imaginative writers

From the Dining Table

Originally posted by ronniesexual

Read “Ever Since New York” first

Check my series masterlist for updates!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: After (Y/N) leaves Jughead in the airport, he is forced to reminisce upon the past three months in New York.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1,486

A/N: hope you enjoy this bad boy that has been queued for over a week.  Prepare for angst!


Woke up alone in this hotel room
Played with myself, where were you?
Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon
I’ve never felt less cool

Her fingers slowly slipped out of his grasp, and he watched as her figure blurred amongst the others rushing through the airport.

And just like that, she was gone.

Three months of jokes and smiles down the drain.  Three months of late-night talks vanished.  Three months of trying every restaurant in New York City gone.

Three months of falling in love were lost.

Jughead could practically hear (Y/N)’s voice interrupting his negative thoughts.

“Don’t be such a downer,” she would’ve said to him if she was still there.  “We had three months, and as long as you don’t forget them, you won’t lose them.  I still love you.”

But she wasn’t there to tell him that.  So Jughead continued with those pessimistic thoughts, trudging around the airport wearing a continuously deepening frown.

What was the point in falling in love with someone if it wouldn’t last?  Why did he do that to himself?

“I should’ve listened to Betty,” Jughead muttered to himself.  “It all went to shit.”

We haven’t spoke since you went away
Comfortable silence is so overrated
Why won’t you ever be the first one to break?
Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Jughead had two hours to kill before he had to board his flight.  He had no idea what to do with himself for that amount of time.  Usually (Y/N) was the one who offered ideas to kill time, but she wasn’t with him anymore.  

So Jughead just strolled through the airport, hands in his pockets.  His eyes scanned all the travelers, some rushed and some taking their sweet time. Each person had a story, had a reason for being at this airport.  Some were leaving the big city to go on a leisurely vacation; some were rushing to get on planes that would take them to a work conference; others were going to visit family. People were going to and from places, and Jughead had never felt so alone in his life.

He people-watched for an hour, spectating on how the people moved.  He made up stories for the more interesting travelers.

Jughead would longingly stare at gates with people bursting out of them, having just arrived from somewhere else.  He imagined (Y/N) walking out of one, a smile wide on her face.  She would rush out, dropping her luggage as she ran towards him, and wrap her arms around him.  He would twirl her around, just like in the movies.  She would tell him that she couldn’t leave him.

But that was just a story. Jughead still remained in the airport, completely alone, his only company being his own imagination.

I saw your friend that you know from work
He said you feel just fine
I see you gave him my old t-shirt
More of what was once mine

Jughead decided it would be a good idea to have lunch before his flight home.  He perused the different restaurants that the airport offered. It was a good selection, he had to admit.  Just scanning the menus reminded him of (Y/N).  He couldn’t help but reminisce upon their time in New York, how they explored all the restaurants.

He eventually settled for a burger at McDonald’s.  As he ate it, he tried to not evaluate it using (Y/N)’s criteria.

“Is it pretty?” she’d inquire, picking up the food and inspecting it.  “You eat with your eyes first, so it’s gotta look appetizing. Take your first bite.  Your initial reaction determines so much.  Now consider the ratio of all the different ingredients.  They don’t necessarily have to be equal, but try to think about how much of this affects however much there is of that.  And flavors, don’t forget to assess flavors.  Is it too much of something?  Too little?  Evaluating food is an art, Jug.”

The McDonald’s burger practically failed (Y/N)’s criteria, according to Jughead.

I see it’s written, it’s all over his face
Comfortable silence is so overrated
Why won’t you ever say what you want to say?
Even my phone misses your call, by the way

He waited at his gate. It was a different one than where he had left (Y/N), but it looked the same.  The plane would take him in a completely different direction, even further away than he already was from (Y/N).

He had spent the past three months within a one-mile radius of her, and now they were hundreds of miles apart, the distance increasing every minute.

Jughead kept checking his phone.  He knew that it was impossible that (Y/N)’s plane landed, but he still hoped that she would text him.  He needed something because he felt like everything between them was already slipping. Three months’ worth of memories already seemed to escape Jughead, and he needed to cling to anything he could to retain them.  He needed to hold onto the memory of (Y/N).  Because that’s all she was anymore: a memory.

Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too
Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too
Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too
But you, you never do

“The passengers can now board the flight to Riverdale,” the overhead announcer spoke.  Jughead frowned as he slowly stood up, grabbing his backpack.  He took one last look around the airport, the last place he saw (Y/N).

Maybe it was the last place he would ever see (Y/N) ever again.

Then he glanced at the entryway to the plane, the plane that would take him home.  He would see Archie, Betty, Veronica, and his dad again. He would be home, but at the cost of never seeing (Y/N) again.

It was an obligation. He couldn’t turn back.

His feet thudded against the floor as he slowly approached the plane.  He tried to force himself to think happy thoughts, to remind himself that he would see his friends and family again after barely having contact with them for three months.

(Y/N) would not leave his mind.  He could clearly picture her face, her laugh still ringing in his ears.

