⇢ summary: according to the rumours, min yoongi is a bad apple- doesn’t take grades seriously, drinks as if he has two livers, a certified bad boy™. when you get paired up with him for a project, you’d never expect that someone like him would have a thing or two to teach you about life itself- and how it should be lived.
⇢ warnings: angst, smut
🎵 song recommendation: something just like this by coldplay x the chainsmokers
a/n: finally something that isn’t pwp????? :”)
races through your veins and fills up your airway, causing your breathing to
double itself, chest heaving in an attempt to calm yourself down. No, this can’t be happening, you chant
to yourself over and over. The clock on your laptop is glaringly bright in the
near darkness of your room, and the numbers burn themselves into the back of
your eyelids. When you close your eyes, the uncomfortable stinging of your
contact lenses makes your eyes water and at this point they might as well be
tears of desperation.
not like you’ve never had writer’s block before, you reason with yourself. You
just have to start writing and edit along the way. Your own voice of reason is
drowned out by the anxiety that echoes all the possible consequences of not
acing this paper. It’s nearly 4 am and the essay you have so far in front of
you is not enough to get an A, you know it in your bones but you can’t come up
with anything better either. You could just submit this as it is, but anything
less than an A on this paper would pull you down from the cusp of that ever
elusive first class honours. And you can’t afford to graduate with anything
less than that. The very thought of it sends a fresh chill of panic that creeps
down your spine and jolts your fingers into a typing frenzy, spilling thoughts
and ideas onto your screen till you reach the end of the page.
when you read over what you’ve written, it doesn’t make sense at all, just
incoherent rambling sentences strung together into a never ending paragraph. In
frustration you shove your laptop away from you and push back your chair, reaching
for your keys and phone. Sneaking a peek at your roommate’s still form across
the room, you let yourself out of the room silently, feeling your tensed
shoulders relax immediately as the cool night air embraces you with open arms.
a little chilly to be out in just a long shirt and sleep shorts, but since
there’s no one awake to catch you dressed like this, it’s the least of your
concerns for now. The balcony that is attached to your room affords a little
privacy, and it’s one of the perks of occupying the corner room on this floor.
The tranquillity of the cold, autumn night directly contrasts with the millions
of theories and concepts running through your mind, and any attempts at
clearing your mind are failing pathetically. The residential halls are eerily
silent at this time of the night, and as you glance down over the protective
railings, you consider how easy it would be to just climb over, just one leg
over and then-
night?” You whirl around at the interruption of a raspy, gruff voice sounding
from behind you. Your eyes are met with a figure clothed in an oversized
sweatshirt and jeans, but it’s only when you squint in the darkness to survey
his face that you realise who he is.
Gryffindor: climbing trees, jumping into piles of leaves, getting lost in corn mazes, face painting, building pillow forts, ripped jeans and combat boots, laughing loudly, rolling down hills, walking barefoot on cold floors, a mischievous glint in someone’s eye, roasted marshmallows
Ravenclaw: bedheads and fuzzy socks, pumpkin flavored coffee, reading by the fire, passing out on soft pillows and warm blankets, listening to rain, old music playing on a turntable, deep conversations, crunching leaves, foreheads against cold windows
Hufflepuff: bonfires and camping with close friends, big sweaters and fluffy scarves, drinking loads of hot cocoa, pumpkin carving, warm hugs, morning walks, smiling at strangers, holding hands, blue lips and pink noses, huddling close to friends, holding a warm drink, cuddling
Slytherin: watching old movies wrapped in a fluffy blanket, hot tea on cloudy days, pink cheeks from cold wind, knitted beanies and cozy jackets, stargazing on a rooftop, long sighs, flickering candles, misty mornings, reading old poetry, writing in a cafe, tired yawns
Stiles dropped the book onto the table and opened it. The spine of it cracked. Some of the pages fell out and fluttered to the floor.
“Oh come on,” Stiles whined, “I just bought this one.”
The baby made an inquisitive cooing sound and reached for the book.
“No, Jellybean,” he said patiently, as he gently pried her pudgy hands away from it.
A half laugh, half choked sort of noise from across the table made Stiles lift his head. Derek was staring at him, eyebrows raised in question.
“I don’t want to give her a name, we’ll get attached. So that’s my nickname for her.” Stiles said, slowly.
Derek’s eyebrows seemed to crawl higher (which Stiles hadn’t thought possible until just then), “Yes, but, Jellybean?”
