quickly as he gulped down words that were threatening to pour out of his mouth. “It’s, it’s, it’s a special place! It’s special to us! I took you there when you first moved here! Remember?!”
“Yeah.” I laughed, thinking back to the memories of Jug and I sneaking up to the film roll room and watching through the peek hole while Jughead made sure the tapes were switched out on time.
“hello?! Earth to y/n?” Jughead waved his face in front of me, and I brought myself out of my quick trip to the past, listening to Jugheads rambling about the drive- in.
Jughead brought it up later to our friends as we ate at pop’s, inviting Veronica, Kevin, Betty and I to the last drive in on Friday. Of course, they all agreed to go, and we all planned who we would drive with. I decided to walk with Jughead, and Kevin was taking Veronica. Betty was going to go with Archie.
“I’m going to go to the mayor again and see if I can convince her to keep the drive- in.” Jughead told me as we began to part ways that night. I grabbed his sleeve, pulling me back to him.
“Jughead, why is the Twilight drive-in so important to save?” I asked him, my voice soft and full of concern.
“It’s my job, y/n! I thought that might be an important thing to try and save!” Jughead’s words dripped with sarcasm as he yelled at me. He never usually got angry like this.
“Ok, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, good luck.” I spoke softly as I backed away slowly. I watched Jughead’s face go from angry to apologetic and walked away before he could say anything.
Jughead and I didn’t really speak much for the next few days. We still walked to class together, and he walked me home. He told me that the Mayor just wouldn’t listen to him or give his words any consideration, so I tried going to her myself the day after he did to change her mind.
“Hello, miss- “I opened the door to her office slowly, speaking with the politest tone I could manage.
“Miss y/l/n, I’m sorry, but the drive in is closing, and that’s final.” The mayor cut me off with a firm but somewhat polite tone.
“I’m sorry to bother you, this is just really important to Jughead. I just wanted to at least try and change your mind.”
“That’s quite alright, miss y/l/n.” The mayor smiled at me, staring at me for another moment before speaking again.
“Jughead is… special. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, certainly not any that would at least try to help him with something like this. I’m sorry I can’t save the drive in. I wish I could, for your sake and Jughead’s, but… “The mayor sighed, rubbing the side of her head with her thumb and forefinger.
“Thank you for your time.” I nodded, beginning to exit the Mayor’s office.
“Y/n?” I turned to the sound of the mayor’s voice. “Jughead is lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Thank you, Mayor.” I exited the office, my shoulders heavy.
The night of the drive-in, I rode to the lot with Kevin and Veronica, meeting up with Jughead. I found him by the snack counter and smiled as I watched him talk aimlessly with the boy in the booth.
“Hey, Jug.” I greeted my best friend and the boy he was talking to.
“Hey, y/n/n.” Jughead wrapped an arm around me, hugging me tightly. I wrapped my arms around his waist, my head leaning against his chest.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him, my voice muffled by his shirt. Jughead shrugged before looking down at me with a small smile on his face.
“Could be better, but you’re here, so I guess I’m not under a complete raincloud of doom.”
“Oh, so just a small one then?” I teased, grinning up at him.
“Yeah, it’s kinda just lingering somewhere behind me, ready to open up and strike me with a lightning bolt at any given moment.” I laughed at Jughead’s comment.
“Are you gonna come lay with us on the truck?” I asked him, a pleading look on my face. I grabbed his hand and began tugging him toward Kevin’s truck.
Jughead sucked in a breath before giving in. “Fine, Fine, I guess I’ll be angsty and depressed in the back of the truck instead of in the film room.” I jumped happily before intertwining Jughead’s hand with mine and pulling him towards the back of the truck. Veronica and Kevin sat curled up in blankets and scooted over so Jughead and I could sit next to them.
“Ah, it’s the official partners in crime, the tag team, the endgame, the- “
“I thought Archie and Betty were endgame?” I cut off Kevin before he could throw another couple reference at jughead and I.
“Yes, but that was before he got vocal with our music teacher.” Kevin grinned at his subtle pun and I rolled my eye.
“Ok, no Archie, no Ms. Grundy, no endgames, let’s just enjoy the drive in while we can, alright?” Veronica handed Jughead and I a blanket. I climbed in to Jughead’s lap and rested my back against his chest and he wrapped the blanket around us, his arms going around my waist under the cloth.
“Thank you,” Jughead whispered in my ear.
“For what?” I whispered back, grabbing the popcorn Veronica handed me.
“The mayor told me you stopped by to see her.” Jughead whispered to me. I turned around to face him and he was looking up at the big drive in screen, the lights reflecting off his face and casting shadows under his eyes and chin. He looked painstakingly beautiful. Jughead’s eyes flickered down to look at me and he smirked a bit before looking back up at the screen.
We stayed almost the whole night, watching movie after movie. The only time Jughead left was to go switch out the rolls as the credits came after the end of every showing. He would re-appear five minutes later, and I would lift the blanket as he hopped over the side of Kevin’s truck and resumed his prior position, his arms wrapped around me and his chin on my shoulder. At 4 in the morning, the credits to the last movie rolled, with only a few cars left on the lot. Veronica and Kevin were leaned against each other as they snored lightly, and my back rested against Jughead’s chest. I looked up at the mesmerizing boy. He had a hard look on his face and his jaw was clenched, his eyes glossy and shiny, the credits from the screen reflecting off his pupils.
“Jughead?” I spoke softly, my eyes on the raven-haired boy. He kept his gaze on the screen ahead of him. “Jughead, the construction people will be here soon, we have to go.”
“You guys go, I’m gonna hang around a little longer.” Jughead pulled away from me, climbing out of the truck and disappearing around the side of it. I turned to my friends, shaking them lightly to wake them up. Kevin woke first, carrying a still-sleeping Veronica around to the passenger seat and lying her in it. I grabbed my blanket and my backpack and swung it over my shoulder and waited at the driver’s side of the vehicle.
“Aren’t you and Jughead coming?” Kevin asked me, walking around to the front of the car where I stood.
“No, Jughead said he wanted to stay a bit longer, so I’ll wait with him.” I hugged my friend before he climbed in to the driver’s side.
“Hey, if you guys do it in the film room, I want details.” Kevin grinned devilishly before starting the car and driving away. I just shook my head, laughing at his comment. I made my way to the wall of the film room and leaned against it, folding my blanket. I pulled the bag off my shoulder, sticking the blanket inside.