The memories of Riverdale could not overpower the flood of memories that overwhelmed Jughead in that moment.  Everything that happened in New York flashed in his mind, replaying every moment he spent with (Y/N), and now he trapped himself on a plane with just his memories.

Woke up the girl who looked just like you
I almost said your name

Jughead was filled with regret.  He felt guilty for regretting it, but he couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t met (Y/N). Maybe, he thought as the plane began to take off, he should’ve kept it to himself.  Maybe he shouldn’t have told her how he felt.

Everything grew smaller, and Jughead could see all the buildings.  He saw the streets through which he and (Y/N) navigated.  He saw skyscrapers which they entered, and attractions that they visited.  Many of the shorter buildings were indistinguishable, but Jughead was able to picture all the different restaurants that he and (Y/N) tried.

He saw their hotel. The hotel in which so many things happened: late-night talks, playful banters, confessions of love.

He saw the building where their internship was.  The building where he met her, where it all began.  If he hadn’t entered that building, none of that would’ve happened. He could’ve carried on with his life, carefree and unaware of (Y/N)’s existence.

But she was real. Thanks to that building, and that hotel, and all those restaurants, (Y/N) was very real to Jughead.  She was alive and haunting his memories.

We haven’t spoke since you went away
Comfortable silence is so overrated
Why won’t you ever say what you want to say?
Even my phone misses your call
We haven’t spoke since you went away
Comfortable silence is so overrated
Why won’t you ever say what you want to say?
Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Maybe it wasn’t a mistake to fall in love with (Y/N).

Jughead had to be 35,000 feet up in the air to realize this.  It went to shit, he knew that, but it was worth it.  Those three months he spent with (Y/N) weren’t lost, and they weren’t all for naught.  He fucking loved someone, and they loved him back.  

Maybe he would never see (Y/N) again.  Maybe those three months spent together in New York would never amount to anything except a summer fling.  Maybe, in a few months, he would totally forget the significance of this summer.

But maybe, Jughead hoped, maybe this summer meant something.  Maybe one day, this would amount to something more.

More than anything, Jughead hoped and prayed that maybe, maybe he would see her again.

Keep reading

BED SHARING AUS

-I have constant nightmares and I’ve always had someone to cuddle with. Now, I realize we’re not on that level but you’re only one here and I’m really scared to go to sleep.

-You’re severely depressed these days and I’m too scared to leave you alone so yes this is the only solution please accept my hugs

-The heater broke and I’m freezing get over here

-Hey dude I read that cuddling helps you sleep better, you wanna try it out?

-The Classic™: The hotel only has a king sized bed, I guess we’re sharing.

-We fell asleep on the couch together on accident, how did my hand end up in your hair? Were you breathing on my neck?! (Why did I get tingly???????)

-You’re staying over, take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch, yes i am yes i am yes i am yes i am no you’re not yes i am FINE WE’LL BOTH TAKE THE BED, happy!!??

-We’ve had this tradition as besties to have a sleepover once a year but this year….it feels different…were your pajamas always this cute??…did I always have butterflies???

Writing Prompt #101

“Who’s a good boy? You are! You’re a good boy!”
“Babe, I know you think it’s funny and all cuz I’m a werewolf, but that’s pretty patronizing. I just want to wash the dishes in peace.”

Some neighbor aus for ya guys

“Listen, I really don’t like you, but you have kittens, so I’m going to be over a lot.” au

“Would you STOP coming in through the WINDOWS, it scares the hell out of me every TIME!” au

“Listen, we have very thin walls and I heard you crying in the shower, are you okay?” au

“I was very good friends with the guy that lived here before you and basically I was over here a lot and… well old habits die hard, can I stay?” au

“If you set the alarm off in the middle of the night ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR I WI- wait why were you even cooking at 3 am?” au

“You burst through the door because you thought you smelled smoke but it was just incense, listen you’re paying for that buddy.” au

“You locked yourself out too?” au

“Hey, I locked myself out, can I use your phone?” au

“You bake when you’re stressed and sometimes you give me cookies, but recently you’re giving me whole baskets each day, now I’m not complaining but are you okay?” au

“I don’t mean to sound paranoid but I’m pretty sure you’re a serial killer.” au

Prompt # 142

“Well that was overkill.”

“No. That was style. Something you clearly lack.”

The Reader and the Writer (Part 4)

Originally posted by jugheadly

Part one here    Part two here    Part three here

Anon requests: Please tell me there’s going to be a part 4 to The Reader and the Writer. Its amazing!!

WHAT’S MY REAL NAME??? PART 4 4 4 4 4

THEY CALL ME Y/N, THEY CALL ME L/N THATS NOT MY NAME THATS NOT MY NAME PART FOURRRRRR PLSSSS 💜

Can you do a part four to reader and the writer?

PART 4 to reader and the writer omh it’s amazing

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: A part in which we get to read what the writer has written, and we learn what happens to both the reader and the writer.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,206

A/N: ok so this is gonna be a bit choppy at first because we’re just taking glimpses of Jughead’s writing, but bear with me here. I hope you guys like this part, enjoy!


