if i was going to tell you how much time i spent on this i would start counting and never stop

Of Headbands and Hurt Feelings

based on this post by @fistatfirstklance + yours truly. also @wittyy-name asked me to tag her in this (haha im still screaming) so here we go

It starts as a one time thing.

Pidge had looked down one day, Lance’s older brother instinct had kicked in, and he’d ended up spending twenty minutes trying to string a pretty green stone he’d picked up on a piece of string. Any normal person would’ve just given it to Pidge directly, but Lance thought it’d be more fun to hide it somewhere and wait for Pidge to find it. She’d walked out of Green’s hangar the next morning with the stone around her neck and a smile on her face, and well. It spiraled from there.

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The Reader and the Writer (Part 2)

Originally posted by stydiaislove

Part one here

Anon requests: can you please do a part two of “The reader and the writer”? i’m shook, lost and now stressed over who she really is

The Reader and the Writer is amazingggg! Are u gonna do a part 2?? I wanna read more!!

could you do a part 2 of the reader and the writer, i’m obsessed!!!

Is there going to be a part 2 for The Reader and the Writer? Can there be a part 2? I loved it by the way :)

PART TWO OF THE READER AND THE WRITER PLEASE OMFG

Omigod, I love your Reader and Writer imagine soooooo much, are you going to write a part two??

OK PLEASE WRITE A PART TWO TO THE READER AND THE WRITER IS WAS SO GOOD!

Wtf?!? The reader and the writer is honestly amazing! I love it 😍 2pt maybe? I wanna know what happens with the reader and Jason

I love love love the reader and the writer, if you aren’t too busy could you please update it with a second part soon? I can’t bear to be left for days without knowing what Jughead found 😂 thanks x

Will there be a part 2 of “the reader and the writer”? Its really good! I hope you will write more of it!

I love this new jughead imagine ! Are you writing a part 2 ?

OH MY GOD PART 2 ASAP

I really love your writing! I’m very excited about part 2 for the Reader and the writer

part 2 of “The Reader and the Writer” ?? it’s greattt 😭

please do a part 2 of the reader and the writer!@@@ I need more!

Can you please do part two or the reader and writer?!?! It is so good!!

The reader and the writer was amazing and i got too attached. Part 2 please if you don’t mind.

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: A confrontation ensues between the reader and the writer

Warnings: none

Word count: 887

A/N: I’m glad you guys liked the first part so much! Enjoy part 2!


(Y/N) didn’t return to Pop’s.  Every night, Jughead sat in his normal booth typing on his computer, but his eyes constantly flicked up towards the entrance.  His friends noticed his shift in attitude.

“Jug,” Archie sat across from him, “you gotta snap out of this.”

“Out of what?” Jughead asked monotonously, rolling his eyes.  “I’m fine, Archie.”

“I know you like to sit here and brood all mysteriously,” Veronica interjected, “but this is sad. Just call (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” he scoffed.  “This isn’t about (Y/N).”  When the entire table sent him disbelieving looks, he sighed and looked out the window.  “I already called her.”

“How many times?” Kevin asked with a smirk.  Jughead sighed again, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

“Every night.” Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Kevin all shared a knowing glance.  “I know what you guys are thinking and no, it’s not like that.  I’m not some pathetically smitten person, okay?”

“Okay, Jughead,” Betty said, but rolled her eyes.  “If you insist.”


To say (Y/N) felt guilty would be an understatement.  From the moment she stomped out of that diner, regret gnawed at her inside out. Without the consistency of her nightly stops in Pop’s, she didn’t know what to do with herself.  She spent every night after school in her room sulking. Every night, her phone rang, lighting up with Jughead’s name.  She was tempted to answer it every night, her finger hovering over the answer button, but then she turned away and ignored his call.  (Y/N) missed Pop’s: she missed the delicious foods, the quiet yet comforting atmosphere, and the person who sat across from her in their usual booth.  


One day, Jughead sat with an uneaten burger in front of him, laptop closed.  Today had been an especially slow day, both in Jughead’s mind and Pop’s.  Suddenly, a jingle of the bell signaled that someone new entered the diner.  Jughead sat up a bit to see who it was.  When he identified the new customer, he perked up immediately.  Grabbing a book, he shot up and walked over to the table where she had just sat down.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he said, slamming down the book in front of her, “is an author from the 18th century.  She wrote four novels, all of them published under an alias at first.  It was not until two hundred years later that the true author was discovered.  She has been dead for over two hundred years, and she is most certainly not you.”  (Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes.

“What, I can’t have the same name as someone else?” she fired back, but there was a waver in her voice. Jughead glared as he sat down across from her.

“You see, I would think that, too,” Jughead responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I searched for you online, and I couldn’t find anything on you.  Not one thing.”

“I like to keep my life private.  I don’t publish stuff about me online.”

“Yeah, but there’s something about everyone on the world wide web if you look hard enough,” Jughead explained, his voice accusingly sharp.  “Now I have two theories: one, you’re a very experienced hacker, and you’ve gone and wiped all information regarding you off the internet; or two, you’re hiding something, and you’re using a dead unpopular author’s name to keep your real identity a secret.  Personally, I’m choosing the latter, considering how well-read you are.”  (Y/N) stared at Jughead with sad, wide eyes.  “When were you going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t,” she whispered. Jughead clenched his jaw and shook his head.  

“Whatever,” he mumbled, standing up.  He began to walk away when (Y/N) shot up from her seat.

“I was born in Riverdale,” she called out to him.  Jughead stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.

“What?”

“I was born in Riverdale,” she repeated slower.  Jughead neared the table and sat down across from (Y/N).

“So what?”

“So I-,” she started, “I can’t- I can’t just tell you everything.”  Jughead rolled his eyes and began to push his chair out when (Y/N) placed her hand on his, her eyes silently begging him to stay.  “If you care, you’ll trust me.”

“What makes you think I care?” Jughead demanded, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t move his hands out from under hers.

“Because you called?” she offered, causing Jughead to sit up a little straighter.  “You called me every night, Jug.”

“I was worried,” he muttered, looking away.  (Y/N) smiled, patted his hand, and stood up.

“Keep writing, Jughead. See you around.”  Spinning on her heel, (Y/N) grabbed her copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and exited the diner.  Jughead’s eyes followed her figure out until the door closed behind her.  Then he pulled out his laptop and started to furiously type.

And so, a little light shined on the dark mystery of Riverdale’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) like the calm before the storm.  The writer becomes the reader, the reader becomes the read.  I found myself hooked on her just from a little information, like a drug addict craving his fix.  New girls can never hide in a small town like Riverdale, but God, I knew (Y/N), in all her enigmatic splendor, would lurk in the shadows of this town for as long as she possibly could.”

Part 3 here   Part 4 here

i like you (this is a problem)

“Here’s the thing-” Lily said, marching into the pub and pulling out a stool.


“We’re closed.” James interrupted without looking up from wiping down the bar.

