The Proposal Final Part

Anon: WE NEED MORE PROPOSAL. PLEASE OUR LITTLE ANGEL WRITER, please please. We would love it dearly

Anon: When is the next part of the proposal gonna be posted

After 8 MONTHS, I’m finally finishing my Proposal series. I’ma  little sad but hopefully everyone enjoys it!

The proposal masterlist


You never really liked the hospital. The wash-out lights, ugly tile floors, the white everywhere you looked. You remember coming in a few times as a child but it was never a peaceful experience, obviously. At the moment, you sat in the waiting room with your sister and her husband, counting the dots on the floor to try and stop thinking about…everything.

“He’ll be fine.” Your sister consoled you, one arm draped over your shoulder, the other hand of hers holding on to yours. “He’s a fighter.” You weakly smiled in response.

“I don’t think it’s me you have to worry about.” You pointed to your mother who was practically hysterical as she talked to the woman at the front desk. You knew she was terrified, and so were you and your sister but you had to stay calm. What good was worrying going to do?

“My husband had a heart attack! You have to let me see him!” The nurse eyed the white-knuckled grip your mother had on the counter and took a deep breath before responding.

“Ma'am, as I’ve told you before it was a *suspected* heart attack.” You could tell the nurse was trying to be as patient as possible but your mother had a way of getting to people when she was upset.

“My husband was clutching his chest, he was gasping for breath and red as a lobster!” Your mother screeched. The nurse opened her mouth, eyes narrowing and you knew it was your cue to step in.

“I’m sorry.’ You apologized to the woman, placing your hands over your mother’s shoulders, steering her back to where you and your sister sat. "Mom, you have to let him rest, heart attack or not.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m just so worried about him.” She sighed heavily as you sat her down, intertwining your fingers with hers. “I…I called Spencer.”

“You what?” You groaned, wincing. He was the last person you needed to see right now. *If* he even came. He was probably busy with Mattie anyway. Thoughts of the two of them together made your stomach tighten.

“Honey I know but…it felt like something that needed to be done.” Your mother gave you a sad look and you sighed, nodding. Your sister however, was perplexed to say the least.

“What’s the problem here?” She asked, brows raised. You ended up filling her in the fake engagement, how you ended up falling in love with Spencer and about your last argument.

“He hates me. I insulted his girlfriend-”

“Reasonably so! I remember Mattie and she was indeed, a human mattress.” Your sister interjected, jumping back when your mother scolded her for such language.

“It doesn’t matter, he was happy or…he *is* happy with her. The least I could do for him was to be excited for him after he had done so much for me. And isn’t that what love is really about? Being glad someone even if they’re better off with someone else.”

“Oh honey…” Your mother cooed, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you in for a hug. You had to convince yourself you were fine because what could you do? Cry about it? Apparently so because the next thing you knew your shoulders ere shaking and tears were running down your cheeks. You were so preoccupied with your meltdown you didn’t hear the sound of hurried footsteps approach your party.

“Look who actually showed up, wow.” Your sister crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “Looks like you forgot to bring your trashbag with you.” /Oh god/ was that…?

“Y/n!” Spencer cried running over to you. “Are you okay?” Unaware that you had essentially ‘spilled the beans’, he kept up the fiancé façade. “Darling I was so worried when I got to the house and everyone was go-”

“Save it mister, we know everything.” Your mother interrupted, releasing her hold on you. When you sat up you started wiping your eyes, sighing heavily.

“Why are you here?” You asked, voice warbly. “Shouldn’t you be off with Mattie?” He opened his mouth to answer when your sister shot up out of her chair.

“Yes, shouldn’t you be off with /Mattie/? I bet she’s amazing.” Your sister’s voice oozed sarcasm. You tried to tell her to be quiet, but she wouldn’t relent. “So amazing right Y/n? Like that time she locked you in the janitorial closet and they found you 6 hours later? Or that time she cut off half of your hair? That monster tortured my sister, my sister! She may just be another one of your 'girls’ to you Mr. 'FBI Hotshot’-

"No, no, that’s not true!’ He tried to calm your sister down. He had been silent up to that point. "I-I love her!” He didn’t even looked surprised while he blurted it out.

“You love me?” You asked, bewildered. This wasn’t right, no no no, he was in love with Mattie right?

“Yeah, I do. I do, I love you Y/n.” You stared into his eyes and what followed felt like you had no control of your body. You watched in practically slow motion as your fist connected with his face and how he immediately fell to the floor, unconscious.

(Spencer’s POV)

He had approached the hospital with a sick feeling in his stomach. He had treated you so horribly and he was ready for your rejection, he didn’t believe he deserved your love.

His heart pounding in his ears was in tune with the echoing of his footsteps through the hospital. He asked every nurse and doctor he saw about the Y/L/N family.

When he did find you and your family, he saw that you were crying and his heart plummeted. Did something happen to your father? Why were you upset? Why were you crying?! The your sister started with the comments and he couldn’t say anything because as crude as they were, they were true.

But then he blurted out that he loved you. So, there he was, lying on the ground, head pounding as he was slowly coming to.

“Give him space!” A doctor ordered, shining a light in his eye. After a moment of analysis, the doctor stood, putting the little light back in the pocket of his lab coat. “He’ll be fine, he just needs a little ice, I’ll make sure a nurse comes by.” He addressed you, the most nervous person in the room.

“Spencer!” You laid on your knees, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m so sorry I have no idea what happened! I-I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to punch you!”

