that was worth the two year wait

I can’t wait to someday buy the Ultra Deluxe Edition Collected Check Please hardcover that will have all four years’ worth of comics, all the tweets, the blog posts, all the extras, and commentary with behind-the-scenes info. it’ll probably cost $5000 dollars and I’ll have to buy two, one for reading and one to sit, untouched, in my shrine to ngozi

jemma autism checklist

[fitz post here]

someone: jemma’s not autistic 

me: *pulls receipts* 

okay here we go! here is a very detailed post explaining why jem is totes autistic 

to sum, she shows a lot of traits of atypical autism (which is more often how autism manifests in girls) and displays a lot of traits necessary for a diagnosis. she is awkward and blunt in her social interaction (needing to be reminded at times how to act “appropriately”), has a deep passion for her specific interests, is literal minded, stims, was probably hyperlexic, has trouble lying and improvising language, and shows signs of alexithymia

(big thank you to @unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot for helping with this, as well as the anons who sent in suggestions!) 

this and more under the cut! lots of gifs ahead, image descriptions added for accessibility 

allistics feel free to interact with this! 

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Lost Track of Time

|| Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3

Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You were mad, but he was out of patience 

Word Count: 1526

Warning: eh, not really a warning…that is unless you hate the F-bomb and other kinds of curse words.

Originally posted by shishikookie

You were fuming. Here you were, dressed in a stunning gown that you knew he would love and holding a boxed Rolex that you were going to gift him. You had waited for him in the fancy 5-star restaurant where you had gotten a reservation, a reservation that took you at least eight months worth of pay to save up for. But here you were, back in your shared apartment at 1 am in the morning waiting for your boyfriend of two years to come home. Yes, he had stood you up.

You would have understood if he had called you or messaged you. Hell, you would have understood if he sent a freaking messenger pigeon to send you a letter telling you why he couldn’t make it. But guess what you didn’t receive? Any sort of indication from Jungkook on where he was or why he didn’t come. 

On the couch you fiddled around with your phone tossing it up and catching it over and over again, waiting for a phone call or text message from him. Instead of the blaring sound of your ringtone or a notification indicating a message, you heard something else: the opening of the front door. He was home. 

Jungkook crept in and quietly removed his shoes since he thought that you would be most likely to be asleep by now. That’s why he was so surprised to find you awake in the middle of the night sitting on the couch wearing a long gown. 

“Oh, jagi. I thought you were asleep.” You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know why I’m awake right now, Jeon Jungkook.” He shifted when he heard you refer to him by his full name. You never used his full name unless you were angry. 

If he wasn’t so tired he would have asked you what was wrong. If he wasn’t so tired he would be doing his aegyo to cheer you up. If he wasn’t so tired he wouldn’t be picking a fight with you. 

Keep reading

ScarletVision kissing scene, the theory.

I’m writing this theory when I should be studying for my Anthropology class for tomorrow. I’m tired, it’s 00:37 am, and I have a full mug of coffee with hot chocolate in front of me. I would rather die than say that this was not worth it

Let us begin

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What the Hell is a Stiles?

Sterek, T, 2K, Blind Date AU


Saw the prompt from this post that someone reblogged. (Take a look at the list, there are so many good ideas!)

Our mutual friend set us up on a blind date and I thought I’d hate it but you’re actually… kind of funny? But because I expected to hate it in no way am I going to let you change my mind just because you’re gorgeous and funny and intelligent oh no my friend is not winning this


“No,” Derek says easily, without even looking up from his book. Erica groans and flops into the chair opposite him, nearly upsetting his mug of hot chocolate.

“Seriously?” she says, bracing both elbows on the table and leaning toward him. “At least hear me out.”

“Nope.”

“He’s cute, Der! I think you’d really like him.”

“Absolutely not. You have a terrible track record with set-ups.”

Erica has the decency to wince, at least, and drop her gaze from Derek’s. “But you’re a catch, Der, and you deserve someone who can make you happy. And since you don’t want to date me—”

“You don’t want to date me, either,” he reminds her, but she just rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. But seriously. You’re great.”

“I thought I was grumpy and terrible with people?” he asks, parroting her words from after the last failed date, and she huffs.

“Please?” she wheedles, poking her lower lips out a bit. “For me. If it goes badly, I’ll never try to set you up again.”

Derek sighs. Fuck.

His facial expressions must be more transparent than he thinks because Erica’s eyes light up. “Oh my god, you’re gonna say yes.”

Derek scowls at her. “Just coffee,” he says firmly. At least that way, he can get it in a to-go cup and make a neat escape after five minutes if he needs to. “No dinner, no movie, no activities.”

“Fine,” she says quickly, digging in her jeans pocket for her phone. “You got it.”

“This is not gonna end well,” he warns her, but she just waves her hand without looking up from her phone.

“Have some faith, Der,” she says, patting him on the hand absently while she pushes her chair back and stands up. “I can’t wait to tell Stiles.”

Derek blinks, watching Erica walk away. 

“Wait, what the hell is a Stiles?” he calls after her.

Keep reading

In which Sherlock comes back after pretending to be dead for two years, finds John moved out of Baker Street and nearly engaged. He’d deduced two possible reactions… but not this.


Of all the outcomes Sherlock had prepared himself for, this was not one of them. There had been two scenarios in his head, two ways John’s emotions could play out. Shock was, in both scenarios, naturally the primary stage. That is logically what happens when a previously thought dead person presents themselves. It was the stages that came after the shock is where it got tricky, given that Sherlock had to take into factor that they were surrounded by the public eye, in a very crowded, very upscale restaurant. It was where the road split. Road one: Shock would be followed by disbelieve, perhaps tears, but most likely not with John. No, it was more likely disbelief would lead to laughter, the slightly bitter kind that Sherlock could picture on John’s face, the kind that would melt into relief, maybe even a slightly uncharacteristic hug. It might be a briefer display of emotion due to the public eye but at least Sherlock would know it was alright now.

The second road was not preferred but it ended the same. On this path anger followed the shock, maybe John stormed out of the restaurant, maybe delivered Sherlock a rightly deserved punch… But they were together in the end. Sherlock was forgiven in the end.

He never thought, however, that the stage of anger would be so prolonged. He never imagined that John wouldn’t eventually get along to embracing his lost best friend. Sherlock never pictured John leaving him standing alone on the curb of a dumpy fish and chip place with a bloody nose.

Ms. Hudson, on the other hand, had had exactly the reaction Sherlock had predicted when he walked into 221B. She’d screamed, cried, screamed again when he placed a gentle hand on her arm, and proceeded to alternate between the two for the next hour. Sherlock could barely focus on her however, only being able to think about how, as she wrapped him in a very tight hug, he would do anything to have experienced this reaction twice that night.

“Oh Sherlock,” Ms. Hudson patted his cheek fondly, a smile brightening her face, “I take it you’ve seen John?”