“I want a dog.” Lily barrelled on without hearing him. “But my landlord doesn’t allow pets so I was wondering-“

“I’m not getting a fucking dog for you.” James said firmly.

Lily blinked at him. “I was going to ask if you thought it was morally wrong to raise it in my air-vent.” There was a silence. James was caught between hoping she wasn’t serious and knowing that she was. “Your idea seems better.” Lily admitted.

“Really. Talk me through that, is it because there is no animal abuse involved?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of then you’d have to clean up the poo, but the no animal abuse is also good.”


“Y’know” Sirius was lying on top of the bar, waving around a beer and staring at the ceiling. Nobody looked up. “I always thought once we owned a bar we would spend a solid 60% percent of our time drunk, and that hasn’t happened.” 

Remus, still wiping down tables, said “I shudder to think what you’d be like on your own.”

“Since we bought the bar we spend more time drunk than we used to?” Peter consoled, baffled.

Sirius sat up. “I would say we spent about 15% percent of our time drunk before the bar, and after the bar we spend about 25%. That is an increase of only ten percent.”

“Where are you pulling these numbers from?” Lily asked while holding the ladder for James, who was avoiding the dishwasher by pretending to fix the squeaky window.

“On top of being an excellent barman I double as a statistician.”

“You are neither of those things.” Remus said. Sirius glared.

“Fuck you Moony. At school you were always saying I didn’t do enough math, and here I am, doing math, and you’re abusing me.”

Remus threw a dishtowel at him and gestured to the kitchen. “Go unstack the dishwasher.”

“Fantastic.” Sirius said, throwing his hands in the air. “This is what I get for my brief foray into math. Insulted and unloading dishes.” He jumped off the bar and mockingly gave Remus’ back the finger. James laughed.


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A Lesson in Love (A Fresh Start)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,541

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist

@avengerstories - thank you for spending close to a month listening to me complain about this part, helping me finally get it written, and editing it for me.

Originally posted by natashamaximova

“It happened!” Wanda yells, rushing into the apartment and slamming the door shut behind her. She floats all the way to the couch, picks up a pillow, and hugs it close to her chest. “It finally happened.”

Forgetting all about the milk you were warming up in the microwave, you rush to your roommate’s side. Her cheeks are tinged a light pink color that has nothing to do with the cold. “Viz asked you out?”

Vision, known to your friends as Viz, is a foreign exchange student that Wanda has been crushing on since he asked her for directions last semester. There’s no way to compute the amount of hours you’ve spent analyzing his actions with her and trying to determine whether or not he reciprocated her feelings.

“He asked me out,” she squeals, hiding her face in the pillow and kicking her feet out in front of her. Her enthusiasm level makes you laugh; not at her, but with her. She’s been dreaming about this moment for months and you’re glad that it finally happened. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s Wanda.

That’s why you keep a tight hold on the resentment that’s attempting to consume you as you realize that Wanda has what you don’t: a date with a guy she really likes. You wish you didn’t feel this way, but the wound created by Bucky’s words last night is still raw and very much at the forefront of your mind.

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Seeking Paintings | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: You, a muggle-born artist, have been hiding your feelings for Draco Malfoy for years now. Though, after an unplanned meeting in the astronomy tower things between the two of you start to change. Even more so after finding each other in the Room or Requirement.

Word Count: 3,573

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: not my gif credit to owner


You stare out into the vast horizon from the astronomy tower. This was your favorite hideout during your free period. You much rather enjoyed the view when it was light outside. Sure you love astronomy class and looking up at the stars but this was just different. Better.

You pulled out your old, hard-cover, weather-beaten sketch book and began to draw the landscape before you. You made sure to grasp and add every detail to your drawing. You began shading in the sunset when you heard a voice behind you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in a rotten tone and you already knew who it was.

“You don’t own the astronomy tower, Draco,” you say blandly while continuing your work.

“You know this is were I go in my spare time,” you hear him huff.

“I know,” you blush, hoping he doesn’t know that besides the view one of your favorite part of this spot is that it’s that it’s his spot too. Then again, how would he even know that, it’s not like you two are exactly close.

You hear him start to walk away and your heart sinks. Just once you’d like him to stay up here when you’re here. Maybe then, you too could become close. You’d had this battle with having a crush on Draco since first year. Now here you are, sixth year and the most interaction between you two is fighting over the astronomy tower.

“You know you can stay right?” You boldly say. You swallow hard when you hear him stop in his tracks.

You hear his footsteps begin again but this time coming back towards you.

He sits a few feet from you, “Just don’t expect me to talk to you.”

You just smile and shake your head continuing to look down at your sketch book. For a few minutes you two stay like this, you drawing, him (probably) thinking. You wonder what could be going on in his head, he seemed to be thinking pretty deeply.

You feel him inching towards you at a snail’s pace, from the corner of your eye you can see him watching you draw everything from here to the horizon. You hate yourself for the blush creeping up on your face, by the time he’s within a foot of you your face is bright red.

“Why are you blushing?” You look up at him and see he’s smiling, a genuine smile.

Because I’ve been hiding my massive crush on you for nearly six years.

“I just get embarrassed at people watching me work,” you shrug.

“Why?” He asks seeming genuinely interested. “You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” you’re blush gets even deeper.

You break eye contact and look back down at your sketchbook. The rest of the period is made up with you finishing your sketch and Draco watching intently. He’s completely mesmerized at how you can just see an image and recreate it perfectly on your page.


It’s Saturday and you aren’t needed nor expected anywhere, which is why Saturdays are your favorite days. You usually spent these days roaming around looking for inspiration for a new art piece. Which is exactly how you plan to start today.

You roam the school grounds aimlessly, constantly moving your head around to grasp every aspect of the school. You step into the one of the many courtyards and feel inspired to sketch it, until you realize you’ve already done that… Ten times…

You sigh and realize that after six years of constantly working in the same space it’s going to be hard to find a completely new area for your art. Just this year and the following before you can finally start travelling and finding more inspiration worldwide.

In your attempts to find a new spot you’re again not looking forward. causing you to slam right into someone.

“Hey, watch where- oh, hey Y/N,” you hear Draco’s voice quickly turn from intimidation to delight.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you ramble.

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughs at how cute he thinks you are when you ramble.

A blush creeps onto your face, “Well, I best be going.” As you turn to walk away he grabs your wrist and turns you back to face him.

“Hey, are you going to the Quidditch match today?” He inquires.

“Um I wasn’t really planning on it,” you scratch the back of your neck.

“Oh,” his face slightly falls. “Well, I’d like it if you went,” he says his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Even though you’d be rooting for Y/H and not Slytherin,” he looks at the ground.

“I mean I probably should go, it's sixth year and I haven’t gone to a single match,” you shrug and he looks at you dumbfounded.

“Not a single match? Well, you definitely have to go now,” he laughs and so do you.

“Well, I guess you can count on me being there,” you say before turning and walking away. You look over your shoulder, “And I guess I can root for Slytherin just this once,” you wink and quickly face forward as your face turns crimson red. A crazy amount of adrenaline must’ve been rushing through you for having the courage to wink at Draco Malfoy.