Jason’s death had been announced a week ago.  Our small town was buzzing with the news, and right when things couldn’t get any more puzzling, a new girl arrived in Riverdale.  A new mystery to be solved.

She entered Pop’s for only a minute, and I heard an unfamiliar last name.  Is she involved in Jason’s murder?  Probably not, but strangers are always a good plot twist.

Three days later, I found this mystery in my booth reading Wuthering Heights.  Normally, I would kick her out, but because of my undying curiosity, I let her stay.  Maybe with her sitting across from me, I could learn where she fits in the story of Riverdale.  I had an enigma sitting right across from me and I didn’t even know it yet.

(Y/N).  Her name is (Y/N).


It’s difficult to notice because of her constant reading, but her eyes are like stained glass, tinting the morning light in a church.

She has a new book almost every day.  Today it was Emma

We haven’t spoken in three days.  She’s here, I’m here, but we haven’t spoken.  Although I crave to hear her voice, somehow I’m satisfied by this comforting silence.


Today it was To Kill a Mockingbird.  She asked if I read it, to which I replied yes.  I thought she’d begin a discussion, talk about the ghosts that occupied the small southern town, or the unjust prejudice people carry.  Instead, she smiled, nodded, and turned back to her book.

“Good,” she muttered under her breath.  I smiled.


What makes a person do foolish things?  Is it because of the flawed spontaneity of humans?  Or is it because maybe they were trying to impress someone?  I read A Tale of Two Cities last night.  As I read through the dull writing, I asked myself why I was reading literature that did not interest me.  I could not answer my own questions; all I know is that the next night in Pop’s, I subtly quoted the book during a conversation with (Y/N).  She was smiling for the rest of the night, and so was I.


I tried to tell her about my book.  She started talking about The English Patient.


When two worlds collide, do you praise the workers of fate for taking two dearly loved universes and combining them into one, or do you curse the forces of nature for creating such an impact?  Betty and Veronica met (Y/N), and a week later, so did Archie.


She was reading Macbeth that night. Our silence was comforting, but I wanted to talk to her more. I offered for her to help me with my book.  I wanted her to be a part of something that was important to me.  She refused and stormed out of the diner.  I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I saw (Y/N) (Y/L/N) in that light ever again.

After extensive research, I came to a shocking conclusion: (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is not a girl living in Riverdale in the 21st century. She is a writer from the 1700s, with four published works.  She is not the girl who has been sitting across from me in my booth for months.


One day after the truth: she isn’t here.  I called her, but she didn’t pick up.

Two days after our argument: I am in this booth alone.  I called her again.

Three days after she was reading Macbeth: she probably finished the book by now, but I wouldn’t know.  She isn’t here, and she still isn’t answering her phone.

It’s been a week.  She hasn’t returned, and my calls always go to voicemail.

Two weeks: Archie asked what’s wrong with me.  I said nothing, but my eyes didn’t leave the entrance of the diner. She didn’t come.

Three weeks later and Veronica and Betty checked on me.  They blabbered about what could be wrong, why I was brooding more than usual.  I didn’t reply, but my head perked up when they mentioned (Y/N).  They noticed.


She’s here.

She was born in Riverdale.

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.

As soon as she walked out of Pop’s that night, I told myself she would never return.  I told myself that she would probably leave Riverdale for good, and it’d be all because of me.  But lo and behold, 24 hours later, a familiar face entered my booth.

What is her name?

We haven’t spoken in two weeks; she’s still here, but we don’t talk.  Her real name remains a mystery to me.


A name. Everything is given a name, but a name does not define anything.  We call the number two so that we can define a value, but we could call two a horse and it would still have the same value.  I refer to (Y/N) as (Y/N), because that is the girl who sat across my booth.  That is the girl who I spent months developing a relationship with, and that is the girl I grew to love.

She told me her real name.  She said it with tears blurring her vision and a trembling lip, and when she choked it out I moved next to her and held her as she cried.  I enveloped her in a hug and I held her as all the sadness that she carried with her spilled out, and once it was all out of her system I wiped away her tears.  I kept holding her.  With a shaky voice she asked me why I was still there, why hadn’t I left?  I replied that I could never leave her. After all, I called her every night she was gone.

Then I told her I love her.

And she smiled, because I think deep down she knew.  She kissed me so softly, it felt like my lips were brushing up against flower petals.  I knew that was her way of telling me she loves me too.  We broke apart and I stared into her stained-glass eyes, and I remembered how it felt looking into them for the first time.  But this time was different.  Because now I knew the story behind those eyes, now I knew what those eyes have seen, and now I knew what emotions those eyes hid.

Now I know.

I whispered in her ear, my lips barely brushing against her skin, and told her I would call her by the name I knew her by.  I would call her (Y/N) (Y/L/N) because that is the girl I fell in love with, and that is the girl I want to continue to love.  She was no longer the enigma sitting across from me, nor was she the strange new girl in Riverdale.