 I waited for Jughead for another hour or so, playing on my phone mindlessly. I figured he was soaking up what he could of the film room before Mr. Andrews’ company teared it to shreds. The drive- in was his favorite place in town, besides the chock-lit shoppe.
I watched as the sky started to get lighter and I checked the time. 6:08 A.M. It wasn’t like I had never pulled an all-nighter before, and I wasn’t going to leave until I at least made sure Jughead was alright and home safe. I leaned back against the building, hearing birds chirping as the sun rose. Minutes later, I heard a voice from the other side of the building, and I turned my head, kicking off the wall with my heel and poking my head slightly around the corner. I saw the back of Jughead, and he was facing a man that looked familiar. Jughead had what looked like a camper bag hanging off his back, a poster sticking out of it.
“They’ll tear that booth down, too. Raise the whole place, send it to the junkyard.” The man in front of Jughead spoke, a smile playing on his lips.” And us with it.”
“Yeah, maybe they’ll save it. All the pieces. Store it in the town hall attic and rebuild it in a hundred years. Wonder who the hell we were.” I could almost picture the bittersweet smile on Jug’s face.
“Hmm.” The man smiled a bit more before his face became serious.
“So where are you gonna live now?” My heart stopped, a million emotions and realizations hitting me like a bus.
“I’ll figure it out dad, I always do.” I watched Jughead walked past him, walking towards the entrance of the drive in. I snuck around the other side of the building, making my way towards the entrance. I managed to beat Jughead to it and stood at the gate, my arms crossed as I waited for the boy I loved.
Jughead came around the corner, stopping in his tracks when he saw me. He had what looked like a busted look in his face as I stood there, a blank expression matching the hurt, worry, and concern for the boy.
“Y/n… what are you still doing here? I thought you-?” Jughead asked me, hoping I hadn’t caught on to what was going on.
“When exactly were you planning on telling me that you were homeless?” I cut him off, my tone of voice coming off as if I were a concerned mother. Jughead opened his mouth, trying to find the words to speak, but gave up, closing it instead.
Juggie? Really? I’m your best friend! We tell each other everything? Why would you keep this from me? More importantly, why aren’t you staying with your father? Is he homeless too? Did he kick you out? What is going on, Forsythe?! Tell me!” I paced back and forth as I rambled, before turning to look at Jughead. He looked down at the dirt underneath his shoes, His hand wrapped around the strap of his bag. I waited for an answer, my arms spread wide in front of me as I stared at him. Jughead said something that I couldn’t make out.
“What?” I spoke, encouraging him to repeat himself. Jughead lifted his head, the rims of his eyes a dark pink and tears falling down his face. My face dropped quickly, my heart clenching tightly as I looked at the broken boy in front of me.
“I said,” Jughead lifted his sleeve to wipe his running nose.” I don’t have a home.” His voice cracked slightly and more tears fell down Jughead’s face as he dropped the bag from his shoulder.
“Jughead.” I dropped my bag as well and quickly ran to the boy, trying to keep my tears from falling as I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Jughead wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face in to my neck and quietly crying. We stood there for a few minutes, my one hand rubbing his back and my other pulling off his hat so I could run my fingers through his hair, doing everything I knew in my power that could soothe him.
“Jughead, Hey, Jug.” My hands cupped his cheeks, rubbing the tears away from his eyes while mine began to fall freely.” Listen to me, you are not homeless, ok? And you will never, ever, be homeless, as long as I am alive and breathing.” I stopped for a second to inhale quickly, my nose stuffed.” You are going to come with me to Pop’s, and I’m going to buy us breakfast, and then we are going to go back to my house, and you’re going to take a shower, because lord knows how long it’s been since you’ve had one,” Jughead chuckled lightly at my statement and I also let out a breathy laugh.” And then you’re going to crawl in to the guest bed, and you’re going to get some sleep, because it literally exhausts me every time I see those bags under your eyes. And you’re going to stay with me, ok?” Jughead nodded silently, knowing that this was a losing battle.
“And this never. Happens. Again. You got it? God, Jug, something terrible could have happened to you. We’ve got a murderer waltzing around town, do you know how easily you could have been killed?” I scolded, more tears falling down my face. I backed away from Jughead, going to grab my bag. “I don’t know how I can ever survive without you, ever! I would have dropped dead if anything ever happened to you! You’re the most important thing in this entire world to me! I don’t even know how- “Jughead grabbed my arm, turning me to face him before leaning down and planting his lips on mine. I stood still for a second, processing the shock of the gesture before wrapping my arms back around his neck and pulling his body closer to mine. Jughead wrapped his arms around my waist, his lips moving against mine. After a few moments, we pulled apart, my chest rising and falling as I caught my breath.
“Jughead, I- “Apparently, Jughead wasn’t done, because he pressed his lips to mine again, taking my breath away once more. We stood at the gate of the drive in for a little while longer, Jughead pushing me backwards until my back was against the fence and his body was pressed firmly against mine. We broke apart when we heard a man clear his throat.
“Uh, we’re gonna have to ask you to leave the premises.” The man spoke politely.” Construction begins soon.”
“Oh, sorry sir.” I apologized quickly, fixing my hair that Jughead had his fist tangled in moments ago, and grabbed my bag. Jughead did the same, grabbing my hand and leading me away from the drive in and down the street towards Pop’s. We stopped at my house so we could drop off our bags and began our trek to the 24-hour diner.
“Hey, Jughead.” I looked up at the boy as we walked hand in hand to the diner. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Jughead looked down at me, smiling warmly.
“No, Jughead, I- “
“I know, and I love you, too.” I stopped walking, causing Jughead to stop as well. Jughead looked down at me and I leaned up, pressing another kiss to his lips.
Jughead and I made it to the diner soon after, spotting Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin at a booth. When they saw us, they invited us to sit and Archie and Kevin grabbed chairs from another table.
“So, did anything happen in the film room?” Kevin wiggled his eyebrows at me as Jughead and I slid in to the booth. I slapped his shoulder before glaring at him.
“Nah, nothing happened in the film room.” Jughead paused momentarily before speaking again.” It happened outside the film room.” Kevin’s mouth dropped open wide.
“You kinky fuckers!” Kevin hollered. The table laughed as I turned red in embarrassment. I felt Jughead’s hand grab mine under the table and I smiled, my fingers intertwining with his.
He would always have a home, and it would be with me.