You take a seat in Y/H’s section for the Quidditch match, all your housemates do a double take when they see you arrive. Which were followed by ‘finally’, 'it’s about time’, 'I didn’t even know you knew how to get here’ and more sayings around those lines.

You don’t know to much about Quidditch, especially since you’re a muggle-born. Not that you know much about muggle sports either. Your friends have explained the game to you many times, you got the logistics but you just didn’t know why it was such a big deal. Maybe you’ll actually figure it out through watching a match.


Draco rose up into the air on his broomstick to prepare for the start of the game. On his way up he scanned the crowd for you and a smile creeps onto his face when he sees you sitting in Y/H’s section. He can tell you look slightly out of place in the stands and is glad to see you actually showed up. He keeps up the hope that you’re actually here for him.

He has been trying to convince himself since second year that he doesn’t have feelings for you. That he could never have feelings for a muggle-born. Except as he’s grown older through his school years he’s realized that muggle-borns aren’t that bad. He’s realized he was just told to think that way, not that he actually believed it.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the blow of the whistle signaling the beginning of the game. Slytherin immediately takes hold of the Quaffle and manages to score within the first minute. A chorus of boos and angered shouts comes from Y/H’s section. Draco looks over to see you remaining silent among your peers. He smiles, hoping you may be rooting for Slytherin…for him…silently. Even if you’re not, at least you aren’t booing.

Draco circles around the field, scanning for the snitch. He’d be lying to say that he wasn’t losing his interest in Quidditch, squinting into the distance searching for a flying ball of gold gets boring after awhile. Of course, he didn’t know if the sport itself was actually starting to bore him or the stress recently rested upon him was making him lose interest in the things he loves. Apparently stress can do that. 

He sees a flicker of gold in the distance, shocked at how early on he’s spotted it he doesn’t fully believe he saw it. That is until he sees the seeker for Y/H dive in the direction of the flash of gold. He quickly follows and the two chase after the golden blur, neck and neck. Draco shoves the other seeker, causing him to spin off course and leaving Draco to be the only one in pursuit of the snitch.

He’s extremely close, he takes a hand off his broom and reaches towards the snitch. He feels cold metal on the pads of his fingers, he just needs to get a grip around it. Almost…

Wham!

He’s nearly knocked off his broom as pain seers through his ribcage. He got hit with a bludger milliseconds before he could grab the snitch. He holds a hand over his ribcage and groans in pain. He rises back into the air to find he’s near Y/H’s section. He looks over at you and you mouth to him, 'Are you okay?’. He nods and manages to give you a faint smile as reassurance.

When he starts to move upward he hears many whispers, “Did Draco Malfoy the Draco Malfoy just smile?”, “Did he smile at you, Y/N?”, “Is there something going on between you two?”, and things of that nature.

He looks back in your direction to see your cheeks turning pink while multiple people start to question you. Though more importantly he sees a smile on your face at the thought of people thinking something is going on between the two of you.

Suddenly, his interest for Quidditch returns. Except rather than loving the sport, wanting to be the best, and move towards winning the House Championships, his goal and motivation to win comes from you. He wants to impress you, and suddenly he finds himself squinting at the field and scanning it as if his life depended on it.

Ten minutes pass with no sign of the snitch. Y/H is currently in the lead, sixty-twenty. Draco continues to scan the field, keeping an eye on the other seeker to see if they look to be in pursuit. He finds himself glancing over at you often as well, trying to make sure you aren’t growing bored. Good thing he’s doing this because it is when he shifts his eyes to you that he spots the snitch once again.

This time determined to get he speeds off in the directions of the flicker of gold. He soon gets close enough that the snitch is hardly a blur anymore. He stretches out his arm when he feels someone bump his side, not strong enough to knock him off his path though. It’s Y/H’s seeker, Draco gives them a menacing stare before turning his eyes back to the snitch. The two race around the field with their arms reaching towards the snitch, they’re neck and neck. Draco, determined to win, jerks his hand out so roughly he fears he might’ve dislocated his shoulder. It would be worth it though, he feels his hand close around the snitch.

He slows down and waves the snitch above his head, wearing a proud smile. The rest of the Slytherin team flies over to congratulate him. He hardly notices their presence as he starts to look for you, to see your reaction. His smile fell, you weren’t in the spot you had previously been in. You weren’t anywhere to be seen.

A look of disappointment washes over Draco’s face as he moves back to the ground. Where did you go? Why did you leave? Did you just not care enough to stay? Did you leave because Slytherin won? Was it foolish of him to think you were here for him? He was disappointed that he ever let that thought into his head.


The rest of the Slytherins were celebrating in their common room, but Draco was in no mood for a party. Though every time he tried to move towards the dorms one of his friends would pull him back to the center of the crowd.

“Dude, what up with you,” Blaise leans onto Draco. “You know you can’t vanish from a party after a win.”

Vanish.

He hadn’t been to the room of requirement in ages. If he was already disappointed with himself he might as well make it even worse by working on that cabinet.

“I actually have to go do something,” Draco mutters before peeling away from the crowd, this time being successful.

He begins the journey from the dungeons all the way to the seventh floor, left corridor. Constantly, he finds himself dodging behind corners at the sight or sound of a teacher. When he makes it to the entrance of the Room of Requirement unscathed he begins to pace and think deeply about what he needs.

I really need to work on this cabinet. If I don’t fix it in time I’ll probably get myself and my family killed. To work on this cabinet though I’m really going to need some privacy. No one else should be able to go in or out. I really just need to be alone, even though I’d rather be talking to Y/N, figuring out why she left the natch early… But I really need to go work on this cabinet in private.

He thinks to himself, allowing him access to the room. He steps inside and begins to make his way to the vanishing cabinet. He examines a feather from the last time when he used that cabinet on a small bird. He begins to realize it’s spending days on end staring at this cabinet that he truly begins to hate what he’s become. He knows he had no choice, it makes him hate all those who did. All who didn’t have people pressuring him to be evil. To kill or be killed. It makes him hate all those who had good people in his life.

He just wanted one good person in his life, he needed one good person in his life.

Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears a crash from somewhere in the room, faint whispering follows. Someone else is in here.

He draws his wand from his pocket, becoming extremely alert. He swallows hard, the last thing he needs is to be caught in here. He slowly moves towards the sound of the crash, pashing piles and piles of randomized objects. The faint whisper becomes a distinct mutter, a girl’s mutter.

He jumps out from behind the last pile of things before him and the unknown girl and raises his wand. However, he immediately lowers it at the sight before him.

“Y/N?” He questions putting his wand back in his pocket.

You look up at him and gulp. You are kneeling on the ground in front of a puddle of spilt paint to the side of a canvas. Your face turning a bright red to match the paint covering the floor.

“Draco,” you say wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he tuts.

“Well, I needed a canvas and some oils,” you shrug. “So, I went to the room that would supply me with my needs.

