unedited btw

4

[ 9th February 2017 ] Honestly really feeling this spread bcos of the colour. The sunsets have been AMAZING here and you’ll find me outside my house at 7:30pm just admiring it.
Happy February!! 💙

Play for Me

It is the sounds of piano that draws Amélie to her practice room in Zurich, the dancer previously intent on staying away. It isn’t Gérard—he is away on Overwatch business again, and, honestly, he was never that talented. The doctor, Ziegler, can play, but not as elegantly and she refuses to on the base. It also isn’t Amari, her playing always dwarfed by her daughter, banging on the keys in their private piano lessons.

It picks at her brain until she cannot ignore the tune—she doesn’t know who is playing, but she intends to find out.

Whomever it is has locked her practice room, and Amélie tisks softly as she pulls out her key, letting herself in before locking the door behind her. From the door, she cannot see who it is playing her piano, but she can hear them, and she closes her eyes, listening as she breaths in and out, inhales and exhales.

For the first time in weeks, she wants to dance, and that is enough to make herself fall in love with the mystery player.

(Her marriage be damned—Gérard spends more of his time with his computer to the point that Amélie believes he may as while be married to his file on Talon, rather than her.)

She pokes her head around the corner, eager to see who is playing and to ask them if they would play for her, and gasps.

The music stops. The bench screeches as the player stands in a rush. A cowboy hat is clasped against their chest.

Jesse McCree stands behind the piano, looking around, looking anywhere but at Amélie.

She realizes that he’s looking for an escape, a quick way to duck out and hide and never speak to her or of this again. She realizes that she doesn’t want to let that happen.

“I—I’m sorry ‘bout that, Ma’am. I just never noticed the piano before and I wanted to try it out. I’ll just be leaving now and I’m sorry again—“ Jesse stammers, before freezing up as Amélie moves forwards, crowding his space and grabbing his shoulders.

“No! No, please, stay,” she says before her hands move to cradle his face. “I don’t have anyone to play for me while I dance, and I want to dance. Play for me?”

He nods, slowly, and only once Amélie steps back does he sit. Cracks his knuckles. Begins to play from the sheet music projected on the piano—The Firebird is one of her favourite performances, and she reaches over his shoulder and flips through the projected notes until she finds the score she wants.

It doesn’t take Amélie long to lose herself in the music, to fall back into her role as the Firebird, but once the music stops she is left gasping for breath, somehow exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. And she tells herself that is the reason that she kisses Jesse on the piano bench, even as she feels him freeze, even as she removes his hat and settles on the bench with him, even as she winds her fingers in his hair and pulls him in towards her.


Hours after entering the practice room, Amélie sits on the floor, fixing her hair, adjusting her outfit until everything is as it was. Jesse is sprawled on the floor, hands resting on his chest as he looks up at the beige ceiling.

It didn’t take long for the pair of them to abandon the piano bench, something she is sure both their backs appreciate, and after a few more minutes of fussing, Amélie pulls herself to stand.

“Will you play for me again?” she asks, the smile on her face one that could almost be described as wicked, and he pushes himself up with one hand to look at her.

There is a silence, one filled with the guilt that Jesse is trying to keep from filling his eyes and tinging his words, before he nods, tips his hat to her once he places it back on his head.

“Of course.”

Mine

Jealous!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Requested: “About your prompt list, maybe 2 & 32? idk it seems like they’d go well together.”

2. “Understand that you’re mine, and only mine.”
32. “You fucking branded me, I have hickey’s everywhere.”

A/N: Here is the request, hope it’s not shit. I just gotta say I love Bucky Barnes to no end btw. 

Warnings: unedited work, implied smut, cursing, etc.

Originally posted by luvinchris

“All you need to do it walk over there and talk to her. Easiest thing in the world at this point,” Steve said to Bucky, encouraging him to walk over to you at the bar. Bucky shook his head, his irritation level rising. He loved Steve like a brother, but man did he feel like punching him in the face right now. 

“No,” He grunted simply. He didn’t have to give a reason not to.

Currently, Tony was throwing a small get together between the Team and a few SHEILD Agents. After lots of convincing from almost everyone, they managed to keep the number of people invited to a minimum, much to a reluctant Tony. Steve was also determined tonight to get Bucky to spend some one on one time with Y/N. 

Bucky may have denied it many, many times, but it was not hard to see that he had a special attachment to you. Steve had spotted the many lingering [and suggestive] stares between the both of you when the other wasn’t looking. The way that your cheeks would flush red and a sweet smile would take over your lips while talking to him, it wasn’t hard to see you reciprocated the feelings. 

Keep reading

I started a Madi/Silver fic yesterday

Here’s a sneak peek.  

~

He exhaled a long breath before he leaned in, sliding a hand around her waist.  Madi expelled a heated breath of her own right before his lips descended onto hers.  The passionate way he spoke, moved, lived his life was translated into his kiss.  He wasn’t holding back, and she took it all, returning all of the fire and heat he was giving her.  He pulled her closer, molded her body to his as he angled his head to deepen his kiss.

Madi moved her arms around his shoulders, let her fingers toy with the tendrils of his hair and groaned.  He gently coaxed her lips open, nipped and teased with teeth and tongue so that she could give him entry. And when she did, the sensation of his tongue when it slid over hers was the sweetest thing she’d ever felt.  Madi felt warm, giddy, and under the spell of this man who elicited such pleasure from a simple kiss.

