why do none of you speak it

okay but just imagine sirius being quidditch commentator/gossip queen
  • ‘just letting everyone know that gryffindor captain james is very single and very ready to mingle if your name is lily evans’
  • ‘jones is no doubt slightly distracted by the fact his girlfriend cheated on him, sorry ‘bout that mate’
  • ‘no eliza i will not ask remus out for you’
  • ‘if flemming was as good at flirting as he is at blocking goals then maybe he wouldn’t have been rejected by dorcas meadowes last week’
  • ‘benjy stop laughing and start playing you’re not as funny as you think you are’
  • ‘to the person who asked if emmeline vance had a boyfriend i’m just gonna tell you now you’re not good enough for her’
  • ‘excellent beating from lockley there, managing to nearly knock out turner whilst maintaining that perfect hair, how does he do it?’
  • ‘yes professor this is all highly important informatio… no it’s not nonsense…. look now you’ve made me miss a goal’
  • ‘lily evans says she’ll go on a date with james potter if he scores thirteen times - don’t smirk you bastard you’ll never do it’
  • ‘gryffindor’s daley has seen the snitch! oh wait he’s lost it. now daley was it you i saw trip down the stairs yesterday?’
  • ‘and turner passes to west who passes to samson who - drops it. its important to note none of the ravenclaw chasers are speaking to each other, i don’t know why, only that it involves a bottle of firewhiskey, a game of truth or dare, and west’s pet cat’
  • ‘dorcas meadowes would like it to be known she rejected flemming because she has no obligation to date someone just because they think she’s hot’
  • ‘update on the james and lily situation; james has scored eight goals and lily has now got JP painted on her cheek’
  • ‘if tom denvers can afford the new nimbus then he can bloody afford to pay me the four galleons he owes me’
  • ‘gryffindor now lead 140 - 70, peter pettigrew really needs gryffindor to win or he has to pay lois knight ten sickles and then he won’t be able to buy me a birthday present’
  • ‘if ravenclaw would hurry up and lose so we can start the party that would be great’
  • ‘party? i don’t know who gave you the impression there would a party tonight professor’
  • ‘of course i’m sure, professor, i would know if there was a party happening tonight. i can assure you there isn’t a party in the gryffindor common room at seven-thirty pm. if there was though i would tell gideon prewett to bring his own bloody firewhiskey this time because i’m not paying for his ridiculous drinking habits’
  • ‘oh james scored again, him and evans are both smiling far too much if you ask me’
  • ‘yes marlene i did say seven-thirty pm. what do you mean you’re busy?’

anonymous asked:

What if humanity is the only one ridiculous enough for homophones in their languages. they're so impractical and confusing why this

(This short is brought to you by the wonderful and amazing @pomrania who’s graciously offered to help me answer the backlog of asks. Please have a look at her blob! You won’t regret it)

“English is a confusing language!”
“Truth.”
“Why did people from England, of all the places on your planet, decide that two words should sound the same but mean completely different things?!”
“Um. Well. You see, it’s not just that one language….”
“What.”
“There’s only so many sounds that we can make, after all. Of course some words are going to end up sounding the same.”
“There is no ‘of course’ about it! And I’ve seen tables of speech sounds across various human languages, you have enough different ones to avoid any confusion!”
“So your languages don’t have any words that sound the same?”
“If they do, it’s because they mean the same thing, just in different contexts! None of this… ‘BARK’ nonsense!”
“Hey, 'bark’ makes perfect sense. You’re never going to run into a situation where you won’t know which is meant.”
“But it… why… it shouldn’t even be like that in the first place! And you said MORE languages have that as well?!”
“I can’t speak for all of them, I only know a bit of Spanish, but, yeah. Seems to be in every human language, from what I’ve heard.”
“WHY?!”
“Why not? And I guess it means that puns are a lot easier.”
*alien headdesks*

Fight (Fuck) Me! [Stiles x Reader]

A/N: just a little heads up, Theo’s a complete dick in this one. Also, if u guys have any ideas for stuff plz let me know.


Pairing: Stiles x Reader, Theo x Reader


Warning: abusive relationships, asshole Theo, smut (female fingering, oral - male receiving, the deed etc)


Summary: You and Stiles aren’t the best of friends, but you know he’s a pretty decent guy in the end.


***


“Are you fucking serious?” You yell out in shock and hear Stilinski irritable ‘Shut it!’ from halfway across the house. You can’t be bothered with how you’re dressed when you stomp over to him, holding out your bottle of moisturizer.


“Stilinski!” You shout and Stiles groans loudly. He’s lounging on the living room couch playing Xbox and dressed in a tight white shirt with some black jeans.


“What are you bitching about now?” He asks, not bothering to look away from his game. Your mouth drops open in shock at his lack of response and you stand with your arms crossed.


“I’m talking about this, you assfuck!” You scream, throwing your now ruined bottle at him. Stiles finally looks away from his game when the sticky, half open bottle hits him square in the chest. He holds it away from himself with two fingers.


“The fuck?” He asks, looking up at you. You stare him down, seething with anger with your arms crossed under your breasts.


“You!” You accuse. “You did this! And your gonna repay me for it. Do you have any idea how much that shit costs?”


You and Stiles have been living together for about three weeks now. Your dad and the Sheriff are close friends and you needed a place to stay while your dad was out of town on business. Immediately, he sent you to Beacon Hills, where you would attend Beacon High, and unfortunately, have to live with the Sheriff and his asshole son.


Only, that asshole son was a total fucking babe.


A total fucking babe that was staring at you with his mouth agape.


“What?” You snap angrily. It is only then that it occurs to you what exactly you look like. Your hair and parts of your body are dripping wet, having just walked out of the shower moments earlier, and the only thing covering your modesty is your hot pink Victoria’s Secret bra and thong, which you were wearing for a date tonight.


Stiles continues to stare at you, and makes a considerable effort to maintain eye contact. You huff, which you know makes your chest flair out. “Take a good look, Stilinski, coz that’s the closest you’re ever gonna get.”


With those final words, you grab the moisturizer bottle from his hands and storm back into the shower, temper flaring. You can feel his eyes on your ass all the way.


When you’re in the bathroom, you lock the door and make a quick decision to look extra fuckable tonight. You’re sure that Theo will appreciate your efforts. And if you slip back into the shower and spend thirty extra minutes with your fingers in your pussy, thinking of the hungry look in Stiles’ eyes moments earlier then it’s nobody’s business.


****


When you do finally emerge from the bathroom, you can’t help but feel a little proud. You’re wearing a tight white top that dips into a considerably low V with a red mini skirt that falls halfway down your thighs. Your hair is done in a way that you know makes you look gorgeous and your makeup, having taken about an hour to do, is fucking on point.


You walk to your temporary room and rummage through the closet the Sheriff gave you until you find a pair of brown, heeled boots. Slipping them on, you walk to the mirror and admire the way they elongate your legs.


“Hey, you done or not coz there’s-”


The voice stops short and you turn to see Stiles standing in your doorway, mouth agape. He’s staring at you as though he can’t believe what’s in front of him, and you take the opportunity to reach down to grab your bag and get your perfume, ass in the air.


“What is it?” You ask, flipping your hair to the side so that you can spray your neck. From the corner of your eye, you can see the way Stiles follows the movement, licking his lips. For a second, you think he might just pounce and attack you right there.


It’s difficult to ignore the wave of desire that courses through you at the thought.


Stiles finally snaps out of his daze when you place the perfume bottle down loudly. He clears his throat awkwardly and pretends that he hasn’t been outright staring. “Your, um- Your date’s here.”


You nod and grab your purse, slinging it over your shoulder. As you turn to leave, you notice that Stiles is still leaning against the door frame. “Yes?” You ask, albeit impatiently.


“How long’ve you been with this guy?” He asks, going for casual but it’s a near miss. You roll your eyes.


“None of your business, dad,” You reply pointedly, making a move to push past him. Stiles is quicker and stronger, so he easily stops you with two firm hands on your shoulders.


“I’m serious, (Y/N),” When he speaks you realise that he actually is. “Who is this guy to you? Do you trust him?”


There’s a long moment when you truly don’t know what to do. For the most of it, your conversations with Stiles have been clipped and short, or irritated and in the form of shouting contests. You haven’t heard him speak this sincerely before.


“Why?” You ask because you honest to God want to know. Stiles looks contemplative, as though he’s not sure whether or not to tell you something. The moment a decision crosses his face, a loud honk of a car is heard outside.


“Just-” Stiles sighs, and you notice that his hands are still on your shoulders. “Just be careful, alright? If there’s one person in the world that I don’t trust, it’s Theo Raeken.”


After a small nod, Stiles moves out of the way and you brush past him, walking out the door to where Theo is waiting in his car. You barely realise what’s going on around you, your mind still reeling from Stiles’ sudden attitude change.


“Do I smell?”


You jump at the sound of the voice. Looking to your left, you see Theo smiling at you gently. The car’s stopped and you realise that you’ve spent the entire ride to the restaurant in silence.


“I’m sorry?” Because there’s no way you heard that right.


“Do I smell?” He asks again and you shake your head. “Maybe it’s the outfit. A bit much?”


You smile and take a second to look at what he’s wearing. Theo cleans up nice. He’s in a blue button down with a pair of black slacks and some Oxfords on his feet. He looks really good.


“You’re incredibly hot.” You say with a smirk and Theo barks out a laugh. He steps out of the car and moves to your side, opening the door for you before you can’t protest.


“You’re pretty hot yourself, babe,” He whispers in your ear as you stand, one hand smacking your ass before he closes the door.


Your eyes dance around the restaurant and suddenly you feel really bad for the car ride. Mistaking your guilt, Theo walks you towards the table with a hand on the small of your waist, murmuring in your ear: “Don’t worry. The manager owes me a favour.”


He pulls your chair out for you and you sit, feeling a slight blush form on your neck. The table is set for two, in the balcony with no others. It’s completely private. There’s a rose in the centre and the classical music from inside filters through the air.


“This is really sweet.” You tell him when he takes his place in front of you. He smiles bashfully.


“Well, we needed some way to celebrate out one month anniversary.” You grin but can’t help but feel extremely guilty, thinking about how you’d spent the morning.


“Hey, what’s your deal with Stiles?” The words are out of your mouth before you can’t stop them. The smile on Theo’s face falls and immediately you regret it.


“My deal?” He asks, and immediately you know that you’ve crosses a line. In your four weeks of dating, you quickly learned when and when not to question Theo, and when to immediately back away before he gets mad. “What gives you the idea I have anything to do with him?”


“Nothing.” You say quickly, picking up a menu. “He just seemed to recognize you as all. Must’ve been my imagination.”


“Yeah, you really need to put a handle on that.” He murmurs, picking up his menu as well. You pointedly ignore the comment and take far longer to read the menu than you normally would have.


“Good evening.” The waiter, a guy who’s probably around 19 with brown eyes and combed back blonde hair, greets gently. “My name is Evan and I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to hear out specials?”


You were about to say yes, because you really didn’t know what to order, when Theo spoke for you. “That won’t be necessary.” He said. “I’ll have the Steak platter, extra gravey. Babe?”


“Chicken Burger with fries.” You reply, because that seems simple enough. Just as Evan is about to write it down, Theo interrupts.


“You sure?” He asks, his voice casual but still implicit. He reaches under the table and tugs slightly at your love handles, and you go red. “Make it a Greek salad.”


Evan gives you a look, and you can see that the man is barely containing his disgust at your boyfriends actions. “Greek salad.” You confirm. Evan gives a slight nod, though he looks slightly troubled, before picking up the menus.


“Anything to drink?”


“Coke.” Theo replies distractedly, looking down at his phone.


“Ice tea.” You say, and Theo raises a brow. “Diet.” You quickly add, and are rewarded when Theo shoots you a dazzling smile which you can’t help but return, albeit hesitantly.


Evan nods and gives a beaming, fake smile. “Anything else?”


“No.” Theo says, but Evan doesn’t move. You look up and see that he’s waiting for your answer.


“No, thank you.” You smile, and Evan returns it. It looks a little more genuine, if a bit pitying and you quickly look away before Theo gets mad. Evan tell you two that the meal should take only 10 minutes, 20 at the most, before disappearing back into the hotel.


“I don’t like the way that guy was looking at you.” Theo says, and you clench your vista in your lap to help keep your composure. “Got no right to be looking at my girl like that.”


You can’t help but smile. Despite everything, Theo is very possessive of you, and it honestly makes you feel like he genuinely cares about losing you. It’s also the reason why you could never leave him. He made that pretty clear.


“I love you.” You say gently, and Theo smiles, reaching a hand across the table and taking yours.


“I love you too.” And his voice is too sincere to doubt. “I should ask for another waiter.”


“That’s-” You pause. “Isn’t that a little unnecessary?” You can see Theo’s eyes darken and fear tinges at your fingertips. “I mean, we came out here to have a good time. We don’t need any drama.”


“Course you’d say that.” He says, eyes still dark. You want to pull your hand away from his, but he’s got a tight grip on your wrists and it fucking *hurts*. “Bet you’re loving all this attention they’re giving you. The waiter, the Stilinski boy. You’re a little slut who’ll open her legs for anyone who asks nicely enough. Babe, you need to realise something. They only want you because they know they can’t have you. They’re just trying to challenge the Alpha Male - me, and I won’t let them think I’m weak just because you can’t keep your tits to yourself. Understood?”


You look down to hide the tears streaming over your cheeks. No reply comes from your mouth, because you know that it’ll be choked and wet and Theo absolutely hates seeing you cry.


“Answer me!” He slams your joint hands on the table and you wince. You look up and try to contain yourself when you speak.


“I understand.” Your voice is barely above a whisper and Theo smiles.


“Good.” He says. “Now wipe your face. You look like shit when you cry.”


***

You try your damnest not to make a sound as you open the front door with shaky hands. Despite your best efforts, you and Theo still got into a fight, and he showed you as much mercy as he had all previous nights.


The fight (which had been about Stiles, of all things) hadn’t lasted very long. You weren’t very edger to fight back, your guilt from your earlier interactions with the guy still weighing down heavily upon your chest. Theo had misread it, and seemed to think there was something going on between you and Stiles. Words were yelled and punches were thrown but you walked out of it okay. Safe for a mean looking bruise on you jaw, which would blossom into a deep purple mark tomorrow, and a few cuts and scrapes, you were untouched.