"Well, I needed privacy as in no one else being in here,” he says coming off more hostile than he wants to be towards you.

“Maybe you don’t know what you’re actually needs are,” you look down at the ground, saddened at his hostility towards you. Just when you were beginning to think he could actually like you, how silly.

He remembers what he was just thinking about. Where am I going to find a good person who wants to be in my life? “Maybe you’re right,” he admits.

You look up at him and try to suppress any thoughts of him needing you from your head. You look back down at your paint puddle and go back to cleaning.

“You know there’s this thing called magic,” he chuckles before pulling out his wand. After giving it a little flick all the paint moves back into the container.

You tut before letting out a muffled thanks and standing back up. A slight frown forms on your face as you dip your paintbrush into your now unspilt paint and get back to working on your canvas.

“I thought you’d be a little more thankful,” Draco raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t like to mix magic and art,” you huff.

“How come?” he presses on, sounding as though he genuinely cares.

You sigh, not sure if you’re completely comfortable about divulging your childhood to Draco, your muggle childhood. If you even wanted to dream about having a chance with him you figured it wouldn’t be best to remind him you’re muggle-born. However, he’s expecting an answer and you only have the truth.

“It just when I was younger I was told I had a gift when it came to art,” you sigh. “They said my art made my talent seem like magic,” you smile at the memories. “I guess I wanted to keep it all down to talent not literal magic,” you shrug,

“Oh,” is all he has to say. “Well, can I see what you’re painting?”

At that you freeze, brush in midair dripping paint onto the ground. You swallow hard and your face becomes a deeper red than Draco, or anyone has ever seen you as. You slowly turn your near paralyzed head to look at him wide-eyed, You do not even want to imagine Draco’s reaction to your current work, yet alone see or hear it in reality.

He chuckles, “I’ll take that as a no.” You slightly nod and turn back to your work. “If I can’t look at it can you at least tell me what it is?” Your face is burning at this point, it feels so hot you fear you may need to go down to the hospital wing.

He appears next to you and you nearly choke on the lump forming in your throat. You set your brush down and timidly turn your head to look at him. You get a side view of his head, slightly tilted with a flattered expression resting on his face.

“Is that me?” He smiles brightly and you swallow hard.

“Is that weird?” You timidly ask.

He turns his head to look down at you, a smile still plastered on his face. “Not at all.”

He looks back to examine the painting even deeper as you rock on your heels as an anxious tick. The painting is a site you captured in your head at the match. Draco with his hand outstretched towards a golden blur, you seeker right at his heels. You painted the world around them as a fuzzy haze to show they were moving at top speeds. In the background one could distinguish the field, goalposts, stadium full of students, as well as the other players flying about.

“Is this why you left the match early?”

“Yeah, I just got the idea and rushed here to go and paint it,” you shrug. Then, you fully process what he just said. “You noticed I left?” Your eyebrows knit together and you move your gaze to him.

“Of course,” he says looking at you. “I did it for you,” he states. “I woke up this morning and the last thing I wanted to do was go looking for a golden blur. Then, I remembered you said I could count on you being there and I knew I had to play.” You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, so Draco continues. “I was planning on inviting you to the after party as my date but you weren’t there,” he shrugs. He’s trying to play it cool but truly he heart is beating a mile a minute. He was not intended to profess his love for you but before he could stop himself the words were slipping from his mouth.

“D-date?”

“Yeah, is it so weird for me to take the girl I’ve liked since second year to be my date?” There’s no going back now. It’s out, the secret is out. Draco Malfoy has feelings for Y/N Y/L/N.

He waits for you to say something, anything. He heart is racing and his cheeks are turning pink. He hopes you’ll say you feel the same but you just stay silent.

Your mouth hangs agape, you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You’ve liked me since second year?”

“Is that weird?” He timidly asks as you did previously.

“N-not at all,” you smile wider than ever, your face only turning slightly pink. “I mean I’ve liked you since first year.” You see his eyes light up at that, he looks as if this is exactly what he needs to hear.

You two stay silent for a moment, gazing into each others eyes. Both of you wondering what to do next. His eyes slowly move down to your lips, linger for a second, then dart back to your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out so quietly you barely hear.

You nod and try to suppress the butterflies in your stomach. He takes a step closer to you and lightly grips your elbows. He pulls you close and stares deep into your eyes. He starts to lean in as do you, both closing your eyes. His lips gently connect to yours. He softly moves his lips against yours, his hands moving down to your waist as yours get tangled in his hair. Neither of you pull away until you both are gasping for air.

“So did you win?” You giggle once you’ve caught your breath.

“I have now.”

Confession

Originally posted by riverrdxle

A/N: I strayed away from the request a bit just to follow a story line that I didn’t really plan, tbh (it just happened, I’m srry). I also switched up my style majorly for this just as an exercise, it’s in 3rd person and all but lemme know what you think and whether this is better, worse, or somewhere in between.

Request:  could you write about Jughead getting a call that the reader just got shitfaced at a party so he has to come get her and take care of her 

Word Count: 3,790 (whoops)

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing (lyk twice)

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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

What Comes Next || Kim Taehyung

Originally posted by mvssmedia

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Angst/Fluff


He was surprised when you first told him, and then he was fine with it. It wasn’t what you were expecting but you were grateful he understood. When you told him the news about you being pregnant, you were sure he was going to judge you, he was going to leave, but then he stayed.

Jungkook was your best friend, and someone you could always count on. So when you told him that Taehyung, your boyfriend of three years now, had gotten you pregnant, he accepted it. He didn’t say anything bad, nothing along the lines of “you’re too young”. He told you that it was okay and that he would support you the entire way through.

There were some things you didn’t want to talk about, and that was when you would break the news to Taehyung. At first you had been scared, and there were a lot of times Jungkook would have to come over and calm you down. You were terrified that you being pregnant could ruin everything for Taehyung.

The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his career. You knew he had worked so hard tog et to where he was and you weren’t going to be the reason he stopped. There was a part of you that felt bad though, because Jungkook was the one who was helping you, even though it had nothing to do with him, and for that you were thankful.

He had promised to keep it a secret from Taehyung, not wanting to worry you anymore than you already were. For now it was a secret between the two of you.

It was two months into the pregnancy, and you had already started to notice the baby bump starting. There was a little bit of a belly forming and you found yourself holding your stomach anytime you had the chance. When Taehyung would come over you found yourself moving his hands to your stomach even though he had no idea what was going on.

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It Started With A Kiss

Summary: All the ways Dean loves to kiss you

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1018

Warnings: All the fluff

A/N: I’m actually super proud of this! Thanks to my grammar nazi and my poetic friend @idreamofhazel


A kiss is the most powerful thing a man can say. When Dean kisses you, he kisses you with such passion and fervor, like he can’t get enough out of you, like you’re going to slip away at any moment. Each kiss tells you something different. That’s the thing about Dean, he has an appreciation for a woman’s body like no other man you have met before.