anonymous asked:

dark rc would you please consider writing about how victor (and the rest of the Russian skate team) had a feud with the Russian hockey team bc of their constant flirting and attentions towards yuuri (who was completely oblivious at the war waging for his heart)??

This has been sitting in my inbox for over a month and I apologize for that, nonny! I wanted to try my hand at breaking through this writer’s block and this prompt was ripe for the taking. It’s not my best work by any stretch, but it’s something at least! I hope you enjoy.

+

There are few things that give Yuri pleasure—the taste of accomplishment like cinnamon sugar on the back of his tongue after landing a quad; having a comeback so cutting that he practically draws blood; that soft murrf a cat makes when it decides it trusts him; the little green screenshot arrow appearing next to Otabek’s name in Snapchat—but they all pale in comparison to whenever the Russian hockey team visits the rink.

Keep reading

BTS’s reaction to their s/o having a PDA addiction:

💌 requested by @pastelxxwitch (your English isn’t bad at all, sweetie!)

A/N: As I mentioned before, I don’t write NSFW, but hopefully I was able to do this request justice. I made it super fluffy. Hope you enjoy it, loves~ 💖


Jin: You have a problem, you know you do. It’s too much - you always go too far. But when you get the urge to cuddle your boyfriend over a respectable family dinner, it’s not something you can easily dismiss. He’s looking so handsome, serving stew to his mother, sleeves rolled up, shirt damp with sweat and kitchen steam - less like a boyfriend, more like a husband. A husband that needs a barrage of hugging and kissing as punishment for being so drop-dead gorgeous.

As he sits down opposite, you give him a look – the look – to let him know what’s up. He doesn’t get the hint at first, so you inch your toes across the wooden flood until you find his shape under the table, and give his leg a nudge with your foot.

His eyes flicker to yours, brows raised in amusement. You’ve been together long enough to understand what his silent signals mean. Translation: “So, playing footsie is a thing we do now?”

You rub your foot up and down the inside of his calf, smiling at him through half-lidded eyes. Translation: “Yes, it’s a thing we do. Starting now.”

Jin looks you up and down, totally distracted now. You’re winning. Just a little more, and he’ll bend to your will. With one last brush of your toe against his trouser leg he stands up, displacing his glass of water, so that a few drops spot the table. “I just remembered that there’s a bottle of wine I forgot to open. Y/N, come and help me get the wine glasses.”

That’s your cue to leave, following him to the kitchen for an emergency make-out session:

“Was there a reason you desperately needed to disrupt our family dinner?”

“You were looking unfairly handsome,” you reply, “You needed to be punished.”

“With kisses?”

“The worst type of punishment.” You kiss him to prove you mean it.

Originally posted by jinmini


Yoongi: Well, this is new.

Normally, you have to beg Yoongi for hugs in public – pulling on his sweater sleeves, pulling on his hair, pulling on his ragged ends with pleas of “Please, Yoongi. Please.” Then he’d roll his eyes, shuffle closer and drape you in his warmth, with an arm around your shoulder while he mumbled about how embarrassing you are.

But today - today is different. And you certainly aren’t complaining.

Pressing his nose into your neck, pulling you closer, his hands fall around your waist, reaching down until they find leverage in the back pockets of your jeans. Without you asking; without him kicking and screaming and making a fuss about it.

You have to pull back a fraction to check his cheeks, which burn pink, just to make sure this is definitely your boyfriend and not some weird, alien replacement.

“What?” he demands.

You shake your head, and curl your arms around his neck. “Nothing… I just though you didn’t like cuddling in public.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what do you call this?”

He burrows deeper, pressing his face into the fabric of your shirt. “I call this an emergency.”

“Emergency?”

He nods. “I was running low on hugs.”

Originally posted by leojuseyo


Hoseok: You fidget anxiously. It’s been three hours, fifteen minutes and nine seconds since your last cuddle with Hoseok, and you’re beginning to feel cold already – what you need right now is a hug, or a hand in your hand, anything really, you’re not picky. But in the middle of the supermarket, mid weekly shop, isn’t the best place or time to tackle your boyfriend. Still, his back is looking exceptionally inviting underneath that tight-fitting t-shirt, just asking for you to snatch him up as he stretches up to reach a cereal box on the highest shelf.