You knew, however, that despite this being one of the better nights, your injuries would not go unnoticed by Stiles or the Sheriff, which was why you had waited until all the lights were out to try and get in.


Without much thought, too tired and in too much pain, you push the door open and make a b-line for the kitchen. Immediately, you pull out a bag of something frozen and stick it on your cheek, rummaging through for some ice cream.


“What the fuck?”


You jump at the sound of the voice. Almost immediately, your hands fly to your face as a defence mechanism, but it isn’t necessary. It’s just Stiles.


Stiles, standing there in nothing but some black shorts with a baseball bat in his hands.


“Umm.” You say stupidly because the sight of Stiles’ abs has rendered you as such. Stiles drops the bat and walks towards you, looking concerned.


“What are you doing?” He asks as he walks to you, eyes brimming with worry. “It’s three in the fucking morning.”


“Ice cream.” You say lamely, but Stiles isn’t listening. His eyes are glued to the packed of frozen peas in your hand that you’re trying to hold against your jaw and wrists at the same time.


“What happened?” He asks, slowly pulling the bag of peas away. You prepare yourself for the look of disgust on his face when he sees the injury, so it’s very unexpected when he looks even more concerned.


“I fell.” You lie easy. Stiles doesn’t look away from your injuries, now choosing to inspect your wrists, which are bruised all round and is bleeding in a small area.


“I’m not stupid.” He says, and you’re shocked by the sincerity in his voice. “I know Theo did this to you. I know he’s the reason you’ve been coming home with bruises all month long. What I don’t know is why you haven’t said anything about it.”


You wince as Stiles prods your jaw gently. He looks contemplative, but eventually settled for sitting your down at the kitchen table. “Wait.” He says, then runs off. You resist the urge to scream.


This wasn’t supposed to happen. No one could know what Theo was doing because they could never understand. All they would do is judge you for not leaving, and give you pitying looks all the while thinking that you must’ve done something to deserve it. No one understood, least of all Stiles.


“Here.” You look up to see Stiles, hand stretched out with a bucket of ice. Confusion clouds your features and Stiles gives you a gentle smile. He puts the bucket down on the table and brings your right hand towards it, pushing it in.


It’s extremely cold but also soothing. You sigh gently as your wrist is finally given the attention it deserves. You’re about to thank Stiles before he leaves, only to find that he’s not leaving at all. He’s kneeling next to you and opening what looks to be a first aid kit.


“That’s not-” You try but Stiles silences you with a look.


“It’ll help.” He says. “I promise.”


The older boy opens a jar of sorts and the smell of herbs drifts to the air. He dips two fingers into the salve and gently brings them to your face, applying it to the spot with the utmost caution.


“It stinks.” He says. “But it’ll reduce the swelling. Give me your wrists.”


You oblige deftly, raising your bruised wrists from the tank of melting ice to where Stiles is kneeling half-naked next to you. He drys your wrists off with a kitchen towel before applying a rather thick layer of the salve onto your wrist, massaging it gently.


“Better?” He asks in a whisper as he stands, after five minutes of comfortable silence. Suddenly, you are pulled back into the real world and are faced with the truth. You had just shared this moment with Stiles, with the guy you had screamed that you hated at your boyfriend before he punched you in the face. Theo would be pissed, so fucking pissed, but you would deal with that tomorrow.


“Much.” You say, and make a move to stand, but you’re unsteady. You’re feet wobble in your brown heels and Stiles quickly wraps his arms around you, stabilizing your body before you fell.


“How bout something to eat?” He asks, “I mean, you could go to bed like this and all, but for some reason I don’t think you’ll wake up in the morning.”


“Bet you’d love that.” You say, feeling some of your wit returning. Stiles smiles.


“Nah.” He says. “Then who’s gonna be there to falsely accuse me of stealing moisturizer?” You laugh loudly and Stiles smiles. “Um, there’s a 24 hour pizza place a couple of minutes away. We could go there.” He suggest and you shrug, realizing how close you are. You pull back.


“Hey man, it’s your town.” You say and Stiles nods.


“Eddie’s it is, then.” The two of you stand but you hesitate, looking down at your outfit.


“Give me one second.” You say and run up the stairs into your bedroom. For a moment, you wonder if you should dress up but ultimately decide that it’s not worth it. You swap out your skirt and top for a pair of sweats and a baggie t-shirts, and your heels for your beat up converse. You grab your phone as you walk down, pulling your hair from it’s tangles and into a messy bun.


“I look like shit but who’s gonna see?” You ask when you walk back into the kitchen. Stiles looks at you laughs.


“You look beautiful.” He says, and grabs his car keys. You eyes widen.


“Aren’t you gonna put something on?” You ask as Stiles stand in front of you, still wearing nothing but a pair of black shorts. He shrugs.


“It’s hot.” He says simply, walking out the door. When you just stay right where you are with your mouth agape, he pops back inside. “You coming or what?”


“I’m gonna regret this,” You say as you follow him out the door, noticing that he left behind his baseball bat. As you walk out into the front yard, you see Stiles in his blue Jeep, looking far too excited for a midnight drive for pizza. “Yeah, I’m definitely gonna regret this.”


The ride to Eddie’s, as Stiles had called the place, is filled with stupid small talk and light arguments. (You think that Batman could win in a fight against Iron Man. Stiles strongly disagrees) The two of you listen to crappy music and Stiles sings along at the top of his voice, which you realize is actually pretty good, and you join him. Soon, the two of you are laughing after having belted out the final notes to Smashmouth’s 'I’m a Believer’ in the Eddie’s parking lot, while people look at you like you’re mad.


“Oh my God,” You say breathlessly, wiping the tears from your eyes as you clutch your stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a worse butchering of a Shrek song in my life!”


Stiles laughs, loud and free, and it’s like music to your ears. “I think that guy in the ugly Mini would agree with that.” He says though a new burst of laughter and you look to your right to see a very disgruntled looking man in a piss green mini looking at the Jeep and it’s occupants like it was something he stepped in.


“Fuck off!” You scream through the window and throw the finger at him. The guy, despite probably bring in his mid twenties, looks positively insulted and immediately get in his car and leaves. Stiles bursts out laughing.


“You know,” he says. “Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch at the start we could’ve been friends much sooner.” He smirks when he says it, and you can feel Stiles’ eyes raking over your form.


“Friends?” You ask, keeping a sultry edge to your voice. “Is that what we are?”


Stiles smirks, and you take the moment to fully appreciate him. His skin is stretched taught over his muscles and you love the way the dim light of the parking lot reflects off of them, making him look all kinds of delicious. His whiskey eyes are dark with lust, and you notice the way his pupils are huge and a vein sticks out slightly from his neck. You want to lick it.


“Let’s go.” You say and promptly step out of the car, taking a deep breath. You really shouldn’t, not after Stiles had seen you so emotional and vulnerable, but you can’t help it. He’s a fucking babe, and you want nothing more than for him to pound you like there’s no tomorrow.


Stiles follows out after you and the two of you walk into the place together. You know you must look like a pair if drunk lovers, with your faces flushed and your attire being what it was, but right now you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.


He leads the way, taking you to a booth that’s on the edge in the centre of the Pizzeria. The place is mostly empty, safe for an elderly woman who’s out with her husband, giggling like teenagers. You grin at them. Stiles walks around like he knows the place well, and doesn’t even pick up a menus when he sits down.


A lovely middle aged woman walks up to you two a few minutes later, and you’ve decided on your order. The woman, Delores as her name tag tells, smiles broadly when she approaches.


“What’ll it be, sweetie?” She asks, sounding cheerful. Stiles turns to her, offended, and for a second you think he’s gonna yell before a broad grin swipes across the woman’s face.


“Sweetie?” He asks, “Lola I’m offended. Whatever happened to hottest ass in town?” You snort at that and the woman gives you a wink.


“Don’t worry babe. You’re still the sweetest piece of ass I know.” She says, laughing. “I just didn’t want your girlfriend over here to get jealous.” Stiles looks at you, grinning and licking his lips, looking all kinds of sexy and adorable.


“I’m not the jealous type.” You say and he laughs at that. The waitress, Lola as Stiles had so lovely called her, grins broadly. You and Stiles stare at each other from across the table, each challenging the other to look away first.


“Now now,” Lola interrupts. “No eye fucking just yet. Lemme first get you order.” You look away abruptly, going red and Lola laughs good-naturedly. “Okay, so usual for you?” She asks and Stiles nods. “And you, sweetie?”


“Give me the greasiest, most carb filled pizza that you guys make.” You say, looking at Stiles and wondering for a fleeting moment if he’ll object or look at you with disgust. Instead, he just raises an impressed eyebrow.


Lola laughs. “Your girl’s a keeper.” She says to Stiles.


“Damn right she is.” He replies, softer, looking deep into your eyes. There’s a moment where you know that you have a choice. You could correct him now, you could stop this by simply looking away or saying no, but you don’t.


“Best believe it.” You murmur, but by the way Stiles smirks slightly, you know he’s heard you. Lola offers you both two large milkshakes, she says it’s on the house but Stiles will pay for it anyway, and walks off, looking entirely too satisfied.


“I used to come here when I was little.” Stiles says, looking around the place. “My dad would drop me off here coz there wasn’t anyone at home and I was too small to stay by myself. Lola would babysit me, stuff me with junk food and all kinds of shit an eight year old wasn’t supposed to be eating. She’s practically family.”


You nod, smiling slightly. “She seems nice.” You say, then think again. “Wait, she seems really nice. Why is it that she likes you again?”


Stiles scoffs, offended. “I’ll have you know that I am perfectly likeable, thank you very much.”


You smirk. “Yeah, that’s why it took me a whole month to warm up to you.”


“No, no, see that’s different.” He’s smiling, oh so softly and it makes your insides flutter. “See, I had a plan with you. It was all set to schedule. If everything goes on track, you’ll be falling in love with me by the first day of summer.”


“Is that right now?” You asks, sitting up a little straighter. Stiles smirked slightly, and you know that he can see down your cleavage. “How’s that working out for you?”


He bites down on his plump lip before licking over it with his tongue. You want nothing more than to jump across the table and bite said tongue, but you refrain from doing so. “Great.” He says, leaning his forearms on the table. Suddenly, his face is right in front of yours and you can see the lust in his eyes. “In fact, I think tonight might be the night.”


“Oh really?” You ask, sounding disbelieving but the husk in your tone gives you away. “What makes you think that?”


Suddenly, Stiles is leaning over the table and pulling you in close, so that his mouth is just under your ear. “Because,” he says in a whispered rasp, “I’m doing this and you aren’t stopping me.” He sticks his tongue out and licks at the shell of your ear. You shudder, leaning forward as Stiles takes the lobe between his lips and sucks it gently. He trials his wet lips upwards and nibbles slightly at the top, and your hand reaches out holding on to his shoulder.


“Now, now,”


You jump back at the sudden voice and your heart pounds in your chest. Looking up, you see Lola staring at you with a watchful eye, but a smirk is playing at her lips. “This place is strictly PG. Understood?”


Stiles’ ears go slightly red, but his nipples are taught from your actions. You’re sure he’s sporting a bit of a boner. “Yes, ma'am.” He mumbles, thanking Lola when she places two large pizzas on the table.


The woman walks away, giving you an over exaggerated wink behind Stiles’ back and you smile slightly at her. “It’s a shame.” You say, pulling back a slice. “Now you have to walk outta here with a tent in your pants.”


Stiles gives you a look that says 'that was totally inappropriate but you’re too fucking hot for me to care’ as he too takes his first slice of pizza. You don’t know what he’s eating, but he licks sauce off his lips and all you can think about is licking it off his abs.


The rest dinner (or early breakfast) is spent mostly in silence, but you can’t help but look up every now and then. Stiles is staring at you with a fierce look in his eyes and it makes you want to jump his bones right there and then.


When he pays, the sexual tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. You can’t help but think of all those times where you were so mad and frustrated at him and wanted nothing more than to have him fuck you senseless.


Afterwards, you’re driving in the Jeep when you can’t take it any more. Stiles isn’t helping, looking unfairly sexy with nothing but a pair of shorts to cover his modesty, and brown, hunter eyes. When he pulls the car to a stop, you place a hand of his thigh.


“Yes?” He asks, smirking slightly. You just shrug, as if you don’t know what he’s thinking. Stiles doesn’t say anything as he presses down on the gas, eyes focused on the road.


Slowly, painstakingly so, your hand moves higher and higher. You can hear Stiles breath hitch when your nails scratch gently over the bulge that has formed in his pants, and you consider giving him what he wants, but realize it’s much more fun to tease. Your hands only graze over his covered cock before you move further up, dragging the smooth surface of your fingernails over his exposed abs.


Stiles outright moans when you run your fingertips over the muscles, and you see the way he gripped the steering wheels with white knuckles. *My turn,* you think as you unbuckle your seat belt and move forward.


With a hand still toying gentle with Stiles’ abs and happy trail, you shift closer and press your lips to a spot just under his ear. Stiles’ breath hitches in his throat and he stiffly changes gears. “What are you doing?” He asks, his voice full of lust.


“Giving you a taste of your own medicine.” Your voice is feather light and your lips brush teasingly over his ear as you speak. Stiles groans softly, and you take it as an okay. You mimick his earlier actions, licking wetly over the shell of his ear before biting down gently, enough to make the car swerve slightly. “Careful, babe.” You say, your voice sulty. You lick over the bitten spot again, blowing cool air over it and Stiles moans.


“Oh, fuck it.” He says, and suddenly he’s pulling over and parking the car on the side of the road. You take the opportunity, swinging your legs over so that you’re straddling his lap, unbuckling his safety belt.


His hands go to your hips when you begin to kiss down his neck. Stiles’ skin tastes like salt and vanilla and you suck down on it like a vacuum, determined to leave your mark. He lets you do as you please, something you’d never got from Theo, and tilts his head back to allow you more room.