Sherlock tense, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

She laughed delightedly, squeezing his hand before bustling into the kitchen, “I’ll get the kettle on for you two, then.”

Sherlock unknotted his scarf, hanging it on the familiar coat hanger, taking note in the back of his mind the relief that filled his chest at being, well, home, “Sorry?”

Ms. Hudson looked over her shoulder, “Well, I gather he’ll be around shortly, yes?”

Sherlock froze half way through shrugging out of his coat, the thought hitting him harder than he expected. Would he?

“Yes.” Sherlock said stiffly, dropping his coat over a chair—John’s chair—with a flourish, “Yes, of course. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Ms. Hudson gave him another firm kiss on the cheek and a Oh Sherlock, do play some violin for me tomorrow. I can’t tell you how I’ve missed it, and left him to “get settled.”

Sherlock had prepared the tea with shaking fingers. Of course John would be around. He wouldn’t let the night end like it had would he? He’d want to see Sherlock. Definitely. John was a man of answers, and he had two years worth of questions to ask. Sherlock had poured the water into the tea pot, set out two cups (he’d looked for John’s favorite mug only to find it no longer in the cupboard), milk, and sugar. He’d put it all on a tray, set it rather too harshly onto the coffee table, fell into his chair…

And the waiting had begun.

Sherlock was very good at sitting still usually. He could go days on end without speaking, without moving. But he couldn’t seem to manage it tonight.

He paced, drummed his fingers, watched the clock. By the time he decided to change into his pajamas, it was nearly two in the morning and he had already retuned his violin and stabbed the fireplace mantle approximately 57 times. The tea was cold and he hadn’t had a drop. He hung his coat up from its place on John’s chair, fluffing the flag pillow and smoothing the velvet out.

It was two thirty and Sherlock listened to Ms. Hudson’s bedroom door close downstairs. No doubt she had been waiting up for John. She’d given up. He wouldn’t.

Sherlock kept his phone in hand. John may call rather than come over now that it was so late. He had a…fiancé now, after all. Sherlock swallowed hard at the thought, checking his phone again. Another outcome Sherlock had not expected. Of course, he felt foolish now, thinking John had—thinking John could ever feel… whatever Sherlock had felt. Whatever Sherlock feels. That it was John and him, him and John. He never dreamt that there could be any other version of either of their lives, he never thought…

Sherlock pressed his hands over his eyes.

But perhaps he should not have left for two years. For a so-called genius, he seemed to have a habit of realizing things too late when it came to John Watson. Maybe one could only be a genius in one aspect of life, one field. Sherlock considered this. If that was the case, he’d gladly trade his knowledge of chemistry, of crime, of anything, for an upstanding understanding of John. Just John. It may not be more useful in his line of work. But he would be happier. Emotionally. Sherlock blinked at the realization. He was surprised, but it felt… true.

It was approaching four in the morning when Sherlock resigned to his bed. He couldn’t stare at the empty chair across from him any longer. If he did he was worried he may throw something, or miss the mantlepiece and stab himself instead with the amount he’d been at it. He let his phone rest on his chest, fingertips to his chin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his hopes were crumbling around him. John was not calling. John was not coming up the stairs. John had left him on the curb after hitting him once, twice, three times. He found that his chest hurt more than his cheek or nose.

Sherlock was just beginning to resign himself to a few more hours of sitting completely still until it was considered a socially acceptable hour to rise and start a day in the life of the living, when his phone buzzed against his ribs, shocking Sherlock’s eyes open.

John

The screen said John.

Sherlock had barely picked up before he was saying his name.

He was met with a few beats of silence and then, slowly, “You’re awake.”

Sherlock felt pinned against the mattress, “You don’t sound surprised.”

The response was more immediate this time, “I’m not.”

You’re awake.”

Sherlock nearly closed his eyes at the familiar scoff, “Yes, of course I’m awake.”

“I… I’m not surprised… either.” Sherlock had never struggled for words so much in his life.

Silence followed and Sherlock thought he heard John pouring himself tea, or maybe a drink.

“Jesus,” A chair scooted back over the line and John sighed as he sat now, “I’ve not a clue what to say. How’s the nose?”

Sherlock felt himself smile a little at the comment. This was the most normal he had felt in two entire years, “Not as bad as the ribs.”

John chuckled softly, the way he did when he was confused, “What? I didn’t hit you in the ribs.”

“No. You didn’t.”

Silence followed again. Sherlock heard John’s breathing stop and restart, “Sherlock-“

“Don’t worry, I’m okay-“

“No, that’s not the point, Sherlock, the point is that you let me- You let me knock you around when someone else had been doing god knows what god knows where.”

“Don’t worry, you’re much gentler than Serbian interrogators.”

He heard John set his tea down too hard, “What? I- Oh my god, I swear, if you’re joking-“

“I don’t joke.”

Another laugh, this time disbelieving. It sent another shock of relief through Sherlock, “Yes you do, Jesus, Jesus-“

“John. I’m okay-“

“Well, you were dead this morning!”

John’s breathing was harsh over the phone. Sherlock could picture him rubbing his eyes. Sherlock just listened for a moment to the familiar sound. He didn’t know how to start. Sorry was nothing, not what was needed, it wasn’t enough.

“John…” Sherlock let out a breath, “I-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re-“

“I wanted to tell you so many times-“

“God, did you now?” John was nearly fuming again, “That’s the first time you haven’t given into one of your impulses.”

Sherlock closed his eyes. Hardly, John. Hardly.

Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose, “You’re right. I should know better.”

Sherlock heard a clatter that sounded like John throwing his cup in the sink, “Yes. Yes, you should.”

“Maybe I’ll give into one right now.”

A beat of silence, “What?”

Sherlock was already halfway to the door, “I’m coming over.”

The laugh was back, nervous and relieved this time, “Sherlock it’s nearly five-“

“I’m giving into an impulse, John.”

“Right…” A chair scraped back, “Yes, okay. Alright.”

“I’ll catch a cab. Text me the address, would you?”

Sherlock thought he heard a hitch in breath, a small sniff maybe. It made his chest ache, “Yeah.”

Sherlock shrugged half way into his coat, “Okay-“

“Right, can we not say goodbye?”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed, “John?”

“’s just the last time you said…” John couldn’t seem to finish but he didn’t have to.

Sherlock understood. He understood and he knew he’d never utter the word ‘goodbye’ to John Watson again.

“See you soon, John.”

Centuries in the Making: Part 3

Prompt: Description: An average human, an Original Vampire, and a bond so strong no magic can break it. New Orleans is in for a hell of a ride.

Part 1, Part 2



“Human?”

   “Yes, human.”

   “And you’re quite sure she’s not a witch?”

   “Positive.”

   There’s a chuckle, “Well mother nature certainly can be a bitch, can’t she? How do you plan on protecting the poor thing? Are you going to change her?”

   “That is neither here nor there at the moment. All we need right now is a cloaking spell to hide the magic.”

