that only took my whole last day before going back to school

My Mum and I get invited to lunch or dinner once a week by a good friend of ours. Mostly on weekend, he lets me decide if I want to eat Italian, Asian or something else, and then we go there.

My absolute favorite is a little Italian restaurant in our town. Not only because the food there is so tasty it should be illegal, but also because there is that one elderly waiter – Italian himself- who always makes my day.

The first time we went to that restaurant, we were not served by that guy, though, but by a younger, unlikeable young waiter. He didn’t greet us, brought the wrong drinks and didn’t once smile or anything.

The whole time, I felt quite uncomfortable around him, but I got a glimpse of that elderly waiter in the background, watching with a frown. He caught my interest because he looked just as uncomfortable by the younger’s display as I did.

And then, the young one made one last misstep – he turned towards my Mum and said, “What does the boy want to eat?”

There was a long pause where we all exchanged confused gazes, before I said, slowly but clearly, “I’m a girl, sir.”

(I wasn’t angry, mind you. It happens quite a lot to me – I close to never wear tight clothes, my hair is cut short and I never wear makeup. I see where it’s coming from, really.)

But what came then made me grit my teeth, because instead of being baffled or even embarrassed, the guy looked at me and said, “You’re kidding me, right?”

Before I could say anything – or calm my mum, because she gasped loudly in outrage – the elder waiter swooped in, bristling as he basically tore into the younger one. I couldn’t understand what he said, because he talked Italian the whole time, but my Mum later said that he had been outraged that “A beautiful young Signorina” just as me had been insulted like that.

All in all, it didn’t take very long until the young waiter vanished back in the kitchen and the elder waiter turned towards me, basically bowed to me and apologized over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Signorina, that you had to hear that! Please accept my sincere apology…!”

“No, please,” I managed, not knowing if I should be embarrassed or amused by the sight of him being so dramatic. “This happens a lot to me, please, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Ah, Signorina, such a gentle soul you are!”

At that point, I laughed out loud because he beamed at me with such a delight, it was just funny how passionate he was about all that.

Since then, the dear waiter always insisted on being the one who catered to us whenever we come to this restaurant. I didn’t complain at all, and also my mum and our friend were quite amused by that. The elderly man would take my jacket off, pull my chair back for me and give me a kiss on the hand once we left again, insisting that I had to be treated like “the gentle and nice Singorina” I am.

Honestly, such behavior is strange to me, since I didn’t really grow up with gentlemen, but I let him have his fun, since he always pouted when I wouldn’t let him tend to me. It was his way of showing me his respect, and if that was what he wanted, I would let him.

Today, we went there for lunch, but I wasn’t really looking forward to it. I was still deep in thought about school and that dumb group project, and the only reason I did leave the house at all was because my Mum basically pleaded me to do so.

So I was kind of staring into the air instead of making conversation, and didn’t even realize that I had taken off my jacket alone before the waiter could help me.

Once my mum left to go to the toilet and our friend went back to his car because he had forgotten his wallet there, I was startled by the waiter appearing next to me, putting down a little plate with chocolates on the table next to me.

I blinked, frowning. “Excuse me, but we didn’t order that.”

“Ah, but Signorina,” he winked at me, smiled crookedly. “That’s a little present on the house.”

I managed a little smile, thanking him.

He hummed, refilling my glass and explaining. “I missed your smile today, Signorina.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a bit… lost in thought, I guess.”

“We can’t have that, no, no.”

I shot him a glance, guessing that he was already planning something again, but he just took my order with a wide smile and disappeared in the kitchen again.

Let’s just say that he exceeded himself that day.

The pizza I ordered was not round as usual – somehow, he had managed to convince the chef to make it heart-shaped this time. In between bits of conversation, he would appear at our table, refill the little plate with chocolates again and again, shooting me a grin every time. And when I followed my Mum out of the restaurant, he waited already at the door, surprising me with a bowl full of chocolate mousse – “on the house”, he explained with a wink.

Etiquette or whatever be damned – I straight out hugged him then and there. And based on his delighted laughter and him cheering “There is your smile, Signorina!” I don’t think he really minded.

Honestly, bless this angel of a person, please. Bless him and all his descendants.

I never pranked my parents again after the incident.

by reddit user Eigengraulogy

I was 11 years old when it happened.

As a kid, I knew that something wasn’t quite right with the events that unfolded at the time. Even though it was never brought up again under any circumstances by either one of my parents, it’s something that always stuck with me. I can’t say it’s a memory that I tried to suppress seeing as it was always there at the back of my mind, bothering me like an itch that wouldn’t go away unless properly scratched.

