I do not know why there are vhope fans here when it's clearly a TaeJin page. I do not deny that they get along well but what I see of them is pure fan service they are very "obvious" in their interactions. On the other hand TaeJin does not make it very obvious because it is obvious that their relationship they want to take it secretly and even Jhope is a Taejin shipper haha I remember the picture of TaeJin caught as boyfriends and Hobi alone on the one hand it is obvious that Vhope is not true
Hey there ‘V’Hope is not true’ anon,
Good question, I dunno but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ c’est la vie!
But I’m not really surprised with ships such as V’Hope and Yoon’jin being popular since in this fandom any imagined combo is validated based on fan-service ‘proofs’ that this or that ship are real. So I’m not worried and I don’t think it is a bad thing, as long as it is respectful and chilled it’s fine.
Oh yeah tks for reminding me, that iconic Taejin Vegas date where Jin was walking around holding Taehyung’s hand cause they had no idea they were being photographed by a fan and J-Hope was with them, walking slightly distant and very comfortable in giving Taejin space. He is such a sweetie Hobi, I love his bright personality, his style, his beautiful smile! Oh I love him loads.
Let’s put that J-Hope pic on the wikipedia definition of Third Wheeling. But Jimin would not be ok with that LOL!
Jimin might be the official Taejin Third Wheeler but J-Hope is most definitely applying for the job! While Jimin’s support of Taejin is quite enthusiastic, J-Hope is protective. Also the Taejin mosquito rant where J-Hope was cheering on the msgs. There is also those multiple Sope and Taejin double dates, including the ones in Las Vegas and how Sope are the ones who often ‘protect’ Taejin. To be honest, being Sope my second fav pairing I think their dynamics with Taejin is precious.
Jimin tilted his head as if to ponder the idea before tugging you across the bed until you were leaning against his chest, curious eyes catching your own.
“Sure, I mean one day. One day, far, far away,” He said, pointing his finger off into the distance jokingly.
You laughed, hand skimming along the back of his neck. “Yeah, me too.”
“Any particular reason why you’re asking?” He said as he began playing with the strands of your hair.
“I dunno,” You shrugged. “We’ve been dating for a long time, just thought that it’s something we should know about each other.”
Jimin nodded, “No, you’re right. It’s kind of something you should figure out before things get too far in the relationship… Guess we waited a bit too long, but we’re on the same page, so that’s good,” He smiled, leaning down to place a short peck against your lips.
“So that means you think that information will be put to good use one day?” You asked, quirking your brow to insinuate.
“…I’m gonna show you tonight! I’m alright! I’m just fine! And you’re a tool so, so what?”
You belted your heart out up on stage, pumping your fist in the air to empower your words even further. It was a good thing you knew all the words, too, because your mates had bought you so many drinks your vision was crossed and blurred you couldn’t have read the lyrics to an unfamiliar song. Then you would have just been a blubbering fool butchering a karaoke performance. And that would have been embarrassing.
Singing yourself blue in the face—and drinking yourself into oblivion—served as the perfect outlet for your aching heart. Hours earlier, you’d been dumped. Or more accurately, replaced.
It’d been a week since you’d heard from your long-term boyfriend, and while you knew he was on holiday with his mates—a holiday you hadn’t been invited on—it was still odd that you hadn’t heard from him at all. Not even a text to let you know that he’d made it to Amsterdam. You didn’t expect too much communication; you trusted him to treat you right, but, silly you, you thought your boyfriend might actually miss you and want to say hi.
Last night after seven and a half days of nothing, you completely lost it and called him forty-seven times in a row. And not a single one was answered. So you rang your closest friends and they came over, laptops and tablets in hand, and intense cyber-stalking commenced.
It only took thirty-four minutes for your good mate Lindsey to unearth a damning post on Insta that your boyfriend was tagged in by a girl you kind of knew. The picture itself wasn’t awful; honestly you couldn’t make out much besides silhouettes and drinks. Even the caption wasn’t much; all it said was, “this guy” with a random slew of emojis. But the funny thing was, when you tried to search for it yourself, nothing came up. Meaning you were blocked. You weren’t meant to see this picture.
Twenty-two minutes of super-sleuthing was enough time for your oldest friend Ashley to find every social media account the girl had, and then eventually uncover her phone number.
In thirteen minutes you had a text drafted to her that was so long it was broken into five different parts when you hit send.
