i had an old pink ribbon and i was like bingo

After School Special Part 3

SummaryIn an alternate universe where Jughead greases his hair more than Danny Zuko and Betty Cooper gives Sandy Olsson a run for her money at being the nicest girl in town. (No Danny Zuko and Sandy do make an appearance in this fic). Set in the early 1960s at Riverdale High. Slow burn leads to rapid fire (all the bughead smut you can imagine)

Part One     Part Two

Tags: @thejugheadshow @xobughead @de6ressive

If you want a tag please don’t hesitate to ask :) My inbox is always open (literally I love to talk and gossip about bughead)

Thank you and enjoy! 

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anonymous asked:

klaine: i’m a florist and you keep buying flowers from me and what do you mean it was my fault we didn’t get together earlier you were buying flowers i assumed you had a lover au

Hihi

Klaine Bingo: Earth

Blaine has never been one to buy flowers.

Most of the time, he brings home-made gifts to people inviting him for dinner, and his mother has a whole garden of flowers–the only time he brought her flowers was when he came back from Keukenhof and bought her bulbs of tulips.

But ever since “Edelweiss” opened in his street, Blaine has a sudden willingness to offer flowers to all the people in his life.

A little bouquet of daisies for his barista on a particularly rainy day.

A large bouquet of peonies and freesias on the day of the opening of Sam’s kindergarten school.

An array of potted hyacinths–blue, pink and white–for Tina’s birthday, complete with a bag of fresh soil.

A bouquet of ranunculus for the old lady who sells red bracelets at the entrance of the subway because … because Blaine is running out of people to buy flowers for, and he can’t have too much of them in his apartment–it’s a nightmare to clean, and he gets sneezy when he buys too much of it.

But.

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Filling in Negative Space

An idea I had regarding Stanley and Stanford’s mother. cw for bitter-sweet angst

Lucinda Pines was two days shy of 100. She sat in an armchair with a pillow tucked against each hip. Her feet stretched out across the carpet, her thin, satiny pantlegs brushing her ankles. She had a teacup in one hand and a single shiny bobby-pin in the tight bun of her hair.

Across from her, straight-backed with a cup of tea in his own hands, was her son.

“Jaime’s talking about throwing some sort of celebration on Wednesday. Doll’s hardly 75. Could be my daughter. Expecting me to waste my birthday entertaining children. Eugh.” Lucinda stuck her feet up one at a time until they rested on the coffee table. She took a long, slow sip of her tea. “But what excuse do I have? Stanford’s busy with the little ones, and you’re leaving town by then. This is what I get for stopping after only two kids.”

“Yeah, sorry Ma,” her son answered. His apologetic smile stretched from one giant ear to the next. “Sheila needs me back by then.”

“Ah, Sheila.” Lucinda fell deeper into her chair. The pillow against her right hip had nearly wriggled its way to freedom. “Perfect daughter-in-law. What a gem. I don’t think I tell her that enough. Bring her along next time.”

“You know she hates flying.”

Lucinda ran her tongue over her dentures, pausing in a manner that very much suggested she hadn’t known that. “Eh, then drive down sometime before I die. I haven’t seen her or Sam or the munchkins in years now.”

“Dipper and Mabel?”

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