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Undercover - Jughead Jones

Hi! Could I get a Jughead x Reader imagine where the reader and Jughead are best friends, but the reader has feelings for Jughead but doesn’t tell him. One day she goes “undercover” to get info about Jason’s death for Jughead and he sees her undercover and realizes he has feelings for her, and then there’s some rated T action and fluff between them? Thanks!

I kinda twisted the meaning of it but it lead to *high pitched screaming*

Originally posted by squintlovely


Being best friends with Jughead Jones isn’t the easiest thing in the world. He’s not the friendliest person to begin with, but some can easily look past that, like yourself. You and Jughead had been close every since you could remember, but the summer before Sophomore year changed things. Jughead became more reclusive and less in touch with you. It all happened after Jason Blossoms’ death. The day before school started up again, you invited yourself over to his house. Needless to say, Jughead was surprised.

“Y/N?” He asked, the bags under his eyes telling you he must’ve just woken up. Despite the normal summer heat, he was wearing a loose sweater and sweatpants. Just seeing him again, after so long, made your heart flutter. You quickly pushed it down and regained your angry composure. “I haven’t seen you in months, Jug!” You said, obviously breaking him out of his tired state. He quickly pulled you inside his house, and you accidently bumped into his chest. It was so tempting to hug him, but you fought the urge and watched as he closed the door behind you. When he faced you, you saw how intense his gaze was. “I’m sorry about that, Y/N, I am.” He said, his tone serious. “I’ve been working on something,” he said as he walked past you, beckoning you to follow him. He lead you to his room then to his desk where an open laptop rested. Pages of text cluttered the screen and just by skimming through the document the words ‘Summer’, ‘Jason Blossom’, and ‘presumed dead’ caught your eye. You turned to face Jughead who stood, unmoving, next to you. “This is what you were doing?” You asked, turning back to study the words he had typed.

“Yeah, ever since I heard he was missing.” He muttered, but you couldn’t help but be amazed by your friend. His drive and dedication to his writing was eye-opening. You faced him once more with a grin on your features. “Do you need help?”

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deal | pt 1 (m)

Originally posted by sugamysavagebaby

summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon

word count: 6,366 

part two | part three 


Eyes like ice, cold and calculating narrow over the rim of a wine glass. Soft lips press to the polished glass, the crimson complimenting tan skin. If it weren’t for the soft dent between his brows you would have assumed he had not heard you. He takes his time allowing the wine to caress his palate, eyes closed as he savors the taste.  As always, he makes you wait until the wine glass is drained of it’s dark contents. You ponder on the taste, if it is bitter upon his tongue much like his words.

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You’ll always have a home- Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead Jones x Reader

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

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

—————————————————————

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

Fueled By Desire (NSFW 18+)

A/N: So, today has been a crazy day but I started writing this last night and wanted to post it tonight ! So I wrote it in virtually 24 hours, so I hope it didn’t suck to bad. I planned on posting it earlier but I had a bit of writers block. This a Theo smut that you can thank @hardladyheart for. She’s filled my mind with dirty Theo thoughts. (Fun fact’ this gif is actually mine and my blog name used to be twfanfic-af)

Thanks to: @writing-obrien and @hardladyheart for editing and proof reading.

Warning: SMUTTTTT

Word Count: 2803

Originally posted by stilinski-jpeg

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Handyman

Handyman (m)

Word count: 9.4k

Genre/Warnings: smut, angst, sub!Jimin, dirty talk

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Summary: Jimin is your landlord’s son. After one stressful day he comes to fix your shower for you. You find yourself constantly thinking about him. Could he be the perfect submissive? (here’s some lovely Jimin moans for the occasion: credit to owner)

I’ve been working on this for forever so i’m excited about it! :)

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Protection - Zach Dempsey

Originally posted by void-obriens

Summary: You spend your Friday evening at Bryce’s party with Zach as your “Date”, but things went wrong…

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual assault (very slightly), Angst, Drunk

Words: 888

A/N: Hiya, I’m finally back with an update! I was pretty busy those last weeks with watching 13 Reasons why & school, and now I’m finally back with an imagine; I hope you will enjoy my shitty writing skill. There are some mistakes since I wrote this in a rush. (gonna fix it soon)

MASTERLIST

Wanna request something? 


Loud music was blasting through the speaker, filling the room with a deafening volume while people dancing body against body probably too drunk to realised that they are dancing with a person they hated once, I only could shake my head while seeing everybody drunk and having fun, even throwing a party after everything that happened in these last weeks.