And one minute and fifty-four seconds is all the time your boyfriend—well ex-boyfriend—allowed you to speak to him today before he told you he was coming back tomorrow and there’d be no need for you to come see him. Tomorrow or ever again.
So your mates did what they knew best. They took you out, got you absolutely smashed, and then got you up on stage to pour your heart out. Somewhere in between I Will Survive and Total Eclipse of the Heart, you got a bit weepy and ended up calling your brother from the toilet. It took you awhile to realize you weren’t actually sobbing to him but his voicemail, and as soon as you did you pulled yourself back together and headed out for another drink and a rousing rendition of Since U Been Gone.
The few other patrons in the pub were hardly paying attention to your drunken warbling on stage, only breaking from their conversations when your mates would cheer at the end of each song, some of them even offering half-hearted claps. If they were annoyed, they certainly didn’t let on. Most likely, they pitied you; for Christ sake, you pitied you.
When your song ended, you finished the rest of your drink and began flipping through the songbook. Liberation was surging through you and you wanted a song to match your mood; something to serve as a proper fuck you to the twat you’d wasted the last few years of your young life on.
The book closed on your fingers, and you stumbled back in surprise. Were books automated now too?! You still weren’t over the automated tills at Tesco, would you now have to get used to robotic books closing on you when they’d had enough?!
You looked up, your blurred vision slowly coming into focus as you swayed on the spot. A robotic book didn’t close itself on you, a person had closed it. Which was rather rude of them.
“[Y/N],” he repeated. Finally he came into view and you cocked your head in confusion.
“Hazza?” you slurred, taking a step closer to get a better look. You nearly toppled off the stage, but Harry was quick to grab you by the waist and steady you before easing you down.
i don’t have all my thoughts together on this so its going to be pretty scattered, i just wanna get it out there and maybe come back to it later.
something pretty surreal that happened the other day: in a group of lesbians, a workshop based on intergenerational discussion. young lesbians explaining what its like for them, old lesbians doing the same, you get the idea. at one point one young woman asked her fellow young women to raise their hands if they’d ever disidentified from being a woman, and almost every single young hand in the joint shot up. and it wasn’t just the usual suspects like yours truly, either, i mean, this was regardless of presentation, this was including the femmes… and none of us were surprised, but an AUDIBLE GASP went out from the older lesbians
i dunno. there’s. something happening to lesbians. we’ve always had a pretty fraught relationship to womanhood because cultural images of “Woman” and what she does don’t include us. the difference now is that it makes it so hard to find each other, it takes so much more healing and work before we can even do the real relational healing + generational continuity that is so so necessary for our survival
I saw that the reaper76 tag was lacking a BikerAU (or maybe I didn’t search well enough I dunno) and I was like: “WTF where is the BikerAU at?!?!” So having not seen any fanart of that I decided to make some practice drawings. Heavily used google images as reference xD
There’s more sketches and even tiny pieces of fics I’m working on. I’m
seriously in love with this AU. Also, go listen to Hands by Barns
A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO
The motel door opens quietly and you hear Dean shuffle in, his footsteps easy to recognize. You don’t move, body too exhausted to even roll over in bed and say hi.
Sam has to know that Dean comes to your room every night now. Actually, Dean just goes straight in with you now more often than not, leaving Sam to himself. You’ve never discussed it, but you suspect that Sam’s silence on the matter of you and Dean is his thank you for finally having some privacy on a regular basis.
Either way, you aren’t remotely surprised that Dean is here. You listen to boots being kicked off, a gun being placed on the night stand, and clothes being shuffled off. He’s down to his boxers when he slides beneath the covers.
I dunno man I just can’t decide if Rung is fuckable or not.
On one hand he’s adorable and would probably take really good care of his partner.
On the other hand he’s James Roberts’s self insert and I don’t know if I can fuck that. Like morally.
“Oh, what fresh hell is that,” [Y/N] murmured under her breath as Peter drew out the schematics for her project. Raising a brow and tilting her head, she swore that Peter had just invented a new language. Running a hand through her hair, she shook her head. “I’m going to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” Picking herself up from Peter’s bedroom floor, she walked out the room.
“So, did you ask her yet?”
Peter yelped, jumping in his bones and then quickly turning towards his bedroom window to find Ned climbing through it. “Ned!? What the heck are you doing?!”