Derek just huffed out another laugh and turned his attention back to the laptop.
“Not hard to find stuff about the fae, at least.” Stiles mused, “Although a lot of the lore seems to agree they’re nothing like Tinkerbell.” He held up the book to show Derek an illustration of a rather vicious-looking pixie, and bared his teeth in a poor imitation of it.
This seemed to delight Jellybean, as she let out a high-pitched squeal and waved her hands towards him. Stiles turned his attention to her and tickled her belly, and she dissolved into giggles. When Stiles looked up, Derek looked a little dazed. Stiles grinned at him.
S.Coups: Bright red. Worn in baseball caps, over-sized jerseys, hot dogs and empty stadiums. The smell of fresh strawberries; Getting into your house after a day out in the winter; The feel of a new basketball. Warm summer nights. The sound of kids in the hallways on the last day of school after the bell rings; Screaming when you finally beat a hard level in a game; Teasing eyes; Mangoes.
Woozi: An untouched field of bright crisp snow; the satisfaction you get when you ace a test you thought you’d do bad on. Thick Holiday sweaters; paper lanterns glowing in dark streets; serious conversations with your normally easy-going friend at 2 in the morning. The colors mint and peach. Smiling to yourself as someone unknowingly compliments you. Laughing to yourself, embarrassed, after you caught yourself daydreaming about someone. The feel of new notebooks.
Hoshi: The rush of joy you feel all at once as you’re trying your hardest doing something you love. Watermelon Popsicle sticks. Turquoise. Giggles breaking the silence. 2007- 2009 pop songs that you still break out screaming to if they come on the radio. Cherry lip balm. Daisies. Empty hockey rings. Cheesy Valentine’s Day teddy bears. Spending hours on a project you’re working on, not noticing you worked through the night. Plastic water bottles.
Wonwoo: Ocean blue. Secret smiles. The jokes written on cards you get at the Pharmacy. Midnight walks. Being in a warm jacket outside during the fall. Apples. The feel of a cold PlayStation controller. Fresh pumpkins. Inside jokes with your friends. Laughing really hard after not laughing for a long time. The smell of clean linen. The moon’s reflection on a car window. Hugging a friend you haven’t seen in a while. Worn in converse sneakers. The sound of a shower running. Soft cloth.
Mingyu: Warm cheesy pizza. Unexpectedly laughing loudly. Ultramarine blue. Fuzzy socks. Riding your bicycle really fast and feeling the wind hit you. Mozzarella sticks. Ice cold soda on a hot day. The way gloves feel when they just got out the dryer. Giggling to yourself as you enjoy doing something childish. Dancing to yourself in front of a mirror. The sound of the city on a busy day. Dipping new paint brushes into paint. Bright sunlight pouring in through a window.
Vernon: Staying up all night on the internet. Late night jokes with your friends. Burgers. Crinkled plaid shirts. Purple. The way your face scrunches up as you laugh really hard. 2 a.m. Ramen noodles. Feeling satisfied as you push yourself past your comfort zone and get good results. Jokes so bad they’re funny. Falling asleep to the sound of a tv show. Opening a new album package that you waited forever for. Plastic figurines. Feeling nervous on the first day of school. Rubber bracelets. Relaxing car drives.
Dino: Stretching in the morning. Lopsided beanies. Pumpkin seeds and tangerines. Long needed hugs. Making fake mohawks with shampoo/soap. Brand new comic books. The way your eyebrows furrow as you work hard doing something you love. The color green.
Randomly learning a weird fact. Rushing to open a package of takeout when you’re really hungry. Racing during gym. Ham and cheese sandwiches.
Seungkwan: The smell of warm, fresh out the oven, buns. Pastel yellow and baby blue. Soft pajamas. Purposefully singing badly to a song. Scrapbooks. The taste of vanilla. The feeling of satisfaction and pride you get after you tell a joke and everybody starts laughing. Those dollar store kids hand sanitizers. Preppy button up shirts. Warm honey brown eyes. The way a librarian smiles at you sweetly. Snow falling in your hair. Thick fluffy scarves. Really puffy winter jackets. Dandelions.
DK: Yellow and orange. Sunflowers. The way you squint your eyes when the sun is too bright. Fried chicken + french fries. Late night snacks. Sliding down wooden floors in socks. Terrible romantic movies. Imitating/mocking the GPS’ voice when you’re driving. Holding hands with your friends. The toy section at the dollar store. The smell of citrus. Bananas. Finger painting. Bouncing your leg as you type away. Laughing with someone, adoration shining through your eyes. Oversized shirts with jokes written on them.