Her name is (Y/N), and she is the girl I love.

Me in the shower: *Thinks up extremely complicated and amazing personality for character*

Me in math class: *Comes up with unique yet not too outlandish names for characters*

Me at cram school: *Comes up with tragic backstory for characters*

Me when I’m supposed to be sleeping: *Comes up with plot twists, complicated relationship problems and fun and awesome scenes/dialogue*

Me in front of the computer: wut r wurds

Another set of sentence prompts!

“No, you don’t deserve ice cream!” 

“Please stop calling it your lair.” 

“I want a lion.”

“I’ll be the guard dog.” 

“Do you HATE happiness?!“ 

"Okay, I got a pla- oh." 

"What are your thoughts on giraffes in turtlenecks?”

“ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY BONKERS?!" 

"’We’re not going to die’? We’re not going to die?! Well it bloody feels like we’re about to die!”

“At least breathe in between bites!”

“You’re strangely nonchalant for someone who almost died a minute ago.”

“Who are these people?!”

“That was definitely my finest hour.”

“You are not going to have a good day.”

“Use the little scanny thing.”

“Ow, you shot me in the face!”

“Behind you!”

“Listen, it’s for science.”

“I didn’t even have to do anything.”

“Dude, this is romantic as fuck.”

“I’m in your mind…” “Great, just what I needed, more useless crap in there.”

“Anyone want to sing along?”

“I can save you.” “No, you can’t.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but you’re here to do an actual job.”

“Are you humming?” “It’s my theme song, I need it for confidence!”

“Let’s talk dirty to each other.” “Babe… we’re at work. Remember? Professional. Behavior. Please.”

“That looks infected.” “It’s fine.” “You’re dying.” “Well… that’s fine too.”

“Crickety crack, that’s really wack.”

The people for Tony Stark?

Okay, I was talking with my sister about how awesome it would be if in the wake of Civil War, that the people/public in North and South America, Europe, Asia, Africa, EVERYWHERE! Just showed a subtle but strong solidarity for Tony Stark/Iron Man using what Tony is super into. Technology.
Like, picture this:
Hashtags; Tony is trending for MONTHS.
“I stand for the man that stands with me👏🏽 #IStandWithTonyStark #CaptainAmericaWho?”
“#IronMan with a #ironwill for the people and what’s right!”

People view the footage of the airport battle from the grainy cameras posted all over like crazy because someone uploaded it to YouTube. It’s not the best but you can see how team cap just didn’t pull any punches and how Tony had tried to talk despite not hearing what he’s saying. He looks broke , trying to hold everything together.
People lose their minds when they see Cap’s team charge first and when Rhodes falls from the sky and Tony dives after him.
The comments light up and bbbuuuuurrrrrnnn team cap.
“lmao what a fucking joke. tony is trying to talk to him and do you see this guys body language? he’s not hearing anything. Dude wouldn’t even listen to a team member let alone 117 countries”
“LOOK AT THEM, THEY LET THE HYDRA WITCH BITCH ON THEIR TEAM IN NOTHING FLAT BUT GOD FORBID THEY LISTEN TO IRON MAN”
“Yooo, legit they just kept flying after seeing War Machine go down like that? I saw Falcon turn around but I don’t care man, you’ve LIVED and FOUGHT with this dude and he’s obviously seriously hurt and you just keep flying away in the jet you stole??? Cowards. Pathetic.”
“They really look like they’re trying to kill the real heroes. Fuck I’m glad we have Iron Man and Co. with us”

People organize a day online; through tumblr, twitter, insta, Facebook, any way to get the news out that you wear red on this day and you just subtly grab a pen and draw a circle in your palm for a repulsor just like Iron Man’s. And everything blows up that way. News networks talk about it and talk show hosts, the paper has articles on how the public is showing an unimaginable support for Iron Man and the rest of his team that stayed and fought for them and continue to fight for them during the revision of the Accords.

And I want it to be on the news so much that team cap has to watch it and has to know how much everyone loves Tony and what he’s doing and how he went about it. And how he is an actual hero who did his best and how much the public believe and appreciate him.

Prompt #152

“How do you ‘accidentally’ become the leader of a creepy ghost army?!”

“You know, it’s a really long story.”

4

Shiro will punch a ghost in the face, he doesn’t give a [kid-friendly space expletive].

Yet another piece for my Voltron paranormal investigator AU! Check it out here!

A mystery herself

A/N: Heeey so I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted any writing so I’m very nervous about this one. It’s my first Jughead imagine ever, so I hope you like it and if you’d want a part 2, let me know. I already have some idea for a continuation ;)

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.825 


Originally posted by riverrdxle

She walked in like a midsummer breeze, swaying and changing the course of everything under the sun. She perturbed the usually sober times of Riverdale.

And it annoyed Jughead Jones to no end.