Nonchalantly, Ned struggled to get himself into his friend’s room. Cocking a brow, he motioned towards himself, “A little help would be nice.”
Unsure of what to do, Peter scrambled up from his spot on the floor and rushed to his friends aid. Yanking on him, he spoke low. “Seriously, dude, what are you doing here?!”
Ned snickered, “To make sure you don’t chicken out.”
Scrubbing his hands over his face, Peter groaned. “Why did you climb up the fire escape? Why not, I don’t know, ring the doorbell?”
Again, Ned snickered. “Would you have let me in? Besides, I know you don’t lock your window for quick Spidey emergencies.”
“Sh, sh, sh!” Peter growled. Now, he started to panic. “You need to leave,” pointing towards the cracked bedroom door, “[Y/N] will be back here any minute. What am I suppose to tell her when she finds you here? You can’t lie, you’ve almost told her I’m Spiderman on more than one occasions and I can’t lie to her because she knows I’m hiding something. And I definitely don’t want to ask her out with you standing here.”
Shrugging, Ned pondered. “Dunno.”
Smacking his forehead, “Oh god.”
“Hey, Peter? Can we switch it up and work on history? My brain hurts from all this engineer-” stopping mid sentence, she raised a brow at the sight of Peter and Ned awkwardly standing facing each other. “Ned? When did you get here?”
“Uh, just now!”
“Funny, I didn’t hear anyone knocking.” [Y/N] crossed her arms, her brow still raised. “What’s going on?”
Peter stumbled over his words, desperate to say something that wasn’t stupid. Ned on the other hand watched his friend walk himself in circles with sounds and noises that didn’t even sound human. Rolling his eyes, Ned patted Peter’s back hard.
“What Peter’s tryin’ to say is that he likes you, a lot. A lot, a lot. Way more then Liz and trust me when I say that because the kid was obsessed with Liz. I mean who isn’t though, you know? She’s hot and really smart,” Ned winced, “not, not that you aren’t hot or smart [Y/N]. I just mean like, Peter was just really-”
“-enough, dude.” Peter muttered, slightly humiliated.
[Y/N] crossed her arms, amused by Peter’s bright red cheeks. Trying to ignore the fact that her own face was flushing, she chuckled. “I see, and what was your purpose to crash our study session?”
Ned smiled brightly, “To make sure he didn’t mess it up!”
Nodding, “And you think he would have been worse at admitting his feelings than what you just said?”
“Uh,” Ned thought, frowning as he went over what he had said. Looking over at Peter who looked a cross between annoyed and embarrassed. “Sorry, bro….”
Peter hid his face with his hands, “It’s alright, buddy.”
[Y/N] sucked in air and let it all back out as she thought of what to say next. This wasn’t how she pictured her night with Peter going at all. They had spent the last few weeks getting to know each other and helplessly trying to get her to understand basic mechanical engineering fundamentals. “Ned, can you give us a moment?”
Ned bowing his head, sulked out of the room.
Smiling, [Y/N] lightly nudged Peter towards his bed. Sitting down next to each other, she chuckled at the obvious mortified expression. “So,”
“So.” He repeated under his breath.
Feeling her cheeks get red, she looked down at her hands and whispered. “If it helps any, I kind of, sort of, like you too.”
Snapping his head up, “What? You do?”
Nodding, “Yeah.” Giving Peter a sideways glance, she smiled. “I didn’t plan on it but you kind of crept up on me.”
Peter stared at [Y/N] with wide eyes and an open grin. He didn’t know what to say, all he wanted to do was do a happy dance and fist pump the air a few times but he knew that if he did that, it would be even more embarrassing than what Ned had just done.
Clearing his throat, Peter looked down at his hands. “What do we do now?”
Running her hands down her legs and then standing up, she motioned towards the books that laid sprawled on the floor. “Well, we should get back to studying-”
“-Lame!” Ned uttered as he walked into the room with his arms crossed.
[Y/N] gently rolled her eyes as she sat down on the floor. “Wanna let me finish, Ned?”
Annoyingly motioning her hands for her to do so, he huffed. Muttering some words under his breath about them being idiots for studying.
Turning to Peter, she smiled. “As I was saying, we should continue to study and once we both pass, then we can decide what we’re going to do for our first date.”
Peter smiled back, “Uh, yeah, definitely.”