As he turns back to toss the box in the shopping trolley, he pauses, eyeing you up and down, and that’s when you realise you’ve been biting your lip all this time, making heart-eyes his way. Not so subtle.

“What?” he asks, although he knows exactly ‘what’.

You press your palms onto the trolley’s handle and push it in his direction so the metal frame bumps against him. “Don’t ‘what?’ me.”

His response is a chuckle. “Is it that bad? You need me that much?”

You nod, and he licks his lips, before glancing up and down the aisle. There’s no one about. A motion of his hand is all the invitation you need to dive into his arms, and drown him in kisses, hidden by the shelves of biscuits and crisps.

Originally posted by itsrapmonster


Namjoon: “Namjoon, I need a hug.” You hold your arms out to your boyfriend.

“What why? Are you feeling okay?” As usual, Namjoon’s brain is spinning with possible reasons for this sudden request. Are you down? Depressed? Feeling lonely or anxious? Whatever it is, Namjoon’s ready to hug it away, even if you are in the middle of the main street.

You just shake your head at his concern, your smile stretching fondly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just love you. And I want a hug.”

That’s all you need to say. Namjoon’s face relaxes, his shoulders sag, and he breathes a sigh of relief. A hug for love’s sake. Of course. In one step, he’s by your side, wrapping his arms around your waist – not because it’s raining in your heart, or the sky above you is crumbling down, or the very fabric of the Earth is fraying. But just because you wanted it.

And you also – “Was that the first time you said that you love me?” he asks.

“I think it was.”

“Well. I love you too.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Originally posted by bangthebae


Jimin: You have a new hobby: embarrassing your boyfriend in front of his friends.

Jimin, who’s normally more snuggly than your bed on a rainy Monday morning, forgets all about your habitual cuddling when he’s with his group, keeping his distance instead, and getting jumpy when you brush against him.

Now that you’ve figured out how much power you possess – with him pleading “please – not so much PDA while I’m around my friends, I need to keep some semblance of my masculinity”, and you cooing back “sure thing, my squishy mochi” – it’s time to wreak some havoc.

The next time you’re at Taehyung’s house, you decide to put your plan in motion, pouncing on Jimin and tackling him to the couch. This should be fun.

“What are you doing?” His cheeks rise a couple of shades of red.

“Just cuddling like we normally do, mochi-wochi,” you purr, settling yourself in his lap.

The other boys burst out laughing at your actions, while Jimin squirms underneath you, trying to wriggle free. But it’s no use. Cuddling is serious business to you, and there’s no way you’re letting him go.

Sighing, he surrenders, and with his masculinity in shreds, he kisses your cheek as a form of peace-keeping. “Alright you win,” he mumbles, “Just, please, no more ‘mochi-wochi’.”

Originally posted by minblush


Taehyung: You and Taehyung are tied together by the heartstrings. You have a connection that you can’t quite explain, and somehow, you both seem to know exactly when the other’s craving touch - feelings so in sync, Taehyung needs you exactly when you need him.

Today is no exception. You’re sitting in a café with Taehyung, smiling stupidly-in-love over ice-cream sundaes, when all of a sudden you need – need – to cuddle with him, or your heart might seize up.

Without a word, without warning, you slip out of your seat, and rounding the table to Taehyung’s side, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He twists his neck to gaze up at you, brown eyes blinking. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just really needed a hug, all of a sudden.”

“Good, me too.” He grins, and you duck your head down for a kiss on his unsuspecting lips.

With a smooth motion, he slides his chair back, making room for you to sit on his lap, which you’re more than happy to accept, and from this perch you have easy access to his triple-chocolate knickerbocker glory.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Taehyung scoffs, as you lick chocolate sauce off his spoon, “You only like me for my desserts?”

“Opps. Exposed,” you laugh, and Taehyung leans in to peck a stray speck of chocolate from your chin.

When you kiss back again, he shivers below you, body responding before he can control it. Forgetting the café around you, the hustle and bustle of baristas and customers, you and Taehyung melt into each other like the ice-cream in your bowl.

Originally posted by buisually-appealing


Jungkook: Jungkook doesn’t like cuddling in public. It’s something you learnt about him a long time ago, on your first date in fact, sharing secrets with a game of ’20 questions’ - when he said ‘I’m embarrassed to touch in public’ you had almost ended the relationship then and there. How were you – one of the clingiest, touchy-feeliest people on the planet – going to cope with a guy who melted into a blushing pile of mush any time you so much as brushed fingers in public. Even when you got him to hold your hand, murmuring ‘Look, see? No one minds, no one’s looking,’ he’d still stay as stiff as steel, and snap your fingers apart when anyone so much as glanced in your general direction.

Thankfully, you had discovered a way to combat the problem, crafting the perfect date for you and your boyfriend – a public place where you could touch to your heart’s content, without Jungkook shying away from the eyes of disapproving grannies and curious children: a magical place called the cinema.

Seated in the back row, you can share a bag of popcorn and as many kisses as you want, without fear of being watched. With everyone else transfixed on the film, you and Jungkook can devote yourselves to each other. As the movie heroes strike out on quests to discover new lands, you explore new parts of Jungkook, acquainting yourself with every centimetre of exposed skin: cheeks, neck, knuckles, the inside of his wrists, any part he gives. He relaxes in your arms, and watching him unfurl for you is better than any film – he is your masterpiece, better directed that Steven Spielberg. In the dark of the cinema, you fall in love.

Originally posted by aestheticvbts


! I did not make the gifs !

Babe

“Baby.”

           Bitty stirs at the sound but doesn’t open his eyes. Jack is solid behind him and hasn’t moved a bit, with his arm still draped over Bitty’s middle.