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In This Light (Part 1)

Summary: Model!Bucky AU with Photographer!Reader. This is your meeting with Bucky, and how your friendship developed into something more.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (main); Steve x Reader (side)

Word Count: 4,658

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is a re-write of  Dean fic series I never finished. Here’s hoping that I will have motivation to finish this storyline with Buckaroo. Hope you all enjoy! Also, I don’t claim to know how the photography/fashion world works, I’m just… Sorry if there are mistakes. 


“Alright, children, enough chattering!” A large woman with bushy blonde hair and overdone makeup stared down at her sixth-grade Earth and Space science class. She was frowning and it was only the first day of classes. She was already feeling the headache that was sure to make itself known by the end of the week. “Settle down!” she bellowed.

At her shrill voice, silence overcame the room and everyone found empty seats to call their own. She gave them all a wide, forced smile in gratitude. “Welcome to Earth and Space Science! I am Mrs. Paulson and I will not tolerate any unruly conduct in my class. You will be wise to be on your best behavior while you’re in my class. If you aren’t, a detention slip with your name on it will be waiting for you by the end of class. Do I make myself clear?”

A drone of agreements reached her ears and she gave a grin of satisfaction. Some kids thought her wolf-like. She clapped her hands once before picking up a stack of papers, licking her forefinger to separate the sheets. Oblivious to the grimaces of her students as she handed them their syllabus, her voice thundered through the room. “Learn it, live it, love it. I will always abide by the schedule you find there and everything that will be required of you is written on that very sheet. Is that understood? There are no excuses!”

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The Flat
  • Sirius bought it in 7th year.
  • He was walking down a street in muggle London, smoking a cigarette, not really paying attention to where he was going or why. 
  • Then he saw it.
  • And he had to have it.
  • It was small, dusty, old and needed some work done, but damn did Sirius love that flat.
  • I had four bedrooms, a kitchen and dining room area with a living space coming off the end and two and half small bathrooms (when I say half, one was just a toilet and a sink).
  • It had these huge windows along just one wall. They were so big you could stand on the window sill at the bottom and just press your whole body against the glass, staring down onto the street below.
  • The house had a bright red door with small flecks of paint coming off it. 
  • The flat itself was on the second floor of the building, but even from the ground, staring at those huge windows and the For Sale sign, Sirius knew he wanted it bad. 
  • So he bought it two weeks later.
  • He didn’t tell anyone about it at first, he wanted it to be a surprise for when they left school.
  • But Sirius Black is terrible at keeping secrets, especially from his best friends and especially when he was excited.
  • So, one rainy weekend he took them all down to muggle London for a special trip.
  • ‘Sirius what is this all about. it’s cold.’ ‘Be quiet Wormy I need to show you something.’
  • ‘Sirius we have been walking for hours, please, my feet are tired.’ ‘James shut the hell up, we got off the bus thirty seconds ago.’
  • They rounded the corner, walked a few meters until Sirius was standing in front of the house, his arms spread wide and a huge grin on his face, like he was a small child showing his mother his latest drawing.
  • ‘Well, what do you think?’
  • ‘I think it’s raining and you have stopped in the middle of the street for no reason.’
  • ‘Fuck off Moony, I mean the house.’
  • ‘What? This house?’
  • ‘Yes this house you wanker, it’s mine.’
  • Peter, James and Remus all just stare.
  • ‘You bought a house…’
    Sirius dropped his arms.
  •  ‘Well no.. I bought a flat, second floor. I thought we could all live here. When we leave school…Together.’
  • Silence.James, never one for silences, or being able to handle the look of fear and apprehension on Sirius’ face, breaks into a smile.
  • ‘For real Pads?’
  • ‘Yeah.. for real..’
  • James clapped Peter on the back, still grinning. Peter smiles too. Then James runs up and hugs Sirius, very briefly and before the poor boy can respond, James has broken away and is running up to the red door, unlocking and sprinting inside, bounding up the stairs. A few seconds later he is seen in one of the enormous windows, still grinning as he jumps about motioning for the others to join him.
  • Peter laughs before running in after James. Remus remains standing and staring.
  • ‘You want me to move in with you?’
  • Sirius blushes.
  • ‘Probably should have made asking you more romantic Moony.. but I figured having us all here would be cute as well. But yeah, I want you to move in with me. And James. And Peter. I basically want you to move into Gryffindor Dormitory 2.0, only this time we get to share a bed.’
  • Remus is silent.
  • Sirius is worried.
  • ‘You don’t have to Rem. Maybe this is too fast. You can say no…’
  • ‘I love you, Sirius’
  • ‘I love you too, Moony.’
  • ‘But I get the left side of the bed.’
  • Sirius lets out a bark like laugh.
  • ‘Fine, but I’m choosing the sheets, your taste sucks ass.’
  • Moving into the London flat was all they could talk about for the next few months.
  • Sirius had never asked them to pay any rent, he had more than enough money after his Uncle had passed away and figured it was the least he could do.
  • But James had downright refused to let his friend pay for him, insisting he would split the rent 50/50 every month, no matter what protests Sirius put up.
  • Remus wanted to pay too, but Sirius didn’t even bother listening to that. Remus didn’t have the money to do it, not that Sirius cared, and he would always say, ‘Remus, we are going to be sharing a bed, theirs not really anything for you to pay for. Plus, you can get me a really cool birthday present to make up for it.’ Remus got him a motorbike that year.
  • A few weeks before the end of school, just when the boys had finished there exams, and reality had started to sink in, Sirius heard that Marlene’s parents hadn’t taken the whole ‘her dating Dorcas’ thing so well, and were no longer speaking to her. So the next day he went up to her, pulled her aside and told her that there was a bedroom waiting in a small flat in London that he was sure her and Dorcas would enjoy.
  • He’d never seen Marlene cry before that day.
  • A week later James walked into the dormitory, sweaty and gross from Quidditch practice, panting as he explained that he was in love with Lily Evans.
  • ‘Yeah no shit Potter, I heard you two last night.’
  • Sirius got a pillow thrown at his head. 
  • Then James explained that he was going to ask Lily to move in with him after they left school. That he wanted her in his life and in the flat. If Sirius was okay with that.
  • Sirius started laughing. James was confused.
  • ‘Prongs, you are the most oblivious boy I have ever met. Lily and I have been waiting for you to ask her to move in for the past two months.’
  • Sirius got another pillow thrown at his head. Then James ran off to go find Lily.