“What?!” Ned exclaimed. Running a hand through his hair, he rose a brow. “What is wrong with you guys. You two basically professed your love and you’re going to focus on school?” Shaking his head, he groaned. “No, you two should be practicing kissing not practicing who took over Poland.”
Peter and [Y/N] exchanged looks before saying at the same time, “Get out, Ned.” Both of them laughed as he huffed and puffed out of Peter’s room.
As their laughter quieted down and they started to get back into the groove of where they were before Ned interrupted them, Peter piped up. “I’m not opposed to the kissing thing…”
Looking up from her history textbook, she quirked a brow. “How about this, if you ace your history test, I’ll consider it.”
Summary:Y/n is an actress, she stars as Theo’s beta on Teen Wolf and has been for the past 1 ½ years. Her character Rebecca is required to have a steamy make out session with Theo leading into other things. No one knows that both Y/n and Cody are actually in a serious relationship until now.
Warning:Steamy make out sesh,kinda fluff and suggested smut.
A/N: gif credit to their respected owners ps ignore the fact i used Scallison as a gif it was the closest to my imagination XD
The day started like any other I arrived on set at a quarter to 8 as I always did, as usual Shelley and Tyler were on set first. I parked my car,grabbed my phone and bag then made my way out locked the car and went on with my way.
“Hey Y/n,on time as usual” Tyler greeted “that’s my girl” Shelley embraced me sweetly “So whatcha wanna do till showtime?” I asked “I dunno how bout pull a prank?” Tyler smirked wickedly “yes totally” Shelley moved her hands like a wicked scientist “but who?” I wondered “well we’ve done Dylan,Sprayberry,Ryan,Victoria-” Tyler began but Shelley cut him off “Khylin,Michael, Ian,J.R,Melissa,Holland,Each other” I pondered “Cody..we haven’t done Cody” I smiled nervously “that’s so true” Tyler exclaimed “let’s get a move on it he gets here by before 9″ Shelley expressed.
Summary: While supporting your high school’s lacrosse team, you also support the idea of having the opposite team’s Brett Talbot drag you to the locker room and do bad things with you. Apparently, he was supporting the same thing.
You reach your hand out and stroke his bicep gently. You walk closer, showing him your golden eyes, Mason totally oblivious to you, “You’ll do great. Liam? Look at me. You’re going to do fine. Scott trusts you.”
“Okay.” He nods, sighing. You shake your head, grinning as your eyes return to their natural color. He looks back at the player he hates the most, Brett. You couldn’t help but join Mason’s side, getting a better view of his beautiful, toned body.
“I don’t care if he’s a foot taller than me. I think I could take him.” Liam says, as he watches Brett put on his shirt.
“Yeah…” Mason says, in a daze. Liam turns to look at him again, before staring at You and Mason.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“What?” You and Mason ask in unison, looking at your friend who raises his eyebrows and bites his lip, “Me? Agreeing with you. I’m being agreeable.” Mason answers, nodding. You all turn to face Brett again, who is putting on his gear over the green shirt.
Angrily, he turns to look at you two again, “You think he’s hot don’t you?” He demands, his face contorting.
“No!” You both answer. “I mean…”
“No. Not at all.” Mason glares at you, “No way!” He pauses, “Maybe. Yeah, maybe a little.” Brett looks at you, specifically you, and your cheeks tint in the slightest, thanking that it’s too dark to see, and Liam is too bad at Chemo-signals to feel the want radiating from you.
“He wants to destroy me.” You roll your eyes.
“I think you could definitely take him… and then… give him, to me.” Liam grins, looking down and then back up at you two, who are starting to bicker about who gets who.
“Nah, just go out there and kick their smug, prep-school asses man.”
“Right.” They fist bump, before Liam pulls you into a hug. Liam pulls the mask over his head, and walks away, running onto the field.
“He’s mine.” You snarl.
“Bet?” He asks, as you go to sit on the bleachers. Brett glances at you, and all you can think about is his strong, warm body leaning onto yours, while he kisses you feverishly. You could almost picture the smirk he was giving you now, on his face as he trails down your body. You glance over at Mason, a smirk of your own lacing your lips. He glares at you.
“He’s dreamy, Mason, but I think he’s into girls.” He stomps on your foot, causing your body to flail down to the lower bleachers, lying on your back and groaning in pain.