“Can you help me up?” He groaned, trying to open his eyes. Once he stumbled to his feet you stared at the forming bruise on his cheek. You really knocked him out.

“You still love me?” You tried to tease but it seemed to increase the tension. The tip of his ears and his cheeks pinked, rubbing behind his neck sheepishly.

“About that y/n-”

“I mean how did…when did… w-why?” You asked. “I thought you were in love with Mattie.” Your voice dropped to a whisper, arms crossing to try and somehow hide yourself.

“I want to start off by apologizing. You were completely right about Mattie and I can’t explain my behavior. Please accept my apology…” He paused until you nodded, continuing. “I guess I didn’t realize that I love until a few minutes ago. Falling in love with you is as easy as breathing or blinking. Everyday we’ve spent as a couple has been effortless. I never thought that with the business I was in that I would ever meet someone, let alone fall in love. But I guess the childhood crush I had on you never really faded away.” He took a deep breath, falling on one knee.

Your mother and sister gasped while you assumed you looked crazy, eyes wide and jaw open enough for the flies to come into your mouth.

“And I don’t want it to. I don’t ever want to fade away. I want to continue waking up next to you and spending meals with you. I want to be able to continue to argue with you over Star Wars and Star Trek, I want you to make fun of me for chopsticks and I’ll make fun of you for your celebrity crushes. I want you to be my wife.” He swallowed nervously. “I still don’t have a ring, but I can offer you my soul, my heart and everything that I am. It’s not much, but it’s all I have and all I can give. Please accept, I know that I don’t deserve your love after everything that I did to you but Y/n y/m/n y/l/n will you please do me the honor of being my wife?”

“Yes.” You agreed, nodding your head and wrapping him up and a gigantic hug. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” You leaned in for a kiss, just about to touch his lips when….

“What the hell is going on?” Your dad’s voice interrupted, causing the two of you to split apart. He sat I front of you in a wheelchair, nurse alongside him. “Did I have a stroke? Didn’t this already happen?” The two of you laughed, looking back at each other before moving to kiss again.
Epilouge to follow!

@crowleyshellhoundproductions  @xinhaleredveinsx @clairese1980 @nerdaspe @valynsia @childrenofthegun @huniblood @amarislestrange @marieannfandoms @dontshootmespence @lizettepalomares  @teacupdreams @traceyaudette

anonymous asked:

For Drabble night, may I request a NewtxReader song drabble based on "What Hurts the Most" by Rascal Flatts? Thx!

Newt slouches in the plush waiting room chair, boots squeaking against the immaculate tiled floor as he slides lower and lower, closer to the ground, praying as he slides that he’ll wake up, that this will all be a horrid dream you’ll laugh at him for having.

“Me? Dying? Come on, Newt, can’t you come up with something more creative?”

Merlin, he loves your teasing, loves you. Newt runs a hand over his face, wondering if he’ll never get the chance to tell you now. God, how he wishes he’d wake up.

This isn’t a dream, though, and he chokes on the deep breath he takes, the harsh scent of antiseptics burning his nose. Pickett remains in his pocket, aware that he can’t show himself in the presence of all the muggles around. The tiny creature pushes on Newt’s chest, though, a show of solidarity, of its own worry.
Newt brushes the pocket, eyes closing. “I know, Pickett. We’ll get through this.”

Even as he says the calming words, a surge of terror crashes through him.

The nurse at the front desk gives him a pitying smile. He doesn’t return it, just drops his eyes to the ground. The bright white of the tiles hurts his eyes and transforms the room into an unreal place, makes it seem more like a hallucination than reality. No matter where Newt looks, it all becomes the same. He’s trapped by white floors, white walls, white chairs, white everything.

Newt runs a hand through his hair and stifles another cry. You’d know exactly what to say if you were here, what joke to make about the color palette.

Merlin, he wishes you were here.

The white doors to his right with the heavy red words Do Not Enter – Authorized Personnel Only painted across them open with a screech.

Newt leaps to his feet as two doctors walk through.


Newt nearly falls to his knees at the word. You’re alive.

His relief is short-lived as the doctors’ stiff faces soften the slightest.

Not a certainty. Merlin, no.

Just a break— He can’t handle this.

More surgeries. Newt wonders if it’s possible for a person to just fall apart without a warning.

The nurse from the front desk leads him through a hall to meet you. Newt follows her without another word.

His mouth is dry, hands shaking, barely breathing as they show him to the door.

You’re inside on a hospital bed in one of the flimsy gowns, a collection of tubes twisting around one another leading to you.

Newt hardly notices them as he rushes to your side, gathering your hand in his. “Love, are you all right?”

But you don’t answer again, say nothing. Your eyes remain shut.

Medically induced coma. Trying to-

Newt stops listening as the tears he’s held back slip down his face. He presses a soft kiss against the back of your hand, eyes shut tight, trying to remember the way you looked moments before the incident. You’d had the most beautiful smile, eyes glimmering and a ringing laugh breaking through the room.

He’d almost said it then, almost told you, but stopped himself. It wasn’t the right time. You deserved a good story.

Newt kicks himself. Now it may be too late.

The nurse sets a white chair next to your bed, offering him some privacy once it falls into place.

Newt sits by your bed for the next hour, not letting go of your hand, just whispering to you, telling you about how much he loves, how much he needs you, how he wishes you’ll come back and be with him.

He can almost hear you tease him, call him ridiculous for worrying about your fate. “Why would I leave, Scamander? I have much more to get done before heaven gets me.”

He hopes that he’s right, that you’ll fight to get back to him.