These are the only two couple poses I could find where Asha’s hair didn’t engulf half of Sage’s body lmao. But I dun cur, I got a pic of them together xD 

Unedit btw.

threat pt. 2 // peter parker

word count: about 4k

a/n: i didn’t think it would, but threat got an overwhelming response!! the tag list so long so (so sorry if i missed anyone!!) that’s so amazing and i love each and every one of you !! i hope you guys know this, and so many of you guys reached out to me! it makes me so happy to have y'all around <33 i hope part 2 is fun for you because i included a classic spider man villain :) and i have a few requests coming up next for you! btw unedited and warning for swearing and kidnapping themes

part 1

masterlist

__________________________

When you wake up, your head hurts like hell. Yeah, well, that might be from being knocked out with a piece of fricking metal. You try and reach up to rub your head, only to find out that your hands are bound in handcuffs behind your back. You survey your surroundings.

You’re strapped to a wooden chair, and a single lightbulb flickers above you. The light is too bright and hurts your head even more. Your feet are bound and there’s duct tape over your mouth. The rest of the room is too dark to see, as much as you strain your eyes to try. Your phone is no longer in your possession, judging by the empty feeling in your pocket.

How did you get here? You try and recollect your memories of the past few hours, but it’s a bit difficult. All you know is that you were knocked out with something. What day even is it? Did you do your laundry yesterday? You’re a little worried that you can’t find answers to these basic questions. You think you might have a concussion. It would explain why you feel a little nauseous, or why the light feels much brighter than it probably is. Or why you can’t remember, like, anything.

You do remember one thing. You put duct tape over your mouth once for the purpose of recognizing the Day of Silence, a student-run protest against LGBT+ youth being bullied at school. You also remember the tape being annoying as hell because the saliva from your mouth made it less and less sticky until it fell off.

So for the next few minutes, you spit at your tape as fast as your mouth can produce spit. It’s a disgusting process, but it’s a start to getting out of here. Slowly, the tape peels away. You try nodding and shaking your head to get it off faster. It finally falls to your lap. You move your mouth as close to your shoulder as possible and wipe away the spit.

Peter. You remember yelling at him and leaving to deliver more things for ‘Unknown’. But where did you go when you were done? How did you end up getting hit over the head? You wish you could see Peter right now, so you could at least apologize. Just in case something happens to you.

-

Meanwhile, Ned is doing his very best to calm Peter down. “Peter, I don’t know if this is a good idea -”

“Of course it is. She read all of the messages, dude. I know Y/N, and she would respond. I just…I have this gut feeling. I think she’s in trouble.” Peter hops on one leg trying to take his jeans off so he can get into his suit.

“Okay, okay, but slow down for a second! How about I try to find her through her phone first? Then you’ll see that she’s at home and she’s fine.”

He thinks about this for a second and sighs. “Fine. Fine. Hurry, please.” Peter pulls his jeans back up and sits beside Ned, bouncing his leg impatiently. Ned taps away on the computer for a few minutes.

“Uh…I can’t find her. She must’ve turned her phone off, or her phone died or something. It’s off the radar.” Ned glances up, looking a little apologetic. Peter looks like he wants to throw something. “I’ll keep working on it, though, so if you wait like ten more -”

“No,” Peter stands up and swiftly gets changed. He presses the button that makes the suit fit around his form. Ned watches in awe, as always. “I’ll just go check on her, okay?”

“Okay, but can I please, please try on your suit sometime?” Ned pleads, looking jealous as he eyes the suit.

Peter normally would say no, and would add something about how Mr. Stark gave it to him to beat up bad guys. “Maybe,” he said simply, sliding his mask on. Ned excitedly fist pumps, looking overjoyed at the idea of wearing the suit.

This makes Peter grin a little as he leaps out of the window.

-

Your legs are tied so tightly to the chair it’s beginning to feel uncomfortable. You can feel your feet losing feeling. You need to get out of here, and quickly, or else you think you might die. But how are you supposed to do anything? You hate feeling helpless.

You try to call out to someone, anyone. “Hello?” Your voice is groggy and rough, as though you were struggling against something earlier. Or you were punched in the throat, or something. It kind of hurts. Your voice echoes, though, giving you the idea that you might be in some kind of basement. As in, you can’t yell for help. Just your luck.

Your hands are tied directly behind your back, but if you even want a chance at escape, you have to somehow get them behind the chair to untie the rope. You struggle against the rope in an attempt to loosen it, but to no avail. “Come on,” you mutter, gritting your teeth as you try to move your arms. If you can just get it so that your arms are wrapped around the back of the chair…

Your face distorts in pain as your arms slowly make their way upward. Stretching your arms like this is starting to hurt your ribs. Almost there, almost there. Your rotator cuff begins to flare up in agonizing pain, but you push on, your forehead beginning to sweat.

-

Peter swings his way over to your apartment as quickly as he can. You left your window open, and for a moment, he sits on your window ledge in hesitation. “Uh, Karen, would going in her room be breaking and entering?”

“By legal definition, it would not,” the AI informs him.

“Great!” Peter hops into the room, starting to look around.

“It is, however, an illegal trespass, which is a misdemeanor crime. Misdemeanor crimes are generally punishable for one year or less in jail in addition to a five hundred dollar fine by the federal government,” Karen adds.

“Wh - Karen!” Peter exclaims.

“Yes, Peter?”

He sighs. “Five minutes won’t hurt, right?” Peter feels terribly guilty about it, but he reminds himself that this is for you. When he sees that no one is in the room, he checks the rest of the apartment. Your parents are downstairs, talking about how work went. He doesn’t hear your voice with theirs, so you must not be downstairs. He silently prays that they don’t look up. After all, there isn’t exactly a very good explanation for Spider-Man tiptoeing around their daughter’s room.