Halfway through the game you could feel the field getting more and more tense. Brett was targeting Liam, who was trying to stay away from Garrett, who was the supposed assassin trying to kill all the supernaturals in Beacon Hills. You kept looking at Scott for direction, but there was little you could do- you didn’t play lacrosse. Every chance you got, you went over and talked to Garrett, talking about Liam’s performance and whatnot. You had tried to be friends with him, since the whole thing about murders, it still could be someone else.
“He’s doing really good.” You nod, leaning your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around you, his hand resting on your hip.
“Yeah. That other one, Brett. Liam don’t like him.”
“Why’s he givin’ you googly eyes?”
“Dunno. Hey- I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay? I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
“Course.” He nods. You make your way to the locker room, completely side-stepping the bathroom. When you sigh, leaning against the lockers, you feel a tap on your shoulder. Jumping, you look at Violet, Garrett’s girlfriend a personal friend of yours.
“Hey.” You smile.
“What’s wrong? You okay?”
“I’m fine, just needed a breather. Kinda cold outside, and crowded. Loud.”
“Really shouldn’t effect you. I mean, not since you’re a werewolf and all.” Suddenly the atmosphere changed, and you were backing away from her. She was the assassin. It was her.
“Violet… look, we can talk, okay? You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re worth a lot of money, almost two million, (y/n).”
“Please, Violet.” She brings her fist up and connects it with your jaw, your eyes turning yellow, but you refrain from wolfing out, and mauling her to death. She unhooks her necklace from around her neck, and wraps it around yours, when you’re on the ground. She pulls it tight, and turns it on. You start choking, the heat burning through your skin. Suddenly, the necklace is ripped away, and so is her body. Across the room she goes, while you look at the attacker. You cough, managing to make out Brett’s tall figure, growling at her. His nails extend to claws as you try and stand up, making it to your feet in little time. She starts running, and when Brett takes after her, you grab his arm and pull him back.
“No.” You shake your head, “Not here.”
“You’re a wolf.” He says, holding your arms, “You can’t tell anyone that I am too. Please. Not even Scott, or Liam.”
“How do you know about Liam.”
“I can sense it.”
“Yeah so can I. How come I can’t sense you?”
“My pack and I like to be hidden. We don’t like being figured out.”
“Thank you.” You nod towards the door, where he had entered moments ago.
“You’re welcome.” He smiles, looking your body up and down. The mark around your neck heals slowly, which he notices. “Are you hurt?” He asks, his arm reaching out to cup your neck, his thumb dragging across your jaw. You lick your lips, before pulling your bottom one between your teeth.
“No.” You whisper, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. He steps closer, his other hand landing on the other side of your neck. Your heartbeat quickens, as he moves closer, your feet backing up instinctively, until your back is pressed against the lockers. When his chest is leaning into yours, he takes a deep breath, trying to control himself.
“Please.” You whimper, reaching your hands to grab his forearms. He grabs your neck harder, before pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter closed, before he steps closer, sliding up your body. He crouched slightly, due to the hight difference between you two.
“Fuck, Brett.” You gasp, as he pulls your shirt above your head. You glance up at him with passion, before jumping up, your legs wrapping around him. His hands stay by his sides, not touching you in the slightest. He found it incredibly sexy, that you could just practically stick to him. You look down onto his pale, gorgeous face, biting your lip. You lean down, as his hands reach your ass, squeezing. He pushes you against the benches, leaning over. He stands and admires you. You unbutton your jeans, sliding the zipper down seductively, before one hand slips beneath the cloth of your underwear. You rub yourself carefully, sliding a hand up to cup your left breast.
He raises his eyebrows, “Damn, (Y/n).” He moans, ripping your thighs apart, and pulling your jeans down. He moves your panties to the side, and licks your clit. You gasp, fingers threading through his blonde hair. He shoves two fingers into your opening, curling them instantly. You buck wildly, “Mmm, you like that?” The vibrations send you into overdrive as he mumbles the dirty words.
“Shit, Brett! Please!”
“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head, before releasing your clit. He pulls away, wiping his hands on his shorts, “I’ve got a game to attend.” You bounce up, eyes glowing bright yellow in anger and disappointment.
“You did not.”
“Not what?” He smirks, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re such an asshole.”