   “There is no hiding the magic.”

   “Why not?” The question pops out of your mouth before you can stop it. Then again, maybe some part of you didn’t want to stop it. You’d been gone all of thirty minutes, only to shower and change, and had come back to another discussion about your life. You deserved to be a part of it.

   When you step from your hiding place, you’re greeted with a scowl from Klaus, “Could you please tell me where a grown woman got such a penchant for snooping?”

   You stare at him, “A desire to know what exactly will be happening to my life.”

   There’s a chuckle, “You got a sassy one, Elijah.”

   Your soulmate’s lips twitch, “Apparently. Y/N this is my younger brother, Kol. He’s a witch.”

   You give the new addition a small smile, and he grins at you, “What do you know about the soulmark’s origin?”

   You slide your hands into the pockets of your pants, “Not much. The general mythology.”

   He nods, “Forget it all. It’s crap. The marks were invented by witches. Witches older than even our mother.”

   You straighten a bit, “Older than the first witch?”

   He stares at you for a moment, “You know our story?”

   “Bits and pieces. I was Rebekah’s roommate for eight months. Apparently, she needed to vent.”

   Kol smirks, “After a thousand years with Nik, I can’t really blame her. What about you, love? What’s your story?”

   “A story for another time.”

   He grins at you, “All right, answer me this, where is sister dearest?”

   You slide your hands out of your pockets to cross them against your chest. You couldn’t tell him even if you wanted to. The compulsion was still in effect.

   “Alright, fine, don’t tell me. Not as though I’m surprised.” You can hear the anger and frustration in his voice.

   And from the looks of things Klaus didn’t care, “Yes, yes. The poor neglected brother. On with the story.”

   Kol’s scowl spoke legions, “And why should I? You don’t trust me with your secrets, why should you trust my information?”

   There was a moment of silence before Elijah spoke, his voice seemingly calm, “Because, little brother, information is power. Power that I can use to protect the other half of my soul, and if you deny me that power, I will snap your neck.”

   You find yourself walking towards him, as though something is pulling you forward. You take his hand in yours, and lean ever so slightly against him. For just a second, you see a hint of surprise, before he laces his fingers with yours, and leans ever so slightly into you. He positions himself so that he’s standing slightly in front of you.

   Your eyes flicker back to Kol, “Well, shit.” he runs a hand through his hair before taking a seat at the table. “The soulmark bond is old. Older than us, and nearly as old as time. It’s old magic, good magic, created from a willing sacrifice. Supposedly, every person is born with another half. This other half is supposed to your equal or your perfect match. It allows for a bond to be put in place. That bond, in the case of witches, amplified their power.

   They could then use that power to protect their covens and their families. The more pairs they had, the better off they would be. Of course, these pairs were limited. There was no true way to tell who your soulmate was until you were joined.

   So they had an idea. What if you could tell who your soulmate was with the first words you ever spoke to them? A pair of soulmates in a coven decided to create runes that showed compatibility, that would appear on a person’s sixteenth birthday. The first words their soulmate would ever say to them. The magic would surround them, alert them to the fact. Once the connection was made, there would be a pull, and after they joined, there would be a bond.

   So, a pair of soulmates, a pair who had completed the bond and strengthened it over years, decided to make a willing sacrifice. They performed a ritual, and surrendered their lives. And thus, the spell was born.

   At first, the marks were just runes, but as time evolved, and writing systems evolved as well, the magic evolved with it. Eventually, the runes began to become the first words that were spoken. And eventually, they began to be written in the soulmate’s hand. Originally, the spell was only meant for witches, but instead it was cast over all humanity. After all, not all of the matches were going to be two witches.

   That desire to be with each other, to be near each other, it’s all a part of the spell. You want to be close to each other, the magic is calling for you to complete the bond.”

   You’re surprised at how steady your voice is when you ask, “What does it mean to complete the bond?”

   Kol’s grin is devilish, “Sex, love. Joining of two bodies and souls and all that jazz. It forms the bond.”

   “And what is the bond itself?” Elijah’s voice is steady, as his thumb rubs back and forth against the top of your hand.

   Kol shrugs, “It’s different for each pair. It’s what the pair needs.”

   “And there’s no way to hide it? To protect her?”

   Kol shakes his head, “It’s powerful magic Elijah. Light magic. A part of nature. To lose one’s soulmate is to lose a part of themself. It’s something to be celebrated Elijah. It’s so strong that even vampires aren’t cut off from it. That being said, like everything else, I imagine it’s amplified for you. That would explain the intense protective streak.”

   “Well that’s just lovely,” Klaus’s voice is filled with sarcasm, “A great giant magic beacon, pointing straight at our home.”

   You’re surprised when Kol snaps back, “The bond is sacred, Nik. A part of nature itself. No self-respecting witch would mess with the bond.”

   Klaus’ smile is menacing, “Because we’re surrounded by self-respecting witches.”

   You watch as Kol slowly stands up, never breaking eye contact with Klaus. Elijah simply squeezes your hand once before saying, “That is enough, children.”

   Kol simply sighs, “Well, I’ve done all I can. I’ll just see myself out.” You watch him walk towards the door, and right before he’s about to leave, he pauses. He turns to you and Elijah and says, “The bond will need to be completed. The magic surrounding you two is too strong for either to walk away.” His attention turns to Elijah, “Looks like the thousand years were worth the wait.” And without another word, you watch him leave.

Every Other Weekend pt. 8

Prompt: After five years of marriage and two kids, you and Bucky decide you can’t make it work anymore.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,538

Warnings: divorce, angst, cheating, language

A/N: TAGGING IS CLOSED. i am sooo sorry it has taken me so long to get this up but thanks for hanging in there! hope the wait was worth it.

Tagged: @bicevans @thorne93 @winterboobaer @marvelfandom-stuff @all-around-geek@cchrriissuuu@katexbishopx @justreadingfics @frolicsomefawkes@dasani-saraai@awwtommo@aenna-4@courtneychicken@lorenaheartsyou@goldwanderer@irepeldirt @tardisin221bst @ok-ladies-lets-get-in-formation@redroomproperty@elegantnightmareshiro@stomachfilledwithbutterflies@demongodess@buckyb-avengers@redlipstickandplaid @panda-reads-stuff @basse53 @chipilerendi @jenn48041

Part 7

——

Originally posted by campercooperpugfi

(let’s pretend his hair is as long as it is in the fic. the gif just fits too perfectly.)


“Dad, no!” Gavin latched himself onto Bucky’s leg, crying. It was what you wished you could have done. But it would have been frowned upon. At least if it was your son acting out, it was acceptable.

“I have to go.” Bucky fought Gavin on his leg, handing you the bag you’d given him the week before. “You get to go home with your mom.”