You go left until you find that vein you’d seen earlier. It’s protruding loudly against his neck now, and fuck if it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. You press your tongue wide on it and lick from bottom to top, only stopping to nibble slightly on Stiles’ jaw.


His breath hitches, and he hesitates only a moment before taking control and crashing his lips to yours. He tastes like chocolate milkshake, you think absently as his lips devour your own and you wrap your arms around his neck. They feel amazingly soft and delicate, yet at the same time wild and demanding. You love every second of it.


His tongue pushes into your mouth and it’s all teeth and lips after that. The wet muscle strokes against your mouth expertly and you moan into him. Stiles smirks against your lips, forcing his tongue further down your throat until you’re sure there isn’t a place in your mouth that his tongue hasn’t touched. Unfortunately, the need for oxygen becomes to great to ignore and you pull away, breathing heavy.


“The things you do to me, baby.” He says, leaning his forehead against your own. You grind down on him, and are pleased to find that he’s hard and aching. Stiles moans at the touch and pulls you in for another kiss, his tongue shooting into your mouth before your lips have even touched.


His hands move slowly as they travel under your shirt and pull it up over your head. He throws it behind somewhere, but you can hardly give a fuck with Stiles’ eyes watching you like that. You’d opted to go braless when you went to change, and now with Stiles looking like a kid on Christmas, you were glad for it.


He leans down and quickly takes one nipple into his mouth, the other hand expertly cupping and toying with the other. Your hands move from his neck to his hair and you tug harshly at the strands when Stiles starts to suck noisily at your tits, making the sweetest of sounds. When he takes your nipple between his teeth and pulls back so your tit stretches out, you moan so loudly you have to stop yourself.


He gives the other breast the same treatment as his hands move downwards and toy with the waistband of your sweats. His skin is like lighting against your own and and your arch into him, loving it.


“You okay with this?” He asks, pulling away from you and looking up with the utmost sincerity. Despite the lust in his eyes, you know that if you ask him to, he’ll stop right here and now. It warms your heart, but right now you need to be fucked.


“Definitely.” You say and Stiles smirks. He pulls your pants and panties down in one go and immediately stuffs two fingers into your pussy, pumping wildly. He has to hold you tight at the small of your back to stop your from falling over with the intensity of his movements. You moan hotly and pull his face up, crashing your lips together and the car is filled with sweet clenching noises.


“You’re so wet for me.” He mumbles against you, sounding so utterly fucked out and sexy that you can’t help but moan again. You grind yourself against his bulge and Stiles moans loudly.


The hand at your back is gone and Stiles curles his fingers inside of your pussy, just as a his other hands’ thumb presses down hard on your clit. You come with a shout, clenching down on his fingers which are still moving rapidly inside of you. Your over sensitive nub is rubbed at again and you feel jolts of electricity shoot through.


Eventually you have to stop his hands as the pleasure becomes too much. He pulls his fingers out of you as you calm down and you look up, seeing your come on his digits.


Then, he does the most absurd thing. He sticks his fingers into his mouth and wipes them clean, looking you dead in the eye and smirking at your open mouth. His tongue swirls around the digits and he smirks through it, pulling them out clean.


“Fuck,” you say, then make a quick decision. Stiles isn’t expecting it when you suddenly drop to your knees and pull his shorts down, his errection springing up in front of your face. The pedals are digging into your back but you don’t care.


You eyes widened and your mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s big, bigger than you expected, but you know you can take the full thing. His thick cock is slightly veiny, and looks so damn tempting. You can’t help yourself when you immediately lean forward and wrap your lips around the tip.


Stiles moans loudly was you suckle his tip, hands automatically moving to your hair and pulling it out of its bun, only to then tangle his fingers in it. His nails dig into your scalp and you moan at the feeling, loving the way he forces you deeper and deeper.


You pull away and lick one long stripe from base to tip. He stops you from going back down. “Stick your tongue out, babe.” You do as you’re told, rogue hanging from your mouth. You moan loudly when Stiles slaps his dick on your wet tongue hard, holding your head in place with one hand. You open your mouth wider, loving the feel. “Oh, you like that don’t you?”


He forces you back down on his cock and you love how dominant he’s being. He guides your head non too gently along his member and you bob up and down, loving the taste of his skin and salty precum on your tongue. Then, his dick hits the back of your throat and you tighten around him. Stiles moans loudly, pulling you off.


He reaches down and fishes into the pockets of his shorts for his wallet. Fumbling only briefly, he pulls out a silver foiled packet and throws the wallet aside carelessly. You take the packet from his hands, just as he’s about to open it.


Looking into his eyes, you tear the packet open with your teeth and Stiles eyes widen. You smirk and roll the condom down his length and Stiles watches you with something akin to awe.


With one hand on your hip and the other on his cock, Stiles’ teases your entrance with his tip, rubbing it against your sensitive clit as you stand on your knees above him, legs spread wide. You moan as jolts of electricity shoot up your spine, but Stiles continues to watch you, not giving in.


“Please, Stiles.” You beg. The teenager smirks.


“Whatever you say, Princess.” Suddenly he slams into you in one thrust and you moan loudly against him. The thrusts up quickly, his dick slamming in and out of you at a brutal pace.


“My pretty little princess,” he whispers in your ear. “You love it when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” His hands move up your body and squeeze at your tits. “I bet you’ve been fantasizing about this for days. Thinking about what it would feel like to have my cock in you.”


“Yeah. Oh God yes.” You moan out desperately, nails raking down his back so hard, you’re sure it’ll leave marks. Stiles smirks.


“Tell me.” He says and you moan as he thrusts in deep, hitting that perfect spit inside of you.


“I get myself off to the thought of you fucking me.” You moan, fingers sliding into his hair. “I wanted you so badly. I thought of you when he fucked me. I knew you were better, bigger, could make me moan and come in ways he never could.” Stiles moans loudly and slams harshly into you. “I’ve thought about it all month. The first day I saw you, I wanted to get on my knees and blow you. Wanted to have your cum dripping down my face and tits. Wanted you to fuck me until yours is the only name I remember.”


“And now?” He breathes against you. “Now what do you want?”


“I want to come with you inside of me.” You say. “I wanna clench around your dick and make you lose control. Wanna through you over the edge and go down with you.”


Stiles moans loudly and reaches between your bodies, pressing down hand on your clit once more. Again, you come immediately, back arching, clenching hard around him as he thrusts wildly into you.


“I’m almost there, baby.” He moans, pulling your face forward and kissing you hard. It occurs to you that what your tasting is your own juices on Stiles’ lips and you moan against him.


“Come on,” you taunt. “Come for me, baby.” It takes two more thrusts before he pushes into you hard, spilling into the condom and dropping down on the car seat. The two of you stay like that for a moment, his dick softening inside of you.


Stiles pulls out and you move, going back into the passenger seat. Your pussy is raw from his fucking and you don’t really care how you look with your legs spread wide as cold air brushes over your centre. Stiles pulls out the condom and ties it up, throwing it out of the window.


“That’s nasty.” You tell him. He looks at you and laughs.


“You’re one to judge.” You flush red at that. Stiles laughs openly. “Do you really get off to the thought of me?”


You look at him and smirk. “All the fucking time.”

Concerning Hobbits (of Color)

Okay it’s been a whole day and I’m still angry about that hobbit casting thing, so let’s lay down some Tolkien canon here.

Fact 1: Per Tolkien, there were originally three races of hobbit. The Stoors were a small group, they were broad and stocky, they grew facial hair, they liked rivers, and their skin color is not specified, so Tolkien probably meant them to be white (but there’s no reason they have to be, since again, not specified). The Fallohides were a tiny group, they were thin, pale and tall, they were bold and good with languages, and they like trees. The Harfoots were the distinct majority, they lived in holes, they had hairy feet, and they were brown. Tolkien is super clear on this. He explicitly calls out Harfoots as having browner skin than other hobbits when describing the races and he uses phrases like “nut-brown skin” and “long brown fingers” when describing specific hobbits to back it up.

Fact 2: Britain planted its ravenous imperial flag firmly in the soil of India three centuries before Tolkien wrote The Hobbit. He knew what a brown person looked like. He would know he was not evoking a slightly darker shade of Caucasian when he said a person had brown skin.

Fact 3: Bilbo, Frodo, and all of their friends are aristocracy. Sam is the only hobbit we ever meet who is an actual laborer. In Tolkien’s time, laborers worked in the sun and middle class and aristocracy stayed inside where there was something resembling temperature control. Apart from Sam and Aragorn, no one in the Fellowship (or Company) ever voluntarily got a sunburn. If Tolkien talks about brown skin he’s talking about brown skin, not a farmer’s tan.

Where does this leave us?

Well, Tolkien says that after colonizing the Shire, the three hobbit races mingled more closely and became one. This leaves us with two options.

Option A: He’s talking about that thing that sci-fi writers sometimes do where “everyone is mixed race.” So all three races would have smeared together into a single uniform color. What color? Mostly Harfoot, aka brown. The “strong strain of Fallohide” in the Tookish and Brandybuck lines means maybe they’re white-passing, but in this scenario all hobbits are brown.

Option B: He’s talking about a more melting-pot scenario where visual racial distinctions still exist but everyone lives side-by-side in a fairly uniform culure. The Tooks/Brandybucks having a “strong strain of Fallohide” means that they are themselves remaining strains of Fallohide, and are straight-up white. Merry, half Took and half Brandybuck, is thus white (possibly part Stoor, given Brandybuck comfort with water); Pippin, half Took and half Banks, is either white or biracial. The Baggins family, sensible owners of the oldest and most venerable hobbit-hole anyone knows of, are blatantly Harfoot, making Bilbo and Frodo (half Took and half Brandybuck respectively) also biracial. Fallohides being exclusively adventurous high-class types, and the Gamgees being staid low-class homebodies with a distrust of moving water, Sam is obviously Harfoot and thus completely brown. (Smeagol, a Stoor, is probably white, but as discussed above, doesn’t have to be.) In this scenario, a minimum of three of five heroic hobbits are various shades of brown, four out of five of them could be, and most background hobbits are brown.

In conclusion, if you think all hobbits are white, you are canonically wrong. If you geek out over Aragorn wearing the Ring of Barahir, rage about Faramir trying to take the Ring, and do not even notice, much less complain, that Sam, Bilbo and Frodo are being erroneously portrayed by white guys, you need to reexamine the focus of your nerdery.

He Already Noticed You

||| Requested by anon |||


Part 1 (It’s not really that necessary to read it to understand what’s going on); Part 2


Kim Jongdae (Chen) x Reader feat. BTS

Summary: Your parents gave you up so you had no choice but to become his wife.

Genre: Mafia AU

Word count: 1,913

Originally posted by sooranghaes

“We’re going to a party.” he said taking your hand and guiding you downstairs. “No questions for now.”

He took you down the hall through a long corridor, lined with many doors when you two stopped by one of them. He turned the handle and went inside, you followed after him. It was a spacious room, similar to the one you have been staying at for the last month and you realized it’s probably his.

“Here.” he said handing you a white box wrapped with a blue ribbon.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

You carefully untangled the ribbon and lifted the cover.

“Is this?” you asked taking a midnight blue colored dress out. It had pretty flower laces on it.

“Do you like it?” he looked at you hopefully.

“It’s beautiful but… But I can’t take it.”

“You have to. I need you to get ready.”

“Why?”

“You still ask me why? You’re my wife, of course I’m taking you.” he said. “But no more questions for now, I will explain everything to you when we get there.”

You took the dress and looked around. He seemed to notice your confusion.

“You can change here.” he said. “You have got nothing to hide, I had already seen you half naked.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, you could feel your cheeks flushing.

“I’m just teasing you.” he laughed. “You can use the bathroom.” he said pointing to the door behind him. “Or do you need any help with that?” he winked.

“No thank you.” you said, quickly rushing past him and closing the door as soon as you were in. You sighed. It looks like his flirting will never stop. The bathroom was large and you had a lot of space and everything needed to get ready. You decided to start with your makeup. It seemed ages since you had anything on because why bother, you didn’t need anything staying in the same place for so long. You let your hair down and slipped the dress on. To your surprise it fitted perfectly, it ended just a little bit above your knees. How did he know your size? An image of him measuring you in your sleep crossed your mind but you quickly brushed it off. What the hell are you thinking? You put the high heels on and went to the doo but found yourself reluctant to go out.

“Come on, I don’t bite.” you heard Jongdae laugh. You finally stepped out and saw him staring at you, his mouth agape. You spun around.

“Like what you see?” it was your time to tease him.

“Do I?” he smirked but you couldn’t deny that he looked just as stunning. He wore suits all the time but somehow this one looked extremely good on him, one of the reasons being that you two matched. You eyed him from the bottom up when you noticed him struggling with his tie.

“Let me.” you said approaching him.

“It’s funny isn’t it? I have been wearing suits for so long but somehow never get this part right, that’s why I prefer to have none on at all.”

“No worries.” you said fixing it for him. “Now you have me to do it for you.” you said and then realized what you just blurted out. Still holding onto his tie, you looked up, your cheeks burning. You met his gaze and couldn’t help but give him a smile which he returned.

“All done.” you said letting go of him. You two stood there not saying anything just looking at each other.

“You know I-” he was the first to speak when a knock on the door interrupted him.

“Boss? Are you ready? The car is here.” a man spoke from the door.

“Yes, thank you, we will be right out.” he told him and turned to you, before you had the chance to ask him what he wanted to say, linking your arm with his. “Let’s go.”

He took you to the main hall where two other men were waiting. They also had fancy suits on and you could tell just by their appearance that they weren’t simple henchmen. The younger looking one of the two approached you. He took your hand and gently pecked it.

“Nice to finally meet you.” you were so surprised by his action that the only thing that snapped you out of it was Jongdae’s low voice.

“Sehun.” you looked at him and saw that he was staring daggers at him. You haven’t seen him this angry since the first day you got here. You’re happy that at least now you’re not the one receiving that death stare.

“Whoa whoa, no need to get so jealous, I was just greeting her.

“I swear, if you ever do something like this-“

“Nice to meet you, I’m Suho.” the other man shaked your hand, stopping the two before they did something.

You only managed to utter a quiet hello when Jongdae took you outside.