“Don’t bother,” he replies grimly, “I said I wasn’t interested in this. If we fucked, sorry for leading you on, if we didn’t, I don’t know why you’d want to be associated with me anyways.” And Harry wants this conversation to end right there, now that he’s said his piece, so he looks back towards Y/N and says, “These are organic grapes, no?”

The girl gets the hint, leaving with a huff and Y/N tuts her tongue at him.

“You’re so mean, Harry! What if she really liked you?”

Harry shakes his head, “She liked my cock not me.” He says apathetically, and Y/N’s face turns towards sheepish like it always does when the mere mention of his escapades comes to head (which it doesn’t often, but he knows Y/N has ears and she hears things), “‘sides, she was rude to you. I don’t like that.” He straightens out, “Did you take your medicine?”

or

Harry doesn’t really like people, but he likes Y/N

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Incredulity // Jughead Smut

Summary: Fred Andrews is the single parent of twins. He walks in on his daughter with her girlfriend in the middle of sex. Following that breakup you got together with your brothers best friend whom doesn’t have experience in sex so you teach your boyfriend. Guess your not the only twin in a forbidden relationship…only one is legal.

Characters: Jughead x Andrews!Reader, Betty x Reader, Kevin Keller, Archie Andrews (mentioned) and Fred Andrews

Words: 3237

Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale or the characters. I do not own the Comics either. Jughead is NOT asexual in his.

Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking, smut, former same sex relationship,

Author: Caitsy

Tagging: At the bottom

A/N Originally this was going to be a Veronica fic but apparently my subconscious was needy for Jughead.

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ASK US A QUESTION LIST

Jokes were always made about the Andrews twins, Archie was the boy that got hit by the puberty bus during the summer before sophomore year. You however had came out of the awkward phase a lot early than your twin brother, it was the end of middle school when you hit puberty in the most graceful way.

While Archie incredibly straight, you were bisexual with no real preference to be honest. Nobody believed that you were bisexual, especially your dad because he had never seen you look at a female before. Fred Andrews got a rude awakening when he walked in on Betty Cooper going down on his freshmen aged daughter. Next the whole town found out about the relationship, minus the sexual side, with the knowledge that Betty had been crushing on you. It was purely fun for you and experimental for her so it didn’t cause any problems when she discovered she was only into guys and actually liked your twin. You guys continued to be best friends.

It was amusing when your father walked in on Betty and you because he fumbled through the safe sex talk. He didn’t know much about safe sex between females but he tried his best even if both of you were embarrassed beyond belief. He was happy however that you wouldn’t become the parental nightmare of pregnant teenager.

It was the last day of summer that he caught you with your boyfriend in bed together and getting the shock of his life for the second time. Jughead and you had gotten together at the very end of freshman year. Nobody, even Archie whom knew everything about you, knew about it because there was no real reason that they needed to know. You were a slut by any means, you only had had sex with Betty so you didn’t care if someone found out that Jughead and you were together. The only thing was that you hadn’t gone that far yet.

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Protected | R.M.