Merlin, he certainly knows he needs you to.

Princess got far too hot a couple of days ago and started panting like a dog 😿I was really worried she was over heating so I put cold water on my hands and brushed it through her fur- she loved it and started purring. I figured she might lick off the moisture which would keep her hydrated, which she did. I also mixed water with some tuna so she got some extra liquid that way.

I lay down on the tiled floor because she always lays down nearby wherever I am and the tiles cooled her down as well. That worked well 👍

I kept on putting cool water on her so her temperature stayed down and brushing her so any excess fur could come out easily- she really loves being brushed. I already groom her every day but right now she is moulting so much it’s crazy, she needs extra help clearing the fur. I don’t want her to swallow too much of it and get sick.

She was sick twice the next day (although she doesn’t seem to have too much fur in her tummy 😊) so I took her to her vet, who checked her out and said I was doing all the right things so just to continue. She wasn’t dehydrated and has been fine since, so fingers crossed it won’t hit 32 again this summer!

When the sorcerer found the dragon, it was attacking a grape.

This was only possible because the dragon was not much larger than a grape itself, but she still had to do a double take to be sure the object it was fighting with such animosity was in fact inanimate.

She crouched so that her eyes were level with the top of the table and squinted at it. The dragon sank its tiny fangs into the grape’s skin and gave a great tug, succeeding only in throwing it and the grape into a backwards tumble. The tiny green reptile rolled to a stop with its whole body wrapped around the grape and shook its head ferociously, managing to pull its teeth out but also launching the grape across the table. It gave a mighty roar of anger (about as loud as a human clearing their throat) and stalked after it, tail swishing dangerously.

“Do you need help?” she offered.

The dragon froze mid-prowl and whipped its head around to look at her, looking so offended she almost apologized for asking.

“I mean, I could peel it for you, if that’s the problem.” She wasn’t sure it was getting the message. One could never tell how much human language these little creatures picked up by hanging around the magic labs. Some understood only such essentials as “scat!” or “oh fuck, that sure did just explode”, while others could hold entire conversations — if they deigned to interact.

This one looked like it was deciding whether she was worthy. Finally, it sniffed daintily and flicked its tail, scales clacking together. “Little monster is my prey, and you can’t have it. Found it first. Will devour it!”

“Oh, sure,” she agreed. “But you know it’s a grape, right?”

This was the wrong thing to say. It glared at her and then bounded away to the other end of the table, where it slithered up to the grape and pounced on it.

Grape and dragon promptly rolled off the edge of the table.

The sorcerer quickly went around to that side, alarmed that it would be stepped on. The labs were bustling with shoppers stopping by to watch demonstrations this time of day, and a small dragon wouldn’t be easily visible on the blue and green tiled floor.

“Horrible! Dirty!” The tiny dragon was screeching at the top of its lungs, holding onto its prey for dear life. It would have been hard to hear anyway, with all the noise of the labs, but with the sorcerer’s diminished hearing it took several seconds to locate the screaming creature.

She scanned the pattern of the tiles for it and sighed. “Oh, hold on, we mopped this morning.” She cupped her hands around it and deposited it into her skirt pocket, an indignity the dragon endured only with more screaming.

“An outrage! Put me down!”

“Shh,” she advised. Lab workers were strongly discouraged from bringing creatures into the back rooms, which was where she was heading, picking her way through the crowded front lab.

“Fuck pockets!” her pocket responded.

“Oh, you can curse. Wonderful.”

The dragon seemed to take this as an actual compliment. “Am multitalented. Can also compose poetry.”

“Really? Can I hear some?”

“No. For dragon ears only.” It sounded viciously pleased to hold this over her head. The bulge in her pocket rearranged itself, and she thought it might be trying to gnaw on the grape.

She felt herself smiling even as she tried to squash her mouth into a straight line. She liked this little bad-tempered thing, even though its spiky feet were digging into her thigh.

In the much quieter kitchen of the back rooms behind the lab, she transferred the wriggling, scaly handful from her pocket to the table. The dragon hissed out a few more insults as it got up and straightened itself out, but its jaw fell open when it finally took in its surroundings. She’d set it down next to the fruit bowl.

“There you go. Food mountain.”

The dragon’s shock didn’t last long. Abandoning the grape, it scraped and scrabbled its way up the side of the bowl and from there onto an apple, its claws leaving tiny puncture marks as it hiked to the top of the arrangement. “Food mountain!” It repeated, its gleeful crowing much clearer and almost sing-song without having to compete with the noise of the crowd.

She watched it turn in a circle, surveying the feast. “But… cannot eat it all,” it observed after a while, crestfallen. “Human-sized. Big shame.”

“Don’t you have nest-mates who can help you with it?” she asked. She had assumed not, from the way it had apparently been foraging for food on its own, but she needed to be sure she’d found a loner.

“No nest. No mates. No nest-mates. You’re rude.” It flopped down ungracefully, wings spread out flat on the apple like it was trying to hug the entire much-larger fruit.

She gave it a moment to be dramatic, and then offered it the grape, minus the peel. “You seem to have a good grasp on human-speak.”

It grabbed the grape without so much as a thank you. “Yes. Have composed poetry in both Dragonese and Humanese. Not for humans to hear, though.” Bragging cheered it up a little.

“You mentioned. I can’t hear very well, anyway.” She pulled up a stool and sat down. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a helper.”

“An assistant,” it said, apparently showing off its Humanese. “An attendant. An aid.”