(Y/N) didn’t feel good. Her bitter nerves slowly morphed into a nauseous tension which took over her stomach. From the first moment she placed her foot onto the grounds of her new school, the air seemed to change drastically. And she wasn’t the only one who seemed to notice the thick, static-like uneasiness in the air. They all stared at her. Every single pair of eyes fixed her face, supposedly searching for a familiar feature.

Did everybody know everybody in this damn village?

Apparently so.

(Y/N) tried to avoid direct eye contact, although she kept her head high as she walked.

But as she reached the backyard of Riverdale High, her breath hitched in her throat. Releasing a strangled huff as she came to a sudden stop, she gripped the strip of her bag tighter between her long, shaky fingers and replaced it further on her shoulder. A sea of students was laying before her frozen figure, hundreds of eyes piercing her skull and rummaging through her mind.

(Y/N) sighed deeply and swallowed the tight lump in her throat, before urging her unsteady feet to move forward, slicing right through the yard filled with students. She held a confident pace in her step, although the heart burned by a mocking fire threatened to burst out of her chest at any moment.  

It was going to be a long day.


She didn’t expect to find herself into such a place so soon. She didn’t expect to place a single foot inside it at all, actually.

(Y/N) stood in the doorway of what seemed to be a fast food. Pop’s was filled with students which crowded the booths around the powerfully lit dine. Their loud voices travelled across the room, hitting walls and piercing (Y/N)’s ears. It was all too noisy and crowded in there for her liking, and if wasn’t for the frozen water droplets which bit at her exposed skin, she wouldn’t have been there in the first place. Not now, at least. But there was no other choice, was it?

She stole a quick glance outside and felt her eyebrows lower, urging her lids to shield her eyes more than they already had. A sharp breath passed her lips and she adjusted the strip of her bag on her shoulder once again, before scanning the room rapidly.

A mild grimace crossed her features as she acknowledged the only free spot in the entire room. It was an isolated booth, occupied by a boy she recognised briefly. A picture of their eyes connecting during classes flashed through her brain.

Lonely, raven locks hanged loosely across his forehead, narrowed eyes mirrored the shining words written on the screen of his laptop and lips pressed together tightly into a straight line.

And, of course, a grey beanie covered his head, shielding him and making him impossible to ignore at the same time.

Jughead Jones.

(Y/N) was going to sit next to Jughead Jones.

Gathering the last bit of courage in her body, (Y/N) approached his table sheepishly, her hands shoved deeply inside her pockets and her eyes wide with anticipation. Swallowing the bitter lump in her throat, she let the words drift off her tongue.

“Um- excuse me?”

His eyes snapped towards her almost instantly and (Y/N) struggled to keep herself from flinching at the sharp look she received.

“Would you mind if I sit down? It’s all crowded in here, and outside it’s raining, so I can’t actually go-”

“Fine.” he replied shortly, before his stare returned to the screen of his laptop and his fingers began typing vigorously.

(Y/N)’s chest fell as she exhaled with relief and gingerly slid into the seat opposite from the boy.

She quickly took out a pencil, a small notebook and a pair of headphones, which she connected to her phone. Gathering her bag close, she shrunk deeper into the corner near the window and leaned her head against the cold glass. She closed her eyes for a brief second, letting a soft sigh escape her lips and basking in the cool sensation which spread through her temple, before tilting her head and scribbling down a few words on the paper.

Soon enough, the words began flowing inside her head, filling her with a familiar sensation of assurance. The pen left black marks onto the white sheet and while she filled pages after pages with thoughts and drawings, a silvery, rhythmic murmur began dripping from her lips.

With a brief tilt of her head, her eyes slowly travelled towards the raven haired boy. She felt herself freeze when her eyes locked with his.  


He had been watching her all along. From the first damned moment she entered Pop’s, all uncertain and awkward, to when she leaned her head against the window and began bloody singing.

The sound of her silvery voice and the continuous scribbling of her pencil on the paper kept him from his writing.

For a reason he didn’t know, her presence made his chest constrict with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. Uneasiness seemed a poor choice of words, but it was the closest to what he was experiencing of them all. The nerves bubbled up inside his stomach, probably waiting for the perfect moment to burst.

At first, when she showed up next to him and asked if she could sit down, he thought ignoring her would be easy. But he was so… fucking wrong.

He remembered her. From the moment he caught her Y/E/C eyes, he remembered. Seeing them in every class that day, seeking for them whenever she wasn’t there. He remembered the shy smile she gave when the teacher presented her to the rest of the class. He remembered the gleam in her eyes during Psychology, when they talked about human rights and abstract concepts like love. He remembered the burning passion in her voice and the intelligence which shined through her actions and thoughts.

He remembered all of her, and it seemed like a curse.

Fuck…  

She was probably the most distracting person he’d ever seen in his entire life.

The way she bit her lip in thought, or the way she hummed contently when a phrase she liked came up to her mind. It was all too fascinating for Jughead, a concept he couldn’t understand. The way her hair fell into her face and the way she just didn’t bother to push it away made him boil with the urge to brush it to the side with a gentle touch.