Summary: Reggie Mantle grew up protecting what he loved.


I miss you.

You received the text on the first day of school, the instant your baby pink ballet flats maneuvered within the halls of Riverdale High, which were marginally filled with mayhem from everyone’s first day jitters.

Well, not everyone. You, despite your extra pretty face, extra shiny curls, and extra preppy outfit, wore a heavy façade that drooped lower than the Maybelline Fit Me-concealed eye-bags that were situated below your unexplained, cheery eyes that tried to greet everyone with much positivity as possible. As everyone knew your perfect reputation, the happy-go-lucky cheerleader that everyone admired and loved since the day you entered high school. It was never tarnished, so you refused to let a silly break-up move it at all.

You took out your phone and shakily gazed down at the message. It was sent in clear, with no emoji’s or silly grammatical errors. Your nervous fingers moved for you, but your brain was being silly that day and it had no planned response for the text message.

A wave of students accidentally crossed and one of them partially collided against your hardly five feet tall physique, which was a thankful jolt that rattled you off from replying to the text message. You squeezed the iPhone tightly, bearing no mind of the glittery fake diamonds from the phone case bearing harsh indentions against your palm.

The moment you were able to fix your locker and lock it behind you, you immediately set off to find a seat in the gym—hoping that an early departure from the first day madness would create a false sense of comfort from your inevitable fate, which was meeting your ex-boyfriend again subsequently after a summer of trying to forget all about him.


Everyone had always said that you were perfect for Reginald Mantle.

You were a girl blessed with your father’s dominant sloped nose and your mother’s graceful and tiny, ballerina body. Being the only child meant being under the revolving gaze of your mother and father’s watchful eyes twenty-four/seven, and you grew up to be accordingly limpid; yet, at the same time pretentious for you were the heir of one of the wealthiest families in Riverdale.

Reggie was a boy meant for you even before you knew what he was supposed to be. He was a constant person in your life, a fixture caused by your parents and his parents’ meddling. Though, despite your unending play times together and a hired tutor that taught you and him up until you were in middle school, Reggie and you grew up in different paths, in different aspects.

You and Reggie were in the opposite sides of the spectrum. Nevertheless, you were inexplicably drawn to him. He was exactly the same as you, but as the same time, so, so different.

He was difficult to figure out. He had pushed children off swing sets and had hogged all the toy cars to himself as he disliked sharing. You hated the smirk on his face when he teased his inferiors, and still you loved him when he kissed you goodnight. He’d hold you in the softest way possible, muscled arms entrapped around you with touch as light as a feather, and similarly he’d used the same arms dangerously with heated intent at someone else.

You never got why people often told you that he was perfect for you. He was, in your point of view, a mixture of positives and negatives. He was your opposite.

The thing about opposites was that when a unity occurred, it would be a co-existent dependency that held itself with tension.

You loved him more than he loved himself. That was probably the reason why the balance wasn’t right and he pushed himself off, leaving you in the dust.


“Are you alright?” Surprisingly, Cheryl Blossom would be the first person to question you that today. The said Blossom stood above you, her red curls down the right side of her chest, a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow. You tried to hide the flinch that came with Cheryl’s edged tone, but she assumingly noticed it since she took it herself to sit next to you on that noisy lunch table.

“Talk to me,” she demanded. “I don’t want anyone on my squad to be sadder than my supposed star quality. You cannot rain on my parade on this week’s performance.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you picked on your salad.

“[y/n], a stupid boy doesn’t have the right to state your mood status.” She hissed. “There are 7 billion people in the world. God knows how much boys will there be after your life post-Reggie Man—“

“Damn, Cheryl,” You stood up. “I said I’m fine!”

Your words were a little too loud, and laced with anger. The whole open-lawn cafeteria went into a full pregnant pause from your little burst and your eyes betrayed you as it went to a familiar face that you couldn’t just let go off. His smirking, never ceasing, hardly-caring face wavered slightly as he looked your way, as everyone had. He looked down once before pushing his left foot off benched on the seat and faced in the opposite direction, going back into a conversation with Chuck Clayton.

You couldn’t care less what that meant and you sped off from your table, grabbing your cellphone with you. Opening the text message up on your interface, your quivering fingers typed out a reply before hitting send.


“I thought you said I couldn’t see you again,” the tall and handsome boy chuckled as he sat coolly on the stools that they had in Pop’s. His tousled, brown waves would shine into a blondish side under the neon lights of Pop’s infamous signs, and his pretty blue eyes would turn your messy head into a complete haze of white noise. “I missed you,” Jackson voiced out, echoing what he had recently texted you that morning.