She watched it bury its snout in the grape, juice dribbling down onto the apple it sat on. “Yes. A hearing aid. How would you feel about having a job?”

It smiled craftily. “Would feel positively, if job comes with chocolate chips.”

“It could,” she said, grinning. She had some friends who employed bird-sized dragons as messengers, but this was the first time she’d heard of one negotiating its salary for itself. “It certainly could. What’s your name?”

“Peep,” said Peep. “It is self-explanatory.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.”

Peep expressed its doubt that humans ever got anything, but she thought the tiny, prickly creature might be warming up to her.

The Houses as Nice Sounds

Ravenclaw: Rain pounding on the windows. Book pages being turned. The world underwater. A heart beating. The flutter as cards are shuffled. Piano music. The whisper of the wind.

Gryffindor: Fire crackling. A cat purring. The pop as a cork is removed from a bottle. Thunder. High heels tapping against tile floors. Birdsong. The roaring crescendo of applause.

Slytherin: Waves crashing against the sand. Fresh snow crunching underfoot. Whale song. Coins clinking against each other. Ice cubes in a glass. Old music. The silence right after a storm.

Hufflepuff: Laughter. Leaves rustling in the breeze. The soft murmur of a stream. Bumblebees buzzing. Stones skipping across a lake. Bubbles popping. The final note before a song fades away.

The Zodiac Signs as Objects

Aries: Boombox

Taurus: Bed

Gemini: Dances

Cancer: Paint

Leo: Glitter

Virgo: Tile floors

Libra: Moisturizer/lotion

Scorpio: Knife

Sagittarius: Basketball

Capricorn: Briefcase

Aquarius: Windchime

Pisces: Washing machine

My encounter with the sun god

Same group as Door Stealers and Tooth Enamel, and Teeth. I’ll just call our group the Emancipation Grid.

After spilling my guts on my tragic backstory on our way to rescue the elf queen’s soul from an infernal being, I ate a deepshroom to forget my troubles.

For those who are new to our antics or just need some clarification, a deepshroom is our version of an Amantia mushroom, and it’s a potent psychoactive drug. My character uses them to avoid disassociation. There’s a small chance that consuming one will let you talk to a random god.

Druid (me): I’m taking a shroom, (DM’s name).

(The DM rolls for effect)

DM: Oh, ok. (Rolls again for the god I’m getting, breaks down laughing)

Me: What?

DM: There was a 5% chance at talking to a god. There was ANOTHER 5% you’d get Solantres (our sun god, god of human creation, and chief of the pantheon). But you somehow managed to do it. So you eat the mushroom and your soul explodes out of your body and shoots into the sky. All anybody else sees is you collapse off of Ken. As you travel into outer space, you approach the sun, and see a spinning ball of silver magma, and shoot into it. You land face down onto a tile floor. When you look around, these things (points to some sort of angel thing that I can’t remember the name of) are drifting around, not really caring about you. There’s a large silver magma door to your right, and the magma flows upwards.

Me: Ok, well I’m super freaked out cause I don’t know where I am, but I collect myself and head to the door. I tentatively poke it.

DM: The door parts like a curtain, revealing an archway. Inside is a floor made of grass, about six inches tall. There are a few pools of water, and little cloud things drift about, occasionally drinking from the pools.

Me: Can I roll around in the grass and make grass angels, obviously being careful not to dig up any plants?

DM: Sure. You’re extremely happy and start laughing while you do this.

Rogue(ooc):Where the fuck is she?!

DM(ooc): In Herdracil’s garden. (In our world, Herdracil is the goddess of good, healing and death, and is rumored to be super scary. She and Solantres are married.)

DM: So after about five minutes of you making grass angels, you open your eyes and see an older, bald man standing above you, looking at you confused. He’s a high priest, and Solantres’s first saint, essentially.

Man: Who are you?

Me: I scream and start crying.

Man: Wait, no, don’t cry! This is a happy place!

DM: He does a couple of card tricks.

Me: I slowly stop crying.

Man: Thank you. What are you doing here, Elves go in a circle!

(In our world, elves essentially reincarnate forever instead of going to a heaven.)

Me, I’m still sniveling a little: I-I ate a mushroom, and I felt my s-soul explode, and I d-don’t know how to go back!

Man: Ah, deepshroom I presume? That means we have to go to Solantres and he can put your soul back into your body.

To make a long story short, I pet a 3 headed cat monster named Gizmo, and Solantres tentatively put my soul back into my body. He also prepared to blame my grass angels on Willis, the saint.

Leave A Message: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: AU, After a night of heavy drinking, Betty Cooper realizes she’s left a series of revealing messages on her crush and roommate, Jughead Jones’s phone. 

Words: 1,600

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, swearing, sexual dialogue but mostly embarrassing fluff. 

A/N: I’ve edited this myself so I apologize for errors. 

Betty Cooper’s head was pounding. She had made the mistake of going out with her roommates Cheryl Blossom and Veronica Lodge to celebrate the end of finals. Now she was sitting at their kitchen island cradling a cup of coffee, trying to figure out if IHOP delivered.

“Good Morning!” Cheryl sang as she skipped into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her luscious red was piled up on top of her head and her skin was glowing. She looked like an angel not someone who had partied hard the night before. “How are you?” She asked Betty.

“I’m so hungover” Betty groaned resting her head on her arms. “I’ve never been this hungover.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have done all those shots of Liquid Cocaine.” Cheryl chuckled and began taking out a few frying pans. “You want some bacon and eggs?” She asked.