When he first kissed you, it was by surprise. You had no idea Dean was even remotely attracted to you. You had been hunting with him and Sam for years and the man never once made a pass at you. But when he kissed you, there was no doubt in your mind that Dean Winchester loved you. The kiss wasn’t just a sign of attraction, it was a proclamation of his love. The kiss was full of confidence; confidence that you were the one for him, that you would fill the hole inside his heart. It only took one kiss for you both to know that was it, that was your last first kiss.

In the morning, his kisses are lazy, peppered all over your face, like he has all the time in the world. He kisses any exposed skin, your shoulder, your neck, your thighs. It’s as if he spent too much time away from you, even if he dreamt of you all night. He kisses you until your eyes open and you turn towards him to capture his lips with yours.

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forever starts right now.

For Patater Week. Set in Careful the Tale You Tell verse.

It’s about two months into their relationship. (Their proper relationship, not the year of fumbling that led them there.) Kent’s bugging Alexei about his stuff taking up too much room in Kent’s dresser drawers. “Can’t we, like, pick a drawer that’s yours and you can have that one, so your shit isn’t all messed up with mine?”

“You’re wanting to share drawers?” Alexei says, merrily putting a pair of pants in right next to Kent’s pants, god damn it.

“At least can we fucking talk about it?”

“Pff. No, too early. We talk about it when we get married,” Alexei says breezily.

Kent nearly trips face first over his own dropped jaw.

And from then on, it turns into a thing.

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Night Moves

Written for Baby’s Big 50 Birthday Challenge, hosted by @butiaintgonnaloveem​​. My prompt was “Night Moves” by Bob Seger. Happy Birthday, Baby!

Summary: Dean and Sam go see an old friend while recovering from a rough hunt. She helps them admit what they really want.

Pairings: Sam x Dean, Sam x Dean x OFC (Katherine)

Warnings: Smut, feels, Wincest

Word Count: 4150

A/N: I loved writing this one. Hope y’all love it too! Feedback appreciated. XOXO

Dean slides the cassette into the deck, grinning when the music starts. He’s got the itch under his skin and he needs to drive, needs to breathe fresh air and see some new trees.

“You ready, Baby?” he whispers, and he swears she purrs back a yes.

Sam comes out of the motel room, looking sleepy and relaxed, blinking into the early morning sunlight. “What are we doing up this early?”

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Mistakes || Jeon Jungkook (PT. 2)

Originally posted by hohbi

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: Fluff


Two weeks. It had been two weeks since you and Jungkook had started the break. You didn’t want to admit it but you had spent all of the time up until now laying in bed, and trying to disappear within the covers. You didn’t want to see the outside world if it meant you would have to remember his absence.

As much as you wanted to call Jungkook and tell him to come home, you were too stubborn. There was a small part of you that wouldn’t let your fingers punch in the familiar number. He wasn’t as strong though. He had called you everyday and left you with countless voicemails, all of them telling you how much he loved you and that he was truly sorry.

He hadn’t missed a single day.

Of course he was still doing promotions and working with the guys, but he was messaging you and calling you whenever he got the chance, and it made your heart hurt. You wanted to answer every time the phone rang, but you didn’t. It wasn’t until a different ringtone started playing that you actually grabbed the device and pressed answer.

“Hello.” You answered quietly.

“Hi.” His voice sent shivers down your spine and you were so dumb as to not expect him to try something like this. He had before, and yet you had fallen for it again.

“You have to stop calling me from Jimin’s phone or else soon I’m not going to pick up and he’s going to be pissed at me.” You replied, sitting up slightly in bed and resting your back against the pillows. You didn’t want to admit it but it felt good to hear his laugh come over the line.

“I’m sorry, I had to hear your voice. I thought I was going to go insane.” He replied. Your fingers played with the edge of your blanket so as to try and distract you from the fluttering in your chest. It didn’t matter what he said, he could be reading the script of the bee movie and you would still find yourself distracted by his voice.

“You’re a twit, you know that right?” You questioned, trying to goof around a little bit. Jungkook chuckled slightly and you could tell that he wasn’t completely there. “How are thing’s going with the guys? They’re being nice right?”

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the-fae-weaver-of-words77  asked:

“let’s keep this between the two of us.” Azriel and Feyre?

“Let’s keep this between the two of us, okay?” Feyre mutters to Az as he slips, unobtrusively into her bedchamber and she jumps to her feet, hurrying to meet him. 

The shadowsinger just nods, ever dutiful to his High Lady’s every wish. 

“No-one saw you come up here, did they?” she can’t help herself asking anxiously, glancing over his shoulder as though expecting Rhys to burst through the door at any moment and catch them together. 

Azriel just gives her a flat look that implies he’s insulted she would even ask such a thing of him. Perks of being a super spy, she supposes. 

“Alright, I’m ready,” she says, holding out a hand in invitation. Azriel grips it tightly and they winnow into shadow and darkness. They emerge moments later onto the pleasantly warm Velaris streets, pleasantly bustling but not overly crowded, something neither of them would have appreciated. 

They set off together, Azriel quietly leading the way while Feyre follows, smiling and nodding at some of the people they pass who wave greetings to her. “Thanks so much for this, Az,” she puffs out, checking her bag to ensure she brought her purse with her. She doesn’t usually, typically relying on the convenient credit she has in most stores, but she doesn’t want Rhys to have any inclination of her purchase today. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

“It’s no trouble,” he says, leading them down into a quiet, shaded street and walking to the very end, a small store tucked into the corner. “I live to serve at the  High Lady’s pleasure.” She squints up at him, one eyebrow raised, and he smirks. “And entertaining as his last birthday was, I understand it’s not an experience you want to repeat.” 

“No,” Feyre groans, burying her face in a hand at the shame of it. She has many talents and she loves her mate dearly, as Azriel knows,  but gift buying has never been her strong-suit. And the bastard has a habit of finding exactly what she wants every single year without fail. Just once she wants to get him something absolutely perfect. Fortunately, she has a secret weapon in the form of Azriel. 

“Really though,” she grumbles, pushing into the shop after him, “Who’s allergic to strawberries?”  

“Rhys,” Azriel hums simply in that way that implies he knows everything in the world and that nothing could ever surprise him. 

Well, he had been surprised last year when Rhys had taken a large bite from one of the chocolates she had delightedly given him and then promptly started choking. The shadowsinger hadn’t been expecting that. Unfortunately neither had she. 

“And Keir,” he adds as an apparently innocent afterthought. 

Feyre blinks, startled, looking round at him. She supposes it’s not too odd, Keir and Rhys are related, even distantly. Still, “I suspect that comes from the list you have tucked away somewhere that details every known method of killing that bastard; not a concern for the steward’s meal choices?” She muses lightly. That tugs a small, dark smirk out of Az. 