It was seven in the evening, and mostly everyone had this night tacked to watch the last screening due for the closing Midnight Drive-In. You had thought to go but you knew that it would simply be another place that would haunt you again with memories that happened in the arms of a familiar stranger.

“I couldn’t resist,” you whispered zealously, biting your lip, then striding towards him until both of your faces had no space with each other. He kissed back passionately, and you followed along in accord, ignoring the way your heart bleated in a monotonous fashion, like it was a routine you followed every morning. Fingers tracing down his rugged, jean jacket, you stopped as it went to a tracing on his arm. A tattoo of a dangerous serpent.

“Watch it,” he pushed himself off you and went to slip down his sleeves. “Any good ‘ole folk wouldn’t wanna see that snake on a young thing’s skin.”

“A young thing, huh?” You titled your head, letting him caress your cheek. It made you feel like being touched by an intruder. You held your tongue from stating that out loud. “I heard that your buddies are over at the drive-in tonight.”

“—yeah,” the handsome, rugged boy agreed, holding your hand like a whisper. “But you’re much better than any movie, let’s agree. Pretty and innocent [y/n][y/l/n].”

“If my father saw you with me,” you told him with a trace of a smile hinting on your lips while leading the boy down to a booth. “He would freak,” you ended with a pendulous but crude smirk, as the feeling of going behind your parents’ back often created a brilliant feeling of teenage rebellion.

However, the light that would go unperturbed that night beneath the luminescence of you with the boy from the Serpents would go back unlit as a sudden burst of unexpected customers walked in the empty Pop’s.

It was a famous group of blue and yellow hues, the king, the boy in between the boisterous and rowdy laughs, and you couldn’t help but shake as his eyes immediately turned toward the serpent and your contumacious self.

“[y/n]?” Reggie Mantle took it upon himself to breeze through the rows of booths with a face of disbelief, his voice rising. And as you expected, anger rising as his comical face slowly slipped to stone cold when his eyes landed on the lingering fingers of the serpent teenager on your arm. “Who the hell is he?”  

“Fuck off, Reggie,” you glared, bringing yourself to whisper to your current partner beside you, “Ignore him.” You tried your best to act a casual as possible, though the sudden racing of your heart that went with the way your ex-boyfriend stared at you in a mix of hardening confusion and indignation.

The other football players were left in a fit of widening eyes as Reggie, in impulsion, went and grabbed your arm in fury, “I’m taking you home.”

And it was a laughable scene, provided that you have been in witness in a circumstance like this before; on the contrary, you were always behind him before, supporting him like a good girlfriend. Until now.

Reggie showed the chaos within him through the bones between his knuckles—several scars made proof of that. Now, you were his enemy, the one that caused the fire beneath his eyes. The booths made a guarded ring.

“What the hell, man—“ The serpent boy scoffed before Reggie snapped and gripped and landed a good punch with no regret on the other boy’s face. That started a full-blown fight, which lead pandemonium where Moose, Chuck, and several others hurriedly tried to pull the Asian off the other boy. Reggie’s blows were pernicious, and over the yells of the football team trying to stop the fight, the only thing you could do was watch everything in horror.


“—fighting on public property, what on earth caused you to do that?!” And Mrs. Mantle let out a startled shriek and tried to shield her son as Mr. Mantle gave a tumultuous slap on Reggie’s already bruising face. You gripped your jacket, feeling the cotton and thinking of it as abrasive as hooves, guilt going off you in waves as the only thing you could do was watch the aftermath unfold in the Mantle estate, where you had been protectively ushered off to with your parents and Sheriff Keller due to Pop’s emergency dial.

“This is getting out of hand,” Reggie’s father continued, a harsher than stern look on his purple face. Yanking back his hand, his gaze shot to you, which you couldn’t bear to hold longer than a second. “This boy has been nothing but trouble this year—I swear, this was the last straw, Reginald. I need to ship him to board—“

“It was my fault,” you found your voice, hurried and not gentle at all—willing to cross out the guilt killing your tightening chest. Your parents’ tension-heavy faces whipped their heads to you, their protected daughter that could hardly do no wrong in this world. “I came there with Jackson—“

“No, I fought him, she had nothing to do with th—“ Reggie hastily claimed, harsh and scarily void of emotion. He was seemingly too callous from responding to his father—and you had realized that this could have been happening more so than none and that this boy could have grown up this way, and while your heart was pouring from hearing him protect you, you knew that it was your call to turn things around.

“No,” you squeaked, hearing yourself panic. “I guess I was being rebellious, I met up with Jackson, and – and- “ You eyed your father. “He was with me and Reggie saw me and Jackson did something and he got provoked,” you finished, lying. You looked at Reggie, and he gazed at you, turmoil and hurt swirling in his eyes.