“I do!” Veronica answered, her silk black robe trailing behind her matching her beautiful black hair. She walked up to Cheryl and gave her a soft kiss. Cheryl and Veronica had been dating since before they had left Riverdale and their relationship was goals.

“How are you guys not hungover?” Betty asked.

“We didn’t do three shots of tequila and then perform a Coyote Ugly style dance on the bar. You drank so much you should be dead.” Veronica informed.

“I wish I was dead.” Betty said sliding off her stool and laid on the floor. “The tile is so cold. I love the tile.”

“You’ve seen better days, Cooper.” Jughead Jones exited his bedroom from the other side of the loft and sat in the stool Betty just occupied. Jughead was Betty’s fourth and final roommate and she had developed a deep crush on him since the four of  them had moved from Massachusetts to California for school.  

Jughead had blossomed in the sunshine state. He had taken up surfing and gotten a tan, transforming himself into a ripped golden god. Whatever girls didn’t like about his moodiness in Riverdale, they loved here. Betty hated that she didn’t make a move sooner and now that he was bedding Californian goddesses, she knew she didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh god.” She muttered rolling onto her back. She was so dehydrated she could hear herself blinking. She focused on Jughead messy mop of black hair when he appeared above her.

“Up we go.” He said lifting her into the sitting position. “Take these,” he dropped two extra strength Advil in her palm. “And drink the entire glass.” He instructed.

She did as she was told and steadied herself against him when she stood up. “I need to go back to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.” Jughead agreed walking her back to her room. “Do you need to use the washroom?” He asked.

“I’m not a child, Jug.” Betty snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you not just rolling around on the floor moaning?” He cocked an eyebrow and helped her into bed. She got underneath the covers and he tucked her in. “Get more rest, you’re gonna need it.” He winked and left her room, closing her door.

Her brow furrowed at her choice of words but she was too tired to give it much more thought than that.

She woke up at 3 in the afternoon feeling much better. Still hungover but manageable. She stumbled out into the living room and found Jughead reading a book. “There she is!” He exclaimed. “I got more Advil out and grabbed some water. There is some left over Thai from lunch in he fridge if you are hungry.”

Betty grabbed the Advil, headed over to the kitchen and began heating up her food. Once the Thai was nice and hot she made way back over to the couch.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked not looking up from his book.

“Mmmm” She answered with a mouth full of food.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He questioned.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“So you don’t remember dancing on the bar?” He inquired.

She shook her head.

“You don’t remember leading the whole bar in a rendition of ‘Come On Eileen’?”

“How do you know this? You weren’t even there”

“Cheryl was sending me videos.” He paused. “Do you remember making a phone call?”

“It’s 2018, Juggie, no one makes phone calls anymore.” She rolled her eyes and took a gulp of her water.

“You sure about that?” He asked again.

“I haven’t spoken on a phone in like two years.”

Jughead took out his cell, began scrolling and finally pushed a button. He held it up so they could both hear it.

“Jughead, mother fucking, Jones.” Betty’s gravelly drunken voice rasped out of the phone.

Her eyes widened and she started choking on her food.

“You fucking idiot with your stupid hat and your stupid attitude and your stupid face like you don’t know how amazing you are. Well, I guess you kinda do now with that revolving bevy of girls in our apartment all the time. And what is wrong with me huh? I’m hot, I’ve had six guys hit on me tonight. Six!”

She heard herself yell through the phone and she buried her head in her arms. “No, no, no.” She repeated over and over again.

“I’m smart too and my personality is okay, so what’s your problem Jughead, huh? I’ve been told that my vagina is like, the actual best. Like, what do I need to do? I guess there is a possibility that you aren’t interested in me but I’m the tits so why wouldn’t you be.” She paused. “Another thing, you actual piece of shit-” She was cut off and he lowered the phone.

“Please tell me I didn’t call you back.” She asked, looking at him through her fingers.

He was smirking and she wanted to smack him. “That was the first of fifteen messages. My favorite was how you told me that you obsess over how big my penis is but it’s probably just normal size and that you should stop worrying about it because this isn’t a romance novel.” He chuckled.

She made a whiny, crying sound, her face burning hot.

He didn’t say anything like she expected. She expected him to tease her, she expected him to tell her that they were friends but their relationship wouldn’t be anything more than that but he didn’t. She felt his weight on the couch beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“Would it made a difference if I did?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of a big difference, do you know how you appear to others? Do you know how intimidating you are?” His voice was soft and sincere.

“What are you talking about?” She snapped, rubbing her temples.

“You’re beautiful, smart and funny. You make everything seem so effortless, you should date an architect or something.”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with architects?” She moaned, falling back into the cushions of the sofa.

Jughead sighed. “Betty, did you ever think about just asking me out?”

She threw him some serious side eye. “Oh yeah Jug, I’ll just walk up to you and be like, ‘Hey, I know we’ve known each other forever and I’ve ignored you for most of it but now that you’re all hot and dating models and shit, you wanna go out on a date?’” She scoffed.

“Okay.” He replied.

“What?” She sat up quickly, wincing when he head throbbed.

“I’ll go out with you.”