You’re not in the bathroom or any of the other rooms, so you must not be home. Now more worried than ever, he tiptoes back into your room to leave. Where in the world did you go? This whole day, you were acting totally out of character. Guilt twists his stomach a second time when he realizes that this is what you must have felt like recently. You didn’t know why he was suddenly being distant, and you didn’t know if anything was wrong.

In truth, it was because Peter was having a rough time. With D.C., and Liz, and then Liz’s dad, who actually turned out to be a freaky flying vulture guy that was out to get him…well, things got busy. It was difficult. Whenever Peter needed to vent to someone, he always turned to you. But he couldn’t tell you about Spider-Man. That was the one thing he had to hold in, or talk to Ned about. Whenever you asked to hang out, he ended up being busy, as much as he wanted to drop everything for you.

And now, he faces the very real possibility of losing you. As he thinks about places in the city where you might be, something catches his eye.

He turns to look at your bulletin board, which is filled with pictures and memoirs. Pinned in the top left corner are a small collection of Polaroids. It’s you and him, long ago. You’re both wearing matching sunglasses in the shape of stars and laughing at the camera. The next picture is Peter, trying to drag you back into the frame. Underneath the picture is your handwriting in blue marker: “pete being a cute idiot”. A heart is beside his name. Peter slides off his mask when he sees this. The final picture is just you, silly glasses sitting on your head as you give the camera a supposedly intimidating look. You’re clearly trying very hard not laugh.

For the longest time, he stands there, eyebrows drawn together as he stares at the picture of you. That was the night that he leaned in for a kiss in the photo booth. You were so surprised that you pulled away almost instantly, eyes wide as plates. Peter remembers how he fumbled for words, stuttering out apologies and saying something about not even knowing what came over him. He went home feeling terrible that day, having a feeling that you wouldn’t want to be friends with him anymore. But you did. You continued talking to him, and he fell even more in love. And although he still felt his heart strings tug every time he looked at you, he decided to ignore it. Because you were his best friend above everything else, and your friendship was enough for him.

Gently, he unpins the picture of you and takes the picture. Just in case he ever even begins to lose motivation. He turns away again and glances at your desk to find more pictures. Expecting them to be more cute pictures of memories you and him shared, he moves closer. He’s instantly horrified by what he sees.

-

Slowly and painfully, you manage to get your arms around the back of the chair rather than behind your back. You stay still for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Your shoulder is screaming in mind-numbing pain, and your ribs are aching. You don’t know how long you’ll have until whoever tied you up comes back, so you hurry. You run your fingers over the knot as though trying to figure out what kind of knot it is. You don’t know anything about knots, but you play around with it a little, trying to picture it in your head.

So if you try and loosen that piece of the rope, wait no, that just made it tighter. The other one, maybe? “Ow!” You exclaim as the rope around your stomach begins to press into you.

You tread a little more carefully from there. Your fingers are cramping up, but you think you almost might be done. After about fifteen minutes, you exhaustedly pull one last string. The rope is untied and your torso is free. You sigh in relief, but you still have plenty to do. How are you going to get your legs free?

-

On the desk are photos of you. The surroundings are indistinct, but you’re pinned to the wall, a hooded figure pressing a knife to your neck. You’re wearing the t-shirt that you wore today, so it must’ve been taken sometime today. You look scared out of your mind. Peter swallows, eyes widening slightly. How did this happen?

Your phone is right beside the photos, unlocked to reveal a chat with ‘Unknown’. He picks up your phone and scrolls through the conversation until he gets to the top. He reads everything; the threat that something would happen to Peter if you didn’t comply, your pleading for his safety, and all of the instructions. Don’t speak to him again. It all makes sense now. Why you didn’t respond to his texts, why you were so angry with him. And how you know he’s Spider-Man. And it was all in hopes that nothing would happen to him.

Peter can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Who the hell is he dealing with? Is it another Vulture? Somebody knows who he is, but how? Ned wouldn’t tell anyone, and you didn’t know until ‘Unknown’ sent that picture to you. Nobody else knows about Spider-Man’s identity. He’s scared, but even more so because you’re on the line. What if something is happening to you and he can’t do anything about it? What if you’re lying somewhere, bleeding to death?

Your phone dings with a new message. Peter jumps, before he realized it was just a text. He scrolls back down to the bottom.

Unknown: Want her back? Come get her yourself.

‘Unknown’ sends an address, presumably your location.

Unknown: Clock’s ticking, Peter.

Peter ran to the window and flung himself out of it, the picture of you still with him.

-

You struggle for several minutes, trying to come up with a plan. Finally, an idea pops into your head. You lean forward as far as you can, making the chair tip over. However, you didn’t anticipate one thing. Your forehead hits the floor at full force, and now you’re seeing double and your head somehow hurts even more. You groan loudly. Great, more cranial damage. But you’re still conscious, so you make the most of it.

After awkwardly shuffling like someone trying to do The Worm for a few seconds, you manage to get your cuffed feet above the rope that was binding your calves to your chair. You eventually get yourself out of the chair. You lay on the cold ground for a few seconds, relishing the feeling of blood returning to the bottom half of your body. “Holy shit, I did it,” you whisper to yourself.

Now, about these handcuffs.

You sit up and move across the floor on your knees to try and find the keys to your handcuffs. You go into the dark, letting your eyes adjust. There are tables on two ends of the room. You take your chances and head left. After some knee shuffling that is sure to give you permanent knee problems, you get to the table. There is a single key there, but it’s far away from the edge.

