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 ;)
Word count: 2.825
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?
(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
(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.
(Y/N) was going to sit next to Jughead
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
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.
She was probably the most distracting person he’d ever seen in his
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.
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.
Was it even healthy?
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.
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
(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
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
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
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
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
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
(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
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
(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
“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
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.
(Y/N) let out a quiet laugh, before turning on her heels and walking out
“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.
How often does dr.flug take off his bag, and when he has it off does he sing a bit?
For showers, hygiene purposes (ew he sneezed new bag new bag), and messy food consumption. He does not take it off for sleep. How does he sleep like that? Nobody’s entirely sure. What they do know is that he doesn’t snore or drool, because his bag is always free of stains in the morning.
And yes, while he’s washing up he does tend to sing a lot a little.
Thanks to @amymontico and @stephiramona for this month’s challenge. A few months into my photography, I asked the amazing Ms. Rieke @katerieke how she created one of her photos, and she suggested a method which used a long exposure while moving the camera. That was such a revelation to find out that I could intentionally break the rules. I am indebted to Kate for that first corrupting influence on my photography.
Although I still use the ICM method, I had not posted a photo for over a year and it was great to see what others have come up with. Thanks to Steph for the suggestion of using a tripod in her post. I used a tripod in this photo of a stripped bag. I rotated the camera 90 degress with the shutter open to create the arcs.
Another method you can try involves the slow-sync option on your flash, if you have one. The flash will be at the beginning of your exposure, and as you move your camera for the remainder of the exposure, you will get nice ghostly trails.
Trashoid (not his real name) tried to make it as a star but couldn’t, so now collects garbage. His hands can change depending on what job he needs to do. He also has an exhaust pipe coming out his mouth so he always looks like he’s smoking. The ‘hat’ is a garbage can lid with strips trash bags glued to it so he can hide his face.
Summary: Are you a fruit? ‘Cause honeydew you know how fine you look right now?
Note: This is set in Stupid!universe where Y/N and Yoongi are best friends that annoy the fuck out of each other. It was mentioned in the fic how Yoongi had to drag her to the grocery store at some point, and I got INSPIRED. Also, I’m not that witty, these pick up lines and jokes are from the internet, with a bit of iteration to fit the story line. Other than that, I really like this one. Maybe it’s bc I’m equally of a lazyass as Y/N? The banter is really my style… SO GET READY FOR SOME HELLA CRINGE LMAO.
Y/N grumbled loudly, kicking at the tiny rocks under her her shoes. Yoongi pulled a large cart out of the store’s several rows, figuring that this grocery run would turn out to be quite a big one.
After countless attempts of convincing Y/N that PostMates and UberEats of grease-drenched Chinese food were not exactly the healthiest option, he had finally dragged her to the local supermarket. That was, after telling her that they were going for frozen yogurt and had ‘accidentally’ made a wrong turn to the store, “so we might as well, right?”
Neon lights flickered on as the sun starts to set. Youngjae had four hours to go before he could properly close the pharmacy. With the sky turning orange, and about 24 customers served today, his legs starts to ache and his phone rang in the nick of time.
“Hello, mom. No, there’s not a lot of customers today, just a few diarrhea cases and motion sickness. Nothing serious. I have to get the stocks from the company later on, but I don’t think I can make it on time…” He pouts, dropping his head. It suddenly started raining, and heavily. “I know, I should get a driver for the truck soon, but, I don’t have time to interview people and the post is still underneath the table. Not a lot of people pass through here so I’ll have to ask around in person.” He sighed again.
I made it a college AU, but as I’ve never actually been to college/university you’ll have to forgive any errors I’ve made. Sorry.
with a jolt as a heavy book was dropped by his head. He flailed about for a few
moments before getting his bearings.
is it?” he asked the librarian groggily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
4am, and you’ve been asleep since three,” the librarian replied tersely, eyeing
the drool and empty energy drink cans in distaste. “I think you’re done for the
muttered, flicking through the books covering the table as he tried to remember
where he was up to. “I still need to edit my conclusion and review chapter
done,” the librarian repeated firmly, pulling the library books out of his
hands. “Go get some sleep. No doubt you’ve got classes in a few hours.”
shoulders slumped in defeat but the librarian didn’t move or stop glaring at
him until he started packing up his things. Loki swept his own books into his
bag, taking slightly more care with his laptop, and stumbled out of the library.