“But I want you.” Gavin continued to cry, his tears wetting Bucky’s jeans. You felt helpless. You wanted to scoop up your son and protect him. You had wanted to since all of this started. It wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t know. All he knew was his dad picked him up, they spent a week together and then he dropped him back off to you. That was one of the hardest things. You were unable to tell your son why his dad wasn’t home, why he left.

“Come on baby. Dad’s gotta go.” You frowned, holding Avery with one arm and bending down to help Gavin. Gavin cried harder, grasping at the folds in Bucky’s jeans.

“I’ll see you next week.” Bucky nodded, seemingly unfazed by Gavin’s cries.

You fought a scoff. “Yeah. See you then.” You sighed, picking Gavin up and walking to the car. Bucky didn’t stick around any longer than he had to. You blocked Gavin’s view of his father driving out of the parking lot.

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anonymous asked:

Hi, probably a silly question, but if someone sends in a quote, what is the approximate wait time before you post that submission/what is the size of your current queue? Asking because another other cool DnD quotes blog has a queue of 70 000 posts, so seeing your submission posted within your life span isn't even entirely certain there so sometimes it doesn't even feel worth to bother trying to submit stuff... :') Thanks for your time, this is an awesome blog!

Not a silly question! People ask all the time. :) 

Our queue is currently between two and three weeks long. I think it’s on the lower end of that right now, but it goes up and down depending on the number of quotes we get each week. We do try to keep it from getting much longer than that when possible - we don’t want you guys to have to wait a million years to see your submissions!

Originally posted by satansexandsadness

Wait For Me? - Chris Evans Imagine

summary: You need a break from it all, but what if when you’re ready to come back, Chris hasn’t waited for you? What if he moved on while waiting for a sign? 

words - 1500+

warnings: angst (barely) / fluffF

a/n: I felt like this story in my drafts deserved to see the day of light, it may be crap but oh well you win some you lose some. 

“I’m not ready yet, Chris. I can’t be with you because I couldn’t fully commit to you, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Tears ran down my face, as I began to walk away from one of the best men in the world. He was everything I wanted forever in a man, but I couldn’t… I had to find me before I could find us. As I walked away, my hands slipping from his own warm and protective hands. I could feel sobs rise in my throat as I walked away, trying to swallow the sobs until I could scream for hours in my car. 

“I’m going to wait,” Chris shouted. Or maybe I had imagined that? 

Turning around, I wiped my eyes, sniffled and wrapping my arms around myself for warmth since Chris’s no longer held me tightly. “I’m going to wait,” He repeated, walking towards me and cupped my face in his huge hand that somehow held my head perfectly. 

“YN, I will wait. Until you are ready. Whether that’s two weeks or two years. I want you, no one else.” I shook my head, pushing his hands away. I was angry at myself and him for ending up in this mess of heartache. 

“No! That’s… not fair to you! I can’t ask you to wait for someone you don’t even know is worth it.” My voice broke and I was backing up, trying to not let Chris touch me. Because if he did, I wouldn’t be able to push away this time. But he came towards me, taking safe steps, with his arms out pleading.

 “You may not be done, but I am. And I know what I want, and no one can deter me from it. You are… everything to me, baby. I want to wait for you, and I will. I’m one phone call away, and you know that. You can’t make me give up my love, YN. This is what I want, baby.”

 I smiled, shaking my head in the words I heard from his beautiful lips. 

“I’m going to New York, I bought a loft,” I whispered, looking up at him innocently. I saw his face perk up from my suddenly uncynical words, “Would you answer my calls even if it was just to talk?”

Chris moved closer to me, taking a hold of my left hand, where a tattoo of a lightning bolt was placed just days ago on the right inside of my middle finger. 

“I would answer you, just to hear your voice.” His gentle voice replied, putting his fingers in between mine, intertwining them. Little and big fingers that somehow felt so right together. 

“I-I.. um…” I swallowed the lump in my throat, knowing these were our last words. 

For now. “You should know one thing before I leave, Chris .” Our eyes pulled up together, coming closer, as I put my right arm around the neck, letting it linger slightly. 

“That phone call will come. I promise. I don’t know when, I don’t even know what I’m fucking look for criteria of being able to start another relationship but all I know is that you, are my first call, Chris. I promise Blue Eyes. I swear…” I let the tears slip as I saw his eyes gloss over, spilling tears of his own that I hate to admit I was causing.

 “I swear, baby. Pinky swear.” I held out one pinky, my left hand. His left pinky swung and locked with mine. He kissed them and then my forehead. 

“Goodnight, lovely. I hear from yo-u soon.” 

Chris tried to speak with his most dapper voice but I knew he was dying. The tears still there, residing on his perfectly cold pink-pinched cheeks. 

“Ce est pas la fin.” 

We were in August, yet the air was bitter in Boston. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

And that was it. Chris and I parted ways, until December the following year. 

When the call I was terrified to make finally happened, I was expecting to hear he had moved on. I owed him at least this call, though, regardless of whether he’d given up. This call was never for me, it was always his.

“Hello?”

“H-Hi, Chris .” My accent was pushing out stronger from my nerves, his name sounded silky smooth even though his name had been turned into a Parisian Keer-is.

“YN? What’s up it’s nine here, aren’t you in London? I saw you on E net..-nothing. I saw you… on twitter, yeah twitter.” I smiled to myself from his nervous chattering in my ear. 

He had seen me and cared. It didn’t matter whether it was on a celebrity entertainment show. Chris felt that I was enough to remember.

“Anyway, um, isn’t it like three a.m. over there… are you okay?”

“No, actually. I mean yes, I’m perfectly fine but, it’s not three a.m. over here. Although the weather sure feels like Paris.” Chris chuckled softly, I knew he was rubbing the back of his neck now, stressing out on what to say next.

“Well, where are you then?” 

I knocked on the door, “Hold on, YN. There’s someone at my door. How have you been? Ya know… soul seeking, find yourself. All that good stuff?”

I heard him walk down his stairs, but not through the phone. 

“I’ve been great. I got to do some shooting on this new 1940’s movie, I loved it so much! That was really extraordinary. We filmed in Rome, Florence, and Naples, and I swear. Anywhere you stood, the sight was just indescribable…” I had to pause when I heard him get closer to the front door. 

My nerves were causing my heart to pulsate faster, and I felt the warmth rise in my cheeks, 

“a-and I think you would’ve loved it, C.”

His shadow showed up at the door and my heart jumped into my throat.

“Are you sure?” Opening the door, he was smiling ear to ear, and I couldn’t help but let out the most girlish giggle and squeak I have ever been able to conjure up. I showed toothy grin that only occurred when my heart can’t take the amount love or happiness I’m feeling. 

He still had his phone to his ear and I had my to mine. “Because I really love the view I’m getting right now.”

 I let my phone fall without a care and ran to him, even though he only within ten feet of me. We embraced and held each other close. Never wanting to let go of the other for fear that we’d slip away from each other, again. 