Azriel leads her to the back of the shop then stops in front of one of the small, dusty glass-fronted cabinets to let her see what he’s picked out for her. She opens her mouth to point out that the display is stuffed full of items, she isn’t sure which one he means, but she stops when she sees it, her face lighting up in a smile. Hugging a rather startled Az she whispers, “It’s perfect.” And is relieved when he accepts the hug, smiling, patting her rather awkwardly on the shoulder to convey his acceptance of her gratitude. 

Once Feyre has made her purchase and had it carefully wrapped up by the owner, who seems friendly with Azriel, well, as friendly as anyone can be with him, the two wander back out onto the streets of Velaris. Feyre insists on dragging him into a nearby shop and pressing a large amount of fine differently coloured balls of wool into Az’s protesting hands and then further insists on taking him for a quiet cup of tea. 

She rarely spends time alone with the shadowsinger, he always seems to be out somewhere on some secret mission sometimes she doubts even Rhys knows about. That or closeted up in his room with Mor, enjoying the time he has with her. Usually she only has conversations with him like this when they all go to Rita’s and neither of them feel much like dancing for an hour or so. 

It’s nice, though. Azriel has a quiet, oddly calming presence, even with the shadows darting around him, whispering, always whispering. There’s a comfort to being around him, a sense of safety, and an odd feeling that she could tell him anything and he would simply nod and understand. As a result, Az is the one she’s gone to more times than she can count when she’s had a difficult decision about the court to make that she doesn’t want to put on her mate. He inevitably listens to all she has to say and offers a few quiet insights that help her make up her mind. She values his opinion, and his friendship, more highly than she thinks he’ll ever know. 

Not longer after they’ve sat down in a comfortable booth by the window, they’re both brought two teas and slices of cake that she hadn’t ordered, but that she suspects Azriel did, given that they’re both topped with liberal amounts of strawberries and that their arrival prompts a rare, mischievous smile to blossom across his lips. 

Feyre nibbles at her cake then decides now is as good a time as any to bring up what she wants to, as well as have her revenge for this little dig about the strawberries. Looking slyly at Az over the rim of her cup she says innocently, “I’m sorry to take you away from Mor, I know you just got back, you must have been wanting to spend some time with her.” 

Azriel just blinks at her, saying nothing, as he drops a lump of sugar into his tea. Then another. Then another. She’s discovered, from these little retreats they make to this place from time to time when they both need a little peace and quiet, that he takes an inordinate amount of sugar in his tea. He had confessed to her once, with a small smile, that it was his one and only weakness. 

Finally, carefully, too carefully, Azriel says, “I’ll have plenty of time to brief Mor, later.” Yes, brief her, amongst other things. 

“Mm,” Feyre muses, taking a small sip of tea, “Wouldn’t you rather have spent the morning with her than me?” 

Azriel blinks, apparently genuinely bemused by this comment, “You’re my friend, Feyre,” he says quietly, sincerely, “I like spending time with both of you.” Damn. She really should leave the subtlety and intrigue up to Az as well as the gift choosing. And he’s too earnest and good-natured, there’s no fun in teasing him at all. 

“Azriel,” she says quietly, a soft smile tugging at her lips, “I know.” He blinks owlishly up at her again, clearly implying you know what? And she just scowls at him because if she doesn’t get to tease him then she’s not playing games with him either. 

A deep flush of colour burns into Az’s cheeks as he stares at her, “How?” he rasps eventually and she smirks smugly at him. 

“You’re not the only one who can know other people’s secrets, Az,” she says with a grin, taking another pointed bite of the strawberry cake, which really isn’t half bad. She might have to bring Rhys here at some point, then she might have half a chance of finishing a dessert on her own without the High Lord’s spoon magically making its way over to her plate while he twitters about ‘mating bond equality’ and ‘what’s yours is mine, Feyre darling’. 

Azriel’s face darkens at that and a low, protective growl rumbles in his chest, “Who told you?” he demands, hands curling into fists. 

She starts in surprise at the sudden black venom in his voice and opens her mouth to say something when Azriel freezes, apparently realising how he’d reacted. The blush on his cheeks darkens and his wings twitch, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly, and she has her suspicions that he and Mor haven’t been together for long confirmed, based on his response. 

“It’s alright, I understand,” she says quietly, and she does. That need to protect, to keep her safe must be heightened for the two of them after the amount of time they spent apart. She smiles, “And no-one told me, Az,” she huffs, a faint hint of playful scolding in her tone, “I can find some things out without the help of you and your spies, you know, I’m not blind.” 

“Says the woman who didn’t notice for nearly fifty years that her mate is allergic to strawberries,” Az mumbles into his tea, but she notes the playful spark in his eyes and resists the urge to kick him under the table with difficulty.

Instead she reaches over and takes his hand, “I’m happy for you, Azriel. For both of you. You deserve this,” she gives his hand a soft squeeze and finally manages to coax a faint smile from him.  “But why-” 

“Didn’t we tell anyone?” Azriel supplies for her. She supposes he has to find some way to claw back his composure, the best way he knows how, making sure he knows everything she does. Mostly. She nods. He shifts uncomfortably, wings rustling in agitation at his back as he shrugs. “We would have, when we were ready,” he says quietly. “We’re just…Not.” She’s never seen him so discomposed before, he’s usually the picture of articulate eloquence. But Mor…She does this to him. “Not yet, Feyre, please-” 

She gives his hand another quick squeeze, smiling, “I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone, Az, I promise.” He smiles, nodding his head, and thanks her. 

They finish their tea and cake and then Feyre winnows him to Mor’s townhouse before returning herself to the House of Wind to finish up her preparations for Rhys’ birthday. 

The next day, her mate is delighted by the delicate ornament of crystal Illyrian wings she gives him, after having spent all of the day before painting them, accenting the details until they’re a near perfect replica of her mate’s own. 

Feyre notes the way Azriel’s scarred, gentle hand slides around Mor’s waist, squeezing, drawing her in close, just for a moment while no-one else is watching….But misses the way Rhys raises his glass of wine in Azriel’s direction while she’s chatting to Mor, thanking his brother for picking out the gift. Az nods and smiles. The two of them are content to keep this particular secret between themselves for the rest of their long eternities. 

Ten Years (Part 10)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,786

Warnings: language, fluff, confrontation

A/N: Tags are closed. This part was over 4K words long, so I split it into two. I’m sorry. Reader takes some steps to make everything right again, but Bucky Barnes is nowhere to be found.

Part: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Originally posted by jennymagicalheart

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Dear DILF

REQUEST: Surprising Harry on tour to tell him you’re pregnant. Except the timing works out perfectly with fathers day, so you tell him by giving him a card. Preferably one of those ones which are like ‘Dear Dilf, need I say more’

REQUEST: I just realized your requests are open and I am flipping right now! Can you pretty please do one where you tell Harry you’re pregnant and its extremely fluffy and cute with many cuddles and loads of love! Love you and your blog loads and loads ♥


You had a love/hate relationship with tour season.