That led to a tension-filled silence. You closed your eyes, and could hear the sounds of Reggie’s father’s footsteps going off to a direction. Somewhere that’s not here, of course.


“Sorry, that shouldn’t have happened,” he would tell you days later, smirk latched to his lips like a boy to a candy bar. He’d say it would no feeling, no emotion, as if he wasn’t someone that was in what happened and he was merely a person who’d heard of what happened.

The memory of his father slapping him because of you would haunt you forever, and your eyes would wander to his cheek not due to any romantic purpose, but the ache of wondering how much it hurt to protect you, a person he shouldn’t even be caring for anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you ignored his first statement, and spat out what you needed to say. The hallways were empty. “I was being petty. I wanted to—“ The words were dignified to be stated out in the open. “I wanted to forget about you.”

His silence mocked you. The 6’3 handsome and usually word-y jock—the boy you really, just really, really loved, gazed at you as if your turbulence, though with a slip of concern on his façade. You continued, lips burning with words you only imagined you would say in a dream, “You hurt me, Reggie. I hated you for making me spend a summer without you. So, yeah. I did something. I slept with that douchebag, that serpent, just to forget about you. So, fuck you.”

The response was instant. An utter storm shadowed over his face. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Are you fucking kidding me?” His fingers wrapped tightly around his coifed hair, eyes blazing with chasms of void and anger. “The only thing I ever did was goddamn protect you! If you hadn’t been so stupid, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I shouldn’t have protected you from the start if it was going to lead this way.”

“Protected me from the start?” You questioned, beckoned with hatred.

“Yes! I’ve always been protecting you. I love you, [y/n]. So much. The reason I ended things is because you were going to end up broadcasted on this shitty book and—“ Reggie sighed and you looked at him confusingly. He stepped forward, “Look, last year I was in hell. My dad caught me doing some stupid shit and he was going to blame it on you. I needed to protect you, it was instinct. I had to break up with you because I couldn’t bear the guilt that—“

This time, it was your turn to slap him. Reggie snapped his head back at you, shocked.

“You stupid jerk,” your body shook from relief and at the same time, numbness. “You couldn’t have at least told me about that? I literally cried for a week because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, the great Reggie freaking Mantle.”

Reggie stared at what only could have been eons, before shaking his head and returning a soft gaze that was only for you. “I’m sorry.”

You could shake your head as he placed out his warm hand next to yours, swirling and wrapping it around yours in the gentlest way possible.


It was an epiphany, when you looked at him and you had finally seen a glimpse of an extent that he would do for you. The balance was off and you had thought of it in the wrong way.

He loved you more than he loved himself.


omg i’m so sorry. whenever i write i’d always get so carried away with excessive details and annoying character musings!!! please tell me what you think! feel free to reblog or like or message me! always open to hear what you guys think huehue. :) 

Nice to Meet You

Summary: An Sam x reader a/b/o fic. The reader moves to a new town and changes careers, but those aren’t the only major life changes she’s faced with. (An AU where both Sam and the reader work at a high school.)

Warning: a/b/o dynamics, knotting and claiming, smut

Word Count: 5,000ish

A/N: I had fun writing his one. Hope y’all enjoy it, too! Feedback appreciated!! XOXO

Originally posted by samwinchesterappreciation

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Pen Pals

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The Reader takes up a Pen Pals writing program at her school, and soon finds herself falling for the military man who’s been sending her letters. What happens when she graduates? Will the letters still come after, or is she just a random person who was strung along just to blow off some steam via words? 

Word Count: 1.7kish

Warnings: AU, Fluff, Light Cursing

Author’s Note: Heyy my loves! This is my entry for @revwinchester‘s Birthday Challenge. I got the prompt “Soldier” with Dean (obviously). This was meant to be a one shot, but then I thought, why not make the other half in Dean’s POV? It’s only fair, right? Second part will come next weekend. And the third the following weekend. I really hope you guys like this! Feedback is definitely welcomed!!

*Part Two*



Chapter One: First Letters

Pen Pal - a person with whom one becomes friendly by exchanging letters, especially someone in a foreign country whom one has never met.


I never thought I’d be the one to do these kinds of things. When I signed up for it at the beginning of freshman year in high school, people thought I was insane. They didn’t think I was going to go through with it, you see.

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A number of people have inquired, so here’s the story about how I fought a meth dealer at three in the morning. Strap in.

So what you need to know right off the bat is that I just graduated from an art college in Portland, where I was an RA in the freshman dorm for the past 3 years. So there are 4 of the 5 contributing factors to my encounter with the meth dealer. The 5th factor that ties this human toe of a person into my life is that he was dating one of the residents, who was from Florida. If any one of these 5 factors had been different, I would not have rumbled with a member of Portland’s underbelly. 