You move so that you’re sitting on the ground with your calves beneath your thighs. You set your hands on the ground and, with some difficulty, push yourself up so that you’re squatting instead. From there, you’re able to stand up. God, finally. You lean over the table, obtaining the key between your teeth. Your intention was to drop it by the edge of the table for easier access, but instead it drops to the ground. “Fuck!”

Reluctantly, you lower yourself back to the ground and try to unlock the cuffs on your feet so you can walk to the other table. It doesn’t work. Your try your handcuffs instead. The lock clicks and the cuffs open. They drop to the ground and you rub your wrists. You stand up, wondering how you’re going to get to the other end of the room. Carefully, you do a handstand and begin gradually moving. That gymnastics class did come in handy after all.

Halfway through, you start getting tired and give up. You end up unceremoniously penguin-walking to the other table. You grab the key and get on the ground to unlock your feet. The lock clicks, and you’ve never felt more accomplished. You stand up properly, stretching. You’re suddenly hit with the overwhelming pain that you pushed away until now. You’re pretty sure you tore your rotator cuff, and your ribs still hurt. But above everything, your head feels like someone pressing into an open wound. You feel a little dizzy.

Footsteps pound down the stairs, and for a moment, you’re scared. And then a familiar figure walks up. It’s Peter! Well, he’s in his suit, but it is him. Your first instinct is to run at him, wrapping your arms around him. Huh. He feels a little…weird. Did he get taller? And why was he just so weird about hugging you back? You shake it off and smile. “Hi,” you breathe.

“Hi, Y/N.” For some reason, he doesn’t take his mask off.

“Hey, why don’t you take your mask off?” So I can kiss you already. You reach up to take it off, but he stops you.

“I will, when we get outside,” he says quickly. Uh…okay then. You’re just glad he’s here, with you. “Speaking of which, let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah,” you say, never wanting to step foot in this basement ever again. You begin to leave with him when more footsteps pound down the stairs. You stop in your tracks when you see someone else in the Spider-Man suit standing there. Are you hallucinating? You blink again, mind reeling. How can there be two of them?

“Y/N!” You hear the same voice, but more excited, just the way you would expect Peter to say it. “And…what?” He looks equally surprised to see what appears to be a copy of him standing there.

“Who the hell are you?” Peter 1 demands.

“Who the hell are you?” Peter 2 says. They sound exactly the same, it’s so confusing.

What happens next is quite possibly the coolest thing you’ve ever seen. Both Peters launch themselves at each other, getting into a brawl. There can’t be two of them, that’s for sure. So one of them is fake. They seem to have forgotten about you momentarily, so you get an idea. You grab the cuffs and keys laying around, ready for when you need to cuff one of them.

You watch them. Peter 2 furiously shoots webs at Peter 1, who furiously dodges them. Does Peter 1 not have powers? Wow, Peter 2 is really good at fighting for someone your age. He must get a lot of practice. You try and shake these thoughts out of your head in case he turns out to be the fake.

Peter 2 hops onto the ceiling with ease and jumps at Peter 1. All Peter 1 is doing is dodging, that’s so weird. Maybe he’s the fake? You wait for an opportunity. But the real one wouldn’t exactly leap into a fight like that. So is Peter 1 the real one?

This is too confusing. Finally, Peter 2 surprises Peter 1 and flings a few webs at his face. He stumbles back. You pause for a moment, hesitating. Should you…?

Something drops to the ground from Peter 2’s pockets. Wow, you didn’t even know the suit had pockets. It’s a picture that you recognize instantly as the one on your bulletin board. The first thing the real Peter would do is make sure you weren’t home, so it would make sense. You make a quick decision and run at Peter 1 from behind him. As hard as you can, you kick him in the back. Caught off guard and unable to see anything, he drops to the ground. You swiftly cuff his hands behind his back. Peter 2 runs over to help you. He makes sure that he stays down as you cuff his legs.

You didn’t even realize how intensely your heart was hammering until now. You look at Peter 2, who’s already staring at you. You glance at Peter 1, writhing in protest. Suddenly, you remember.

You were standing in the alley way waiting for whatever was coming as your final instruction when you were hit over the head and knocked out. You woke up in some kind of car, but as soon as someone noticed, you were knocked out with a one handed choke hold. That’s why your throat hurt so much.

Peter 2 rips off Peter 1’s mask to reveal…not Peter. Someone else’s face. You don’t recognize him, but you’re kind of pissed off. This was the guy that did this to you, you’re sure. So you return the favor to him and wrap your hand around his neck. Thumb on his windpipe and your other fingers on the back of his neck, you press.

You successfully knock him out and sit back. You didn’t think that would actually work. Wow. You and Peter stand up, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. You gaze at him, and then you pull him closer. His arms wrap around your waist, and you slide his mask up to reveal his mouth. That’s definitely Peter.

You lean and kiss him, slowly at first. He kisses you back, and suddenly you’re both kissing like there’s no tomorrow. You gently pull off the rest of the mask, unable to resist a smile. You feel him smile against you, and you know. You know that you’ve both wanted this since last time.

“Peter!” A familiar voice calls. You instantly jump away from each other, looking at who is standing there. Or rather, floating.

Is that… “Iron Man?” You exclaim.

Peter gives the suit a look. “No, that’s not him. It’s just an empty suit.”

“B-But it has his voice. How?” You’re utterly confused. Peter doesn’t get a chance to answer.

“Peter, I’d love to hear your explanation for why you didn’t tell me about this.” Even through the suit, Stark sounds condescending.

“Well, Mr. Stark, I, uh…I just didn’t think about it. My best friend was in trouble and I…just sort had to do it,” Peter tried to explain as the suit moved around to survey the scene.

“Mhm. So you kiss your best friends. You kiss that Ned kid, too?”