           “Baby,” Jack says again, sleepily.

           “Hmm?”

           Jack doesn’t respond. Bitty thinks he may have just spoken in his sleep. He taps at Jack’s hand.

           “Jack?”

           Jack tightens his grip and slips his hand under Bitty’s shirt to rest on his chest.

           “Good morning,” he slurs, and rubs his nose into the hair at the back of Bitty’s neck.

           Bitty laughs into the pillow. He doesn’t bother turning around—it’s too early for moving—but he leans further into Jack’s chest.

           “Good morning.”

           “Mm. Morning.”

           “Yes, honey. It’s morning. Are you getting up?”

           “Hmm. No.”

           Jack breathes in deeply and ducks to press his forehead between Bitty’s shoulder blades.

           “You smell nice,” he says.

           “Thanks honey.”

           “Mmmyou’re welcome babe.”

—–

Keep reading

You’re the One (Daveed x Reader)

Summary: Based on an ask I saw about reader/Daveed being roommates. The reader teases him about his appearance on Sesame Street. Fluff.

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

A/N: This was a good idea. Good job anon.


“D!” You yelled as soon as you heard the apartment door open.

“What?” Daveed went into the kitchen, rifling around in the fridge for something to eat.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be on Sesame Street!”

“I guess I forgot? I don’t know, I’ve been busy.” He plopped down next to you and handed you a beer, sighing. He looked tired.

Keep reading

Shape of You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Y/N (Reader), Jared Padalecki (mentioned), Misha Collins (mentioned)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Objectification of reader (sorta - he means well), Implied smut, smut, Dry Humping, Oral (69), unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it), training kink (is that a thing?), rough(ish) sex, NSFW gifs under the cut.    

Word Count: 3500ish

A/N: This is me proving to myself I still remember how to smut. I haven’t written anything smutty for the longest of times and I have been feeling like it lately. It was harder than I thought getting back into the saddle though. Sorry if it is a bit rough - pun not intended.

It is somewhat inspired by the Ed Sheeran song Shape of You - and maybe a little by the video too.

Thanks to the sweet amazing @mysupernaturalfics for betaing this for me.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, instantly drawing Jensen’s attention. He was sprawled out his couch, waiting for Y/N to return to his side. It was movie night and she hadn’t bothered leaving the room to take the phone call. Jensen never eaves dropped and even if he was to overhear something it wouldn’t matter. There was nothing to two of them hid from each other. Literally nothing.

They had both been single for a while and some drunken night they had come to the conclusion, that helping each other blow off some steam when either of them needed it was much prefered from picking up some random dude or chick at a bar.

“If you want I am game,” Jensen teased her, throwing her his best Dean smirk, making her eyes roll so hard he was sure Jared would hear it across the hall from Jensen’s apartment.

“It’s not funny, Jensen! They offered me the part. I’m gonna be Wonder Woman,” she complained, making Jensen shoot from the couch and wrap her in his arms, spinning her around the air not caring one bit about her objection.

“That’s amazing Y/N/N,” he laughed putting her down but not releasing her from his hold, “what are you so worried about?” Jensen gently stroked her hair away from her face, studying her face and trying to figure out why she wasn’t over the moon about this. She had a tendency to overthink things. He knew that. He literally spent 2 hours on the floor of her bedroom leaning against her bathroom door trying to talk her out after the first night they had slept together.

Keep reading

the blazing bombardier.

Idk, this is just a summery fluffball of a Sterek getting-together drabble because I’m tired of winter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Derek fundamentally doesn’t understand people who like roller coasters.

He knows such people exist because he’s been standing in line with them for the Blazing Bombardier for half an hour now, but even when he’s looking right at them, it’s hard to believe. Seriously, why. The list of things to do on a Saturday afternoon that don’t involve screaming and trying not to hurl is literally infinite. He could be lounging around in his pjs in his dorm right now and rereading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, just for example. Or working out, or going for a drive to the beach, or watching a movie with Boyd and Erica. (Boyd and Erica are officially his favorite people right now because, unlike his sisters, they understand the basic concept that friends don’t make their friends who lose bets ride the most terrifying invention since clown costumes.)

The line moves forward, and oh god, now Derek can actually see the loading station. The seats are wicked-looking hanging harnesses painted to look like flames. He’s going to be sick before he even sits down in the thing.

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5

Isaac x Reader

Requested By Anon


“You’ll do fine.” You whispered to Isaac who was fiddling with his fingers.

“But they’re better than me what if I don’t make the team or… what if the try-outs run late!” Isaac mumbled as he watched the busy corridor.

“You’ll be fine, and I’ll even come and watch.” You smiled when he flashed a quick smile as he ducked his head.

Keep reading

Flutterflies

Summary: In which Draco becomes friends with the golden trio in first year and seven years later he’s hopelessly in love with Harry.

Word Count: 14.6k

Includes: smut yo

you can also read on ao3

Keep reading

Mirror For The Sun - Part 7: The Grand Tetons

Masterlist  -  Series Masterlist  -  Part 6 - Part 8 

Summary: (Bucky POV) Nat tricks you into leading a road trip with Bucky, Sam and Steve. Her plot is partly to get the boys to travel for fun for once but mostly to get you and Bucky together. You and Bucky, who seemingly despise each other.

Warnings: swearing, super mild smoot (it’s not really even smut)

Word Count: 4501

Author’s Note: This part is way too damn long. I really just like the ending. But I also couldn’t figure out what I wanted to cut so you’re getting all of it.

Originally posted by annutystan

As we climb back to the car, Y/N has slipped off of Sam’s shoulders and shoved past him, nearly running up the trail, farther away from Sam. And from me. When we make it to the top of the trail and the edge of the parking lot, Steve looks to me with a shocked and unsure shrug, lifting his hands up in question. She barely speaks to anyone, only muttering a disgruntled, “Trunk, please” to Steve.