The8: Rubber bouncy balls. Happy family reunions. Fuzzy slippers. Tinsel. The faint sound of music playing at a bbq. Baby golden retrievers. Surprising yourself with your own strength. Bonfires late at night on the beach. The sun shinning extremely bright after it rained. Long eyelashes. Roast sessions with your friends. Coconuts; the smell of purple grapes. Holiday music playing in stores. Fake mustaches and waffles. Two toned/swirled ice cream. The way the warm sidewalk pavement feels against your bare feet.
Jun: Retro red. The night sky when there are no stars out. Kitchen aprons and rose petals. Steele blue. Brand new pencils. Bright white teeth and secret winks. Jumping in (clean) puddles when it’s raining. Airplanes. Apricots and strawberry jam. Cheap perfume and small tourist knick knacks. Warm caramel, covered in chocolate. When your friend pulls through for you. 1 a.m. phone calls. Waking up before you’re supposed to and just laying there, thinking, until your alarm goes off. Fake-flirting with your friends. Plastic flower necklaces.
Jeonghan: Neutral colors. Cactus’ and pastel flower pots. The silence before a storm. Sticking your tongue out playfully. Laughing so hard you accidentally hurt yourself by bumping into something. Messy toaster strudels. Accidentally succeeding at something/good luck. Nostalgia. When you’re tired but so excited you can’t sleep. Watching terrible comedy movies with your friends and laughing more with each other than at the movie. Cinnamon toothpaste. Saltine crackers; absentmindedly laying in a weird position when you’re invested in your hobby.
Joshua: Worn down wood. Maple syrup on warm fluffy pancakes. Procrastinating by watching strange useless videos on Youtube. Old headphones. When your desk is messy but you kinda just know where everything is. Coffee shops and doughnuts with sprinkles. The sound of traffic at night. Knowing every word to a child’s song you haven’t sang in years. Chipped nail polish. Jeans and messy hair. Seeing your own breath when it’s very cold out. Drawing small hearts on the car window. Secret Pinterest boards.
With perfect penmanship she wrote the customer’s name on the plastic cup in her hand. Announcing their total and sending them off with a friendly smile, she prepared to do the same routine with the next person in line.
Having been doing this for over a year and a half she knew how the flow of the small coffee house worked. Even though her day consisted of a routine that some might have found boring, she thought her job was the exact opposite of that.
As soon as she stepped into the shop every morning and the smell of coffee cascaded around her, she felt like she was home.
She no longer worried about her university courses or the term papers she had to do but instead focused on making the lives of the customers around her a little brighter by sharing a smile.
Things have been going
well for you and your boyfriend Jughead, you’ve been together for almost 6 months.
You’re ready to move forward and you both think it’s time to become intimate.
However with Jughead living at the Andrews and your parents working from home
and an annoying little sister to deal with, the conditions are far from ideal.
Monday morning rolled around, Y/n woke up to her usual wake
up text from Jughead.
‘Roses are red,
Violets are blue, There isn’t a star,
As bright as you.
See you at school xx’
She gave a great sigh, he really did have a way with words. She loved that everyone thought of him as this dark and mysterious emo kid when really he was a total sweetheart.
Y/n walked into Riverdale high. The hallway was already
bustling with chatter, everybody catching up on the gossip from the weekend.
She waltzed up to her locker, her beanie clad boyfriend already waiting for
her. Jughead pecked her on her cheek.
‘Morning, how are we this fine Monday?’ he asked.
‘Much better now.’ She smiled.
‘Well look who it is, our favourite ship.’ They were
interrupted right on que by Veronica, who was joined by Betty and Kevin.
‘Good morning to you too.’ Y/n replied, raising a sly
eyebrow at her best friends.
‘Do anything exciting this weekend guys?’ She asked, making
small talk in the small time they had.
‘Y/n, you’re aware we’re in Riverdale right? Of course
nothing exciting happened.’ Kevin quipped. Y/n chuckled, Kev always knew how to
lighten the mood.
‘And what about you two then?’ Betty enquired quietly, she
sometimes had to be battle to heard, especially with Ronnie and Kevin around.
Jughead looked at y/n with a sly grin.
‘Nothing much, usual Netflix marathon.’ He replied. He
looked at his watch realising time was ticking on.