“N-No! I…yeah, I don’t have an excuse for that one,” Peter sighed, running a hand through his messy, sweaty hair. Your cheeks flush.

“What were the ropes and the chair for?” The suit turns to look at you, and for a moment, you don’t realize that he’s talking to you. Tony Stark is talking to you! You! You try to contain your excitement.

“Oh, uh, I was kind of strapped to the chair with cuffs, and I got out of it just before Peter got here. I mean, the other guy. Not the real Peter.”

“Hm. I’m impressed. You’re quite the Houdini.” TONY STARK IS IMPRESSED WITH YOU!!!!!

You swallow and smile, unable to form proper words.

“Wait, I know this guy. This is the Chameleon,” Stark sounds surprised, kneeling and inspecting his face. “He caused me and a few other Avengers a lot of trouble a while ago…You two really knocked out the Chameleon?”

Peter grins, and you find yourself doing the same. But then he frowns for a second. “How did this Chameleon guy find out who I am?”

“He doesn’t. Or else he would’ve used that to his advantage a long time ago. I’d say he had someone else working for him that did know,” the suit shrugs.

“That must be Unknown…” you trail off, and Peter nods. “Speaking of which, Pete, how’d you get that picture of me without breaking into my house?”

Peter gives you a sheepish grin, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “According to my suit, it wasn’t breaking and entering because you left your window open. It was an illegal trespass…?” You can only laugh a little at this. Given the circumstances, you’re not that mad about it.

“Well, then. Someone is really starting to look like they’re ready to be apart of the Avengers,” Stark’s suit stands up.

“Wh - really? Holy…thank you so -” Peter begins excitedly.

“No, no, not you, kiddo. I’m talking about this one.” The suit turns to look at you, and you both just start laughing at how deflated Peter looks.

________________________

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Break Ups and Being Cliche || j.j.

this is my first riverdale imagine lmao. tell me what you think about it. :) unedited btw lmao -r

Warnings/Contains: fluff i guess lmao, cursing

-

“So, it’s almost a week…” Veronica said slowly as she fiddled with her fingers, not knowing what to say.

You nodded your head, forcing a smile to your face. “Yeah,” you said. “Time flies so fast, doesn’t it?”

Betty looks at you uneasily, not sure if you three should talk about this topic. You and Jughead had recently broke up a week ago as mentioned. You two are still friends and planned to keep that way. No more, no less. You two have broken up in good terms, wanting to be happy. But you were never happy after the break up. You only forced the smile and laughter, not wanting to cause drama.

“Y/N,” Betty said. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Of course, Betts.” You smiled at the blonde. “We’re still friends, at least.”

Veronica sighed. “You don’t have to keep it all inside.” Veronica said, frowning. “No one ever got in to a break up without being sad.”

“Jughead.” You simply answered and sighed.

Veronica and Betty shared a look. The clad crowned beanie boy was actually pretty whipped or swoon as Veronica would say but you actually did not know that.

You were the first girl he ever trusted with everything, the first girl he ever loved. Everyone thought it was obvious; Jughead denied it but he knew that everyone knows.

“You don’t know that,” Betty said as she frowned.

“Yes, I do.” You sighed. “He was the one who broke it off, alright?”

You heard the bell irrupted into its signature sound, causing you to look up and see the boy you were just talking about to Betty and Veronica.

“I have to go,” You mumbled as soon as you saw Jughead slid into his booth.

You slid off your seat and walked to the door, not bothering to greet Jughead as you pass by him. You pushed the door open and went out.

“Clearly, she is not happy about this.” Betty said with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Veronica shrugged. “We have to do something.”

“I miss the old Y/N that brings smiles to everyone’s faces.” Betty said, sighing and Veronica nodded.

“Let’s do this.”

And so they called Jughead’s best friend, Archie. The two told Archie about their friend and Archie said the same thing about Jughead. All Jughead did was write and write and write, not doing anything but write. Barely touching food. So the three planned on getting the two back.

First step: Make Jughead drunk.

They weren’t so sure about this plan, but they sure do hope that once Jughead was drunk he wouldn’t stop talking about the girl and couldn’t help but go to her house.

The following day is a Saturday so it’s more than perfect. Archie went up to his room where Jughead is, typing his feelings out.

Jughead heard the door open but he didn’t bother looking up and kept on moving his fingers as they press the certain keys of his keyboard.

“Hey, Jug.” Archie greeted.

“Arch.” Was all Jughead responded at the red head.

“Um, wanna take a day off from your imaginative world there and go clubbing?” Archie asked.

“No time.” Jughead mumbled.

“Why? It’s Saturday.” Archie said, shrugging.

“Working.” Jughead said, still not taking his eyes off his laptop and kept on typing.

“C'mon, Jug. Don’t your fingers hurt?” Archie said and Jughead shook his head.

“Sorry, Arch. Nothing will make me go clubbing. You know that I’m not into those stuff.” Jughead said.

“Fine.” Archie sighed. “But Jug,”

Jughead hummed in response, not taking his eyes off the screen and kept on typing.

“I’m really worried about you.” Archie said and Jughead shrugged.

“Why?”

“All you did was type in your laptop ever since you broke up with her.” Archie said and Jughead stopped typing.

“And what is that suppose to mean?” Jughead asked, looking at Archie.

“Everyone knows you’re pretty whipped at the girl. I think, you should go talk to her.” Archie said, shrugging and left the room.

Jughead sighed, shaking his head and continued to type. There was nothing to be sad about; he was the one who broke it off after all. But no one truly knows why he even broke it off with her. Only him.