We were precious to one another, we always had been. Having Chris in my arms was like finally holding the one thing that I’d been missing for sixteen, painfully slow, dull, Chris-less months. 

“I missed you so much Chris,” I mumbled, almost letting out a sob from the ache that had finally been lifted from my chest.

“I know, I know. I missed you too, Jellybean.” I kissed his shoulder when I heard the nickname Chris glued to me. One he only ever called me when no one was around. That way it was just between the two of us, forever only our intimate secret.

“Did you give up on me?” Chris shook his head no, smiling into my hair. 

“I don’t give up when I’m in love, babe. Ever.”

Friendships Can’t Last Forever

Request: “Hey I’m a big fan of your blog! If requests are open I’m hoping that if you don’t mind you could do a x reader based on the song cold by maroon five? Like the reader is jealous of Leta and Newts relationship and ruins her relationship with Newt by accident? Just really angsty stuff please ^_^”

Word Count: 2,056

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by Anonymous but tagging @caseoffics @red-roses-and-stories and @dont-give-a-bother

The first time you notice that creeping feeling nagging at your thoughts, you’re walking through the towering Hogwarts hallways. Other students pass by, gossiping and complaining and filling the way with other conversations that you ignore in favor of Newt’s own goofy jokes and interesting facts. His hair hangs in his face and he presses his books against his chest, knuckles white around the worn spines of his herbology textbooks. The glasses you love slip down his nose, but he doesn’t bother to adjust them as he looks at you, lips thinned in a nervous expression.

“I, erm, I was wondering if you would be fine with postponing our study time tonight.”

You frown. “You were going to help me with that potions essay.”

Newt swallows, looking at the stones under his feet as he continues forward. “Leta needs me for an emergency.” He doesn’t let you reply before launching into a further explanation. “I wouldn’t cancel if it weren’t important, but she swears up and down it is, and I don’t want her to deal with it on her own.”

He rambles on as the shadow of that nagging fear tugs at your thoughts. You feel odd, weird, like you ate something bad and it’s only just now catching up with you.

Considering yourself ridiculous, you shake the feeling off. Newt loves you. You may just be friends, but you’re best friends. He would never ruin your friendship for someone he has known only for a year.

“Newt,” you interrupt teasingly, “I think I can get through one night without seeing you. Might be a bit of a relief, actually.”

The wrinkles in his forehead smooth out as he laughs at your joke. “Glad I can make your day so easily.”

You continue talking all the way to herbology, that feeling of discomfort poking at you when Newt starts to discuss Leta’s thoughts on magical creatures.

You shove it away and try to focus on the way Newt looks at you.

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Imagine kissing Jim Kirk

Originally posted by captainprincesskk

It was a sea of red, blue and gold figures swarming the large lobby. The Enterprise had docked nearly thirty minutes ago and you waited anxiously for the man you had missed for the last year. It was a strange arrangement the two of you had, never truly committed to one another but regardless neither of you faltered. It was worth the wait. Worth the scattered video calls and messages, while the two of ventured with your respective crew. 

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There are some things I want to say about the movie. I would like to say that I have been waiting for 6 years. And it was worth the wait. I did not expect the film to be so great. I was not disappointed. This movie made me very happy. Especially the sentiments made to women were spectacular. All the things that could have been said about feminism were portrayed in a wonderfully animated film. Everyone who comes to watch this film is able to understand feminism. I liked it. It was especially nice that Cruz did not give up and went after her dreams. And thanks to McQueen for help. Because a feminist person believes in equality between the two sexes. Likewise, Cruz did not give up on McQueen. There are so many things to say about Cruz that time is not enough. It made me very happy to see Sally again. McQueen’s listening to Sally is a great example. I missed Sally so much that her sharp spirits made me really amused. That’s why thanks to everyone who has worked in this film. They did a great job. I do not know if a movie like this will ever happen again, but there’s one thing I’m sure of; It has been a wonderful 11 ​​years. Thanks for everything Disney and Pixar. ☇

anonymous asked:

“My dad’s a cancer patient and you’re his nurse” AU jikook <_< >_>

Pairing: Jikook
Prompt: “My dad’s a cancer patient and you’re his nurse” AU 
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,541
A/N: Just one thing for this mini fic thing: I love Jimin’s dad in here ^~^

Jimin hurries through the sliding doors, flashing a small smile and a nod at the receptionist before brisk walking to the lifts. He waits impatiently for it, sneakered foot tapping an uneven rhythm on the off-white linoleum floor. 

It seems like forever before Jimin get to the fifth floor, stepping over to the room right by the lift. 05-01. He pushes the door open. It’s 8:40PM

“I’m here, dad,” Jimin calls. His father’s propped up in bed with two pillows behind him, book in hand. He glances up at Jimin’s voice. 

“Jimin-ah,” he smiles, eyes crinkling. He reaches out a hand and Jimin takes it, settling himself in a chair by the bed. 

“Has today been okay, dad?” Out of habit, Jimin scans the bedside table, checking that the water jug is filled and the cup clean. 

“Look at me,” his dad says. “Do I look anything less that great?” He puts on an offended expression to emphasize his point. 

Jimin laughs. “Yeah, yeah, you look amazing as always,” he teases lightly. His dad looks fine, really. Nothing like a patient going through chemotherapy, what with his full head of hair still intact. He looks great, but Jimin still worries. 

“Of course I do,” his dad huffs. His expression turns soft. “But Jimin-ah, don’t work yourself too hard, okay?“ 

“I’m not, dad, don’t worry about me.” His reply comes a little rushed, a tad mechanical. It’s not really his fault that his dad says it all the time, that Jimin’s answer is almost always the same. 

“Lying is bad, Jimin-ah. Look at those eye bags.” His dad reaches out a hand to trace his under eye. “And I know you came rushing over here just to visit, but if you’ve got important things to do, you don’t have to visit everyday. Go hang out with your friends sometimes.”

“I want to,” Jimin frowns. “I know I got here a bit late today but it’s just because Hoseok hyung came a little late for his shift, but still, I had to come because I want to see you.” It’s always been the two of them, and his dad has done so much for him, how can he just decide not to visit when he can make time for it? 

“So…” There’s a finality in that word that lets Jimin know his dad has dropped that discussion for now. It’ll be back again, his dad insisting that Jimin should live his life not having to, and he quotes, “worry about this old man in a hospital bed”. But Jimin can’t help it, and he supposes deep down his dad knows that too.  

“Jimin-ah.” Jimin glances back at his dad to find him grinning. Oh god please not again. “Any boy for me to meet?" 

Jimin really wants to flush himself down the toilet and out of sight right this moment. Okay maybe not, that’d be kind of gross. ”Dad,“ he hisses, "Not here please. Mrs Kim does not need to overhear this conversation.” It’s a four-bed ward after all, they aren’t alone, and Jimin really does not need the other middle age people judging him for being far from straight. 