Once we’ve changed into dry clothes, Y/N tosses her now useless phone haphazardly into the trunk and grabs for her dated Atlas before slipping into the car without a word. She doesn’t move closer to me, she doesn’t look up from her Atlas. Goddamn it. She’s so upset. “Go left,” she instructs with a heavy sigh as she flips through the pages until she finds the map for South Dakota. She traces over an already marked road until it reaches the end of the page, before moving quickly over to Wyoming.

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The Night She Took (My Breath Away) SMUT (NSFW 18+)

A/N: Hi guys. I have no idea where is came from but here it is. The titles is from this song I Don’t Know Her Name by Bad Boy Blue and I think the lyrics are perfect for this song. Also, idfc by Blackbear helped me with the smut. Thank you thank you thank you to @writing-obrien for helping with this. She’s such a lifesaver, She’s always there to jump in and take over.

Warning: SMUTTT, Slight alcohol abuse(I mean their drunk so), mentions for drugs

Word Count: 5482

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

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His || Jungkook  || 0.11

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 |

Jungkook’s POV - Starts after the scene where Seokjin had told Y/N about them being werewolves.

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Winking

For @defiantlilsheep who requested “Draco cant wink. He can do anything and everything but he cant wink. Trust me.” …. this got a bit longer than a tiny Drabble I couldn’t help it!


When Harry had returned for his eighth year at Hogwarts he had absolutely promised himself that if a certain blonde haired pointy git who may or may not have helped save his life but was also most definitely still an arsehole happened to return he would not get himself involved no matter what.

Except, once school started he realized that he had the small matter of returning Malfoy’s wand to handle, so he had to see him. I mean sure he could’ve returned it by owl but that would just been rude. He had to do it person. He had to. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

He put it off for weeks before finally walking up to him while he was studying outside and both thanking him and apologizing for stealing his wand. And the truth was Malfoy had been so different during the exchange; solemn and pensieve and if he didn’t know better even remorseful. He had told Harry not to apologize, that he was the one who should be sorry. Harry had been so flustered he’d muttered something about studying and nearly tripped on his own feet in his haste to escape the confusing thoughts swirling through his brain and making him feel like he’d been punched in the stomach.

But still, none of that could change the fact that he was still an arse and Harry didn’t care what he did. Or at least that’s what he kept trying to tell himself. He’d always been pretty good at lying to himself, so he hoped it might work this time.

As time went on Harry realized that it was definitely not working.

He couldn’t help but be curious when twice in the same week he walked into an empty loo to find Malfoy making an odd face in the mirror. Both times the other boy had looked horrified at being caught and run away. Although Harry had no idea what exactly he’d caught Malfoy doing.

And that was a problem, because try as he might Harry didn’t like when he didn’t know what was going on. It wasn’t that he was obsessed with Malfoy as a person, he just wanted to know why he seemed so different and what exactly he was doing.

Hermione told him he was nosy and to please promise not to become obsessed with Malfoy again. Harry had promised.

The thing was, he had to admit to himself he’d never actually stopped being obsessed with Malfoy and therefore when he caught himself once again searching him out on the Mauraders Map and following him around under the invisibility cloak or ducking around dark corridors he figured he wasn’t actually breaking his promise. You couldn’t exactly start doing something again if you’d never really stopped doing it in the first place.

Harry swore he would only do it a few times, just until he figured out what the other boy was up too. The problem was he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he was doing.

Harry knew he was getting sloppy, knew he was being obvious, but by the second term he just couldn’t help himself. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, being away from Malfoy. And the odd faces he kept catching him making in bathroom mirrors and suits of armor had gone from weird and perplexing to confusing and adorable. Which was more than a little unsettling.

Harry however, had no excuse when he caught himself trying to figure out what kind of tea Malfoy was drinking at breakfast, or what his Potions partner said that made his lips curl up in a soft smile, or what kind of books he was reading when he sat hidden in the corner of the library pretending to study potions and thought no one could see him.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


It was a bright and sunny morning. Harry had snuck out of the castle early to get a bit of flying before classes started.

The sky was so clear and the weather was just perfect for flying. Only instead of being happy to be up in the air, Harry’s only thought was of how much he wished Malfoy was up there with him, challenging him to the snitch.

It was at that exact moment that Harry realized he wasn’t obsessed with Malfoy.

He was falling in love with him. And that was definitely worse. Much worse.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Potter!” Malfoy yelled, grabbing the back of Harry’s robe and dragging him into a darkened alcove behind a rather rusty suit of armor.

“Oi - watch it, Malfoy.”

“Watch it? Watch it?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” He shrieked and Harry had the decency to shrink back a little bit.

“You’re the one who won’t stop watching! Everywhere I look there you are! Always skulking about and staring me and interrupting me when I’m trying to- well it doesn’t matter what I’m trying to do the point is you’re a world class nuisance like always and I can’t concentrate when you’re constantly following me around like a lost kneazle.”

Harry blinked a few times then smiled, which was clearly not what Malfoy was expecting because the look of confusion on his face was priceless.

“You find me distracting?” Harry asked curiously, smiling again when Malfoy began backing up as Harry walked forward.

“Of course you’re distracting, Potter. You bumble around noisily like the obnoxious twat you are. I don’t know how you could possibly think I hadn’t noticed you. You’re everywhere, making a nuisance of yourself.”

Harry couldn’t help but notice the way Malfoy’s fingers were curling as he talked, the sweat building on his brow, and the way his breathing was quickening. To anyone else it looked like Malfoy was angry, but Harry wasn’t anyone else. He’d spent the better part of the last few months doing nothing but watching him and this wasn’t angry this was something else entirely; it was arousal. He was sure of it.