On the one hand, you hated that Harry had to be away from you. You had your own job and your own things that you needed to do, and you couldn’t exactly drop everything to follow him as he travelled around the world. You missed him terribly when he was away, and the two of you had gotten so used to each other at this point that it felt like something huge was missing when he wasn’t around. It was hard on him as well; it wasn’t like before you met two years ago when he could travel to his heart’s content. Sunsets simply weren’t as beautiful, and certain sights weren’t as breathtaking without you there by his side to see them. You skype called and texted as much as you possibly could to make up for it, but there was nothing that could even remotely come close to the feeling of falling asleep in his arms after a long day.

On the other hand, you loved to see him perform. It was one of your absolutely favorite things to do; it helped that you were a fan before meeting him and genuinely loved the boys’ music, but watching Harry on stage was absolutely mesmerizing. It seemed like every inch of him was amplified by the thousand—his smiles were brighter and his movements were stronger, and you could tell that it was the place where he felt happiest. Except for when he was with you, he would say. And the times that you got to fly out to see him were perhaps your favorite moments together—the rush of seeing each other after being apart for weeks at a time definitely made up for the time that you had to wait in between, and if anything the distance only ever brought you closer.

The reunion sex was definitely a big bonus.

It was after their show in Toronto when it happened. You had flown to visit him, and the concert was as amazing as ever. You didn’t get to see him until after the show was over, and the sight of your very sweaty and very beautiful rockstar almost made your heart stop. You could tell that he felt the same, because his features lit up more than they already had when he saw you running down the hallway to jump into his arms.

“Harry!” You squealed lightly as you slipped your arms around his neck and immediately looped your legs around his waist to pull his body closer to yours. You could smell the sweat on his body and his dark purple t-shirt was beginning to stick to yours, but you wouldn’t let go for anything.

“How’d you sneak back here, you menace?” He teased as he playfully pinched your behind while supporting your weight with both his palms, turning to press you against the nearest wall as he nipped at your neck.

The next several minutes consisted of the two of you giggling and fooling around backstage in Harry’s dressing room, caught up in each other as if you’d just fallen in love. That was the thing you loved most about the two of you—you’d had your fair share of arguments and bumps in the road like any other couple, but the spark had never faded.

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anonymous asked:

I really love your Nurseydex fics!!! I was wondering if you might write more based on that part w Dex and Nursey being f*ckbuddies and Dex asking Nursey to stay the night, just once, no one ever does. And how they go from there? And if Dex is thr little spoon if they cuddle I'll probably explode from happiness just saying. Please and thank you

hey, and thank you! 
btw, your butt looks good in those pants and you can do the thing. i believe in you.


Dex watched Nursey struggling to pull on those ridiculously tight jeans he like to wear from his bed. Normally, seeing him jump around would make Dex laugh, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Instead, he was just… exhausted.

Not the sort of exhausted that comes from a job well done, or a satisfied exhausted from good sex. No, he felt drained. Emotionally exhausted. The kind that came from watching another guy walk out the door.

It wasn’t that the sex wasn’t great, because it really, really was. It was better than any hookup Dex could pick up, better than any relationship he’d ever had. The sex was practically addictive.

The problem was that he liked more than just the sex, though. He like the time they spent together before they fucked. He got excited about the idea of seeing Nursey outside of hockey. It wasn’t just a casual, friends with benefits thing anymore; there were feelings involved.

Feelings that were killing him every time he watched Nursey walk away like Dex wasn’t worth the time and effort of sticking around.

Dex knew he wasn’t that fun to be around. He was brash, and aggressive, and angry. He didn’t have a great personality. It was easy to understand why hook ups never stuck around: why bother putting up with all of that when the sex already happened. It still hurt, but it was understandable. When it was Nursey, though…

Nursey and him spent time together. He liked Dex enough to hang out with him, or so Dex thought. It was hard not to wonder if that was just out of obligation to the team, or worse, a way to get in his pants, when Nursey always left straight after he got what he wanted.

When Nursey finally got the tight denim over his thighs, he turned around, mouth already forming words when he paused.

“What’s wrong, bro?”

Dex realized he had barely moved since Nursey climbed off the cheap dorm mattress. He hadn’t put on any of his clothes, or even covered himself up. The pillows got lost somewhere in their haste to get naked, so the only thing on the bed with Dex was his thick quilt.

He considered telling Nursey nothing was wrong, that he was imagining things. Anything but what actually came out of his mouth.

“Please don’t leave.”

Nursey stopped struggling with his shirt, eyes wide. He let his arms drop to his side, half tangled in the maroon fabric. “What’d you say?”

“Please stay? Just the night, just once? Nobody ever stays, and it’s okay with them, but it’s you, and I just need you to… I just need you. Please, Nursey?”

There was something in his voice that he hated. He sounded weak, broken. And maybe he was. Hell, he probably was. He couldn’t be normal and fuck without feeling like he was coming apart at the seems.

Dex couldn’t bring himself to look at Nursey’s face. He focused on Nursey’s strong arms, the smooth skin of his chest, the stupid men’s hockey shirt that Dex was pretty sure started out life as his own. No, he knew what he would find in Nursey’s face: pitty.

But he was at the point where he didn’t care. He didn’t want to know if Nursey stayed with him because he felt bad for Dex. And if he said no? Dex didn’t want to see the look of disgust at his over emotional response. He just wanted to pretend, if only for one night, that maybe someone could care for him, that he was good for something other than hockey and fucking.

In a flash, Nursey stripped back out of his clothes and crawled back up on the bed with Dex. With gentle but firm hands, he directed Dex to look at him.

Nursey’s face… there wasn’t pity, or disgust, or any emotion Dex could name. It was soft and open, and it made something in his chest ache just as much as it eased some of the tension he was feeling. Nursey pressed a gentle kiss to Dex’s lips, the first time they’d ever kissed outside of sex.

After a minute looking at each other, Nursey rearranged them on the bed so that he was spooning Dex. It wasn’t the first time Dex had been the little spoon (he had a girlfriend in high school who loved to cuddle that way), but it was the first time he felt so completely surrounded, and warm, and safe.

One of the things that surprised Dex most about having sex with Nursey was how attentive he was. He cared more about his partner’s pleasure than his own. Dex wasn’t sure why he was so surprised that Nursey was the same way with cuddling. Nursey made sure that Dex was as comfortable as possible, that he knew he was the entire focus of Nursey’s attention. He knew just how to move his hands to be comforting but not over-stimulating.

It was nearly an hour before either of them said anything. Dex surprised himself by breaking the silence.

“Thank you, for doing this for me.”

Nursey nosed at the back of Dex’s neck. He hummed as an acknowledgement that he heard Dex speak, but didn’t say anything. Dex realized that Nursey was giving him time to talk, time to sort through his thoughts and figure out what exactly he wanted to say. He had never been so grateful for someone in his life.

“I’m… it’s okay when other people leave after a hookup, but I like you. I really fucking like you, Nursey. And it really, really fucking hurts thinking that you don’t like me enough to stick around, y'know? Or care.”