His first class wasn’t until 11am, he realised as he made his way across the
quad to his dorm, which meant he could sleep until six, seven at the latest, and
then get back to it.
struggled with the lock on his door until he turned the handle and it opened. Were
he remotely capable of cognitive function it would have given him pause, but as
it was he simply closed the door behind him, dropped his bag, stripped off his
outer layers as he crossed the room to plug in his phone, and then collapsed onto
his bed. And he would have been asleep the moment his head hit the pillow if it
weren’t for the screaming.
“What the hell!”
a female voice shrieked as her flailing limbs shoved Loki off his own bed. He
got to his feet on his second try and turned on the light. The voice belonged
to a girl with some rather epic bed hair, somewhat familiar to his groggy mind,
who was currently covering her modesty with a dark green sheet.
“Is there a reason
you’re naked in my bed?” Loki asked once the girl had calmed down and his brain
kicked into gear.
“Ummm…” the girl
cringed, tightening her grasp on the sheet. “So, funny story.”
“I’ll bet,” Loki
mumbled, slumping into his desk chair.
“I live across the
hall, and I had gone to take a shower, but when I came back I found that my
roommate had locked me out so she could have some quality time with her
“And your door was
open, so I kind of… helped myself?” the girl cringed.
“Can you go back to
your own room now?”
“I tried knocking
after an hour or so but she’s ignoring me,” the girl huffed irritably.
Loki groaned into
his hands, trying to think of a solution but couldn’t get passed how tired he
was. He glanced about his room and picked up a reasonably clean longline shirt
off his floor.
Put that on,” Loki instructed, spinning so his back was to her. “You decent?”
he asked when the shuffling stopped.
“Yep,” the voice
replied, sounding more chipper than Loki could deal with right now.
“Okay, so here’s
the thing… I’m not going to kick you out, but there’s no way in hell I’m
sleeping on the floor on my own goddamn room,” Loki advised, even though he
knew he could probably sleep standing upright at this point. “So, you can either
take the floor or you can share with me. Your choice,” he said, not waiting for
an answer before lying down on the edge twin bed.
“My name’s not
Goldilocks. It’s Sigyn.”
“Whatever you say,
Goldilocks,” Loki smiled into his pillow, which smelt faintly of vanilla and
The next time Loki
woke it was to an incessant beeping, which was only slightly preferably to the
loud thud of a book being dropped onto a wooden table.
“What time is it?”
a groggy voice in his ear asked.
murmured as their earlier encounter came back to him.
“Sigyn,” the girl corrected
with a grumble, burrowing her face against his chest as she tried in vain to
reach across him for his phone. “Make it stop,” she whined.
Loki smirked, tentatively placing one arm around her bared shoulders as the
other reached for his phone. He went to reset the alarm for 8am but one look at
his sleeping companion and he pushed it back to nine. Loki froze as she sighed
dreamily against him, her body curling around his.
“Ten forty-five it
is,” Loki mumbled happily to himself, forgetting about tests and essay
deadlines in favour of the strange and enchanting woman in his arms.
Tattered Blankets and Mending Hearts Part 1 (Homeless Lance Au)
Lance takes a deep breath as he prepares himself for what he is about to do. It’s only been three months since he got here from Cuba. His momma had insisted that he came to the states since he finally had enough money to do it and there was no way he could disobey his momma. He had found himself an affordable apartment and a job at a coffee shop. At first he would pay to take the bus to his job but his landlord kept coming up with excuses to raise Lance’s rent every two weeks. Soon he could no longer afford to take the bus so he walked the four miles to his job and the four miles back. He decided it was good exercise for him and it could have been worse.
He was right… it could have been worse and it got worse. His land lord continued to raise his rent saying that he was doing so to make sure that ‘people like Lance’ wouldn’t have extra money to spend on drugs and other illegal things. Lance knew the racist meaning to the words, he knew the stereotypes that the man was referring to and it hurt. But the hurt of the man’s word did not compare to the hurt that Lance felt when he couldn’t afford to pay for the apartment anymore. Lance packed all of his belongs into a backpack and a suitcase and left, that’s all he could do.