Archie went down the stairs and picked his phone from the coffee table at the living room. He opened his phone and opened the messaging app, typing a message to Veronica.

No luck. Bring alcoholic drinks later, pretty sure dad won’t be here later.

Archie sighed. Really worried about his friend not knowing what to do anymore. But he won’t give up, this is for a friend and he’ll do this.

-

Later that night, the doorbell rang at Archie’s house, signalling Betty and Veronica are here. Archie ran to the door, opening it.

“So, you got it?” He asked.

“Yeah, everything’s settled. We just have to get Jughead off of his laptop.” Betty said.

“I’ll do it.” Veronica smiled.

Veronica handed Archie the alcoholic drink, going inside then straight to Archie’s room where Jughead is. And for the first time that week, he wasn’t on his laptop; he was actually on his phone.

“Jughead.” Veronica called and Jughead looked at her.

“Hey there.” He said and returned his eyes to whatever it was that’s in his phone.

“C'mon downstairs, we’ll hang out.” Veronica said, smiling.

“No thanks. I just rather not.” Jughead said. “Sorry.”

Veronica walked up to where Jughead is and snatched his phone, making him stand up. “Downstairs, now.” Veronica said with a smile. “We miss you, ‘kay?”

“Will I get my phone back when I hang out with you guys?” Jughead groaned and Veronica only nodded. Jughead sighed, snatched his beanie at the floor and placed it at his head and went down. Veronica softly threw his phone on the bed and saw the a girl popped up on his phone as his wallpaper. You. She picked it up again, wanting to know what he was doing and she started to dig up the stuff that was in his phone. His gallery’s contents was only you.

Veronica sighed before slowly throwing Jug’s phone softly at the bed and went down the stairs to join her friends.

“I invited Kevin, he’s on his way.” Betty said, smiling. Jughead was sat beside Archie and was actually not paying attention.

A few minutes later, Kevin got in and they started drinking. Archie had convinced Jughead to drink a few. But a few got into a lot. And by a lot he is now wasted as fuck.

And the broken boy could only talk about is her.

Archie, Betty and Veronica were a bit satisfied and the only thing they’re waiting is for Jughead to say he wants to go to her house.

“And then, that’s it.” Jughead said drunkenly. “I just woke up one morning feeling she’s not happy anymore.”

Jughead sniffled, resting his elbow on the table as he rested his temple on his hand. “Betts, Kev and Ronnie,” Jughead sighed. “How about you three tell me why isn’t she happy with me anymore? Is it because I can’t be Archie?” He asked, pointing at his friend beside him who is looking at him worriedly. “Dammit, that is it.”

As Jughead said those words, he slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Betty asked.

“To Y/N’s.” Jughead said and left the house, going all the way to the girl he once called his girlfriend before everything went to shit.

“Will he manage?” Veronica asked and Kevin shrugged.

“He will.” Archie said.

Jughead went straight to your door steps, knocking on the door loudly.

You, upstairs, was still lazy to go to sleep so you lay down, thinking about some stuff. The minute you heard the loud knock— banging actually, on the front door, your heart leapt. You were scared, so you ignored but after a few minutes, that someone started banging on the door again but this time with full force.

You stood up, walking downstairs. You looked through the peephole and sighed in relief as you saw Jughead. At least it wasn’t a killer.

You opened the door and Jughead was clearly drunk.

“You’re drunk.” You stated, looking at the boy who still wore his beanie.

“I don’t care.” Jughead mumbled, glaring at you.

You sighed, grabbing his wrist. “Come inside.” You said and pulled him in then close the door behind you. He almost trip to his feet, but luckily you caught him. You placed him on the couch, running to the kitchen to get him some water.

Jughead sighed, as he laid head over the top of the backrest, thinking about some stuff.

You returned from the kitchen and placed the glass of water on the coffee table, looking at Jughead.

“Why’d you got drunk?” You asked him quietly.

“Archie, Betty, Veronica and Kevin wanted to hang out and they brought some drinks and I got drunk.” Jughead mumbled.

“And they sent you here?” You asked softly.

Jughead shook his head. “I went here by myself to ask you why weren’t you happy with out relationship.” He mumbled, shifting on his position to get comfortable.

You looked at him curiously.

“Mm,” Jughead hummed, looking at you. “That reminds me. Why weren’t you happy with our relationship? Wasn’t I good enough? Were you in love with Archie? Were you going out with someone else behind my back?”

It hurt the way he said those words. Did he really not know that you were so in love with him?

“Jughead, gosh, I—”

“You what, Y/N? You did not know I felt that way? You were in love with me? You thought I did not care? Bullshit, Y/N.” He said, standing up to face you. He glared right at your eyes. His eyes full of anger and hurt. “That’s fucking impossible, everyone in town that Jughead Jones the Third was in love with the Y/N Y/L/N. Two different worlds that could never be.”

You sigh, frowning letting him speak.

“Is that why you don’t feel the same way as I do? Because we’re two different worlds. Everyone knew me as Reggie would say, spooky, scrawny, pathetic internet troll, smug, moody, serial killer fanboy freak. Everyone knew you as the perfect girl that everyone wanted. Is that why? What, Y/N?” He snapped, his eyes full of tears by now. He was really angry at this time but you don’t want to talk about this. You are not ready and you doubt you will ever be.

“Jughead, you’re drunk.” You stated.

“Oh, no. I’m pretty sure I sober up and I’m thanking the other four they made me drunk or else I’ll never be here finding answers.” He said, letting the tears flow freely.

“Jughead, please.” You pleaded, grabbing his wrists but he slapped your hands away.