“Gives you a reason to come back, am I right?” He opens his arms to prove a point. You glare, pulling your pants and shirt back on. You fix your hair, as he watches you in amusement. You storm passed him, your shoulder bumping into his on ‘accident.’ He knocks backwards at your strength, before chuckling. He walks behind you until you reach the doors to the field, smacking your ass once, and walk away. You yelp, watching him wink back at you. He pulls his helmet back on, and runs to the coach, making some excuse about the bathroom and feeling lightheaded. You watch in amazement, before running to Mason, who raises his eyebrows at you.
“I’m telling Liam.” He gets up, about to run over to your best friend. You shove him down.
“Tell him what?”
“That you had sex with Brett!” He runs away, and you sigh.
“We didn’t have sex.” You bite your lip, looking at the man who left you breathless in the locker room, “Not yet.”
Check out the inspiration behind Harry’s home here!
As always, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained. Thank you for your screaming for no spoilers, my love. It wouldn’t be proper of me to not thank @chrissy22787 and @permanentcross for their continued support and also continued screaming over this story. Where would I be without you three?!
Let me know what you think! Happy reading.
After secluding himself for the better part of two days, Harry decided it was best to consult someone about his next move, if there was one at all. Nick was the only plausible option, as he was the one who introduced you to Harry, and he’d known you longer than Harry had. Much longer. He’d told Harry that he considered you to be one of his best friends, which shocked him a bit, considering Nick didn’t mention you all that much. But, plenty of time had passed since Harry was in London for an extended period. Nick was a magnet for friends, and he was allowed to make more without Harry around…
You can’t pin point when. Somewhere between the steady typing and the flipping of pages, between the constant supply of french fries and chocolate milkshakes, between the occasional eye contact and the brief smiles. Somewhere between the hours of three and seven o'clock, you fell.
To be specific, you fell in love with Jughead Jones, Riverdale’s resident tall dark and handsome, at least in your opinion.
It started one afternoon when Pop’s was busier than usual, every booth and table full except one.
“Do you…do you mind if I sit?” You ask, rocking slightly on the balls of your feet. “Everywhere else is full.”
You expect him to say no; he is, after all, Jughead Jones, and this is, after all, Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world and everyone at least knew of everyone else, and you definitely know of Jughead and his preference to being alone, especially when he’s writing.
Jughead ceases his typing, locking eyes with you. He glances around the diner, almost surprised at how many people were in it.
“I’m not the best conversationalist,” he says, looking back at you, “I can’t promise anything good.”
This surprises you, you expected a flat out no or for him to even just ignore you.
“I’m not looking for conversation,” you say, shrugging, “just somewhere to sit and read my book while enjoying a milkshake.”
“Depends,” he smirks, folding his hands in front of his laptop, “what flavor milkshake?”
“The best one of course,” you smile back, “chocolate.”
Jughead smiles, actually smiles, and nods.
“Yeah, yeah you can sit,” he says.
You thank him, sliding into the booth and setting your bag next to you. You pull out your book, thanking the waiter as he set down your milkshake.
“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way,” you say, stirring the drink a bit.
You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side.
“You know who I am?”
You remind yourself again that this is Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world, where everyone knows everyone.
“I know more than you think,” he smiles.
“You take this dark and mysterious thing seriously don’t you?”
“I thought you weren’t looking for conversation?” He raises an eyebrow, half a smirk on his face.
“Touché,” you say, opening your book and settling into the plush seating, sipping occasionally at your milkshake.
This continues for days. Regardless of whether Pop’s is bursting at the seems or it’s just you and him, you always sit together. The two of you sit in that booth, you with a book in one hand and a milkshake in another and Jughead with his laptop on the table and fries next to it.
“You know,” Jughead says one day, fingers still whizzing across the keyboard, “you can sit somewhere else if you want.”
“And ruin the work we’ve been doing?” You smile, “I’m good.”
He stops typing, you feel his eyes on you.
“And what work are we doing exactly?”
“Bonding, Jug,” you say, turning the page.
“Is this what bonding is?”
You look up at him, shrugging.
“What would you call it?”
Weeks pass, the time you spend at Pop’s growing from a one or two hours into several, your time together stretching into early dusk.
“Hey Jug?” You ask quietly one day, closing your book for once.
He notices, he stops typing, he even half way closes the top of his computer.