That’s how Lance ended up in his current situation, standing in front of a dumpster. His two bags leaning against the side as he listens to the sound of his stomach growling. He had long since run out of ‘food’. If that’s what you could call Lance’s measly diet. For the last month of renting his apartment, Lance had resorted to buying as little food as possible. When he got his paycheck from the coffee shop he would go to the store and buy two jars of peanut butter then save the rest of the money for rent and the crappy flip phone he has so he can talk to his momma. He ate one teaspoon of peanut butter in place of every meal. Of course it left him hungry and dropping pounds faster then he ever had but that’s all he could afford. He would make the two jars last as long as possible, then buy two more jars.
His last jar of peanut butter had run out a day and a half ago. The jar now holds water from a water fountain at a park. Lance stares at the dumpster in front of him, a dumpster behind a restaurant only a few blocks from the coffee shop he’s managed to keep working at. He hoists his skinny frame into the dumpster and starts scavenging around for anything that looks edible and praying that no one will see him.
He manages to find enough edible looking food to fill his stomach then climbs out of the dumpster looking down at his now very dirty clothes. He sighs softly and grabs his bags then heads towards the park that’s several blocks away. He ignores the pitiful and/or disgusted looks he gets from people walking past. He’s to ashamed to raise his gaze any higher than the ground. He feels disgusting. He has never felt this dirty or useless in his whole life. He knows it’s a combination of his new homelessness and the fact that he hasn’t been taking his meds for his depression since he couldn’t afford them anymore.
When he gets back to the park he sits down by a secluded water fountain. Over the past few days he’s managed to find an unpopular area of the park and that’s where he has been staying. He strips off the dirty shirt he is wearing, washes it as best he can with the water from the fountain then uses it to scrub down his body. He rinses his hair in the fountain then puts on one of the other shirts he has in his bag. He strips off his dirty pants next, scrubs his legs down with the still wet shirt then puts on new pants. He washes his dirty clothes from the day once again in the fountain then sets them on the side walk next to him to dry.
He fishes out his flip phone from his backpack and cringes as he types in his mothers number, international calls are expensive but with no rent to pay his next paycheck will take care of it, hopefully. When his mother answers the phone he plasters on a happy facade and tells her how amazing America is. His heartaches with every lies he tells his mother but he knows neither of them can afford a plane ticket back to Cuba so he’s stuck here. Stuck lying to his mother about how amazing the place is that he is living in and how wonderful all the food is. He hates his new life. He is ashamed of his new life. But he is doing all he can.
(So this is a new series that I’m going to write, hopefully you enjoyed the first part of it. I haven’t quite decided what ship I’m going to make it yet so if you have any ships that you’d like to see in this story just let me know!)
Thirteen weeks had passed since you’d joined the BAU. You’d settled into your new role well, Hotch commenting on how impressed he was with your work during your review. The team had accepted you as one of their own as you had tried to integrate yourself with them as much as possible. You’d had girls nights out with Emily and Penelope cursing them both the next days when you’d woke up with hangovers from hell.
You’d even woken up once in Spencer’s bed. That had confused you. Although it had emerged that it was completely innocent. You’d drunk dialed him to come and pick you up and when you’d gotten home you couldn’t find your apartment keys so Spencer had taken you back downstairs to his, sleeping on the couch like the true gentlemen he was. It turned out that Garcia had in fact, stolen your keys hoping to force your relationship with Reid by making you spend the night. You’d had stern words with her when you’d found this out. You’d also given Reid a spare key to your apartment after this hoping to avoid that situation again, although it still didn’t stop you regularly passing out on each other’s couches.
Your friendship with Spencer had grown stronger although it had remained as that. A friendship. It seemed neither of you wanted to broach the topic of taking anything further, despite Morgan’s incessant teasing and Penelope insisting you were her OTP. You’d kept your promise of spending Friday nights together when you could, although generally, providing you weren’t out on a case you tended to end up in each others apartments in the evenings anyway, cooking for the other or ordering take out when one of you inevitably burnt the food.
You’d even managed to beat him at poker, playing it on the jet on the return home from cases. In fact you’d beaten him so often that Derek had suggested you up the stakes and play strip poker in order to give Reid more of an incentive to win. “Morgan if you want to see Spence naked so badly you should just ask him,” you’d remarked back causing Spencer to laugh and Derek to protest loudly.
Life was good.