Or pretty sure of t at least. Sure enough to take a chance.

“So then Malfoy, what exactly are you up to? If you tell me I promise to stop following you.”

“So you admit you’ve been following me!” Malfoy shouts, putting his hands on Harry’s chest and shoving him gently. But it’s not aggressive, not even a little bit, and Harry just grins mischievously.

“Are you trying to get my attention?”

Malfoy splutters. “I most certainly am not!”

“Yes you are. Admit it.”

“I was not trying to get your attention I was trying to learn to wink!”

Harry stops at that. Quirking his head to the side. “To wink?”

Malfoy looks embarrassed now, smoothing down the front of his robes and staring at his feet.

“I can’t wink. I saw you wink at that Weasley girl during the first quidditch match of the season and I figured if you could do it so could I. Except I can’t and I look like a right tosser trying! Are you happy now?!”

“I could teach you.”

“Teach me? Teach me?!” He all but shrieks starting to sound a bit hysterical.

“It’s not hard, Malfoy. I can teach you….if you want me to.”

They’re so close now Harry can see Malfoy’s pupils dialating, so close their lips would be touching if he just moved forward a bit, angling his head up.

Malfoy seems to have realized the same thing because he kicks his lips, blinking a few times before muttering “Alright fine, teach me how to blink. Let me have it, Potter.”

Harry isn’t sure what posseses him but at those words he feels some of his self control snap and he leans upwards to close the distance between them, pressing their lips together.

Draco’s lips are cold and chapped and he taste almost bitter like earl grey tea without enough sugar. He smells like fresh air and parchment and the blueberry scones the house elves had sent up for tea today. It’s new and familiar all at one and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt more exhilarated in his life, until Draco’s shock wears of and he’s kissing him back fiercely, pulling him closer and sliding his hands into Harry’s hair almost desperately.

Harry would be embarrassed at the whimpering moans of desperation he’s making, but Draco is making them right back so he can’t be arsed to worry about it.

Much later after the desperation has turned softer, they stand there with their foreheads pressed together, out of breath but full of hope.

“So, did you still want me to teach you how to wink?” Harry all but whispers. He’s surprised when Draco just starts to laugh.

“If you must know I was only trying to learn in order to get your attention.” He seems a bit embarrassed at his admission, but something about it warms Harry’s heart.

“I knew it! You were trying to get my attention and you were up to something.”

“God you’re an wanker, Potter,” he mumbles, reaching his hands around Harry’s body to rest just above his arse.

“Well yeah…but at least now I’m your wanker.”

“Yeah?” Draco asks, a genuine smile on his face.

“Definitely,” Harry says, and he winks at him for good measure.

Draco groans, spinning them around to switch their positions and slamming Harry back against the wall, pressing their bodies together and kissing him with such intensity Harry feels like he might faint.

Oh yes Harry thinks with pleasure as Draco’s mouth attaches itself to his neck, there will definitely be a lot more winking in his future.

The Elsewhere Child

He was supposed to take my memories when he brought me here, the seelie knight, who had been commanded to escort me home with a simple “take it away, it’s too old now and it bores me” from the noble who had kept me for the past while. I traded him my singing voice for them though, and now where once sweet music poured from my lips only hoarse and untuned notes fall out without any of the tempo or melody they had before. Now I think I made a bad trade. It might have been better, if I didn’t remember, or remembered something else entirely.

I stare at the boy next to me in the circle, I was asked to join this circle as a way to make me feel part of something, part of a circle. They call the circle a support group for abducted children. Children who were abducted and got away, that is, I don’t think there’s a support group for those currently abducted. Their abductors wouldn’t allow them to attend, I suppose. The boy is speaking about the man who touched him, speaking of the horrible way he loved that man, because he was a child, and he had to love someone. Are his memories true? Or is he like me? Did a faerie take him away, and replace the memories from Under the Hill with these tragedies? Why? Did he commit some crime? I cannot say.

I am fascinated by the girl who sits next to the girl directly across from me in the circle. She tells us to call her Angie. She wears ratty clothes, not the sort of poor chic that seems to be an underlying trend, with jackets made of patches and ribbed cloth sold at malls, but real grunge. The tears in her sleeves reveal razor scars, her hair is short, she wants to look tough, she wants people to cross the street to get away from her when they see her coming. She is not tough. She is nervous, always nervous, always afraid, though she hides it well. None of these things are too interesting to me, those things I can see anywhere, but I thought context would be important so that the fact that she’s a pathological liar would not be the only thing you knew about her.

She is a pathological liar.

Her lies fascinate me.

After group chat, I take her aside and we talk, sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, and I watch her fabricate thousands of untruths, from tiny white ones to huge fantastical ones as bright and colorful as her life has never been. Some days, I believe everything she says and some days I question each word, trying to figure out her secret.

It’s a strange thing, I was taken before I really knew my name, and each faerie that’s kept me (I was a pet for them) called me something different. Do I even have a true name? I’ve been Jane Doe since I showed up, stumbling barefoot and confused into a police station moments after midnight (at least the knight knew to leave me near a place of authority), so I’ve been introducing myself as Roe, like the deer. They ran my DNA through the missing children’s database (I didn’t understand what that was at first, was shocked at how closely humans had approximated magic with computers), but there was no match. I told them I didn’t know how long ago I’d been abducted, and suggested that it might have been before the database was made. They laughed and said I was eighteen, and DNA technology had been around much longer than me. I tried to explain that time was different where I had been kept, but they simply patted me on my head and told me they were sure that it seemed that way to me at the time.