“Those two will also attend the party, so if anything happens and I’m not around, you should go to them.” he said opening the car’s door for you and getting into to driver’s seat himself. He turned around to check if the others got to their cars and started the engine. You haven’t been outside for so long that going for a ride now felt really strange and it wasn’t before long that you reached your destination. You were expecting something fancy but definitely not this. The party was literally being held at a mansion and you were in awe by all the luxury. Jongdae helped you out and guided you to the entrance greeting everyone politely as they passed by.

“Now listen to me very carefully.” he told you, handing the invitation to the porter who opened the door to you two. There were already hundreds of people inside but he took you to one of the corners near the bar.

“I need you to do me a little task.” he said. “I have some business to take care of in here and I need you to distract a certain someone for me.”

“What? No I can’t.”

“You can do it.” he said squeezing your hands. “And after that we can enjoy the party.” he was about to go when you stopped him.

“And you’re leaving just like that?” you asked him. “How do I even know how to find him?”

“No need to worry about that.” he said glancing at the balcony. “He already noticed you.”

You looked up and saw a man staring at you from above. He raised his glass and smiled before turning around.

“Take care of this.” Jongdae said putting a silver necklace around your neck. “It will help me find you, in case you run into any trouble.” he smiled and kissed your forehead. “See you later.”

You watched his figure disappear in the large crowd of people. You looked at the little pendant, the nice shade of blue somehow calmed you down. You decided to go get a drink.

“This one is on me.” somebody said behind you. You turned around and saw the man from the balcony. He had sweet orange colored hair and his eyes were deep and it felt like he was staring into your soul.

“Thank you.” you stuttered. You didn’t want to look so nervous but you couldn’t help it.

“So I see you’re familiar with Chen.”

“Chen?” you wondered but then quickly realized he’s probably talking about Jongdae, you had no idea he had other identities or rather names. You thought for a second if you should tell him the truth or lie and decided to go with the latter if it means stalling him longer.

“Not really, no.” you sipped your drink. “He just offered to buy me a drink but I didn’t feel like going with him.” you lied.

“I see…” he cooed. “So I should probably feel honoured, as you accepted mine.” he smirked.

“I guess you should.” you chuckled.

“I’m Jimin by the way.” he finally introduced himself. “Another?” he asked pointing at your empty glass.”

You two were talking about nothing in particular and maybe it was his charming looks but you didn’t notice how fast time went by until you looked at the clock. Two hours had already passed, where is Jongdae?

“May I?” Jimin said taking your hand and guiding you to the dance floor. He put his hand on your waist and started spinning along to the slow music. You looked to your side and noticed Suho watching you closely, if Jongdae finds out about this, you’re sure he will not be pleased.

“I think you’re not being completely honest with me.” Jimin whispered into your ear. “What other secrets do you have?”

“If you will take me somewhere more private, I might tell you.” you said, deciding that it would be better if Suho didn’t see your interactions with him. He took you upstairs to the roof. A lovely view of the city could be seen from above. Jimin stood near you.

“This better be worth it.” he laughed. “I missed a very important meeting because of you.” you looked at him, trying to come up with some kind of story but you were obviously taking too long.

“I caught you red handed, didn’t I?” he asked cornering you between the massive windows and his body. “It’s not very nice to lie to people you just met.” he said leaning closer. “Now what can you do to fix your mistake?” he questioned, his face so close you could feel his breath on your skin. He stared into your eyes and you could see he was planning something.

“That’s my wife you’re talking to!” Jongdae shouted kicking the door open. “So you better keep your hands to yourself!”

You were both surprised by his sudden entrance.

“So that’s what it was.” Jimin cooed. “How scary.” he scoffed still not letting you go.

Jongdae took his gun out and pointed it at him.

“Get your hands off her. Don’t make me repeat it.”

“Do you really want to start a fight here?” he asked as his men began appearing from the shadows. “This could turn into a war we tried to avoid for so long.”

“Should I feel intimidated right now?” Jongdae laughed as he removed the safety lock from his gun and his men also gathered on the roof. It was a silent stare down as they waited for someone to take the first step.

“I don’t think this is the right place.” Jimin finally said, releasing you. “Till next time, darling.” he said kissing your hand. Jongdae’s men parted to let him through.

“Don’t think I will let this slide.” Jimin said as he passed by him to which he just clenched his teeth. He lowered his gun and came up to you.

“I thought I told you to distract not to seduce him.” he spoke, clearly annoyed.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” you muttered. He just sighed and embraced you.

“You went ahead and got yourself in trouble. Now I will have to keep an even closer eye on you.” he laughed, his playful attitude coming back. “BTS is not the one to be messed with but that’s my Jagi.” he said a wide smile spreading on his face. He turned to his men.

“We are leaving.” he ordered. “This party sucks anyway. I will show you something better.”


~ Part 4 ~

A/N: I like to imagine Jongdae as being the protective type. It’s cute 😁

  • george washington: how long have you been sleeping with jefferson?
  • alexander hamilton: that’s disgusting. and wrong. i don’t even get– why would– i've never had sex with anyone, anywhere. it's none of your- you have- the nerve, the audacity, jefferson is my enemy, technically. and he is terrible, face-wise. and how- how- do i know, frankly, that you’re not sleeping with him? maybe you are. maybe you’re trying to throw me off? check and mate.

http://hug-bees.tumblr.com/post/156787158137/i-have-heard-of-it-im-not-really-going-to-be

http://arythusa.tumblr.com/post/156601985587/sorry-if-this-is-rude-but-as-an-lgbt-person-who

“I can’t say anything about it for now

“I can tell you that Daron is open to the idea of LGBT characters but beyond that the situation gets complicated.“

http://hug-bees.tumblr.com/post/156660950737/but-i-mean-what-can-we-even-do-sounds-like

“ Part of why I feel so honored to be on the Star crew is the fact the everyone is so eager for the inclusiveness that you guys deserve! “ 

http://laurenzuke.tumblr.com/post/156375641334/i-cant-speak-for-any-other-writers-or-artists-or

I can’t speak for any other writers or artists, or the show’s intention, none but my own– but lapis and peridot, I wanted to create the experience of a growing queer relationship.” - Lauren Zuke

“[Lauren Zuke] took three characters and made them into a little pet project” -@beatcopdot

what if the reason why Marco’s representation status is so complicated, and why they’re encouraging people to headcanon them as trans so much, is because Marco being transgender wasn’t planned from the start and explictly confirming is out of their hands (”we’re all so open and want to represent lgbt characters so much, a lot of times though the decision’s out of our hands.”)

and everything we’ve seen so far is a Lapidot/Zuke scenario, where individual writers are coding and characterizing Marco as transgender in order to give us something we’d be able to relate to. (And GOOD LORD have they succeeded)

OTP- Part 1- Love Notes

Okay so I know I said I was going to have the network write this but I kinda stole it back because nobody was doing anything (myself included) and I liked the prompt too much so hERE WE ARE!

Genre: Fluff fluff fluff and maybe some angst at some point

Word Count: 932


“You probably do not feel the same, but I simply cannot hold it in any longer. I like you, a lot. From your jet-black fringe to your blue-green eyes with their hint of yellow, to the black Converse on your feet, I admire every inch of you. Despite these wonderful physical features, it’s quite obvious to me that your most admirable trait is your heart. I can only hope this heart is big enough to accept me in it, despite the fact that I cannot yet reveal my identity. I forgive you for my cowardice, but I hope to one day remove the mask I have placed over myself through this note.

Forever yours, 

Your secret admirer.”

Phil read the note to Dan, who sat faking a curious look. “A secret admirer?” 

“Yeah. I found it in my locker. I don’t know who could have left it there.”

“Maybe it’s not really for you? It could have been a mistake.”

“It can’t be. It’s got a detailed description of me, right down to the eyes. How did they even know that?” 

“I don’t know…” Dan immediately regretted going into so much detail. 

“Let’s review what we know. The admirer has been close enough to me to notice every shade of my eyes, and they know my locker number. It could be nearly anyone.” 

Leaning up against the cafeteria wall, Dan let on naivety. “Anyone.” 

“I’ll ask around. I wish our friends knew more girls…” He said, getting up and heading to another table. 

Dan let out a sigh, now alone. He knew Phil was bisexual, but he wished he would open his mind a bit more. He would have been fine with dating a guy, but he for some reason couldn’t comprehend that one liked him. Society had molded him into such a closed-minded person at such a young age that he couldn’t break out of this box. Pulling out his notebook, he transferred all the information he just took in from Phil into a new note. 


“Dearest Philip,

Your cheerful and loving nature continues to entrance me and inspire me to write to you. My trail of cowardice continues, as I shan’t reveal my identity yet. Alas, I will tell you a bit about myself. I am a freshman, the same as you, and I have eyes and hair of chestnut. Most importantly of all, perhaps, I may be closer to you than you think.” Phil looked up from the note he pulled from his locker. “I may be closer to you than you think. What could that mean?” 

“Maybe they’re a friend?” Dan attempted to sound clueless. 

“Oh, that can’t be. You’re my only good friend. Chestnut eyes and hair…” Phil stared into Dan’s chestnut eyes as he spoke. “Who do we know that has chestnut hair and eyes?” 

“I only know myself.”

“I’ll look through last year’s yearbook and try to find some girls with chestnut hair and eyes. I’ll keep you updated!” Phil raced off to find a yearbook, leaving Dan shaking his head. 

“So oblivious…” He smiled at the boy as he ran off down the hallway towards yet another wrong answer. 


The next morning, Dan walked alongside Phil to his locker. “Nothing. I gave a handwriting test to every girl I could find, and none of them matched the notes. I’ve tried every girl in the freshman class. What else is there to do?” He threw open his locker to find another note, opening it up and reading it aloud. 

“Today I shall give you a break from your constant attempts to reveal my identity. Instead, I shall remind you of why I am here in the first place. Philip, you are the sweetest, the most kindhearted boy I know. I have had my eye on you for a long time, but have just now gotten the courage to speak to you, even anonymously. When my identity is finally revealed, you will probably become annoyed with my lack of ability to simply speak up, and I apologize. I care too much for you to risk losing you over something as idiotic as a crush. 

Until I write again, 

Your secret admirer.”

Phil’s face showed pure confusion. “I care too much for you to risk losing you? I’m now confident I must know this girl well. I just can’t think of anyone it could possibly be.” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually. Or, maybe they won’t be discovered until they really want to. They’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it so far.” 

“You’ve got that right.” Phil sighed as the bell rang for first period. “I’ll see you next period.” Dan headed off to his first class to restlessly wait until he would meet Phil again in his second. 


Phil ran to his locker before second period to get his binder. Opening the creaky door, he found yet another note lying on top of his books. Grabbing his binder, he read it as he walked to second period. 

“Sweetest Philip, 

Oh how oblivious you are. It’s quite adorable, in my opinion. However, your struggles sadden me as well, so I will help you. The reason you haven’t figured out my identity yet is simple: you’ve only searched 50% of the freshman class.”

Phil reached his English classroom and sat down in his desk beside Dan, setting the note on the desk. As he threw his things down, something dawned on Phil. His closed mind had screwed him over yet again. His admirer was correct; he had searched only half of the student population: the female half. Phil’s secret admirer was a boy. 

Hatred (Part 3)

Summary: After walking in on you with Jughead, Betty makes it her mission to convince you guys to talk about your relationship. It takes some prodding, but eventually you work everything out.

Part 1: https://beronica-josie.tumblr.com/post/157668611423/hatred

Part 2: https://beronica-josie.tumblr.com/post/157709938523/hatred-part-2

Masterlist: https://beronica-josie.tumblr.com/post/157919516668/masterlist

You walked all the way home and went straight to your room before you even looked at your phone. 9 missed calls from Betty. But 0 from Jughead. Why hadn’t he called? Whatever. You knew you’d have to deal with this on Monday anyways, so you might as well enjoy the rest of the weekend.

MONDAY

You went to your locker that morning, hoping to put your stuff away and go straight to class. Unfortunately, Betty had other plans. She was waiting for you at your locker. You tried to turn and leave, but she had already seen you.

She jogged over to you. “What the heck, [Y/N]? Why didn’t you answer my texts or calls this weekend? I didn’t mean to mess things up with you and -”

“Betty, I don’t want to talk about it.” You interrupted. You were annoyed that he hadn’t bothered to contact you at all. If he actually did care, wouldn’t he have done something?

“What’s wrong?” She could tell you were upset. “Didn’t he talk to you? After you left on Friday, we had a long talk about you two.”

You were a bit surprised. Jughead had talked to Betty about it but not you? “What did he say?” You asked, biting your lip. Whatever he said could make or break your relationship.

“It’s not my place. You should ask him.” The bell rang just as she finished her sentence. “I’ll see you later.” She walked off. You sighed. You’d have to take this into your own hands.

LUNCH

You were prepared to ambush him at lunch, but he was nowhere to be found. After 10 minutes of looking for him, you gave up and went to sit with Betty, Veronica, and Archie.

Betty looked surprised as you took the seat next to her. “Why aren’t you talking to him?” She leaned over to whisper so only you would hear.

“I can’t find him anywhere.” You rolled your eyes. You just wanted to focus on your lunch and spend some time not thinking about Jughead.

Of course, that moment was when Jughead decided to show up. He sat down next to Archie, across from you. You tried to give him an angry look, but he didn’t even bother to look your way.

“What’s up, Jug?” Archie turned to greet him.

Jughead turned to Archie and began chatting, as if everything was normal. How dare he just ignore you like that? You turned to Betty, shocked and angry. She gave you an apologetic look before turning to Jughead.

“Hey, Jughead, do you want to study with me and [Y/N] tonight for the next history quiz?” She asked politely.

“Not if she’s going to be there.” He finally looked at you, but he was glaring. What was he doing? Why was he acting like nothing had ever happened?

You clenched your jaw and your fist tightened around the plastic spoon you were holding. “No, you know what? I won’t be there.” You looked at Jughead. You wished you could burn a hole with your eyes.

“Yes, you will. You’ll both be there. At my house. 6 pm.” Betty’s voice was a bit more forceful than usual.

Jughead glanced at you again, his eyes narrow and dark. You continued to clench your fist and when you opened it again, you found you had split the plastic utensil in half. You threw it on your tray. “Whatever.” You said as you stood up and walked away.