“Did you just use me for making the jock jealous? Did you just agreed to be my girlfriend just so the jocks—”

“The jocks! The motherfucking jocks! What’s your problem with them?!” You yelled, cutting Jughead off. “Why are you so fucking insecure of the jocks?”

“I don’t know, maybe because when we were still together you could leave me for any of them in just a snap of their fingers!” Jughead shot back.

“I don’t care about the damn forsaken jocks, I want you!” You yelled, grabbing his jacket with your fists as you closed your eyes, letting the tears flow. “You don’t get it, do you? I am so fucking in love with you and ever since you called it off, I couldn’t live with myself knowing I did something horrible to you.”

Jughead sighed, letting more tears go. “I broke up with you because I felt you weren’t happy anymore. The first few months has been hella happy and suddenly when I woke up it felt like you weren’t happy anymore.” Jughead mumbled.

“I wasn’t happy but not because of our relationship.” You said, sniffling. “It was because of a family problem. It started a few weeks before we started and it was getting worse until you asked me out, for the first time in weeks I felt really happy. You were the only light in the dark and I got too happy and I forgot about the shitty home life and I just… focused on us about being really happy until one day it got really really really worse and everything fell apart for me.”

Jughead held your hands to his lips, kissing them.

“I’m so sorry, Jughead.” You said, sobbing softly.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Jughead asked softly, brushing the tears off your cheeks with his thumb.

“You have a lot going on with your home life and… I just… wooh.” You said, chuckling.

“I’m so sorry for giving up so easily on you, darling.” Jughead mumbled and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“What the fuck?” You said with a laugh. “Did you just call me ‘darling’?”

“Way to ruin a moment.” Jughead says, laughing as he wiped his tears off. You laughed, removing his hands and did it yourself instead since you just wanted to.

“Fine then, let’s be cliche.” You said, laughing.

“Fine, just for one night.” He said with a joking groan.

“Hey, you started it.” You laughed and got your phone, playing the stripped version of ILYSB by Lany. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around your waist. But instead of dancing and all those shit, you embrace him instead.

“I love you so much, Jug.” You mumbled. “I’m so in love with you.”

Jughead sighed, kissing the side of your head. “I’m in love with you too as well, baby.” He said and you chuckled. “What?” He chuckled.

“I’m just not used to it.” You said, “You know, with you calling me pet names.”

“Then, get use to it because I’ll be doing it every now and then, sweetie.” Jughead said, laughing.

“You’re so cheesy.” You said, laughing lightly. Jughead pulled away a bit and looked into your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

You chuckled. “Wow, you ask permission to kiss me but not when you call me pet names.” You joked and he laughed. “Of course, you may.”

He pushed a strand of hair to the back of your hair, looking into your eyes before leaning and closed his eyes as he closed the gap, his lips meeting yours. You closed your eyes as you kissed back.

“We’re so fucking cliche.”

honestly wtf is the pilot
(this is an actual unedited clip btw for those of you who have yet to see it)
like John smiling up at a moonlit, batman-style silhouetted Sherlock who he just met a day ago
and the music really
like that’s the actual track
they didn’t not air this pilot because they were testing things out, they didn’t air it because it was too gay

Close [Bucky Barnes]

Summary - You’ve been part of the Avengers for awhile now. You got along well with everyone else except for Bucky.

Side note - this probably won’t be too long so i apologize in advance. I was listening to the song, ‘close’ by Nick Jonas featuring Tove Lo and was inspired to write this (this wasn’t requested lmao) unedited btw but yeah, enjoy!

Warnings - Swearing and making out??

+

The gravity between you two was different; Bucky was attracted to you and vice versa. You made him feel something and that was what scared him the most.

He kept his distance, struggling to control himself around you. Every time your eyes would meet, it would tantalize him. They would haunt him at night, creep into his thoughts and crush his poor heart.

As much as he resents pushing you away and acting virulent towards you, whenever you tried to talk to him, he had to do it. Bucky does not trust himself around you.

He could snap your neck in a flash or push you up a wall and take away your innocence. It was better to stray away from you.

But tonight, he just couldn’t help himself anymore.

He was all alone, staring at the New York skyline, a drink in his hand. Though, he was quite hostile towards you, this never really pushed you away. You kept coming back to him for some reason.

“Excuse me.” You flashed the man you were conversing with a smile and quickly sauntered over to Bucky’s side.

New York looked stunning as always. Scintillating lights, tall towers and bustling streets. It was home to you, but not so much for Bucky.

“You look lonely.” You chirped. His muscles tensed, and the grip he had on his glass grew tighter at the sound of your voice.

Bucky was silent, blazing eyes stared straight ahead. “Looks beautiful, no?” You inquired in attempt to start a conversation, but as usual he shot you down.

He peered down at you, dark eyes glaring at your figure. “Don’t talk to me.” He sneered. Usually, this was your que to run away with your tail in between your legs, but you’ve had enough.

The raven haired man stormed away from you. “Damn this man.” You whispered.

You trailed closely behind him, fuming. He stepped out into the empty hallway, away from the sea of people.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” You growled. Bucky abruptly turned around, jaw set and eyes blazing with aggravation. “Quit following me!” He snarled.

This frightened you a little, but you composed yourself and glared at him. “You’re so infuriating!” He threw his arms in the air, an annoyed sigh fleeing his plump lips.

“I’m infuriating?” You scoffed. You rolled your eyes and crossed you arms across your chest. “Well, so are you!”

“What do you want from me!” He roared, his head starting to blaze with rage. If he doesn’t leave right now, he’s going to regret it soon.

He fled the other direction, but you swiftly caught up to him. You caught a grip on his steel arm, yanking him back. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.” You bark.