His dad shrugs. “I might have accidentally let it on sometime yesterday and honestly, she’s pretty alright with it.” He gestures to Mrs Kim in the next bed with his chin. As if on cue, the middle aged lady turns in bed and smiles at them. 

Jimin stares at him horrified. “You, what?” Okay maybe now showing himself out of the fifth floor window sounds like a good idea. 

“You can’t be alone forever, Jimin,” his dad says. “When I’m gone, what are you going to do? You’ll be lonely." 

"Don’t say stuff like that, dad,” Jimin quips, frowning. “Besides I’m fine how I am now, I don’t need someone. I’ve got Tae and Hoseok hyung, and-”

“I know, I know,” his dad cuts him off. “I just want you to be happy.” Jimin opens his mouth to reply but his dad beats him to it. “Ah, there’s a new nurse for our ward. Maybe you’ll get to see him later because he’s taking the evening shift today." 

Dad,“ Jimin sighs. He gets it really, his dad has good intentions, but the last time he introduced Jimin to a friend’s son, the boy turned out to be already attached, to a girl no less. 

"He’s a really nice lad, Jimin. He says he’s here on a university attachment program so that means he’s around your age too. And he’s tall and good looking.” His dad waggles his eyebrows a little. “I think you’d like him.”

“I don’t need matchmaking, dad.” Jimin’s half indignant by now. Please, he’s perfectly capable of finding someone. 

His dad ignores him. “He’s single too!” Jimin whips around, narrowing his eyes at his dad. “If you’re going to ask me, yes I asked Jungkook if he has a girlfriend… or a boyfriend…" 

Jimin gives his dad a withering look, only to get a grin in return. Behind him, Jimin vaguely registers the sound of the door opening. He glances at his watch. 9:30PM - visiting hour is over. 

"Jungkook-ah!” Jimin turns in the direction his dad’s looking. He swallows, hard. Wow. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have doubted his dad, but in his defense, his dad’s idea of good looking has never really matched his. But this boy walking towards them is something else. Jimin stares. 

Beside him, his dad nudges him hard. 

“Mr Park, I see you’ve got a visitor for the hour,” Jungkook starts, smiling widely. His eyes land on Jimin’s, briefly doing a once over before catching Jimin’s gaze. He holds it. Jimin ducks his head a little, breaking eye contact. 

“This is my son I’ve told you about.” There’s pride in his dad’s voice and Jimin’s really thankful, but he kind of just wants to run out now before the flush he can feel creeping up his neck gives him away. “Jungkook, Jimin. Jimin, Jungkook. And how many times have I told you that you don’t have to call me Mr Park? It’s so stiff." 

Jungkook laughs, nose scrunching as he does. He doesn’t answer Jimin’s dad, instead turning back to Jimin. "Nice to finally meet you, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook says. 

Jimin licks his lips before meeting Jungkook’s gaze, hoping fervently that his smile isn’t as shaky as how he feels inside. “I’ve heard a lot about you." 

"Good things, I hope,” Jimin jokes weakly, standing from his seat by the bed. Jungkook’s a good 5cm taller than him, he thinks. He’s wearing a shapeless uniform for nurses that should look terribly unappealing, but the short-sleeved shirt reveals his toned arms. Dammit.

“The best,” Jungkook laughs. “Your dad’s your number one fan.” He takes a step closer and lowers his voice, loud enough only for Jimin. “So good that I might have already fallen a little for the Jimin I’ve heard so much about." 

Jimin tries really. He tries but fails to keep the flush from climbing up his neck, over his ears and tinting his cheeks. Jungkook straightens up and takes a step back, winking before turning to attend to the other patients. The audacity. 

There’s a nudge to his arm and Jimin whips around to face his dad. "What did he say?" 

Jimin busies himself with arranging his dad’s bedside table before moving to fluff his pillows. "Nothing,” he mumbles. His dad raises an eyebrow skeptically but lets it slide. 

“I’ll be back to visit tomorrow.” Jimin leans over to drop a kiss on his dad’s cheek. “Sleep well, dad." 

"Go out with your friends, Jimin-ah. You don’t have to always rush over, okay?” His dad pats his hand and Jimin nods in reply. They both know it’s an advice thrown to the wind but Jimin won’t have it any other way. 

Jimin steps out with a last wave and a soft goodbye called out to the other patients in the ward. He steps to the lift and waits. 

Just as the lift pings, Jungkook steps out and glances around. He spots Jimin and hurries over. “Jimin-ssi!" 

Jimin stops, letting the lift doors close without getting in. Did he forget something in the room? 

"Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook starts again, a small smile on his face. “My shift ends in about 15 minutes. Care to catch a late dinner or supper with me?" 

Jimin stares. Blinks once, twice. "Are you asking me out because my dad made you?" 

Jungkook shakes his head. "Aside from singing praises about you and telling me you’re not with anyone…” He trails off with an almost embarrassed expression on his face. “I think you’re really cute." 

Jimin really needs his pillow right here to squeal into but that’d have to wait. The thudding in his chest is so loud it’s ringing in his ears. Jungkook can’t hear it, can he? He can’t know how affected Jimin is by his presence. 

"You’re paying then,” Jimin manages to utter, voice more stable than he expects. 

Jungkook grins, nodding happily. “My treat!" 

(Later, Jimin ends up paying his day’s worth of salary to feed them in exchange for the "hyung” title, after learning that Jungkook is a freshman in college, two years younger than himself.)


Send me a prompt and a bangtan pairing, I’ll write you a short fic ♡

Auston Matthews - “Buttercup”

Heya! Could you do an auston matthews one where (y/n) is his gf who is visiting from like England and she is at the warm ups before game start and she chirps one of the other team members? And he’s like real proud of some things she says? Thank ya!

After a very long trip you were finally standing in the players tunnel at Air Canada Centre. You had made a surprise visit to see your boyfriend for two years Auston Matthews play against the Dallas Stars. 

Before long the players door opened and out poured the Leafs one by one. The smile on your boyfriends face when he saw you was priceless and worth the countless hours of travel from North Wales to Toronto.

“Why are you doing here?” Auston said picking you up and hugging you tight. 

“I came to see my boyfriend beat the snot out of the Dallas Shits…I’m Dallas Stars.” You joked. “Plus I missed you loads. Good surprise?” You asked kiss his lips.

“Great surprise. God I can’t wait till after the game.” He said wiggling his eyebrows. 

“You’re such a man.” You laughed. “ Good luck babe.” 

With one more kiss and a butt grab Auston was on his way to the ice. You made you way to your seat behind the boys and watched the Leafs and the Stars warm-up. 

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, cause you can’t play for crap.” You yelled out at number 91 on the Stars. Tyler smiled as he looked back.

“Wait, till you see what I do in the sheets.” He tossed back with a wink.

“Well if it’s anything like you do out there am sure a lot of girls go home upset.” You smiled back.

“Ouch, beautiful and firey. How about we test this theory out after the game buttercup?” He asked with a shit eating grin.