The team had returned from a case and had just finished the filing the necessary paperwork. You were perched on the edge of Emily’s desk, chatting with her about her plans for the evening which typically involved watching a movie with Sergio.
A pair of large, strong hands clasped you on your shoulders from behind, making you jump and spill your coffee all down your white shirt.
“MORGAN!” you exclaimed loudly pulling the warm wet fabric away from your torso.
“Sorry kitten. Just wanted to see if you wanted to join me and baby girl for drinks this evening?” You shook your head. It was a Friday night and you had plans with Spencer.
“Thanks but no thanks Derek. We’re catching up on Game of Thrones tonight. We haven’t been able to watch the last few.”
“Suit yourself. You and the genius have fun on your date now Kitten. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he smirked.
You threw him a look and headed back to your office. You needed to get out of this shirt.
You shut the door and pulled out a spare top from your go bag and stripped off. Just then, your door swung open.
Spencer didn’t usually knock and normally you didn’t mind. Today though, you wished he had.
“Shit…. S-sorry!” he turned around, averting his eyes but not before he’d glanced at your stomach. You sighed, knowing what he’d seen and pulled on the shirt quickly.
‘Ready to go Spence?“ you asked, trying to sound normal. He nodded and you walked out together, waving to the others who were left.
The ride home was silent which wasn’t usual for you two. You knew you’d have to broach the subject of what he’d seen when he’d walked in on you but you weren’t sure you wanted to yet. You would have told him eventually, him being the closest thing you had to a best friend but you wanted a bit more time.
“Your place or mine Spencer?” you asked as you entered your building together.
“Erm, I wasn’t sure you still wanted to hang this evening. I’m sorry about earlier Y/N. I should just go back to knocking. Do you want your apartment key back?”
“Don’t be silly. Listen, let me have a shower and get changed and then I’ll come down to you okay. Order some pizza for us both.” He nodded and you parted ways at his door.
You showered quickly, washing the days grime off you and changing into sweat pants and a band tee. Heading downstairs you used the key he’d given you to let yourself in.
He was sat on his couch reading, hair damp from the shower he’d just had as well.
“Hey, pizza should be here any minute. I ordered our usual.” He smiled at you, putting his book down and handing you the remote to his TV. You clicked it on, channel surfing until you found one showing reruns of a crime show you both liked to pick apart.
The pizza arrived and you ate in relative silence. Every few minutes you saw him open his mouth to speak but then close it again unsure of what to say.
“Spencer, just ask,” you said softly. “I know you saw them.”
He swallowed and looked nervous. “I don’t want to pry though. I do want to know but I don’t want to upset you.”
You reached over and took his hand. “Just ask what you want to know.”
He looked down and your interlocked fingers. “Okay. What happened to you Y/N? Who hurt you?“
He was referring to the ugly scars that ran over your stomach and back. You had some at the top of your thighs too but he wouldn’t have seen then.
You took a deep breath, willing your emotions to stay intact. "It’s a long story Spencer so don’t interrupt okay? Just listen.” You looked at him and saw him nodding.
“When I was 18 I started dating this guy I met at Oxford. He was in his third year there and had been helping out as a TA for one of the lecturers. We’d been together for about three months and everything was going great. We were in a bar one night and another group of guys from one of my classes came in and started talking to me. I lived off campus with a roommate and she was out for the night. When we go home, he flipped out at me, accusing me of fucking the boys I’d been talking to and calling me a slut and a whore. When I started to defend himself, he started to physically attack me.”
You looked at Spencer knowing the worse was to come. He looked shocked and was gripping your hands tightly.
“We’d only been going together for three months and we hadn’t had sex. I wasn’t a virgin or anything, but we didn’t get to spend that much time with each other due to classes and I didn’t want to rush into anything.”
You heard Spencer swallow. You squeezed his hand sure that he knew what was coming.
You continued emotionlessly as you learned to do whenever you’d had to tell the story. “He raped me, then stabbed me repeatedly and then left me for dead. It was only thanks to my room mate coming home earlier than planned and finding me, that I’m here today. He was smart enough to remove evidence that he’d been in my room that night and he smashed a few windows and took some of my jewellery to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. He didn’t count on me surviving though. He was caught and sentenced but was released about four months ago. Good behaviour, reformed character and continual remorse or some sort of other bull shit that gets attempted murderers out on parole these days.”