This sent him on the edge. All his control was drained and he pinned you to the wall, breathing down your neck.

Bucky broke.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath. His eyes found yours. There were so many emotions dancing in them, but you couldn’t distinguish them all at once. “You drive me insane.” He admitted, lips pressed against the skin of your neck.

Your whole face flushed crimson at his revelation, hands pressed against his lean chest and your lips parted.

“Yeah right.” You murmured. “You don’t understand.” He shook his head, sorrowed eyes lowering to the ground and explained, “You scare the hell out of me. I threaten your safety. I’m rogue.”

“I don’t want to get too close, Y/N.” He sighed.

Your heart clenched at his words. Tender fingers hooked beneath his chin, nudging it slightly. “Look at me.” You said. He hesitantly looked up, bashful eyes staring into yours.

“Don’t be afraid.” You advised. His gaze wandered down to your lips and flickered back to your eyes. You closed the distance, slotting your lips in between his.

There was a weight that lifted off his shoulders. Maybe this what he needed to do in the first place, trust himself.

His hands carressed your sides, pulling you closer to his body. You pulled at the flesh of his lower lip, a smile forming on your face.

You kissed him deeply while he held you tightly. He wanted you close, he didn’t want to let you go, not anymore.

Bucky grasped your soft thighs, wrapping them around his torso. He left your flushed lips and trailed his kisses down to your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive flesh.

A giggle flew out of your lips as he bit down on a certain spot. His lips found yours once again. This time, you kissed slowly and passionately. Savoring each taste.

Tony stumbled into the hallway, but none of you noticed. A wide grin graced his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He chuckled, retreating back to the party.

Large Potted Cactus: a RENT fanfic

Totally ridiculous Collins/Angel fluff. In which Angel is a 911 operator and Collins is a dumbass. Featuring a large potted cactus.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“Uh, I’ve been handcuffed to a large potted cactus.”

Angel nearly drops the phone. “I’m sorry sir, could you repeat that?”

“I’ve been handcuffed to a large potted cactus.”

Angel considers banging her head against the wall. When she took the job as a 911 operator, she figured it would be pretty easy. “What service do you want?”

“Whichever one you think can free me from being handcuffed to a large potted cactus.”

Angel curses under her breath as she clicks a button. “I’m sending an ambulance your way.”

“I dunno if an ambulance is gonna cut it. It’s a pretty large-”

“-potted cactus, I know,” Angel interrupts. “So what should I do instead?”

She can practically hear the guy on the other end thinking. “Uh, a saw? I don’t know. I just really don’t like being handcuffed to a-”

“Large potted cactus,” Angel finishes automatically.

“Yeah.” There is a moment of silence. “Hey, thanks for not thinking this was a prank call and hanging up.”

“No problem. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How the fu- frick- do you manage to get handcuffed to a large potted cactus?”

There is a long silence on the other end. Finally, the man admits, “I’m not sure.”

Angel looks at the phone, forgetting for a second that the man can’t see her confused expression. “How are you not sure? I mean, you think you’d know if you were being handcuffed to a-”

“Large potted cactus? Yeah, I know. I got drunk last night and woke up this morning in a block I don’t remember going to, massively hung over and handcuffed to a-”

“Large potted cactus!” Angel finishes.

“Yep. Hey, is that ambulance gonna be here soon? My arm is getting sore and people are looking at me funny.”

Angel checks her screen. “ETA is in twelve minutes, based off current traffic patterns. And of course they’re looking at you funny, you’re handcuffed to a-”

“Large potted cactus!”

Angel giggles. “This is starting to sound like that old Abbott and Costello routine. Third base!”

The guy laughs. “Hey, 911 operator who sends ambulances to lost hungover guys and references classic comedy and refrains from swearing on the job and has a cute laugh, what’s your name?”

“Angel.”

“Mm, an angel indeed.” If Angel wasn’t blushing before because of the comment about her laugh, she is now. “An angel of the first degree.”

“All I did was send an ambulance to you. Anyone could have done that.” Angel suddenly realizes she has neglected to ask this man’s name. “What’s your name?”

“Collins. Tom Collins. And I swear, I don’t usually do things like this. Well, I ran naked through the Parthenon once, but-”

Angel can’t resist laughing. “I kind of wish I had seen that.”

“What, me naked?” Angel blushes again. She’s done that a lot this conversation. “It was a sight to see, let me tell you.”

“No. Well, sort of. Mostly just someone running naked through the Parthenon. Everyone’s reactions, if the cops show up-”

“They did. I got arrested.” Angel giggles again.

“So, Angel, is this the weirdest 911 call you’ve gotten?”

“Once a person called because his drunk friend had shoved a Wii remote up his butt.” There’s a long pause on the other end.

“You’re kidding,” Collins finally says.

“Yeah, I am,” Angel admits. “You’re my weirdest call so far.”

“I have a legacy now. You’ll never forget me. The guy who called because he was handcuffed to a-”

“Large potted cactus!” They shout together.

“Hey, I hear the ambulance!” Collins announces.

“Good, because my shift ends in two minutes,” Angel tells him. “Which reminds me, can I get the address you’re at right now?”

Collins gives it. “Why? The ambulance is really close, Angel.”

“I know,” Angel replies, shoving her stuff into her purse. “I want to see you being removed from the-”

“Large potted cactus,” Collins finishes. “And the least I can do is take you for coffee afterwards. That is, if you’d like to?”

“I’d love to.” Angel stands up. “It’s a date. See you in five minutes.” She hangs up the phone and darts out of the building. She’s got a coffee date. And a de-handcuffing from a large potted cactus.