“Why? You date hipster girls who wear glasses they don’t need and are way too big for their face. You date girls who always look good in a romper, always have perfect Coachella hair and eat avocado toast everyday. I go days without showering, I’ve slept in the library more than once, I’ve dropped a McDonalds hamburger on the ground and still ate it because I had spent my last dollar on it and it was all I could eat for 17 hours until I got paid. Last night I threw up in my hamper-”

Jughead cut her off with a kiss. Betty was taken aback by the sudden gesture and it took her body a moment to relax and really accept what was happening. Betty had fantasized about this moment every night for months. What he would smell like, what he was taste like, how he would feel. He tasted like the cinnamon tic tacs he was always eating, spicy and sweet. He smelled like clean laundry, the sea and coconuts from using the girls shampoo all the time. Betty ran her hands through his hair bringing him closer to her. His body was hard and muscular and he pushed it against her, his skin warm and tan and so different from what she expected.

He parted from her, a smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Liar.” Betty whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Betty, I’ve had a thing for your since the ninth grade.” He admitted, kissing her again.

“Do you want to take this into the bedroom?” She cooed running her hands over his chest.

“No, Bets.”

Her head jerked back. “What? Why? You take all these girls to bed and not me?”

“Betty, you aren’t all girls, you’re the girl.” He smiled and kissed her again.

She smiled back. “Can you please, for the love of god, delete all the messages I left you.”

“Um, absolutely not, this shit belongs in the MOMA.” He took out his phone. “Prepare yourself for message number two.”

Pulse Part 10

Part 9

Genre: Light angst, fluff if you squint, mostly a filler
Words: 2,250
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Injuries, mentions of an aggressive stalker
Summary: Soulmate AU in which one’s heartbeat becomes perfectly in sync with their soulmate’s once they meet.

Originally posted by fuckyeahtonystark

“What the hell were you thinking?”

The words were out of his lips the moment the door had shut behind Peter. They were sharp, and his tongue stressed the curse word, caressing it in a way that drew your attention to his anger. It was obvious in his tone, in the tension of his jaw…

But his eyes told a whole different story. The blue in them, normally sparkling like seawater inspiring you to dive in, looked so dull. They had a panicked look to them now, but they also looked emotionally exhausted, as if behind his eyes, deep down in the core of his being, he didn’t have much left to give. He looked so tired, and the dark circles under his eyes proved him to be.

His shoulders were slumped forward, and he looked as if he were about to fall at any second. But as your eyes traveled toward his hands, you felt guilty, because they were trembling by his sides.

You knew he must have seen you notice because in the next second, his hands were balled into fists to stop the shaking and he was looking away from you.

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A History of Violence

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader - A/B/O

(part one of two)

Summary: You and Sam are a bonded pair with four children. You’re both interrogated by the police who are convinced that Sam and Dean are running a criminal enterprise.

This falls into the same AU as The Brown Bottle, Moonlight and The Derby

Warnings: Language, violence, murder, dom/sub overtones. mentions of: knotting, breeding, claiming, giving birth

Words: 3800+

Beta: The always wonderful @saxxxology

Your name: submit What is this?

The Raid

It’s just after one in the afternoon and you’re cutting the crust from a peanut butter sandwich. “Liam, you want jelly on yours?”

You son looks up from up his sea of building blocks with a grimace on his face. “No!”

“Alright, no jelly,” you confirm. His cheeks are pink, hair stuck to his forehead. The air conditioning broke two days ago and Sam promised to have one of his guys come by to look at it by tonight. “You look hot buddy, why don’t you come in here.”

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Tantalizing: 05

Originally posted by jikookfantasy

Tantalizing: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07
Ship: Jungkook | Reader
Description: Back in high school, you were nothing more than a nerd Jungkook wanted to deflower, to get a good fuck from. When he sees you at the club, though, things have changed drastically, and his dominance starts to teeter on the edge.
Warning: Sub!Jungkook, Sex Toys, Degrading Names, Choking, Spanking, Slight BDSM, Handjob, Oral, Orgasm Denial, Exhibitionism, Fingering, Gagging, Blinfolding, Slight Violence? Slight Angst?
Word Count: 7,599

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Midnight Talks Pt. Three || Peter Parker Imagine

Originally posted by juliechavira

Word Count: 1,322

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Part One     Part Two

He turned and smiled at you, “Hey Y/N.” As the two of you walked across the tile floor together, you started contemplating about inviting Peter to your house tonight. Reaching his locker,you built up the confidence to ask, “Do you want to, maybe, come over to my place tonight to study or something?”

The students in the hallway were quite noisy but all you could hear was Peter’s lovely voice. Not in a good way though. He froze. The girl of his dreams was asking him to hang out. Together. His hopes at spending time with you were quickly shut down as he remembered his new ‘night job’.

“I, I would love to but,“he said while scratching his neck,“I have that internship with Mr. Stark tonight-” He stopped when he saw you blush and look at your shoes. You took his pause as a chance to retaliate, “No, I,um, I get it. Priorities right?” You nervously chuckled, trying to lighten the mood as he just held the door of his locker. You were slowly backing away, wanting to leave the embarrassing situation.“I’ll see you around, Peter.” You turned around, fleeing to your own locker. Peter stood there at his locker, taking out his books. On the soon closed door, he leaned his head against the cool metal, regretting the mistake he just made.

You threw your backpack on the floor and jumped onto your bed face first. Laying flat on your face, you thought about the terrible day you had. You just cried. Rolling over onto your back you realized that nothing ever went your way. The tears kept streaming down your face before you sighed, not feeling motivated to do anything. You decided to wrap yourself in your blanket and sleep.

It was dark outside when you finally woke up. You went and ate your dinner before deciding to call it quits for the day. You practically crawled back to your room. When you got inside the room, you turned around to quietly shut the door. All of a sudden, a clothed hand covered your mouth which muffled your screams of terror and a hand wrapped around your waist. The person removed their hand from your waist to make you turn around. You then came face-to-face with your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He slowly removed his hand from your mouth, as he saw you no longer struggling against him.