They stared at me worriedly when one of them brought me a McDonald’s Happy Meal, and I asked what she wanted for it. She told me nothing. No one here ever asks for anything besides courtesy in return for their food, but old habits are hard to break. Even now, in my foster home, I cannot help insisting that my hosts confirm that this food is a gift freely given. They asked me to help them cook and I broke down in tears because there was a cast iron skillet on the stove (“Please don’t make me, iron burns, iron burns, and it gets under your skin and makes you go grey and lifeless like a flower severed from its roots, plea-please, please don’t make me”). It took them an hour to convince me that they weren’t trying to force me to poison myself, and the food burned (“I said I would help you, you asked me to cook and I agreed, but, but please don’t make me, it burns, it’ll burn me!” “It’s alright darling, you don’t have to cook if you don’t want to.” “But I said I would! It was an oath!” “We’re sorry, we wouldn’t have asked if we’d known it would upset you, you can help some other way if you like.” “You… absolve me of my oath?” “Yes, of course we do darling!”).

I am more comfortable with iron now, I am not one of the Fair Folk, after all, it will not harm me. Correction, a blade of iron would harm me, but not because it was made of iron. It does, however, mess with my glamor.

It is a difficult thing, growing up bathed in magic and yet to have none of your own. A pixie once spoke of how she envied my hair, and I said, on impulse, “do you want it?” So a trade was made. She gave me the ability to change my appearance, and she walked away with my hair. I expected my hair to grow back after a time though… it did not. With my glamor I can have the appearance of having whatever hair I please, and sometimes I change it daily, but when I sleep or when iron is near my bare head is revealed. It is assumed by my hosts and everyone around me that I have many wigs, I have told them I do not, but they don’t believe in magic, so they insist on believing this instead.

I hide when I hear thunder, duck into a bathroom and put everything on backward and inside out if I’m in public, or simply sit quiet if I’m home. The first time I did this, it shook me to my core when someone told me “You know, your shirt is on backward.” I started to panic, until I realized that I could see myself too. It was a revelation, discovering that there was something humans could see that the Good Neighbors couldn’t.

It still boggles my mind how much people throw away, tears and menstrual blood caught on napkins, or gifts from that one aunt that they held onto for so long for the sentimental value but can’t keep now because they have to move into a smaller apartment, or the shirt they can’t wear anymore because it smells like their ex. They could trade these items to faeries for so many things, and yet they simply throw them away. What a waste.

My hosts insisted I should have a proper education, and after three years of homeschooling (to get me caught up) I applied to attend the local state college. There I found more people who fascinate me the way Angie does. There’s Lisa, who fights for animal rights, and Kyle, the leader of the Gay Straight Alliance group, and Riley, who’s going into the Peace Corps next year because they want to help the world. I ask them all the time why they do what they do, what they expect to get back, and they tell me that ideally they’ll make the world a better place, and that will pay them back eventually, but that they don’t do it for what they’ll get back, they do it because it’s right. I don’t understand. There’s Cheyenne, who always gets into intense political debates with other people over dinner in the cafeteria, and she believes so intensely about things that don’t even affect her, and she fights for them, and she tells me she does this because it’s right, and I don’t understand. I’ve never met anyone who cared about anything other than themselves Under the Hill. Faeries can’t lie, they can’t go back on their word, they honor their deals and make sure you honor them too, they repay debts and ensure they’re repaid in turn, they amuse themselves playing or squabbling over power, but they do not do things for free. They don’t care about things for free. They don’t defend the innocent, protect the weak, or forgive the ignorant. The culture shock coming here is bewildering.

If I could I’d honor my debts, leave a pile of gold at the doorstep of everyone who’s done me a kindness, but I have not the magic to do so. The drainage ponds hold no sirens, the falling snow has no frolicking pixies between its flakes, there is no magic for me to use here… or is there?

Perhaps I can’t call upon the magic Under the Hill, perhaps I can’t summon gold or make deals with darklings, but I can find magic here, I’ve seen others do it. I’ve seen a moon so beautiful it sends shivers down your spine captured by a little lense-box and put onto thick shiny paper. I’ve seen songs and stories written with such emotion that it moves those who hear them to tears, to laughter, to dancing, to life. I’ve seen kitchen witches cure colds with hot chicken soup, and I’ve seen holy men ward off tricksters they can’t even see with the power of their belief.

Perhaps I can find a way to create my own magic, and do what other people seem to strive to do to repay their debts. Perhaps I can make the world a better place, and learn the magic of humanity. And as for the places where magic does live? Where the boundary between worlds is thin and the drainage ponds and snowflakes carry faerie magic within? …I think I’ll be staying far away, for my part. I might still have a lot to learn, but I think I like it better here.

6

Anon request: Fighting with Jungkook + drabble
It’s not the same as Yoongi’s but I thought this fit better. 
I am so sorry it has taken so long, it has been sitting in my drafts for weeeeks (ask you can tell by the date of the text) I am so sorry
I hope you like it! 


Jungkook x Reader
Warnings: Implied Smut
Words: 1250


You knocked once on the bathroom door and waited for a response. After receiving a text from Yoongi, you rushed out of the door and into the nearest taxi. Reading over the texts again and again, you felt your stomach twist as the guilt set in. Fuck, what had you done. The fact Jungkook thought he was a bad boyfriend made your heart squeeze into your throat. He was far from it, in fact he was the best boyfriend you have ever had, going above and beyond anyone ever had. Making you smile when you needed it, telling you that he loved you nearly every day even when he was on tour. He would always make you feel so loved and important and you couldn’t even let him off this one time. You were being selfish and you needed to fix it. You phone beeped with another text, this time from Taehyung.  

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