AFTER SCHOOL

You really didn’t want to go to Betty’s but you knew that if you didn’t go today, she would push you to go tomorrow and then the next day until something actually happened. Might as well get it over with.

You showed up at Betty’s house around 6. She answered the door and led you to her room, where Jughead already was. He was sitting backwards in her vanity chair. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked past him to sit on the seat in front of the window. You immediately wished you hadn’t come. You sat, folding your arms in front of your chest and keeping your gaze straight so you wouldn’t be looking at him.

Betty sat on her bed and glanced back and forth between the two of you, waiting for one of you to start a conversation. When that didn’t happen, she spoke up. “So, why don’t we start with Jughead? Isn’t there something you wanted to say to [Y/N]?” He slouched in his chair and refused to speak.

You were tired of this game. You had to start this conversation, because obviously he wasn’t going to. “Damn it, Jughead! Why can’t you just say something to me? Why didn’t you call me this weekend? And why were you being a jerk at lunch today? Does none of this matter to you?”

“Of course this means something to me, [Y/N]! I was the one who kissed you first!” He turned to you. He was very angry. “Do you know how hard it was for me to decide what to do? I’ve hated you all my life and then somehow I liked you? It makes no sense!” He stood up quickly, knocking the chair to the floor.

“Jughead, calm down. It’s okay, we’re going to work this out.” Betty said, calmly.

“Betty, why does this even concern you?” He snapped at her.

She looked up at him, shocked. You’d never seen Jughead this angry before and you bet that she hadn’t either. “Okay, Jughead. I’ll leave, but you two are going to fix this.” She sounded a bit hurt. She silently walked out of the room.

“Jughead what the hell? You just kicked Betty out of her own room!” You stood up, now as angry as he was. Being this rude to you was one thing, but being this rude to Betty? That’s where you drew the line.

Jughead sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. He seemed shocked himself at what he had just done. He instantly lowered his voice. “I know, I didn’t mean to…” He slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t stand to see him so upset with himself.

You walked over to him, gently sitting down so your right leg was touching his left. “It’s okay, Jughead. She just wants us to talk it over, so let’s do that.” You reached over to grab his left hand. “For Betty.” Your voice hardened a bit on those last words. You were still angry with him.

He glanced at you. You gave him a small smile, hoping to cheer up. He smiled back.

“Okay, here it all is.” He turned his gaze to the floor as he spoke. “I was still struggling with how felt about you after the party. I really liked the kiss and you seemed to, too, so I thought we might have a chance. But on Friday, when you left as soon as Betty showed up, it seemed like you were embarrassed to be seen with me. That’s also why I didn’t bother calling you. I was mean to you today because I thought that if I went back to acting how I used to act around you, maybe things would go back to normal and I would stop liking you.”

“Jughead…” You started. Your actions did sound pretty bad. You never meant to hurt him like that. “Jughead, look at me.” He looked up, looking into your eyes. You placed a hand on his cheek. His hand moved to cups yours. You loved the warmth of his hand on yours. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings when I left on Friday. I was confused, too. You told me that it was ‘too complicated,’ so I thought you didn’t want an actual relationship. When Betty showed up, I panicked and left because I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to know. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was embarrassed of you.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry that I was being so difficult about everything. I just wasn’t sure about what I felt or what I wanted.”

“Well do you know what you want now?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I want you.”

You placed your other hand on his other cheek and pulled his face to yours. You pushed your lips to his. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Before the kiss could turn into anything deeper, you pulled away.

“Is something wrong?” Jughead asked worried.

“You need to go apologize to Betty.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I was a bit rough on her.” He stands up and heads for the door. As he opens the door, the two of you see Betty backing away from the door quickly. She flashes you a guilty smile. “Oh, have you guys worked everything out?”

“I think Betty was listening in on our conversation.” Jughead says, turning to smirk at you.

You fake gasp, making a shocked face. “Betty!” You jokingly scold her.

“Okay, maybe I was.” Betty laughed.

“Listen, Betty, I want to apologize for -” Jughead began, sounding worried.

“Don’t worry about it, Jug. I forgive you. I just wanted you guys to make up and you did, so I’m happy. Does this mean I can tell Veronica and Archie about you guys?”

“Uh, I don’t know… It might be weird given how we used to act around each other. They might tease us about it.” Jughead turned to you.

“Oh, they’ll definitely tease us. But it’s nothing we can’t handle.” You smirk at him.

THE NEXT DAY

“So does this mean you guys have been having anger sex the whole time?” Veronica asked at lunch the next day.

You sat next to Jughead, across from Veronica. Jughead looked at you with shocked eyes and a slightly red face.

“Very funny, Veronica.” You said, mockingly. You smirked and raised your eyebrows at her as if to say “yes.”

“I saw that.” Jughead said, causing everyone at the table to laugh.

queen-commander  asked:

Okay, so for the family au, cause I'm curious, does Shiro have a prothetic? If so, how does he work with it and how did he get it? If not, does he ever? And how?

[The Voltron Family] The first time they found out about it, Keith thought he was having a bad dream. When he found out it wasn’t, he wanted to die. Shiro revealed he had a cancerous tumor in his right arm.

Keith: Why aren’t you reacting like— *pounds at Shiro’s chest angrily* 
Shiro: *silently lets Keith do what he wants*
Keith: *sobbing while glaring at him* Why do you even have a tumor? We’ve been living a healthy a life. *abruptly stops upon realization* Is it my fault?
Shiro: Keith, don’t be ridiculous.
Keith: *grips into Shiro’s collar* It’s my fault, isn’t it? Is it because we don’t…. Is that why you’re…
Shiro: *raises his voice* Keith! None of this is your fault, alright?! 
Keith: *raises his voice* Then why the hell are you not worried—
Shiro: BECAUSE I’VE COME TO ACCEPT IT!! 
Keith: *surprised at the outburst* *steps back* 
Shiro: *rubs his temple* *sighs* It’s malignant.
Keith: *covers his mouth* Malignant tumor. Takashi, that’s the deadliest.
Shiro: I know.
Keith: *grabs Shiro’s hand* Then what the hell are we doing here shouting at each other when you could have been at the hospital?!
Shiro: *doesn’t budge* Keith, don’t.
Keith: *looks back* Don’t? Are you saying you’re not going to do anything about it? *shouts* IT’S SPREADING IN YOUR ARM AS WE SPEAK!!! ARE YOU EVEN PROCESSING HOW SERIOUS THIS IS? YOU’RE THE DAMN DOCTOR BETWEEN THE TWO OF US AND YET I AM THE ONE WHO’S PANICKING!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU—
Shiro: I MIGHT LOSE MY JOB!!!
Keith: *glares* Is that what this is all about?
Shiro: They’re not going to let an amputee operate, Keith. 
Keith: *grabs Shiro’s collar and pushes him to the wall* How dare you say that. How dare you fucking say that in front of me?! I’D RATHER YOU LOSE AN ARM THAN LOSE YOU ENTIRELY, TAKASHI! So what if you lose your job? You think I cannot provide for this family?! We both know Hunk, Lance and Pidge are secured for life. We made sure of that. Do you think so lowly of my job? In case you forgot, I earn 7 digits yearly just as much as you do. So don’t you fucking dare imply that I cannot provide for this family. Think about the kids… about me. You promised we’d grow old together—
Shiro: *wraps Keith into a hug* I’m scared.
Keith: *deflates* *hugs back* Well, that’s a start. 
Shiro: I’m going to lose my arm.
Keith: Doesn’t make me love you less. *kisses Shiro’s cheek*

When Shiro got amputated, he was asked if he wanted a prosthetic arm. It was going to cost them a lot but Keith answered “Yes” quickly that Shiro didn’t even get to process anything.

Shiro didn’t lose his job, at least not yet. He was on leave trying to recover and trying to get a hang of his new arm. He’d come to accept that it was part of him now. Keith had always been there to help him put it on and take it off, most of the time pampered with kisses which made Shiro laugh. 

Keith: *kisses Shiro* You know…
Shiro: Hmmm?
Keith: This has always been one of those weird fantasies of mine.
Shiro: *cocks his head* What do you mean?
Keith: You’re like half cyborg—
Shiro: *groans fondly* Oh no.
Keith: *laughs* I was a teen who was into robots, okay?! I’ve read books of a human falling in love with a cyborg. 
Shiro: You’ve read too many weird books in your early days. *rolls eyes*

After a few months, the hospital called him that if he still wanted to continue being a brain surgeon, he could.

Shiro: But I have a— *looks pointedly at his prosthetic arm* 
Director: We don’t discriminate, Dr. Shirogane. *smiles* You’re one of the top neurosurgeons in the country and we’re grateful to have you working with us. It works like a normal arm, yes? *eyes Shiro’s arm*
Shiro: *nods* Yeah, it does. I don’t even feel like it’s artificial anymore.
Director: I can see that and I’m glad. I don’t see how you shouldn’t continue your practice then. 

When Shiro came home and told Keith the news, his husband might’ve cried.

[PART TWO]

anonymous asked:

Gypsy isn't a slur. Besides there are more groups than just Romani. only sjws think that's a slur and actual gypsies are not offended by that word.

i know there are more groups than just Romani (which is an umbrella term for numerous sub-groups btw)…they are treated appallingly here in Europe so don’t condescend to me (esp. since you don’t even live here)

but anyways i think i’ll continue listen to actual Romani mutuals who’ve taken the time to educate me on why it’s a derogatory term rather than some faceless anon who most likely doesn’t even belong to that ethnic group

like how dare you dismiss Romani ppl who might object to that term as “sjws”…just piss off mate -_-

whitehorseisnotahorse  asked:

Hey Kitty! Are you going to get the LoK comics? I was amuse to discover that the second volume will feature Zhu Li running for president (I tried to link but Tumblr won't let me - but the Avatar wikia has a blurb). Would this be super-OOC for IatS Zhu Li? (A ficlet response will turn my still IatS-bereaved heart to utter mush).

“Zhu Li,” Varrick called as he heard the front door, “why are reporters calling me and saying you’re running for president?”

He made it almost to the front hall just as she was leaving it, and he followed her as she strode past him into the house. Spine straight as ever, never any sway to her hips, always that walk like she was heading to an appointment she couldn’t miss.

“Oh, that.” She waved a dismissive hand, shopping bags hanging off her arms.

“… you’re not, right?” he asked, because she was not actually being clear on that point.

“I am,” she said, setting her bags down on a table, “but don’t worry.”

“I’m worrying,” he said. “Or – wait.” He gasped, clapping his hands together. “Is this a scheme? Is that what this is?” He circled around her, bending to see her face better as she sorted things. “Did you find a loophole in the laws around campaign financing?” he asked gleefully, like she’d bought him a gift.

“The scheme is that I’m running for president,” she explained.

He sagged with a small frown. He squinted, first left, and then right. “I don’t get it,” he admitted, dropping his hands.

“I was running errands today,” she said, “and while I was at the store–”

“Without me!” he added, indignant. “You didn’t tell me you were going to that cake place I like, why didn’t you take me?”

“I bought you some cakes,” she said, patting his arm and not even pretending that she wasn’t patronizing him.

“It’s not the same. We should go again.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, dear,” she said, “every time we go you eat all of their free samples and then you go the hat store next door and insist on trying on every single hat and swanning around the room and adopting the voice and mannerisms that you think best suit the hat, and it takes hours, and if you want to join me when I’m running errands then first you should prove that you can control yourself around a fancy hat.”

She had started to lean forward and tilt her head back, and so he had started to lean back and stand taller, and they stared at each other at an impasse.

Varrick surrendered first, crossing his arms petulantly. “You could have just said no,” he muttered.

“Sorry, dear,” she said, patting his arm and not pretending she meant it. “The point is, while I was out, I ran into… Buttercup.” The name had never been said with more venom.

“… ah.” Matters were getting clearer. “You two don’t get along.” It wasn’t really a question.

I,” Zhu Li said, slamming a new paperweight down with enough force to dent the table’s finish, “am more than capable of being civil. She was the one being rude.”

“We did try to have her kidnapped,” Varrick reminded her.

“We tried to have her husband kidnapped,” Zhu Li corrected scornfully. “She was just there. And it was his own fault in the first place for being so unreasonable! And! And!” She jabbed a finger in Varrick’s face and he recoiled. “He put us in jail. But do I hold it against him? No. I put it behind me, like a mature adult. So for her to say that you–” She cut herself off abruptly with a huff, her hands forming angry fists at her sides. She was flush with indignation.

“So you’re running for president,” Varrick said.

“I am,” she said. “It seemed like the most effective way to destroy not only their lives, but also any legacy they might otherwise have had.”

He nodded, because the safest place to be when Zhu Li was on the warpath was behind her.

She frowned. “And I’d like to do something about the roads,” she added. “They’ve gotten really bad lately, have you noticed that?”

“I have,” he agreed.

“The infrastructure in this country is just a disaster waiting to happen,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “They’re always complaining about money, and it’s no wonder with the tax code the way it is. By the time I’m done with ours, we barely owe anything!”

“You’ve got a real way with deductions,” he agreed, and he winked. She giggled, covering her cheeks as she turned pink.

“You always know just what to say,” she said. Then she frowned again, dropping her hands. “But, seriously, I think we get more back in subsidies than we pay.”

“I don’t even know why we get those.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“You’d think kidnapping the president and trying to start a war would disqualify me from some of those.”

“It doesn’t.”

“You know,” he said, “none of this explains why you’re running for president.”

“It doesn’t?”

He splayed out a hand on his chest. “You do know someone charismatic and well-loved who enjoys public speaking and being in charge of things,” he pointed out.

She smiled. She reached out with both hands to cup his face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs as he leaned closer to her. “Oh, Iknik,” she said. “I love you. But part of loving you is being aware of what you can handle, and what you can’t. Like hat stores, or huge amounts of poorly-checked power.”

“… I love you, too.”

“Republic City’s laws also fail to account for spousal assets when it comes to the presidency, which means that Varrick Industries will be able to continue operations as normal once I’ve won.”

He considered this. “Is this why you didn’t actually want legal partnership in the company?”