“How’d you know who I was?” You ask, stirring your milkshake. “That first day…you said you knew who I was before I told you. How?”
“This is Riverdale,” he says, “I think it’s physically impossible to not know someone in this town.”
Jughead opens his mouth to continue, then closes it. You can see the wheels turning in his head.
“I notice things, I notice people,” he resumes finally, “I notice when people are different and you’re different. A good different, but different.”
With that, he raises the lid of his laptop, eyes focusing back on the screen.
“You noticed me?”
He looks back up at you, a smile on his face.
“Course I did.”
When you get to Pop’s one day about a week later, Jughead’s not there, Archie is.
“Oh um…hi,” you say, stopping short in front of the booth.
“Hey, Y/N right?” He asks, motioning for you to sit.
“Yeah, that’s um…” you shift your weight slightly, feeling uncomfortable, “that’s me.”
“Sorry, this must be awkward,” Archie says with a smile, “I’m Archie.”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” you say before you can stop yourself.
Archie’s eyebrows scrunch up slightly in confusion.
“Sorry, that sounded weird,” you rush, “I just mean, you’re a sophomore on varsity football, the whole school knows who you are.”
Archie smiles a bit, nodding.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he shrugs, “anyway, Jughead sent me.”
You feel your shoulders relax involuntarily, leaning back into the seat.
“He had to stay after school, make up a test or something,” Archie explains, “he told me to come tell you that he’d be here though, just a bit late.”
“Thanks Archie,” you nod, “that’s really nice.”
“Anytime,” the boy replies, smiling, “look uh…this may sound super weird but um…you and Jughead…is that anything more th-”
“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “no we’re…we’re just friends. At least…I think we’re friends. We just…we sit together and we do our own thing. That’s all.”
“I know Jughead, that’s definitely a friendship,” he smiles, “okay, I gotta head back to practice before I’m missed but yeah, he’ll be here.”
With another smile he scoots out of the booth.
“Archie,” you stop him, looking up at his face, “look um…god this is going to sound crazy but…is Jughead…is he seeing anyone o-or som-”
“No,” Archie cuts you off with another smile on his face, “he was, for a bit but…not anymore. Do you like him?”
You’re surprised by his bluntness, your eyes widening a bit.
“I uh…n-no I was just curious,” you shake your head, pulling your book out of your bag, “you better get to practice, don’t want coach to bench you.”
Archie smiles again, always with the smiling, and walks out of the door just as Jughead walks in.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he says, sitting down across from you.
“I didn’t know we had a set schedule,” you smirk, tilting your head slightly, “nice of you to send your friend though.”
Jughead looks at you, a sarcastic smile on his face.
“Didn’t want you to think I stood you up,” he says, pulling out his laptop.
“Don’t you have to be on a date to get stood up?” You ask, sipping at your milkshake as Pop places a basket of fries in front of Jughead.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he replies, shrugging.
“So are you telling me that these are dates?”
This time you surprise yourself with your own bluntness, and Jughead as well. He recovers quickly though, the shock on his face only evident for a few brief moments.
“You tell me.”
There it is, his smile, his actual smile. Not a smirk, not some no effort half smile, an actual, full blown, Jughead smile.
Looking back on it, you think that’s when you first knew, when you first realized that you were falling for him.
The rest of the night is spent in silence, well, besides the sound of Jughead’s typing and your book pages begin turned.
You arrive at Pop’s the next day to see Jughead already sitting at the booth, typing furiously. That didn’t surprise you. What did surprise you, however, is the chocolate milkshake already sitting on the table in front of your side of the booth.
“I didn’t see you at school today,” you say, sitting down, “did you skip?”
“Yeah, yeah I um…” he pauses, finishing the sentence he’s typing before looking at you, “I got here this morning because I forgot one of my notebooks and I sat down to finish this paragraph I was on and uh…next thing I knew it was one o'clock in the afternoon so I…figured I’d just stay here.”
“Archie asked me if I knew where you were,” you say, “he came up to me during lunch and asked if I knew if you were sick or not.”
“What did you say?”
“The truth,” you reply, “that I didn’t know.”
Jughead nods, looking back down at his computer screen.
“Jug?” You ask, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.
He continues to type, oblivious to your calls of his name.
“Juggie!” You exclaim, finally drawing his attention.
“Sorry, got caught up in the story,” he shakes his head, “what’s up?”