“Not sure my boyfriend would like that idea, but I can ask him if ya want.” You joked smiling at Auston who looked like he was loving every minute of this. 

Tyler acted like he was looking around before saying “Boyfriend? I don’t see any boyfriend?” 

“That’s cause the game hasn’t started yet, buttercup.” You said taking off you jacket to show your Matthews jersey.

-Julianne

Originally posted by mattsmartin

To all students who are looking how to pass the NCLEX

Hurst Review.

Do it, trust me.

I’ll be honest with you, I didn’t pass the first time I took the NCLEX. I was close, I went the full 265 questions. I had studied with ATI and Saunders. I did a ton of questions. It wasn’t enough.

Hurst review is different. They have questions, sure, but it’s different. It goes over the information that a brand new nurse with two weeks of vast knowledge would have. It breaks down the information and states it in such a way that it all connects and it’s easier to remember.

I passed the second time, after waiting over a year from the first time I took it…and I credit Hurst Review with helping me succeed.

Look into it, baby nurses. It’s worth it and it’s guaranteed.

Paper Planes - Epilogue (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

Summary: You and Lin have very special memories all centered around paper planes.

Word Count: 1,329

Warnings: Ridiculous fluff.

A/N: I wasn’t gonna post this until Friday but I ended up having a really shitty end to my night last night and I wanted to make sure your day ends up being better than mine was yesterday.

This is the epilogue to Paper Planes, which is my pride and joy. Here’s to hoping I did it a little justice with this ending. If you’re still looking for more content I can offer you this post of headcannons or my open inbox. Yell at me, send me your own headcannons, whatever you want.
_________________________

You stopped having to launch paper planes out of your window years ago but there was something you both clung to when it came to putting words down on paper. It wasn’t really necessary for you to do when you first started dating - you and Lin had exchanged phone numbers and when he wasn’t at the Richard Rogers he was with you - but you continued to do so because of the romance of it all. You couldn’t help but be sentimental about the notion.

After you moved in with him you had decided to exchange paper planes for good morning kisses. Lin, however, persisted. He’d leave you neatly folded paper planes in various places; your purse, your bedside table, taped to the bathroom mirror once or twice. You could never do words justice like Lin could so you’d respond to each one in the form of a conversation, a kiss, or a phone call. It was a quirky dynamic to have one person continuing to write letters while the other professed their love verbally but it was yours and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

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Say You Won’t Let Go

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Based off of James Arthur’s song “Say You Won’t Let Go”.

A/N: This song gave me huge Bucky feels when I first listened to it. So here you go. Also, this is pretty lengthy, so bear with me.

Warning: mentions of depression


Your best friend, Bucky, well…he was in a dark place. Now that’s not uncommon for college students. Statistics show that it’s very common for young adults ranging from 18 to 25 to fall into a depression. Bucky was one of those young adults. 

He felt like he wasn’t good enough. He was struggling to get by, academically and financially. He started to lack motivation in going to classes and getting out of bed. He just wanted to sleep the days away. 

But you were having none of it. During some of his darkest days, you were there to light him up. Although it didn’t really make the depression go away, it made him forget the pain with the constant temporary moments of happiness.

You came bursting into his apartment, “Luuuucyyy, I’m hoooome!” You announced. You dropped your bag and keys onto a nearby table and listened for any sign of Bucky. He was probably in his room. So you briskly walked over there and cautiously opened the door. Bucky was sprawled out on his bed staring at the ceiling. You ran over to him and plopped your entire being onto his stomach.

“Oomf! Whyyyy?” Bucky whined.

“Happy birthday, you dork.”

Bucky sighed and mumbled, “Thanks.”

You climbed off him and made your way to his closet looking through his clothes, “Let’s get you dressed. I have plans for you.”

Bucky groaned, “Can’t we just stay here and watch tv or something?”

You scoffed, “Psh. No. We’re going out.” You picked out a white t-shirt, black jeans, and Bucky’s favorite black leather jacket. You threw them at him, “Get ready. We’re leaving in ten.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Keep reading

Human

Jughead x Reader

Its the summer before the reader goes off to college, and she doesn’t want to leave without letting the raven-haired boy how she really feels.

Warnings: None

Word count: 2, 166

A/N: I’m sorry I haven’t posted in forever, just know that I’m still here. Let me know what you think? I’m just trying to get back into the swing of writing things cause my motivation is at an all time low rn. It’s also my finals week so after that’s over fingers crossed I’ll have more time, although I’m working two jobs and have a summer class to do and have to get in shape this summer so who the fuck knows, but thanks for sticking with me, I’ll try to make my writing worth it. <3

The Song

Masterlist


I wanna pick you up and scoop you out

I want the secrets your secrets haven’t found

I honk the horn in front of the trailer that Jughead has been living in for the past year and a half. I wait a few moments, and nothing happens so I honk the horn again.

This time the door bursts open and he walks out, adjusting his Southside Serpent jacket over the rest of his ensemble.

“Were you this late when you went to Riverdale High?” I ask as he opens the door and slides into the passenger seat.

“I’ve been at Southside for the past two years, when are you going to stop pulling that ‘Riverdale High’ crap?” he smirks, putting his feet up on the dashboard.

“I’m not going to stop until you come out the first time I honk.” I smirk back at him, shifting the car into park for the moment instead of keeping my foot on the brake. The conversation flows easily, as always.

It’s never been much trouble with mister Jones, especially after he fully committed to staying at Southside and becoming a part of the Serpents. From then on out, we took care of him like family, as being the daughter of a  Serpent has always been a part of my identity. Although, I didn’t know that you were supposed to think about your family the way I think about Jones.

For a long time I felt guilty about it, but then he told me that he broke up with Betty just a few months after I met him. He said it was because things were getting too difficult and they weren’t seeing eye to eye anymore. I helped him through it, and I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t appropriate, but I couldn’t help myself, from then on out my feelings were a non-stop waterfall that seemed to be overflowing, only with nowhere to go.

“You just hate that I get a place to myself.” He folds his arms across his chest, the leather making noises I can’t describe without becoming tongue-twisted.

“By pure circumstance, Jones, pure circumstance.” I remind him, letting out a small laugh.

“I guess only the lucky ones get foster parents that let them move out.” he retorts back, then putting his hands behind his head, always the fidgeter.

“Oh please, you left cause you couldn’t stand being away from your own bed.” I shove him lightly on the shoulder with my hand, earning a laugh from him. I’m pretty sure if the only sound I heard for the rest of my life was his laugh, I would be living in heaven and not on earth.

“In your dreams, (Y/N).” he says, nudging me back.

I take the opportunity to shift the car back into drive and pull away from the trailer park. I don’t know where we’re going or what’s going to happen, but I turn up the radio and blast some music to drown out my thoughts.

“If only you knew.” I whisper, pulling onto the road that leads to Southside.