You steadied your breath before speaking sarcastically,“Seriously, man? I thought we were friends.”

Spider-Man looked at the ground ashamed, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just, I didn’t want you to scream but, you screamed anyway so it was kind of pointless.” He was fiddling with his fingers. You sighed, “It’s alright, I was just shocked.” The two of you stood there for a minute before he broke the silence.

“I brought you flowers,” he said, pointing to the bundle of flowers that he placed on your bed. You smiled and walked over to get them. “Do you like them?” He asked as he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. You smiled wider as you started messing with one of the flowers, “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

He walked over to you and sat on the floor, leaning on your bed like the first time you met. You put the flowers back on the bed, bent down and sat next to him as he put his head in his hands sighing. “You don’t look so happy. What’s wrong?” You asked him sympathetically.    

“I have a crush on this girl, and she is just so amazing. But, I think I’ve ruined any chance I had with her.” He said with a low, sad voice, “I just don’t know what to do.”

You put your hand on his back to be supportive. “I know the feeling.”

Spider-Man quickly dusted of his sad emotions, “How was school?” He quickly composed himself. “Um,” you scoffed out of pity for yourself, “horrible. I think I ruined my friendship with Peter, had a surprise quiz in my least favorite class,and I didn’t have time to eat lunch because I was too busy avoiding my friends.” You were on the verge of tears again. You looked up, trying to keep the tears from falling. Spider-Man looked slightly shocked. The strong girl that he knew was about to break down.

He moved his body to a comfortable position where he could hug the sad girl. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist, for the second time that night, and placed his other hand to cradle your head. Small tears leaked from your eyes, which slowly started to soak his suit. You both sat there in a comfortable silence for a while, just in each others company.

You  started to pull away, making Spider-Man pull away too but he stayed in front of you sitting on his shins.“I want you to know, that you’re the highlight of my day, Y/N.  You motivate me to go out and keep helping people, everyday. Without you, I’d be lost.” He spoke with such passion and adoration , placing his hands on both of your cheeks.

You were confused. “But, w-we just met. How can I motivate you if-” before you could finish your sentence, he pulled back. The man looked deeply into your eyes before placing his hands under his chin, on the edge of his mask. He took a deep breath before peeling the mask off of his face.He kept his face down, but only for a second.

He looked up into your eyes. Your mouth was opened slightly, from shock. “Oh God,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. You glanced down at the mask in his hands before looking back up at him. “Peter, what- why- I, how the hell are you Spider-Man?” You asked still in shock.

“It’s a long story. But, everything I just said, I meant every word. You mean so much to me and, things would suck if you weren’t in my life.” Peter said, dropping the mask to put his hands back onto your cheeks. He looked deep into your eyes, and you could see that he meant it all.

“That’s why you said you couldn’t come over.”You chuckled. “I told Spider-Man, that, that I have a crush on you. I literally told you, oh wow. That’s kind of embarrassing.” Saying this made Peter laugh lightly. You enclosed your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. You felt his breath fan out over your skin. He leaned in closer, closing his eyes and tilting his head before crashing his lips down on to yours. His lips were soft, and the kiss was passionate.

The two of you pulled away to take a breath of air. “Wow,” he said, eyes slightly wide which made you laugh.

“Do you want to go out with me, maybe?” He asked with a wide grin. “I would love to Spider-Man.” You replied with a smile mirroring his.

The next day at school, you found Peter, standing alone at your locker on his phone. You smiled with a blush, remembering last night. “Hey.” You said approaching him.

He looked up from his phone to see you, putting the device in his pocket, “Hello gorgeous.” He greeted you as he pulled your hips towards him so he can place his lips on yours once again. He didn’t care that there were people everywhere, he just really wanted to kiss you.

Down the hall, Michelle and Ned stood dumbstruck. “I knew it,” the two teens exclaimed in unison as they saw their friends passionately kissing. Ned pulled out his phone and opened his camera. “What are you doing?” Michelle asked. Ned smirked, “Taking a picture to show their kids.”

tagged dudes

@wiccanjr @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @miraisnotavailable

All of the Universes

im sorry i havent written much lately, school is ending so teachers are being dicks and piling work on before finals

as an apology have this first part of a sickfic! im going to write multiple ending type things for each of the other characters! pls forgive me

Before the mission, Lance had woken up with a pressure behind his eyes and an ache in his bones that wore him out the moment he stepped out of bed. Still, he knew he had a duty to his friends before anything else, and thusly forced himself to move when the alarm went off, ignoring the protests his body gave him.

As they had pulled out of their hangars Lance felt the pressure in his head increase to a full on headache but ignored it nonetheless while Shiro told them the plan to free the prisoners at the base and blow the whole thing.

Each loop of his lion, sharp turn to change directions, and blast of light against him make his stomach do flips. It felt like all of his insides were threatening to come up through his throat. Swallowing thickly, he pushed on as he landed inside the Galran base and began to free prisoners.

One by one each cell was unlocked. “Okay, I need you all to go down this hall and follow it to the bay, there’ll be–” He swallowed again, a gentle, wet burp escaping him as he tried to keep his breakfast down. “There’ll be ships waiting to take you to the castle for evaluation.”

Soft murmurs of concern came from a few of them as they looked upon the clearly ill paladin, but many just ignored it as the crowd surged forward to their pickup location.