Behind him, Nursey took a deep breath. Dex could almost feel him counting to 10 in his head, a technique Jack tried to teach the team in an effort to get them to respond instead of react. Dex found himself counting, too.

After 30 long seconds, Nursey said, “I really like you, too. I only leave because I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Dex found Nursey’s hand on his stomach and held it tight. That wasn’t what he expected. Before he could respond, though, Nursey spoke again.

“If you wanted, I would never leave this bed. But if you want me to leave, I can do that, too. You’re calling the shots, Poindexter, because I’m all in for whatever you want.”

“How about… for now, we just do this.”

Save or Break

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Matt (OC)

Warnings: Lots of angst, language, mentions of death

Word count: 1482

Summary: Dean thinks the reader left him for someone else but is that the real reason?

A/N: This fic is for my newly introduced “songfic friday”. Song inspiration for this one was “Breakeven” by The Script.

Originally posted by bittercasblogger

“Sometimes the strongest among us are the ones who smile through silent pain, cry behind closed doors, and fight battles nobody knows about.” -Unknown


Dean’s loud voice, thick with anger and despair filled your ears as you threw your clothes haphazardly into your suitcase.

“What do you think you’re doing Y/N? You’re going to bail out on me and Sammy just like that? After everything we have went through you’re going to call it quits? Because of what? Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

Hearing his words brought tears to your eyes. You were seconds away from breaking his heart but you had to do this. You did not have another choice, not after what you had found out a while ago. Your hands were shaking; you stopped what you were doing and took a deep breath. Turning towards your soon to be ex-boyfriend, you looked into his eyes. He stopped with his wild gestures, his chest heaving from all the anger and frustration.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and started to speak, trying to sound as cold as possible. “I can’t do this anymore Dean. I don’t want to. Yes, I quit. I’m leaving you. This was never the life I imagined for myself. I want more, okay? And you can’t give me more Dean. I’m sorry.”

His arms dropped dead to his sides. His mouth fell slightly open and a shocked expression spread across his face as he stared at you, letting your words sink in. “You’re… What? Why? I thought… I mean we talked about this. You never wanted more. What changed?”

You could see in his slumped shoulders and teary eyes how much you had hurt him. ”I have to do this,” you kept telling yourself in your mind.

“I-I don’t know Dean, okay? I simply changed my mind. I want to get married and have kids and I want to come home to something that is not as broken as what we have. Let me go Dean. I’m done. Let me be happy.” 

You continued to pack the last pieces of clothing and zipped your suitcase; you didn’t have the courage to look him in the eyes right now. The guilt you felt when doing so made you question your decision but there was no going back now.

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It Is What It Is || Jung Hoseok

Originally posted by cum-for-hoseok

Word Count: 3.7k

Genre: Angst/Fluff

AN: So this turned more into a mini novel, but I really really like how it turned out and I hope you guys too. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!


It was your last year of high school, something you thought was supposed to be terrifying, but only ended up being amazing. This year surprised you the most, you were offered a place at the university you wanted, you had held outstanding grades, and you had some of the best friends in the entire world.

There was one best friend in particular that you had, who had made the last four years of your life beyond amazing. Who had turned your world upside down with his smile and made it something you could have never asked for. There was so much he gave you, and you would never be able to thank him properly for everything he had done.

Jung Hoseok had become your best friend in your freshman year, and it had stayed that way since then. The only difference between now and then, was now you found yourself lost in his eyes, waiting for every moment that he laughed so your brain could play it on repeat and you could listen to it forever. You had fallen in love with your best friend, and you loved everything about him.

Your attention drifted from the notebook you were writing in to the teacher who was standing at the front of the class. Even though your thoughts were elsewhere you were still managing to copy down the note to review for later. Multi-tasking was easy for you, especially when it involved thoughts of Hoseok.

As the teacher continued to drone on and on about the topic that you were studying, your eyes flickered up to the clock and you realized just how close class was to ending. Everyone around the class had already started packing up their things, and some people were even sitting with their heads down, not paying attention to the last few minutes of the lecture.

You decided it was time for yourself to pack up so you finished writing the last sentence for your notes and closed the front cover of your notebook. The teacher was about to start speaking again before the bell rang and you were dismissed from class. Student after student began rushing out of the class and you calmly followed the crowd.

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P.S. I Love You- A Sirius Black Imagine

A/N: I know, I know, two imagines in one night? Anyways, this is a little something that I decided to work on and post tonight in dedication to @goblackhatwithme . I hope you enjoy it, Renee! There are probably many mistakes in this so I am sorry but I wanted to get this posted tonight. This also has nothing to do with the film “P.S. I Love You,” but I thought it was a cute title. Hope you all enjoy!

Originally posted by nellaey

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon. You were in the boys’ dormitory, lounging on Sirius’ bed and waiting for him to get out of the shower. You sighed in slight annoyance as you knew it was going to be a while. He was always so keen on using the “finest muggle products for his precious hair” and cursed Lily and yourself for showing them to him in the first place.

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After

Here it isssss! Part 2 to “Before”. Hope you enjoy the ending, and let me know what you think! <3

—————————————————————————————

There wasn’t much more you could do; the longer you stood there as the room emptied out, the stranger you would look. Obviously, you would have to leave before Harry, and you were beginning to realize that he wasn’t going to leave his spot next to the door.

Finally, the crowd around him trickled out and Harry was left by himself. He caught your eye and your heart started to pound. There was no escape now. You couldn’t make up an excuse as to why you were still standing there, seemingly waiting for him to come talk to you. Maybe that was part of the reason your body hadn’t willed you to move for the past few hours; perhaps you wanted him to come talk to you.

He started to walk toward you and you found yourself glued to the spot. You couldn’t have moved, even if you wanted to. There were a million things running through your mind in the few short seconds between Harry spotting you and being right in front of you. But when he stopped and smiled at you, there was only one word that came out of your mouth.

“Hi.”

 

“Hi.”

The silence that followed felt incredibly long to you, but it was really only a few seconds. You cleared your throat and motioned toward the door.

“I was, uh, just on my way out, actually.”

Harry pursed his lips and nodded.

“M’sorry I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you,” he said, “S’more people here than I was expectin’ and some of them never shut up.”

You stifled a laugh and nodded in understanding. You were familiar with some of his more talkative friends and how they could carry on a conversation with him for hours if he let them. There had been a few instances where the two of you had been out on a date and Harry had run into one of these friends; needless to say, your date had been put on hold until Harry could finally find the right way to politely indicate that he was finished the conversation and ready to move on.

“It’s okay,” you assured him, “I didn’t expect you to drop everything and come talk to me; you didn’t even really want me here, after all.”

Harry frowned then, looking directly at you.

“What are you talkin’ about? Of course I wanted yeh here.”

“You didn’t invite me,” you reminded him, “You only did it because Jeff has a big mouth and you didn’t want to be rude.”

He paused for a moment, knowing that you were right about that, but trying to figure out some way to make it sound better.

“I wanted to invite you,” he said, softly, “Didn’t think you’d want to come.”

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