“There’s a lot of reasons why I wasn’t interested in legal liability for a corporation I was already profiting from. But yes! It all worked out.”

He leaned forward until he could kiss her forehead, making her turn pink again. “Zhu Li, you’re a genius.”

“I know, dear.”

I couldn’t let them hurt you

Pairing: Archie Andrews x Reader

Words: 3176 (Part one of ?)

Summary: The reader knows too much about Hiram Lodge and his involvement in illegal activities so he has threatened her boyfriend, Archie Andrews. If she doesn’t stay quiet- in a very permanent way- he’ll go after the boy she loves. And she won’t let that happen.

Note: The images I used in the aesthetic don’t belong to me, nor do the characters in the story. Just as a reference, this is based on the scene in the last episode, except the reader is the one on the river instead. (those who have seen it will know what I’m talking about) Also, at a certain point, it kinda switches from second person to third, so hopefully that’s not confusing.  Don’t forget that requests are always open! Enjoy.

Warnings: Blood, suicide, (also, feels alert. I hope)


The phone shook in your hands. Hiram’s crumbled letter grew damp with snow on the ground beside you. It read a very simple and clear message. Your secrets die with you… or him. I imagine you’ll make the right choice. -HL. That’s why you stood in the snow, holding your cell phone in your hands that were red and dry from the cold. You closed your eyes, letting the burning hot tears stream down your face. Slowly, you dialed the number. The other line rang a few times before he picked up, his beautiful, calm voice making you cry even harder.

“Hey, Y/N what’s wrong?” Archie stood in the parking lot of Southside High after finding Jughead. Veronica watched at him curiously.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you Arch.” You sucked in a painful breath. “He made me keep it all from you and now he wants to make sure I won’t tell anybody. But I… I can’t let him get away with it Arch.”

“Slow down.” Archie said, worry filling in every inch of him. “Y/N what are you talking about? Who is he?”

“I-I can’t. He’ll hurt you if I say anything Arch. I can’t let him hurt you.” You walked between the trees, slowly but surely getting closer to your destination. By this time, Jughead and Betty had noticed Archie and Veronica’s distress and gathered around Archie. “Is everybody there? Jughead? Veronica? Betty?”

“Yeah. Yeah we’re all here.” Archie put the phone on speaker. You gulped down a sob, nodding to yourself, trying to be brave for your friends.

Keep reading

Paint || Jason Blossom

A/N: So sorry this took so long and I went inactive again but my birthday just passed so I was busy! I don’t know if I like this but the request was really good and I loved the idea of Jason asking you to paint him! I hope you guys enjoy and feel free to request more!

Warnings: Swearing ( as always )

Words with quotes and italics like ‘this’ are either thoughts, or text messages.

—————————————————————————————

The first time he saw you was when you were painting. He vividly remembered walking around the school, seeing you painting by a tree outside, it became the very first thing he thought of when he remembered you.

The second time was a day later, when he realized you were in a few of his classes. He notices the quiet (H/C) figure in the back now, unlike before. Something strange was felt whenever his gaze wandered to you after that.

It was a strange feeling, weighing him down and making him feel light all at once, it scared him at times. Naturally he hid any of this from his family and friends, continuing to be the obnoxious Jason Blossom everyone knew.

Very quickly he began to see you everywhere, not just in his classes. It was almost as if you were always where he was, most of the time painting, but there were moments where you didn’t have your equipment with you, and seemed to be listening to music.

His feelings became more prominent every single time he saw you. He began noticing small details about you, small little details that wouldn’t matter to the average person, but for some reason meant the world to him.

For a month Jason would gaze at you from afar, luckily not being noticed by you or anyone else. After the first month he wasn’t as worried about getting caught, and became less cautious during the moments he spent glancing your way.

The second month you finally noticed him looking at you, immediately giving him an odd look and walking away from your spot. That night Jason almost caused a dent in his car after scolding himself for being so stupid and careless.

Jason had thought he scared you off, surely you would tell people that the notorious Jason Blossom had been caught staring at her. To his surprise however, nobody said a word about it, and you continued going to the same spots you went to as if none of it happened.

Once the third month rolled around Jason started seeing you at his football games, sometimes he swore he saw you looking at him. His feelings grew even stronger and he didn’t understand why he suddenly felt the way he did.

He began considering speaking to you privately, one of the main things preventing him from doing so was his reputation. If he was seen in a serious relationship with you, his ‘friends’ on the football team would surely ruin it for the both of you, not only harassing you but probably going after Jason once they realized it was serious.

The fourth month was frustrating, he had walked out after deciding to speak to you privately when he noticed you at your usual spot, painting. The one problem was who you were painting, Jughead Jones sat there, one leg folded so his knee was against his chest, one splayed out infront of him.

He saw you laugh at something the raven-haired boy said, and he stopped walking altogether. He stared at you both, turning away after a moment to avoid being spotted by someone.

Unfortunately for him, his twin sister had been observing him the entire time. The redhead walked up to Jason with a smirk, “Well, well, well. Jason Blossom has a girl he actually likes this time?” she said, a hint of excitement in her words.

Jason shook his head quickly, but Cheryl was having none of it. She dragged him off and began speaking rapidly, “Not a lot of people know too much about her since she is pretty introverted. She’s only really close with Jones over there.” she said, glancing in your direction.

Jason sighed, shaking his head as he began to think that his chance was gone. Cheryl grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look at her, “I don’t think they’re together JJ, step up your game and talk to her.” she muttered, smiling at him kindly before walking off.

The fifth month Jason decided to talk to you, it took him so long and he decided it as worth an attempt. He saw you at Pop’s when he decided to do it, it was perfect, a small empty diner where nobody would know that it happened.

He stepped inside, slowly walking to where you were sitting, eating a burger and staring out the window. As he walked over he felt all of his confidence leaving him, ‘why the hell is this happening right now? This isn’t supposed to happen’ he thought to himself as he trudged forward, getting closer and closer to you.

It seemed like hours until he reached your booth, and it seemed like years before you looked over at him, although it was only seconds. Your eyes widened a bit, “If you don’t mind me asking, what is the notorious Jason Blossom doing at my booth?” she asked.

He knew she wasn’t being rude by the tone in her voice, it was light, not annoyed. Jason gave a quick small smile, “Uh- can I sit, please?” he asked quickly, the words rushed and stuttered out.

When he got a nod in response he sighed, relieved that he hadn’t been rejected, ‘yet’ he thought. You sat up and looked him in the eyes, giving him a look as you waited for him to speak.

Jason ran a hand through his hair, “Can you- uh can you paint me?” he asked, immediately regretting what he had said, ‘idiot! You asked her to paint you? What were you thi-’ “I suppose thats fine” you laughed, cutting off his thoughts.

Jason looked at you wide-eyed, “Trust me it’s not as weird as you think, I’ve been asked before. Usually I do the asking though” you responded, seeing the confused look on his face.

Jason nodded to himself, still distracted by the fact that it worked. He was interrupted again by you, “Actually you were someone who I’ve wanted to paint for a while, you have some quality about you, Jason. Not sure what or why, but you have something” you muttered in thought.

Jason smiled to himself, cheeks warm. There was a minute of calm silence before you spoke up again, “Blushing a bit there Jason? You are not what I expected, being all kind and flustered suits you” you said, laughing at his reaction as his eyes widened and he choked on his own air.

You looked outside and quickly stood up, “I have to get going, but meet me tomorrow around 2, also, the name’s (Y/N). See you soon Jason!” you exclaimed, running out of the diner. Jason sat with his head in his hands just smiling to himself, “You aren’t the typical Blossom, huh kid?” Pop said, scaring Jason.

Jason just looked at Pop, who smiled and shook his head, “Have fun, kid” he said, walking back into the kitchen. Jason stood up, running out of the diner to his house, spending the entire night thinking about the day that was about to come.

When it was one thirty, Jason began getting fidgety, and when he saw you approaching him at two, his heart almost stopped, your name which he had only learned yesterday, began ringing in his head. You had decided to meet in the forest, near Sweetwater River.

You walked over with all of your equipment, setting it up as you began speaking, “Alright, do whatever you want and lets talk” you muttered, focused on setting up your equipment.

Jason looked at you curiously, “Shouldn’t you- uh tell me what to do?” he asked, making you pause. Looking over at him, you began to speak again, “That feels too forced. Jason I want you to get comfortable in whatever position you want, wherever you want. We’re just gonna talk while I work, It’ll be nice.” you said, smiling at him kindly.

Jason smiled, looking down at his all white outfit. He sat on the ground, leaning against a large rock nearby, facing you. Both of his legs were splayed out infront of him and his head was tilted upwards slightly, facing to the right.

He didn’t care about getting his white clothing dirty, his hands rested almost in between his legs, relaxed. His eyes closed for a moment as you began speaking again, “You look great Jason, now we can talk” you said lightly, sitting down in front of him as he opened his eyes again.

The next hours were spent talking about your lives, Jason talked about how demanding his family was and his reputation. You talked about your lack of communication with your family since they were always busy, explaining that it was how you began painting.

By the end of it neither of you wanted to go, “I’m almost done the painting, we should do this again soon” you muttered sadly, finishing the details on the piece of art.

Jason nodded, and just as he was about to speak he was interrupted by a shout, “I’m done!” you exclaimed, showing him the painting that you spent the past few hours on.

Jason was in awe, right in front of him was a beautiful painting, him leaning against a rock with his eyes closed and a peaceful smile on his face. The  painting was so pleasant to look at and Jason had never seen anything as beautiful.

It was almost as if the painting gave off a feeling of serenity, Jason had never seen himself so calm- and happy. Jason felt the sting of tears and furiously rubbed at his face as you looked at him with concern.

You quickly spoke up, “Uh- I didn’t know it was that bad” you tried to joke, but Jason just shook his head. He looked at you with something you never saw in his eyes, and you felt something inside of you grow.

Jason began speaking softly, “I’m so used to just being told how to act and look. Most people see me as ‘Jason Blossom, the rich bitch’ but you- you just treat me like any other person and let me make choices and I don’t know why that affects me so much. It’s beautiful and I can’t believe you spent time and effort- your time and effort to make something so amazing for- for me” he mumbled.

You immediately reached out and hugged him, the painting forgotten for a moment, “(Y/N), I’ve been feeling something for you for so- so long and it scares me, I don’t know what it is but-” Jason was cut off with a kiss.

Everything stopped except for the tears that had continued to run down his face, and Jason hugged you, he clutched on to you like you were the only thing left keeping him alive.

You hugged him just as hard, stuffing your face into his shoulder. You pulled away and grabbed his face as he smiled, “You deserve so much Jason, you’re just a broken boy and I will devote my life to putting you back together.” you mumbled.

Jason laughed as he stood up, looking up at the sky as the wind began to pick up. Tears of pure joy ran down his face faster as he picked you up and spun you around, both of you laughing harder.

He picked up the painting, hugging it to his chest, and that night the both of you couldn’t sleep, because you both finally had something- someone, to keep you grounded, to keep you safe.

Originally posted by xeptum

Oh my God this shit has so much good quote potential my dudes

“Have you never done something horrible with the sole intention to protect?” Viktor asks of Yuuri, desperately, as he tries to convince Yuuri to stay after running out of their wedding.

“I believe that horribleness for protection’s sake blurs the line of what one must be protected from,” Yuuri snaps. “I have never lied to you, sir, and I was under the impression that the condition was mutual. Forgive me for my dismay at being proven wrong.”

and 

“Shall I tell you of my love, Yuuri? He who holds my heart? Shall I speak to you of the soul to which mine cries in the dark?”

“I have encountered Mister Giacometti many times, sir.” Yuuri speaks mostly to his own feet. “He is a winsome man of great character. I believe your union will be a successful and happy one, should you choose to take him as your spouse.”

“Do you honestly believe it is Christophe to whom I refer?” Mr. Nikiforov has taken on that look of bafflement again.

“Who else sir?” Yuuri murmurs, before walking away.

and

“Why do you waste your time at the window, child?” Ms. Baranovskaya looks up from her needle point. “Do none of the books interest you? You are the child’s tutor, do you not take time in the day to enrich yourself?”

“You’re right, of course.” Yuuri steps down from the window, straightening himself. “I apologize, Ms. Baranovskaya.”

“It was not meant as criticism,” Ms. Baranovskaya says after a moment. “At least not entirely. What holds your interest in those woods?”

Yuuri flicks his gaze towards the window once more. “Not the woods, ma’am, but what lies beyond. I wonder what is out there. I am twenty-three, ma’am, and educated. I traveled over the sea when I was only an infant, but since arriving in this country my life has seen little excitement. I receive letters from my former school-mate, who has returned to his birthplace of Bangkok in an attempt to gain riches. The tales he recalls to me are…not to be believed. In contrast, I have never seen a city. Indeed, I have not even returned to my family home in five years. I believe it may be shame that holds me back. The shame that I have not improved myself, despite the sacrifices of my family. I am twenty-three, and yet my ten-year-old pupil has more worldliness. My own inadequacies shame me.”

Ms. Baranovskaya is terribly quiet for only a moment–a moment during which Yuuri dismounts the window seat and crosses to the bookshelf.

“Shame can only take root if it is nurtured, Yuuri Katsuki,” she says finally. “It is very similar, in that way, to fear. But also love. Perhaps you should stop coddling your shame.”

Under the Table (Victor Zsasz x Reader)

part one of three for a request from @multi-villain-imagines

Also tagging : @queencobblefreezestuff  @aya-fay @awordwhichmeans

Here’s part 2   In a Taxi

Setting: A night out with Victor goes a bit south when he gets jealous

Contains : talk of punishment,  Dom Zsasz / Sub reader, sort of forced oral/ slightly consensual (not sure how to word it) but yeah.let me know if  I missed something

Keep reading

Love you but I’m leaving

Part 1

Michael Gray x reader

Request: A micheal gray x reader where he absolutely adores her (his wife) but polly doesn’t like her and tries to break them up until she realises how happy the reader makes michael?xx

Note: I got so carried away it will be in two parts now!! 

You are woken up by the sun burning through your window creating a frame of light over your fiance. His strong jaw line clenched and unclenched as he dreamed. You traced his chest with your fingers, his soft skin comforting to touch. You watched him as his eyes flickered open adjusting to his settings, smiling when he saw you staring at him.