“When I was contacted and told that he was being released early, that’s when I knew I could no longer stay in that country. 18 years he got for what he did to me but he only served 9 of them, and I’m left with the emotional and physical scars to last a lifetime.” You spat the last part out angrily.
You sat waiting for Spencer to take it all in, not knowing what his reaction would be. The last time you’d came clean about the scars was to a guy was when you were 21. The last actual boyfriend you’d had. He couldn’t cope with the truth and had ended the relationship, leaving you heartbroken as he was the first man you’d trusted properly since the attack. Since then you’d lied, and told people it was a result of a car wreck.
The attack was what had spurred you into a career within the National Crimes Agency, although it was known by a different name when you’d first joined. You’d felt the need to help catch the bastards like him and had used it as ammunition to graduate at top of your classes and to secure an internship within the Agency. The internship had quickly led to them offering you a permanent position when one of their media liaisons had unexpectedly resigned.
You felt Spencer shift in his seat, moving closer to you. A full ten minute passed before he could say anything, although you could hear him opening his mouth and closing it again as he’d done earlier, simply not knowing what to say. You could feel the tears building inside of you, fearful that you’d made him pity you or scared him away.
Finally when you felt you could take the silence no more, he turned to you. Rather than speak, he just reached over and wrapped his arms around you. You fell into him, grasping at his shirt as the tears behind to fall.
“I am so so sorry Y/N,” he murmured, holding you tightly and stroking your hair. “So sorry.”
He kissed your head lightly, rocking you back and forth. “I will never let anything like that happen to you again. I promise you that okay? You’re my best friend and I’ll do everything in my power to protect you."
Trigger Warning: violence and slight torture ahead
The next morning, Taeyong let you sleep in until evening hit.
You both woke up an hour before dinner and as a warm up, created room to spar for a little while. Once you both showered and packed a small bag with dark but comfortable clothing, Miseong knocked on your door, announcing, “Dinner’s served!”
Rushing downstairs, you were greeted by the rest of your pack.
Dinner was eaten quickly, along with a few short stories from the pups about how Yuta drove them around and showed off his hometown. A few minutes after, Taeyong called you into the conference room. Amber and the vampires joined you too as the hunter reviewed the rescue plan.
Everything was confirmed, the plan was set, and you gathered around the living room with the rest of your pack as Taeil, instructed the pups to be prepared for helping him treat injuries when they returned. They looked worried, yet determined to help the pack whenever needed.
A/N: Junmyeon threw a St. Patrick’s Day party, and, after a few drinks, you decided to let Yixing know how you felt about him.
You sent the text, ignorant to the fact that it was 3 in the morning and that you had probably way too much to drink at the St. Patrick’s Day party you were attending.
It was winding down and only a few people remained. Yixing had gone home early, and you had decided that you missed him.
"Eight exclamation points. You hung out with Mister Cuervo after I left, didn’t you?"
You grinned at your phone like an idiot. Something about talking to Yixing sent your stomach into a fit of butterflies.
"Nope. But a man named Mister Jack Daniels was definitely at this party. What are you doing?"
You bit your lip as you waited for his response. It was torture watching the bubbles in the text box bounce as he typed out his text.
"I was asleep. You okay?"
Yixing had been your best friend for a few years. It had taken all of your strength to not admit having feelings for him, and you had fought them off for quite a while. Tonight, though, liquid courage was coursing through your veins and you felt like it may be the right time to confess to him.
THIS IS RELATED TO STALK: You are not required to read it to progress in the story because its an unofficial chapter. But, if you really like the Stalk series, I highly recommend reading it because it will pull at your heart strings.
Title: Kid’s Memories
Series Masterlist (in case you do want to read Stalk and you’re just now finding this)
Being only fifteen
has its downsides during the long summer months. She may have her driving
permit, but that doesn’t mean that Bobby would let her go out driving whenever
she wants – even though she’s been given plenty of practice since she was thirteen
thanks to Dean “My Dad Could Care Less What I Do” Winchester. When she asked
her dad to drop her off in town or at the mall a town over, he gave the excuse
he was working and too busy to bother. So, there she sat on her bed, a book in
her hand since it was the only thing she could do because it was too blazing
hot to go outside.