Jughead shifts in his seat, sliding out of his jacket to reveal a gown underneath. He somehow got to forfeit the cap for his beanie, which is probably the most Jughead Jones thing that he could ever do. He tosses the jacket in the back where he’ll be able to pick it up after the ceremony.

It’s graduation day, and I have to try to keep myself together as I know that this is the last summer I get to spend with my best friend. The last summer before we have bigger responsibilities and things going on in our lives. The last summer I have to finally admit the feelings that came over me from the moment he walked into school.

Paint me in trust,

I’ll be your best friend

Call me the one,

this night just can’t end.

As the graduation ceremony comes to a close, I try to find him in the sea of gowns while everyone else tries to find their caps that had been thrown in the air.

My eyes scan over heads, finally landing on the grey and black combination on the head that is Jughead Jones.

I break into a run, yelling his name. There’s a grin on my face from ear to ear. Graduating from high school is probably the biggest accomplishment of my life so far, and compared to everyone else in Riverdale I think that’s saying something.

Jughead turns around just in time to get tackled by me in a hug, his arms going around my waist as my arms go around his neck.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), done with high school.” he says, holding me close.

“Jughead Jones, a graduate.” I say, going to let go, but he holds on a moment longer. I begin to feel his hands on my lower back and my heart goes from calm to racing in a split second. I’ve never known anything except joking with him to cover up feelings, and so this slight deviation from that has my stomach in knots.

He pulls back from me with a smirk on his face, “A graduate who has no idea where he’s going.” he retorts back, and I immediately think that everything I just experienced was all in my head.

I laugh and shove him with my shoulders.

“Just come to university with me.” I tease, letting hope rise in my voice, forever the hopeful that he might actually take me up on the offer this time.

“Hmmm… a dorm room with a roommate or a trailer to myself… I wonder which is the better option.” he says, letting a fake sort of wonder slip into his voice.

The crowd begins to disperse, leaving the football field nearly empty. I look around and realize that this is finally over. All the days of waking up early and trying to look nice. All of the days of seeing all my friends, seeing him, are over. All of the days of dealing with all of the drama finally done.

We walk back to my car, disposing of our gowns in the trunk. I get in the driver’s side and take out my keys. I wait for him to get his jacket and sit up front next to me again, his shoulders relaxing as the leather slips over his arms.

“Where to now, mister Jones?” I say, starting the car. The engine hums underneath my feet as Jughead reaches over and turns up the radio. There’s some summer pop song that starts blasting, and I think that he’s gonna change it, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hand drops from the dial and he closes his eyes.

“Let’s get as far away as we can from this small town.” he says, rolling down the window. I match him and roll mine down as well, blasting the music even louder for the people still loitering around the school to hear.

I pull out of my parking space and leave the lot of Southside High for the last time, and I only have to make a few turns before I’m on the highway and we’re headed north.

I don’t know where we’re going, but I don’t care as long as I’m with my best friend.

Time tics on, fast and slow all at the same time. The songs change, shifting our moods from chill to screaming along with the lyrics in a matter of minutes. The tollway provides fast enough speeds to where the wind on our faces makes it seem like we’re the only two people in the world.

I drive until the sun starts to set. I then notice that there are signs for the nearest city, and so I figure we might as well give it a go.

I turn off the tollway and head towards the buildings on the horizon that go higher than anything I’ve seen before.

The lights illuminate the drive as we wind through the windy city.

I want to give you your grin

So tell me you can’t bear a room that I’m not in.

“Where are we?” Jughead asks, the first time he’s spoken something instead of sang it the whole drive. I can tell his voice is tired from screaming, and it makes me laugh.

“Welcome to Chicago, Jones.” I give him a cheeky smile and this look comes over his face that I can’t describe.

“What are we doing here?” he asks, looking from me to the streets around him.

“I have an idea.” I say, keeping him in suspense.

I drive around for a bit more, observing all of the people walking to and from their work, everyone going out or coming in for the evening.

The setting sun provides a red and pink hue to come over all of the tops of the buildings, reflecting into the streets below. There’s something in the air in this city, a feeling of life coming over me as I myself figure out the perfect spot to park and spend the rest of the night.

I pull into a spot on the first floor of the garage nearest our destination.

“A parking garage? Wow, beautiful.” he jokes, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Just come on.” I tell him, turning off the car and unbuckling my seatbelt, opening the door.

Once we’re both out, I take his hand and pull him along, out to the street. I look around to orient myself and smile at the thought of what the night holds.

“Close your eyes.” I tell him. He gives me a look that says that I’m absolutely crazy, but then I give him a look that tells him to trust me. He nods and closes his eyes, putting the hand that’s not in mine over his face.

I lead him down the sidewalk, over grass and gravel before the sand starts to seep into my shoes.

I look around and see boats in the distance, illuminated by the city lights and the sun that’s just below the sea line.

“Open.” I tell him, and his hand falls from his eyes. He looks around for a moment, and then looks at me, but I can barely see it from my peripheral vision, because I’m too focused on the nature that surrounds us and the nearly empty beach.

“Beautiful.” he says, and my heart starts pounding, but then I remind myself he must be talking about the sunset.

“It’s Lake Michigan. I’ve always wanted to see the sunset from here, over the water.” I tell him, taking a few steps more onto the beach, letting go of his hand. I immediately notice the disconnect and wish that I hadn’t done it.

“What are all those lights sticking out onto the water?” he asks, motioning towards the distance.

“Navy Pier, Jones. That’s Navy Pier.” I let out a laugh, realizing that he’s never seen anything like this.

I’d only ever seen it once when my mother took me here for a birthday when I was really young, before the serpents, before the drama, before Riverdale and the Southside took over our lives. It’s something from a time that was better, a time that was pure, and it’s something that I’ve never forgotten. I’ve wanted to come back ever since, so maybe my subconscious led me here once more with my best friend after all these years.

“This is amazing.” he says, and I have to turn around to make sure he’s being genuine and not making a joke, but as soon as I do I can tell by the look on his face that he really means that.

I feel the sand between my toes and close my eyes, feeling the breeze come up behind me from the water. I really try to feel the moment, and how I’m here with him.

When I open my eyes again he’s right in front of me, our faces almost touching.

“Also..” he says, moving in what seems like slow motion. His hand reaches up to cup my face and he brings his lips to connect with mine. I bring my body close to his, my hands going to the back of his neck. My eyes close again and take everything in, take him in.

He releases a moment later, our foreheads still pressed together.

“Jones…” I say, breathless, not sure what to do.

“Please, please just say my name.” his voice sounds desperate yet kind, in need of something.

“Jughead.” I tell him, my fingers tangling in the strands of his hair.

His body relaxes and it’s as if me saying his name just gave him everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s ever needed.

“If only you knew how long I’ve wanted to do that.” he says, a smile coming over his face.

“I think I have an idea.” I tell him.

I have a feeling this summer is going to be one I’m never going to forget.


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