Even though it started with secret glances he stole at her crunched figure, he just found his eyes and brain wanting more, to return to the sight of her face. So, after a while, he just gave up on his tentatives of writing and focused on her entirely.

Jughead stared at her. At how her expressions changed with a flash, at the soft smile which warmed her lips from time to time, followed by a private sigh, and at her piercing, radiating eyes, which stared off into the lonely distance.

It felt… strange. Strange and highly inappropriate, he thought of a better label for his odd interest in the girl.

She was new to this town. That was her first day in a new school, with new people and different surroundings. She was a stranger to him, a girl he’d just seen around for a few hours, before she came to Pop’s, where she sat down in front of him.

Why had he said yes in the first place?

Jughead clenched his jaw and felt his fingers curl in annoyance.

It was an understatement to say he was confused… and pissed. Maybe a little bit at her, because she was so damn captivating and enchanting and just… different from all the girls he’d seen. But mainly at him, for taking such an interest in her, for his sudden change. He felt like the wall of ignorance and cold feelings he managed to build over the years was now crumbling down… because of one person.

(Y/N).

She made his temper falter slightly, just by… existing. And being there, present, sitting next to him, and murmuring so beautifully it made him grimace.

She acted so natural. So… carefree and oblivious. She seemed lost to this world, caught between the walls of her own mind, enchanted into a dance with her own thoughts…

He was still staring. Probably more intently, by now.

Shit…  

Was it even healthy? 

Probably not.   

And that made a crisp, thin feeling of fear creep into his soul, tickling the sides of his shielded heart and sending shivers down his spine.

But a sudden change into his view seemed to snap Jughead out of his trance. 

He found himself staring into (Y/E/C) orbs, which watched back with surprise. He quickly came to acknowledge all of her figure, his gaze shifting from her eyes, and shook his head slightly. 

He returned to the screen of his laptop, a pale blush warming his cheeks, hoping she’d go back to writing just as well. But he could feel her stare piercing through his head and lurking through his mind. He heard a ruffling noise as Y/N changed her position so she was facing him properly.

“You’re blushing” a soft voice rang inside his ears.


(Y/N) couldn’t help it. She didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it just slipped off her tongue.

The sight of the turbulent feelings which swam inside his eyes tickled her interest. They held a blurry surface, like a broken mirror, so no one could see inside.

(Y/N) felt intrigued in an odd way by the boy beside her.

Aside from the fact that he was damn right staring at her, she found it strange that he immediately looked away. She didn’t expect Jughead to be so… sensitive, she might say. Let alone to see him blush.

(Y/N) shifted again, placing her bag down from her lap and leaning forward a little bit to peer at the boy. The sight of his red cheeks and embarrassed expression sent her lips into a smirk.

He continued to stare at the screen of his laptop for a few moments, before finally turning his attention to her.

She smiled tenderly in his direction and he felt something melt inside him.

Shaking her head at his silence, (Y/N) withdrew her hand.

“I’m (Y/N)” she said.

Jughead’s eyes flickered towards her hand suspiciously and his stare narrowed. It took a raise of her eyebrows for him to finally shake her hand.

“Jughead” he shortly introduced himself.

A heavy silence followed their handshake. (Y/N)’s smile faded slowly, her lips pressed now in a tight line. She shielded her eyes, gaze falling to her lap and began fiddling with her fingers in an attempt to calm the fire of her cheeks.

Jughead, though, he continued to watch her with thin eyes and furrowed eyebrows. The corners of his lips twitched slightly at her bashful blushing.

“So…” he cleared his throat, an awkward expression visible on his face.

(Y/N) tilted her head to peer at him with interest.

“Seems like we’re going to stay in here for a while” he gestured to the pouring rain outside.

She absently nodded her head, her gaze drifting off to the window and watched as big drops of water slid down the window.

“You seem to like writing”

She blinked, making Jughead raise an eyebrow.

“Am I right?”

“Actually, yes, I do like writing, but it’s…”

She trailed off, with a look like she said too much, but Jughead just raised his eyebrows with curiosity, urging her to tell him more.

“It’s not a book, or something… They’re just random musings I have during a day, or just scattered thoughts I manage to catch from time to time. This is mainly filled with drawings” she held her notebook up “but, recently, I began writing very much in it”

Jughead’s features shifted with surprise.

“So you’re drawing too?”

“I’m not that good at it… but yeah. I just feel like… anything I describe in words is kind of incomplete without a drawing, and every drawing needs a few feelings on mine scribbled down next to it”  

Jughead opened his mouth to ask a question, but shut it quickly, seeming undecided on what to do.

But (Y/N) looked at him expectantly, arching one eyebrow.

“Can I… possibly take a look? Painters and artists like you intrigue me. I can’t understand how you create such masterpieces with just a crayon”

She seemed to consider his words for a moment, before she reached out to hand him the notebook. His finger brushed against hers and (Y/N) fought a strangled gasp from passing her lips, as an electric wave shot through her body.