“What are you looking at?” he smirked, pulling you closer and turning around to face you. You leaned forward pushing your lips against his as he ran his hands down your back and through your hair. You pulled away slightly as your face rested into a more serious expression.

Keep reading

Wicked Games - Chapter Eight

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

- Jughead and Betty’s POV’s will change throughout the chapter. I really want you guys to see things through Juggie’s eyes as well, so I hope you’re okay with this! 

- Betty isn’t going to crumble so easily for those of you who were worried about how this would all affect her. She’s strong as hell and she’s not going to let someone like Chuck Clayton bring her down. :’)


- Thank you to @itstenafterfour! She’s my freaking queen for being the most amazing beta and also for giving me amazing ideas to make this story just that much better. <3

- You guys have already met the stalker. Who do ya’ll think it is? ;)


He’s only ever been in a hospital room once before in his life. He had been eight years old and he’d broken his leg trying to jump off a tree in his backyard. He doesn’t remember what it felt like or if the pain was terrible or if he just cried because that’s what was expected. He does remember sitting down in a hospital bed as his mother sat by his side, holding his hand and telling him to be strong. Why did he have to be strong? It was just a broken leg. It would heal. It wouldn’t cause any irreversible damage. It wouldn’t even bother him in a few months time.

He wishes someone would hold his hand and tell him to be strong now.

He’s been by Betty’s bedside since they had arrived at the hospital. She’ll be fine, that’s what the doctors had told him. He didn’t believe them, though. How could she ever be okay after this? The amount of pain and tribulations she’d gone through in the short amount of months he had known her was unfathomable. He looked at her now, pale face and chapped lips, and wondered why she deserved any of this. People like Betty didn’t deserve to go through things like this. She deserved the entire world and more and yet here she was, in a hospital bed because the world around her was ugly. She didn’t deserve this and the world didn’t deserve her.

He watches her chest fall up and down. He has to keep watch just in case. He has to make sure that she’s okay. He can’t take any chances right now, not with her.

“You should get something to eat,” a nurse says to him as she walks inside the private room to make sure everything is okay with her vitals. “She’s just sleeping, she’ll be fine.”

Yeah, he thinks, that’s what she had said about the party before they had gone. She had said that it would be fine, she wouldn’t drink any alcohol. She just wanted to get out of the apartment and have fun. Jughead shuts his eyes tightly, willing the tears in them to go away. She’s fine, he knows that over all she’s okay, but he has no idea how she’ll react whenever she wakes up.

The nurse leaves, giving up on trying to get Jughead to leave. He can’t leave and the fact that she’d even tried to convince him to would be laughable; if anything about this was even remotely funny.

Cheryl had come by earlier. Apparently people at the party leaked photos of Betty on the ground passed out. She told him there were headlines reading how Betty had gotten blacked out drunk, how she’d been drugged, how she couldn’t handle herself. She had asked Jughead to try to keep her away from any kind of social media so she wouldn’t upset herself. Jughead had agreed. He wanted to kill whoever had thought it had been funny to take pictures of Betty. He couldn’t understand how people could be so cruel to someone who’s never done anything wrong to them before.

He watches Betty breathe and his eyes grow heavier. He’s exhausted and he wants to sleep, but he can’t; not until she’s awake. He grabs her hand, which is freezing, and wraps it up in both of his as he squeezes onto it tightly, trying to warm her up in anyway that he can.

He leans his head down and places it softly onto her stomach. He doesn’t put all his weight on her, scared to hurt her, but he just rests it enough to where he can feel her chest rise and fall. He closes his eyes and pretends that they’re anywhere else.

He lays there for about twenty minutes before he feels a gentle pressure on his hand. He picks up his head and sees Betty slowly start to open her eyes. It takes a little while and she scowls at the bright light in the room.

“Hey,” she croaks out, her voice scratchy. Jughead reaches over for the glass of water on the bedside table and hands it to her. There’s a straw in it and he guides it up to her lips for her. She takes a long sip before pulling her head away and Jughead places it back onto the table. “What happened?” Her voice still sounds uneven and now she’s looking up at the ceiling with sad eyes and Jughead knows that she knows what happened.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says. It’s all he can say. He can’t tell her she was drugged, he can barely think the words much less say them to her face. He watches as her face crumbles. For a second he’s worried that she’s about to start crying, but then she takes a deep breath and opens her eyes again.

“There’s a first for everything,” she says, trying to joke, and Jughead glares at her.

“Don’t joke about this, Betty. You scared the shit out of me. I’ve never—.” He cuts himself off. He’s never what? Never been so scared before? Never been so terrified to lose someone before? He doesn’t think it’s appropriate to say either one of those right now.

“I’m okay, right?” She asks him. It’s a weird question and he looks at her in confusion. “I’m… fine? Nothing happened?”

He knows what she’s asking him. A small part of him wants to say that he’d never let anything bad happen to her, but that’s not the truth; not anymore at least. He’s supposed to be the best at his job and yet since he’s been protecting her, she’s been nearly sexually assaulted and drugged. Her life has been worse since he’s entered it and he knows exactly why.

When Chuck had his arms around her, instead of feeling protective over her wellbeing, Jughead had felt a red hot burst of jealousy go through his body. He had never been a jealous person, mainly because he had never actually let himself get too close to anyone like that, but with Betty it was different. He saw the way men looked at her and he wanted to gouge their eyes out. They would touch her and he wanted to cut their hands off.

When she had told him she felt something for him, he yearned to reach out and take her to his bedroom and show her just what he felt for her. He didn’t, though. He knew he couldn’t do that, not without putting her life and her feelings in danger. Being with him would just make everything worse for her. Jughead wasn’t good at relationships. He had never had one before and there was good reason for that. He didn’t know the first thing about being anyone’s boyfriend. He knew how to protect people. He didn’t know how to love them.

He was too close to her and he needed to pull away.

“Nothing happened to you,” he tells her eventually. Betty gives him a small smile.

“I know. You wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

The words cut through him like knives and a sharp pang hits him in his chest. He did let something happen to her, though. He couldn’t protect her, not like she needed to be protected. She needed more than him, more than a man who couldn’t put his feelings aside to watch out for her.

There’s a tiny knock at the door that tears him away from his thoughts and both he and Betty turnaround. It’s the girl from the party who had helped him, Marisol. She’s standing in the doorway looking really nervous as she shifts her weight from foot to foot.

“Hi,” she finally says. “I just wanted to check on you. I don’t even know if you remember me, but–.”

“I remember you,” Betty says. “Thank you.”

The two girls stare at each other and Jughead stands up from his chair, letting go of Betty’s hand.

“I think I’m going to get something to eat,” he tells her. “I’ll bring you something back. Do you want anything, Marisol?” The brunette shakes her head and Jughead just nods as he walks out of the room, his thoughts overflowing his mind as he heads towards the cafeteria.


“How are you feeling?”

Betty doesn’t know how to answer the question. How is she feeling? Physically she feels fine. She’s a bit sluggish and it’s kind of hard for her to move still, but she feels okay and she knows she’ll be fine. Mentally is a different story. She repeats the same questions to herself over and over again. What did she do to deserve this? Why was this happening to her? She was starting to think that maybe she deserved all of this. There has to be a reason this is happening to her. She just wishes she could go back in time to when this wasn’t her life. She just wants to feel okay again.

“I don’t know,” she says softly. Marisol nods. “Was it Chuck?” Betty asks. She feels so stupid to think that he had changed. She should have known better. She’s starting to think the world is right about her being a naive little girl.

“I don’t know. He won’t confess. He swears it wasn’t him, but…”

Betty just nods. He’s not going to confess even if it was him. Chances are he won’t get in trouble even if he did confess. He’s a famous NBA player with lawyers who would never let this scandal see the light of day. Chuck Clayton will continue living his life normally while Betty sits in this hospital bed, not knowing what to do with herself.

“Your boyfriend was really scared,” Marisol speaks up. “He kind of beat the shit out of Chuck too, if it makes you feel any better.”

“My what?” Betty asks, confused.

“Your boyfriend, Jughead. He looked kind of scary honestly. Chuck was pissed that none of his friends tried to jump in for him, but no one wanted to mess with Jughead.” She shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. “You’ve got a good one, girl. He really cares about you.”

Betty’s head is reeling. What the hell is she talking about? Why would she think that Jughead was her boyfriend?

“Jughead said he was my boyfriend?” She asks, needing the confirmation that she’s hearing this correctly.

“Mhm,” Marisol nods. “I guess you wouldn’t remember because you were already kind of out of it at that point. Chuck was hanging all over you, though and Jughead wasn’t having it at all. He didn’t seem like the jealous type, but I guess it was just because he was so quiet.” She must see the confusion on Betty’s face, because she gives her a funny look. “Were you guys hiding your relationship or what?”

“Yeah,” Betty says, deciding to just go along with it. “We’re keeping it a secret so please—.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Marisol promises. “It’s not my business to tell. I don’t think he was going to say anything about it either, but Chuck made some kind of jab at him and he just snapped. I wouldn’t be too mad at him if I were you.”

Betty just nods. She’s not mad. Mad is literally the last thing she feels. She is fucking confused, that’s what she is. She has no idea what’s going on or why Jughead would say he was her boyfriend. Had it been just so that Chuck would leave her alone? It had to have been. She debates if she should bring this up to Jughead, but decides against it. It probably didn’t mean anything and there’s no need to bring it up, especially not now.

“Thank you,” Betty tells her again. “For helping me and for not taking pictures or anything like that.” She’s assuming someone took pictures of her. She’s not dumb, she knows how she must have looked. She also knows that this is probably all over the tabloids by now, but she knows Jughead is going to try to do his best to shield her from that. “Most people wouldn’t have be so kind.”

“It’s not about being kind,” Marisol says. “It’s about being human.”

She says it as if it’s that simple, as if people should just always be kind just because it’s the right thing to do. Maybe she has a point, maybe in her world that’s how things are. In Betty’s world though, she doesn’t think things work so easily. She’s starting to think that people are just cruel and she’d be blind to it all along.


They let her go home that day. She’s fine, everything’s fine. That’s what they keep telling her. They keep saying that she’s lucky she had a friend to help her out. She doesn’t feel lucky, though. She feels the complete opposite.

There are no cameras ready to blind her as soon as she leaves the hospital and she’s a bit shocked. She supposes that Cheryl must be behind that, but she doesn’t say anything.

Veronica has been calling her, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t want to have to listen to her best friend cry on the other line about how “it’s not fair” and “Chuck needs to pay” and how Betty “will grow from this”. It’s not fair, Betty knows this better than anyone. Chuck should pay, but he won’t. She’ll grow from this, sure, but it’s never going to leave her.

The apartment is quiet when they get there and Jughead walks her over to her bedroom. She doesn’t want him to hover over her, but she doesn’t want to be alone either. She’s conflicted.

“Do you need anything?” He asks her as he stands awkwardly by her dresser.

“I was drugged,” she reminds him a bit rudely, “I didn’t break my legs or something. If I need anything I can get it myself.” Jughead frowns and she knows that she’s hurt his feelings. She feels bad, but she doesn’t apologize. She doesn’t want this incident to change how he looks or acts around her. She understands just how bad things could have been, but they didn’t get that far so she doesn’t understand why he has to act like they did.

Jughead turns to walk out of her room and she calls out for him.

“Don’t blame yourself.” She knows that’s what he has to be doing right now. “This wasn’t your fault. It was neither of our’s fault.”

“But if I had just been paying more attention,” he starts off, voice broken, but Betty shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter. It probably still would have happened. I don’t blame you for it, so I don’t want you to blame yourself. You stopped anything else from happening and that’s what you should be focusing on. Because of you, I’m fine and I will be okay, so please.” Jughead nods, but he doesn’t look like he’ll be listening to her words anytime soon.

“You should probably get some rest,” he tells her.

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been resting all day. I’m tired of resting. What am I supposed to be resting from?”

“Betty, please,” he begs. “Don’t sleep if you don’t want to, but can you just stay in bed right now?” She debates fighting him on it, but just nods in the end. He looks really torn up over it and she doesn’t want to add any unnecessary stress to his life. She knows exactly how she feels over this, she knows that she’ll be okay and that she can’t let this one thing bring her down. Worse things have happened. Jughead though? She has no idea how he feels so she needs to tread easily.

“Stay with me?” She blurts out. “I mean, I just don’t want to be alone. We can watch a show and eat ice-cream or something…” she mumbles. She doesn’t know if she’s crossing some kind of line right now, inviting Jughead to come and lay with her in her bed. It seems a bit too much and she looks down, scared of what his reaction will be.

It’s quiet for a bit and she toys with her blanket.

“Chocolate or strawberry?” He finally asks. She looks up and he has a smile on his face. “If we’re watching a show though, it’s not going to be one of your teen drama ones. I’ve had enough of those.”

Betty grins at him. “Chocolate. Game of Thrones?”

Jughead nods before walking out of the room and Betty feels a little lighter. There’s a lot on her mind. Why had Jughead told Chuck he was her boyfriend? Who drugged her and why? What could they have possibly had to gain from it? How did she go about with her life now? Does she just act like it never happened? She doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want that one incident to define the rest of her life for her. She’s in charge of what happens from here on out.

 She’s always wanted to be someone who was strong, someone who didn’t have to rely on others to help her out when times got rough. Her life could be so much worse when she stops to thinks about it. She can take care of herself for now. She doesn’t need anyone babying her just because things get a little rough every now and then.

Then Jughead walks back into the room. He’s changed out of the clothes he had worn to the party and in the hospital. He’s wearing sweats that lay low on his hips and a white tank top. She’s never particularly liked when guys wore tank tops, but Jughead pulled it off perfectly just like he did for most things. He hands one bowl of ice-cream to her and makes to sit down on her bed. It’s a king sized bed, so there’s a lot of room for the both of them. She notices that Jughead seems to disregard that fact as he sits crisscrossed right next to her, their knees touching lightly.

She smiles at the touch and looks over to Jughead who’s just staring down at his bowl of ice cream.

“I was thinking we could start over at season one,” she tells him as she heads over to HBO On Demand.