‘I better get going for class, meet you here later?’ he
‘Well duh, Juggie, it’s not like we do that every day.’ She
‘Okay, okay, see you later.’ He left her another kiss on the
cheek and headed off to class.
‘We better head off too Betty, see you later!’ Kevin and
Betty rushed off, merging in the crowd of students. Y/n was finally alone with
her best friend, Veronica. As they walked to class she decided to confide in her.
If anyone could help her solve her privacy problem, V could.
‘So Ronnie, you know how I love you lots with a cherry on
‘What do you want y/n?’ Veronica could see straight through her, it
was clear y/n was desperate for some help.
‘I need help with a problem. I can barely even make out with
my boyfriend without being interrupted and it’s starting to become an issue.’ Y/n
sighed. She was falling for Jughead and this road block was really worrying
her. Veronica gave y/n a gentle hug, she knew all about the couple’s issue having heard some pretty embarrassing stories from Archie. She felt bad for y/n though so she kept what she knew quiet. V could see her best friend was in need
of her help. She quickly started formulating ideas in her head.
‘Don’t look so glum girl. Lucky for you, you have Veronica
Lodge in your life, to come to your rescue. It’s almost your six month anniversary
right?’ She was fairly confident in this information but didn’t want to show
off in case anniversaries weren’t their thing. Y/n and Jughead were a fairly
is indeed, this weekend, well remembered.’ Y/n thought it was quite sweet she remembered.
‘Perfect, we’ll need something extra special then.’ Veronica grinned.
‘Nothing too sho-’ The bell rang, interrupting y/n.
‘Don’t you worry, leave all the details to me. I’ll inform you of the plan at lunch, bye y/n!’ And with that Veronica was gone in a flash to the class room next door. Y/n entered her biology class, her mind boggling at what Veronica could be planning and her stomach filling with a few butterflies at what might take place this weekend.
Surprise! I finished the second part to my soulmate AU! Sorry it took 62 years to finish. Enjoy!
A/N: In this AU, Riverdale is a much bigger city than it is in canon, so the Riverdale Register is much bigger as well. Also, shoutout to @birdlovesafish for giving me the idea for Betty’s nickname that Polly’s kids call her. Thanks, lovely!
Betty Cooper stumbled through the revolving glass doors of the tallest building in town, the Riverdale Register. Betty took a look around the recently renovated lobby, her eyes widening in awe at the pristine marble flooring and state of the art computers on every desk from the receptionist’s right in front of her, to the reporters’ in the back room.
“May I help you?” The man standing behind the reception area asked in a nasally voice, his nose turning up to the tall ceiling at the sight of Betty and her too-tight ponytail and wrinkled baby blue skirt clumsily sliding her way across the recently mopped wet floor.
“Yes! I’m looking for a Mr. Jones,” she explained once she had made her way safely over to him, holding onto the counter tightly with one hand and smoothing down her blouse with the other. “Um, he left something of his at my sister’s cafe this morning and I’m here to return it.”
“Do you have a name?” the man wanted to know, glancing down at his computer briefly to check something before flicking his eyes back up in her direction impatiently.
“Uh, I do. But whatever name you give him won’t mean anything to him,” Betty informed him, her words coming out rushed and jumbled as she scrambled to explain herself. “He doesn’t actually know me - I mean apparently he writes about me, but he’s never met me. Well technically he met me this morning, but it was only briefly and I don’t think he really even looked me in the eye or-”
“Rambling crazy lady with a journal,” the man spat, cutting her off and eyeing her with a look of annoyance as he picked up the phone on the counter to punch in a number. “That’ll be enough of a description for him, thanks.”
“Rude,” Betty muttered under her breath, backing away from the desk and rubbing her arms up and down uncomfortably as she waited for the receptionist to make his phone call.
“He’ll be down in a moment,” he told her. “Try not to touch anything while you’re waiting. In fact, try not to even look at anything breakable until Mr. Jones arrives.”
“Well okay then,” Betty mumbled, making her way over to the wall on the opposite side of the reception area where she found row after row of noteworthy articles from past news editions, framed and polished for the entire office to read.
Betty scanned the wall, taking in title after title until one particularly lengthy column that sat at the very end, nearest to the staircase, caught her eye. It was written by the very man of whose journal she was lugging around in her purse, and as curiosity got the better of her, she began reading until she was completely immersed in his words, just as she had been when she was reading his journal.