Jughead took his time to open the notebook and look at her drawings and writing. He admired every single page. She was indeed talented, not only at drawing, but at writing too. Every single word touched his heart. She knew how to leave an impact on the reader, and take them into her mind, make them feel everything she writes and thinks.

Jughead couldn’t help but be impressed.

As his eyes focused on the next page, he felt his chest constrict. There, on the white paper, was his face, drawn with such precision he thought it was an actual picture of him.

At first, he frowned in disbelief.

“Do you draw people often?”

“Only those who attract me” (Y/N) replied with a distant voice, her nose buried into a book this time.

A wide, soft smile warmed his lips and a strange feeling filled his stomach. Jughead didn’t know how to describe it, but again, it was about (Y/N). She was a mystery herself, for that matter.

He closed the notebook slowly, then placed it on the table, in front of her.

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped up and, closing her book, she carefully focused her attention back to Jughead.

“So, you find me attractive, huh?” he smirked smugly at her, leaning in so he could take a better view at her expression.

She stared at him for a moment, before all the blood drained from her face. Her mouth fell open in horror and a ghostly gasp escaped her lips, but actual words refused to come out.

Jughead spluttered with laughter at the sight of her mortified expression.

Even though she gave him a sour face, (Y/N) quietly decided she wanted to hear him laugh like that again.

“I didn’t realise that was you. It was just an image which was stuck into my head all day, so-”

But she stopped herself short, realising what slipped past her lips. She mentally face palmed for being so stupid.

He smiled at her mistake, biting his lip to keep the laugh from erupting again.

(Y/N) decided to look outside once again, secretly wishing Jughead haven’t seen her embarrassed blush.

She frowned at the sight which took over her view. It wasn’t raining anymore. She could finally go home.

Although… she kind of liked Jughead’s company.

With a sigh, she grabbed her stuff and placed it back into her bag, before turning to Jughead. He was watching her with confused eyes.

“Are you leaving already?”

(Y/N) smiled softly at him, before gesturing to the window.

“The rain stopped. I have to go home”

His face fell with disappointment for a second, before a crooked smile lifted the corers of his mouth.

“Well, I’ll see you at school, then?”

Even though it was supposed to be a statement, it came out more like a question.

“Sure” she replied, placing her bag onto her shoulder and waving at the raven haired boy.

Jughead stood there, chewing on his tongue and watching her head for the door, not wanting to be left alone by someone for the first time in his life. Before any rational thought could stop him, he opened his mouth to yell after the girl.

“You know”

She turned around with raised eyebrows.

“This seat is always free, and I’m here every day after school, so…” he trailed off, unsure how to continue his awkward suggestion.

Her expression immediately warmed and she smiled at him brightly, a rosy tint on her cheeks.

“Are you saying I can bother you every night?”

Jughead smiled back, sensing the humour in her voice.

“Yes”

(Y/N) let out a quiet laugh, before turning on her heels and walking out the door.

“You asked for it, Jones. You can’t get rid of me that easily now. Not here, not at school” she said over her shoulder, making Jughead shake his head with a full smile.

A quiet whisper left his lips as he watched her blurry shape walk away through the foggy window.

“I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to”

A: “I have a question. So like, when something is suspicious we say ‘Something smells fishy’. Why do we do that? Why is fish-smell suspicious? What did the fish do?”

B: “Go the fuck to sleep.”

Writing Prompt #174

“You know, you’re a really cute girl.” He half shouted, competing with the pounding music of the club.
“Oh, well, thank you, but I’m not. A girl that is.” Before he could ask again, I clarified. “Not a boy, either. I’m just a person. I prefer ‘them.‘”
He looked me over for a moment before nodding.
“Alright, I can dig it. You’re still very cute, though.”

Call Me Kitten | Jimin

Originally posted by yoonmin

Genre:  Fluff |  Hybrid!AU

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 1259

A/N: Long time, no post, huh? But here we are, I honestly don’t know what this is, but I hope you like anyway! 


Tilting your head slightly, you peered down at the shy hybrid, the sleeves of his over-sized sweater pulled over his small hands, his eyes soft and curious as he stared right back at you. His gaze melted you to your knees as his tail curled around his waist, ears curiously twitching among his soft locks of hair.

“So… this particular cat hybrid is named Jimin, feel free to look him over, whatever you need…” The employee stated in a rather monotone, bored tone, her nails seemingly miles more interesting than a potential adoption taking place.

“Sure, thanks…” You nodded politely, your gaze quickly drawn back to the hybrid in front of you, his legs crossed neatly as he perched on a slightly worn out pillow, his stare never leaving you as his mouth lay cracked open ever so slightly in complete fascination at you.

The employee sighed exasperatedly as she sauntered out, as you shook your head with a gentle smile, cautiously walking over and kneeling beside Jimin, observing his timid posture, his hands resting under his chin as he continued to stare quietly.