But Grace, you say, surely the person he was dating could have been from anywhere. Not everyone from Florida automatically has ties to meth dealers. To which I reply, Perhaps, Perhaps it is true that not every Floridian is meth-affiliated, but every resident at this dorm building who ever dated a meth dealer was from Florida, so how am I to know?

So this was my first year as an RA, and I’ll tell you guys, I’ll toot my own horn, because I’m damn good at this job. I have a great report with the kids on my floor and all my events have great attendance and when I bust parties and flush people’s weed, they apologize to me and worry that they’ve harmed our friendship. I got this job on lock down. So a few months in, when I start noticing a……………… recreationally homeless-looking gentleman coming to and fro during my lobby desk shifts, sometimes with bags of…………things, I start to think something is up.

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never let me go pt. 1

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Genre: angst, implied smut (with eventual smut)

Word Count: 10,064

A/N: This is a reworked version of the piece I had originally posted. Based on the novel of the same name.

Originally posted by jengkook

You stood at the river’s edge and stared out across the black water. Your eyes caught in a daze wondering what your life was like if you had just been born like everyone else. What your life would be like if you had come from a womb instead of test tube. You had always dreamed of crossing the other side, to see what life was like outside of the city you were placed in. But as you thumbed the folded piece of paper in your pocket you knew that you would never get the chance.

You slipped the paper from the confines of your pocket and re-read it for the 55th time. Your first donation was scheduled a week from tomorrow. You had to report to the hospital in 5 days for preparations and blood work to make sure that your perfectly created body was still perfect.

Jungkook’s smile flashed before your eyes and a lump caught in your throat making it hard to hold back the sobs that were trying to escape your lips. He was waiting for you back at the hospital. It was after all, the eve of his second donation. Even though you had been through this process almost a hundred times before, it still made your whole body shake with nerves.

And now it was your turn.

You looked at the paper in your hand and over to the black water lapping at your feet. You adjusted your feet against the chain link fence, the only barrier between you and the unknown, and leaned forward. You watched as the paper floated on the surface of the water but didn’t sink. You gripped one hand on the railing and the other reached forward.

The silver bracelet on your wrist suddenly came alive as your hand hit the floating paper. The cold water stung your fingertips as the alarm from your wrist echoed through the night. You pulled back and planted your feet back on the earth beneath you. But the beeping didn’t stop.

It wasn’t long before the sound of tires pulled up behind you. You didn’t turn around as their footsteps approached, you being the target. One of them cleared their throat and you finally turned around to the face the men that had come to collect you. “It’s time to go, Y/N. Jungkook is going to be worried about you” the man told you.

You cocked your head to the side and scoffed, “So the rumors are true, watchers do exist”

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Clingy (Jughead x Reader)

Prompt: hello! love your blog! can i have a jughead x reader fic where the reader and jughead are dating and she overheard him telling someone (maybe like archie or betty) that she’s clingy and so she distances herself from him? lol idk if that makes sense but if you could write it that would be amazing! thank you!!!!

A/N: I love this prompt so much. I had so many different storylines come to mind but hopefully you enjoy this one! Requests are Welcome!!

Masterlist

– Clingy (Jughead x Reader) –

You were walking towards your locker when you saw them.

Jughead and Archie talking by Jug’s locker.

Your heart skips a beat when you see that he’s wearing your favorite sweater of his. The soft green one that goes oh so well with his eyes.

Stop at your locker then go say hi to your boyfriend and his best friend. Routine. Like clockwork. Only today is when things change.

Opening your locker, you hear Jug say something sounding like your name. Thinking he saw you, you move your head a little to smile at him only to find him and Archie frowning at each other. That’s weird.

You pull out your English book and shut your locker, shrugging it off.

As you start to get closer, you hear him.

“I don’t know Arch. Is she clingy? Are all girls like that?” He sighs and digs around his locker for his science book.

Were you being clingy? Your heart starts to tighten in your chest. Was it making Jughead uncomfortable?

“Nah. You know (Y/N) is just a touchy person.” Archie offers him a smile. Neither of them saw you standing in the hall by the water fountain.

Archie says something quieter so you couldn’t hear but Jughead responds.

“I know. we spend every day together. We do everything together. Sometimes I feel like she’s always there. I can’t concentrate on anything half the time. She’s a huge distraction.” He shuts his locker and turns to Arch.

Archie nods and pats his back, saying something else but you already turned to leave.

Feeling hurt, you decide not to stop and say hi to them. It would be too clingy.

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anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.