Pressing a hand to his mouth he felt more bile rise up his throat, and this time Lance couldn’t stop it. No amount of adrenaline could solve the queasiness of his stomach at the moment, and he doubled over while a wave of sickness passed over him.

Before he knew it he was leaning against the wall and retching onto the floor, acrid against his tongue. It brought more with it, and his gags continued for what felt like hours– but were only minutes– before he was finally able to stand straight again and catch his breath.

He contemplated just contacting Shiro or Allura and letting them know how he was feeling, but he didn’t want to waste their time or leave the prisoners vulnerable, so he instead just wiped his mouth with his sleeve and continued his duties.

As soon as all of the prisoners were loaded on their ships and the lions, they all flew back to the Castleship and boarded quickly.

Not long after, the explosives Keith and Pidge had been placing blew any evidence of the prison up.

“This way, this way.” He calls, gently leading one young alien, a Solan from the Fideon planet, he had learned, to the healing pods by pressing a hand to its’ back, a group following after them. Once they had all made their way to the med bay, Coran shooed him off to go clean himself up.

Exhaustion weighed heavy on his limbs as he nodded and trudged off to the showers, feeling a gentle throbbing at his temples as the adrenaline– the body’s natural painkiller– finally began to wear off. Not only that, but his nausea was making a comeback.

Everything hurt.

That’s all Lance had to say about how he was feeling. Pain was coursing through his achy limbs as chills ran up and down his spine, bare skin bubbling up into goosebumps where it met the air. Yes, he was freezing, yet sweat ran down his back and droplets formed on his forehead.

But Lance, being Lance, elected to ignore all these ‘simple’ warning signs (even his hurling in the Galra base), finish stripping, and step into the warm showers anyway. The hot water running over his skin felt nice, calming and grounding with all that had happened that morning.

A gentle groan escaped his lips, one of relaxation, but once his eyes opened pain pulsed through his head.

His head was throbbing, the light made it feel as if his eyes were being crushed in his own skull. Tears pricked at the edges of his swirling vision, hand darting out to support his weight against the wall.

Lance’s legs felt shaky and his heart pounded as he stood there, trying to get his body under control and get his head to stop reeling. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t catch his breath, and only aided in making him panic more.

Fear gripped at him as he collapsed to his hands and knees, staring at the tile flooring. The world was tilting around him as water continued to flow around him, clear but soapy. The feeling of sickness continued to wash over him in waves and the dizziness didn’t ease up, despite his attempts.

“Let me just… Let me just lay down… For a minute..” He murmurs to himself, soft, raspy voice echoing gently off the shower walls. His heavy eyelids fell shut as he eased himself onto the cool ground, hot water still running against his tanned and slightly flush skin, darkness overtaking him.

endings can be chosen by character once theyve been uploaded! i should have them up soon so dont worry

keith / hunk / shiro / pidge / coran / allura / other

Nothing Fancy

SPN FanFic

~Sometimes you gotta lock the bathroom door and get it on.~

Dean x Reader

1,027 Words

Warnings: NSFW, PWP, Dean Smut. Nothing more than plain ole’ smut. Beka style.

Feedback lets me know you want me to keep writing.

Originally posted by demondetoxmanual

“Just make it quick,” I muttered as Dean pulled me into the Men’s Room. He hadn’t even checked first to see if anyone else was around, but it didn’t seem like he would have cared if there was.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “Quick, right.”

“Seriously Dean,” I warned, watching as he threw the bolt on the bathroom door and turned back to me. “We don’t have time for this and I know you like to get all… fancy.”

“Baby,” he growled, licking his lips as he stepped towards me. “Ain’t nothing fancy about to happen right now.”

Before I could speak again, issue another warning or make a joke to the contrary, Dean’s hand closed around my left wrist, pulling me towards him with one firm tug. I fell against his chest, losing my balance, laughing slightly as I landed. My wine induced giggles were cut short when his lips took mine, covering my mouth with his tantalizing kiss. I opened to him in that moment, mind and body; no longer caring about the restaurant full of people on the other side of the heavy door, or the stresses of the case we were working. Everything fell away in the wake of his kiss. Every worry, every hesitation melted as his hot tongue swept over mine.

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anonymous asked:

can you do a daddy!dom!phil and dom!pj with bottom!dan? if you could have dan call pj something like sir that would be great too. Feel free to add anything

Yo I went a bit nuts with the “add anything”. Includes daddy!kink, exhibitionism, degradation , toys, fisting, double penetration, Dan being a little cock/cumslut jfc someone stop me.

Phil loves living with Dan, there’s no question about it. When it comes to roommates, Dan’s the full package; he’s Phil’s best friend, so he always has someone to talk to and play video games with, but he’s also his boyfriend, which means blowjobs and cuddles, too. He has all the other attributes of a great roommate as well – he cooks and cleans up after himself and always pays his rent on time. It’s very rare that they squabble and if they do it’s over something silly that’s resolved by the time they head to bed together. They’re perfect for each other, but the only problem with having such an incredible all-in-one human like Dan is that they tend to forget other people exist. It’s never on purpose, they just have a habit of getting caught up in their little life together and end up neglecting their other friends. That’s why, when Phil realises it’s almost been a year since they’ve seen PJ, he picks up the phone and invites their old friend around.

Another thing Dan and Phil don’t do as much as they used to is drink, so when the curly-haired 26-year-old turns up at their door, green eyes twinkling and right hand clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels, Phil knows it’s going to be an interesting night.

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