“Hello…” You finally spoke in a gentle tone, a hint of fascination laced in your voice as you stared at his effortless beauty, the way his blonde locks occasionally slipped down over his eyes, those eyes that held such an inquisitive look in them, his plump lips curled into an adorably irresistible pout as he blinked innocently at you.

“Hi… I’m Jimin,” he finally spoke, his slight nerves showing in his shaky voice. He hadn’t recalled being so nervous before; he was usually known as one of the more playful kittens, a bright smile always gracing his features. But, he was worried. Worried that you wouldn’t like him, that you would go adopt another hybrid instead, when he felt strangely drawn to you, and he knew he wanted you.

You hesitantly reached out to touch his ears, cupping them as you began to gently stroke and rub the soft fur, eliciting a quiet purr from his throat, his head leaning forward into your touch, and in that moment, you knew this was the hybrid you had to take home.

**

You fished through your bag for the keys to your apartment, Jimin standing behind you and shifting from foot to foot as he stared around the place, eyes wide with awe, cutely blinking once again.

“Ah, here we are,” you sighed in relief, brushing past the adoption papers and pulling out the keys, the jangling sound causing Jimin to wince slightly, ears flattening against his head anxiously. You noticed, frowning in slight worry as you watched him, your eyes scanning his face to decipher what the matter was.

“Hey, it’s okay…” You spoke in the same soothing voice as before, Jimin visibly calming as he looked up at you with those wide eyes you couldn’t resist, holding back the urge to coo at him, instead limiting yourself to gently rubbing his ears.

“Come in, Jimin,” you stepped to the side and ushered him in, as he took in his new surroundings, looking back at you for permission to look around.

“Can… can I look at the place…?” He spoke for the second time, his hands shyly pulling his sleeves further over his fists, and you felt yourself melt for the millionth time that day.

“Of course, sweetie, this is your home now, feel free,” you gestured him in, pulling your coat off and carefully hanging it up, not noticing the rose pink dusted on Jimin’s cheeks at the nickname. He cautiously padded around, looking around at all the cute decorations neatly arranged around the house, his head tilting in his usual inquisitive manner.

You followed him in, setting yourself down on the couch, a small smile spreading onto your lips as you watched him, placing your keys back down on the small coffee table in front of you with a loud jangle. Jimin cowered at the sound once again, his tail curling around himself and his ears flattened, gently whimpering in, what seemed like, fear. Your own eyes widened, and you hesitantly reached your arms out for him, coaxing him closer.

“I promise not to hurt you, sweetie, come here…” You met his eyes once again, the anxiety and fear held in them sending a pang to your heart, and you sighed. He carefully and anxiously inched over, his eyes asking you for permission once again, before sitting down onto your lap, his arms instantly flying around your waist as he buried his face in your neck.

You jumped a little at the sudden affection, quickly warming up to the touch as you brought your arms around him, holding him close to you protectively.

“Tell me, what’s wrong?” You looked back down at his face still buried in your neck, and he sighed at the question, finally peeking up with eyes welling up with tears.

“I don’t like the sound of the keys…” he started. “Because they remind me of the keys that would lock me in a cage, in the dark, alone…” He shuddered at the memory, whimpering a little as you felt tugging on your heartstrings, bringing your arms around him tighter in a comforting hug.

“It’s okay now, you’re here to live with me, and I promise to take good care of you, no-one will hurt you here, okay?” You gently brushed the fleeting tears away from his eyes, and he nodded gratefully, his body finally calming and relaxing in your touch, his own arms trembling slightly around your waist.

“They really didn’t treat us as well as it seems… that’s just a show they put on for visitors, they treat us like… well, shit, when there’s no-one here, any sign of “misbehavior”, and we end up in that cage, left alone all night… away from my friends and brothers…” He sighed yet again, his face nuzzling against your neck as he inhaled your sweet scent to calm himself.

“That sucks, that really does, you guys aren’t possessions or objects to be thrown around, yeah?” You gently cupped his face, brushing his cheek with you thumb and he nodded, a grateful smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Y/N, you’re very caring, and… I’m glad you picked me…” He looked down shyly with a growing smile gracing his lips, and you felt your heart flutter, gently stroking his ears with a smile of your own.

**

Over time, the two of you grew close, Jimin finally coming out of his shell and reverting to his true, playful self, his arms forever clinging to your waist whenever you were home. You learned each others’ likes and dislikes, preferences, you introduced Jimin to your favourite TV shows, much to his delight, and he’d sit by you, cuddled into your side affectionately, occasionally swatting you with his tail with a laugh.

There were nights where the bedroom door was locked, clothes strewn carelessly on the floor as needy whimpers and mewls were all that could be heard from the room, mixed in with your own sinful sounds, and nights you spent cuddled together, talking about anything and everything.

You had both become inseparable, his body curled up against yours as you both slept, his tail wrapped protectively around you, arms keeping him close, comforting him every time he woke up alarmed and scared from his occasional nightmares. With your comfort, he always managed to return to the warmth of the bed and your embrace, drifting back into the land of sleep with the gentlest of smiles.