“You’re really trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He asks her, finally looking her way and she just smiles.

You have no idea, Jughead Jones.


She stirs sometime in the middle of the night and opens her eyes to glance at her clock to see what time it is. It’s only one in the morning and she stills feels really drowsy. She turns on her side and nearly screams when she sees that she’s not alone.

It’s just Jughead though and she lets out a sigh as she sees that he’s fast asleep. His eyes are closed, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and the streetlights outside peak in through her window, illuminating his face perfectly. He’s breathing evenly and she can’t help but notice just how handsome he is as he sleeps. She wonders if this makes her a bit creepy. Maybe, but she doesn’t focus on that too much. Instead she focuses on how his body is facing hers, as if maybe he’d been watching her before he fell asleep. His hand is reached out to her, fingertips nearly touching the top of her arm. Had he been holding onto her during the night? She doesn’t know. All she knows is that for someone who’s supposed to be moving on, she’s doing a really shitty job of it.

She watches him for a little while longer. She knows she should probably look away. If he woke up and saw her staring at him like this, that would be kind of hard to explain. And then she had a scarier realization.

What if the stalker was watching her right now, just as she was watching Jughead? Suddenly her skin was crawling, and she pulled the covers over her head to shield herself from the open window not far from the bed. Her head was a couple inches away from Jughead’s stomach, and she could see his chest rise up and drop almost systematically.

Soon enough, the air under the covers began to feel stuffy, a thin layer of sweat covering her back. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her head up from under the covers, rested up on her forearm and shook him from sleep.

“Jughead?” She whispered. He didn’t even stir.

“Jughead?”  This time her voice came out as more of a whispery scream.

“Jughead, I’m scared someone’s out there,” she said, biting her lip.

Without saying a word or even opening his eyes, he groggily slung his arm over her waist, and pulled her into his chest, turning onto his side.

“Don’t worry,” he said, mumbling something in her ear that she couldn’t make out. Had he said Betty or baby? It sounded suspiciously of the latter.

Tucking her in against him, he whispered “I’ve got you,” before falling back to sleep.

For some reason, she felt safer in his arms than she had since any of this happened. Since the stalker, since Nathan, since the party. For once, sleep managed to make its way back to her, and her eyelids fell shut.


He’s awake now. He’d been fast asleep, but since Betty had whispered to him that she felt scared he just couldn’t go back to sleep. He keeps his eyes closed tightly though, as he feels Betty’s chest move up and down against his. It’d been a pretty risky move, bringing her close to him to cuddle, but the way she fell asleep quickly lets him know that she didn’t have a problem with it.

He runs a hand through her hair, loving how soft it feels in his hands. It’d be so easy right now to whisper out all of the thoughts flowing through his mind about her. No one can hear him, not even she can. He’s tempted to just say it all to her sleeping figure.

He looks down at her, she’s tucked against his chest and he simultaneously hates and loves how perfect she fits against his body, as if she was made just for him.

A loud wailing noise comes from outside and he sees a flash of red and blue lights. He doesn’t even think twice about the sirens; it’s Los Angeles after all. There are always sirens around. What does catch his attention, is the way the blue and red lights seem to stop right outside of Betty’s bedroom window. He knows he’s probably being a bit paranoid, especially since she had just expressed that she felt like someone was outside. The siren shuts off rather abruptly and Jughead untangles Betty from him gently. She groans at the loss, but overall just turns onto her side and continues sleeping.

Jughead walks over to the sliding door in her room that connects to a balcony. The cop car is parked directly in front of her bedroom. He looks down, since Betty’s apartment is on the third floor, and sees a silhouette in the driver’s seat. The windows are way too tinted for him to even try to see who the person driving the car is, but he opens up Betty’s balcony door anyways as he steps outside.

He can’t really see, but he knows that the person inside of the car is looking right back at him. He steps forward again, but before he can fully get onto the balcony, the car takes off down the street. It’s weird. It’s weird as hell and he has a bad feeling about it all. Why would someone just stop right here, looking up to Betty’s bedroom, and then speed off? Something’s not right.

He walks back inside of the bedroom, relieved to see that Betty is still fast asleep and he makes his way into the living room as he grabs his phone and dials the police department. A dispatcher answers his call and he’s quick to get to his point.

“Hi, I just saw a LAPD car outside of my apartment. They just parked and then sped off really fast before I could see what they needed. Could you tell me if maybe that was just some kind of detour or mix up or something?” It’s stupid to be calling, especially over something like this, but he just needs to be sure.

“Sure,” the lady answers back. “Could you tell me your address?” He rattles off their address to the lady and she types away at her computer for a few seconds before clicking her tongue. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you sure it was a LAPD cruiser?”

“I’m positive.”

“We haven’t have any officers in that area in the last thirty minutes.”

He pauses. He knows it was a LAPD police cruiser, the street light had reflected it perfectly. He knows what he saw. He realizes that he hasn’t answered the lady back and he decides that there’s really nothing more that she can help him with. 

“It must have been a mistake,” he says absentmindedly, “thank you.” He hangs up the phone before running his hands over his face in frustration. “Fuck!”

“Jughead?”

He whirls around and sees Betty standing at against the bar in the kitchen. She’s just woken up and she looks a little disoriented. Fuck, he thinks to himself, how much of that did she hear?

“Who was that on the phone?” She asks him.

Obviously she heard enough.

“It was no one,” he tries to tell her confidently, “go back to bed.”

“You’re lying,” she says. “Who were you talking to?”

He grinds his teeth together in frustration. He knew she wasn’t going to let this go and now he’s going to have to lie to her, because he’s not about to worry her with this. For all he knows this could be nothing. There’s no need to worry her over nothing.

“It was nothing, Betty.”

She glares at him. “It didn’t sound like nothing! Why can’t you just tell me who you were talking to? You seem really upset.”

“I’m upset because you keep asking me questions that aren’t any of your business.” It’s mean and he doesn’t mean it, but he knows Betty. He knows that there’s no way she’s going to let go of any of this. He can tell by the way her face falls that he’s done what he planned. He feels like shit over it.

“It’s just not a big deal,” he tells her, trying to get the sad look off of her face. “Just some dumb work stuff. It’s fine, okay? Everything’s fine.”

She doesn’t believe him. He knows she doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t say anything else. She just nods.

“Go back to bed, Betts,” he tells her gently.

She bites at her lip and hovers for a minute.

“Will you come with me?” She asks and his heart clenches. He should tell her no. Fuck, he needs to tell her no. It’d be stupid and reckless to say yes to her. He’s already crossed way too many lines tonight. “I sleep better when you’re with me.”

Well, shit. How is he supposed to say no to that?

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he promises as he nods for her to go along. “Just give me a minute.”

She nods and walks off. Once he’s sure that she’s back in her room, he walks over to the kitchen window and looks outside. There aren’t any cars in sight and he feels even more unnerved than he had before.

He makes his way back to Betty’s room and stares at the bed. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but God does he want to. He’s never wanted anything more than to just curl up next to her and hold her.

So he does.


He wakes up the next day before Betty does. It’s a knock on the apartment door that wakes him up and he’s surprised that Betty seems to stay sleeping. He gets up quickly and answers the door, not wanting them to knock again and wake her up.

“Are you Forsythe Jones?” A young man asks him. Jughead nods and the man hands him a box. “This was left outside for you, which is kind of weird. You should probably let people know that this is an apartment complex. They can send stuff to your mailbox instead of leaving it outside where anyone can get it.”

“Do you know who it’s from?” He asks the boy. It’s only addressed to him and he doesn’t see another name on it telling him who sent it.

“No, dude,” the guy snorts before walking off. Jughead just closes the door behind him, not caring for his attitude.

He takes the box over to the kitchen and places it on top of the counter. He has a bad feeling about it, but that’s not shocking. They never get anything good in the mail.

He rips open the package, reaching inside and taking a deep breath as he readies himself for whatever is inside of it.

He pulls out a polaroid picture and his blood goes cold.

He’s staring at a picture of him and Betty from last night. It’s of them when they had first fallen asleep, before Betty had woken him up because she felt like someone was watching them. He knows exactly where this picture was taken. It was taken right from their balcony. Betty’s face is unmarked as she faces towards the camera, still sleeping. Jughead’s off to the side, you can barely see his face, but that didn’t stop whoever took this from splattering blood across him on the polaroid. It paints a clear picture of what they’re trying to say to him.

He stares at the picture in horror. He flips it over and chilling words stare back at him.

Hold her as much as you can. A dead man can’t hold anyone when he’s six feet under.

It’s a threat. This psycho, whoever he is, is finally looking at Jughead.

“Jug?” Betty croaks out, walking into the kitchen as she rubs her sleep filled eyes. “It’s really early.”

He doesn’t say anything. He can’t take his eyes off of the picture and the words it holds on the back.

“Juggie?” She walks over to him and when she sees what he’s holding she stops in her tracks. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” he whispers out, pulling the picture away from her view.

“Show me.” Her voice hardens and he knows that there’s no way she’s going to let this one go.

“Betty, please,” he begs her, “just let this one go.”

“Give it to me, Jughead. I deserve to know what it is.” He knows that she’s right and he curses himself before he slowly reaches towards her and places the picture in her hand. She flips it over just as he had. He watches as she goes from confused, to horrified, to absolutely blank.

“He was on our balcony. He’s threatening you now,” she whispers out. She looks up at him with tears in her eyes. “You were going to keep this from me?”

“I’m trying to protect you, Betty,” he pleads.

“From what? From him? From you? Who were you on the phone with last night, Jughead? I’m not going to let you lie to my face anymore.”

He debated lying but he knows that he can’t do that to her. He sighs as he answers her.

“I called the police department. I saw a cop cruiser parked on the street in front of your bedroom. It didn’t feel right and when I called, the dispatcher told me that there hadn’t been any cruisers in our area in the past thirty minutes.”

Betty looks at him with wide eyes. “And you were just going to keep that from me?”

“I’m trying to protect you!” He tells her again.

“That’s not protecting me! That’s keeping things from me. You are doing the exact opposite of what I need you to do!”

“You don’t get it! If I could shield you from the entire world, I would. I’d do anything to make sure that you never had to worry about anything. I need you to be safe.”

“Why do you need me to be safe? Why do you make everything so personal? And what about you, huh? He’s looking at you now! That was a threat, Jughead!” She’s in his face right now, their chests are practically touching and Jughead curls his hands into fists, willing himself to stay calm. “You think you can just cuddle me at night and that suddenly makes everything okay? Suddenly I’m safe from the world? Is that what you’d do with anyone else to make them feel safe?”

“Just stop, Betty, let it go.” He needs her to stop talking right now before he does or says something he regrets.

“No! Just tell me why everything has to be so damn personal with you!”

“Because it’s you!” He yells out. “If anything happened to you, I’d literally go crazy. Nothing can happen to you, Betty.”

“Why?” She whispers out. She asks it like she already knows the answer. “Because you’re my bodyguard? Because it’s your job? Because I’m the girl you’re being paid to protect?” It’s what she always refers to herself as and it makes his blood boil.

It’s not too late to backtrack, he thinks to himself. He can let this all go. He can act like that’s not how he meant it.

“No,” he says roughly. “You’re not ‘just the girl I’m being paid to protect’. How oblivious can you be, Betty?” He runs his hands across his face before tearing them away and placing them onto her cheeks, making sure she’s looking at him. “I’ve felt something for you since the day I first met you. Do you know how that makes me feel? To be completely head over heels for you, but knowing I can’t do anything about it? Me liking you makes your life that much harder. I could be the reason you get killed, Betty. And I can’t let that happen.” He lets go of her face and takes a step back.

“Wait,” Betty yelps, reaching out to grab his hand. He moves away from her, backing up.

“I won’t be the reason you get hurt.”

“You can’t just spring something like that on me and just leave!”

“I can’t stay,” he says brokenly. “If I truly care for you then the best thing I can do is leave you alone. You’re right, I make things too personal.”

“Jughead,” she pleads, eyes watering.

But he doesn’t hear whatever she has to say next. He’s out of the door before she even opens her mouth.


NOTE: Before ya’ll come at me because this is too soon for a slow burn, do you know how hard it was to drag it out this long?! SO HARD. Anyways, life doesn’t get any sweeter for these two so like :’) it’s a slow burn for a happy ending, heheheh.

slytherin common room year 4

pansy, speaking liberally to everyone in the room: draco has a crush on potter

draco, horrified, looking up from where he is working hard on his ‘potter stinks’ badges: that’s disgusting. and wrong. i don’t even get– why would– i’ve never had a crush on anyone, anywhere. it’s none of your- you have- the nerve, the audacity, potter is my rival, technically. and he is terrible, face-wise. and how- how- do i know, frankly, that you don’t have a crush on him? maybe you do. maybe you’re trying to throw me off? hmm, check and mate.

TalesFromRetail: "Why does your site hate me?"

Hey guys, Here’s another great story from Uncle Pierogi’s Retail Story Time. Yeehaw!

This happened just now. Customer called in regarding her tax exempt ID no longer working on her orders. I currently don’t work too much with that department, but know enough to kind of plod my way through and make the booboo all better, so to speak.

For the purposes of this, I will be Me and the customer will be Lady Notax. Here we go!

Me: “Thank you for calling *****, My name is PierogiTuxedo, How may I help you?”

LNT: “Hello! Why does your site hate me?”

Me: “(Pause) I’m sorry?”

LNT: “Yea, every order i’ve placed for a long time had tax exemption on it, but now, none of them do! Your site hates me! Please fix it!!”

Now, I’d like you to read this as the most screechy, perky voice you can think of. Don’t hurt yourself, mind you, but imagine for a moment with me. That’s what I’m enduring in this call.

Me: “Okay, let me take a look and see what’s making it not work.”

I look through the website, all the while, hearing the woman repeat over and over again:

“It used to work and now it doesn’t, Its attached to my account…WHY DOES YOUR WEBSITE HATE ME?!”

Finally, we got it working. All she needed to do was enter it in manually. She did so, and exclaimed:

“YOU FIXED IT YOU FIXED IT OHHH I LOVE YOU!”

-CLICK-

I guess I made her day!

By: pierogituxedo