“What’s going on with you?” You ask, sliding your book off to the side. “You seem…I dunno, off.”
“Sorry just um…a lot of stuff on my mind I guess,” he says, shrugging.
“About Jason or…other things?” You ask.
“It’s nothing important.”
“Juggie,” you say softly, sliding your hand across the table to touch his arm, “if it’s bothering you this much, it’s important. You can talk to me, always.”
“We’re friends right?” He asks, closing his computer all the way.
“Yeah, yeah course we are Jug,” you nod, “please, tell me what’s going on.”
And he does, he tells you everything. About his parents splitting up, about his dad being part of the Serpents, about his mom taking his sister and leaving, about living at the drive in, about living at the school, everything. And you let him talk, you let him go on for as long as he needs with no interruption, just listening.
“Sorry if that’s a lot but um…I needed to get that stuff off my chest,” he finishes, taking a deep breath, “thanks though.”
“Come stay with me,” the words are out of your mouth before you even think them through, but you don’t take them back, “seriously Jug, my dad’s away on business and my mom won’t care, we’ve got room.”
“No Y/N I can’t expect that from you I do-”
“Juggie, you’re my best friend,” you say, cheeks burning slightly, “please, let me do this for you.”
Jughead looks down, staring your hand touching his, both of your fingers practically intertwined on top of the table.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks after a minute or two silence, looking around the diner. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“I’m absolutely positive it’s okay,” you reply, catching his gaze, “but I’m not going to force you.”
“As long as you’re sure,” he says, nodding, “I’d really like to not live under the stairs like Harry Potter.”
You were right, your mom doesn’t care, she even convinces your dad that it’s okay for Jughead to stay with you, and after three weeks of it, you’re convinced it is the single best idea you’ve ever had.
The two of you still spend most of your time at Pop’s, something about the neon lights and plush seating and the constant supply of chocolate milkshakes makes you feel more at home than you do at your actual house. Or maybe Jughead does. Maybe Jughead makes you feel like you’re home.
“Do you ever wonder how some people end up with the worst luck?” He asks one day, eyes never leaving his computer screen as he chews on this thumb nail.
The two of you are going on four hours at Pop’s that day, and you notice that Jughead has barely written anything.
“Are we talking about Jason?” You ask gently, closing the book you were reading and placing it on the table.
“We’re talking about everyone,” he says cryptically, “how some people are born with everything they could ever want available on a silver platter and others are born with nothing, but somehow the golden boy ends up with the worst kind of luck.”
Jughead rarely ever spoke directly about Jason Blossom, you knew by now how to read between the lines of his novel-ish tone of voice.
“I think that it doesn’t matter what you’re born into,” you reply, “I think what matters is the choices we decide to make throughout our lives, and that that’s how we end up with good or bad luck, by the choices we make and by how we live our lives.”
“Jason never had to make a choice though,” Jughead exclaims, closing his laptop and sliding it out of the way, “that’s the thing, he never in his life had to make one choice for himself and somehow he still ended up murdered.”
His bluntness surprises you, this being one of a few times he directly tells you he’s talking about Jason.
“He did make choices, Jug,” you explain calmly, “everyday, just like you and me. He made the choice to let his parents give him whatever he wanted, he made the choice to follow that stupid book Chuck made up, he made the choice to be with Polly regardless of what his parents said, he made the choice to try and fake his own death so he could be with her without fear of them, he made hard choices, some of them more tough than you and I will ever make in our entire lives.”
Jughead stares at you, and for a minute you think he’s going to get up and leave.
But then he grabs his computer, mumbling a quick thank you under his breath and he begins to type furiously.
That night you’re laying on your bed, Jughead in the guest room across the hall and you can’t help but feel like he’s a million miles away.
You can’t sleep. Grabbing your phone, you squint at the brightness before you’re able to turn it down, looking at the clock.
“He’s probably asleep,” you whisper to yourself as you unlock the device, fingers moving almost on autopilot to Jughead’s message thread.
Can’t sleep, you awake?
You lay the phone on your stomach, staring up at the dark ceiling and willing your body to sleep. The vibration of the device pulls you out of your thoughts.
You smile, two simple words causing happiness to bubble up in your stomach.
Yeah, just can’t seem to sleep.
You want to come talk?
If you don’t mind.
You’re always able to come talk to me.
You don’t reply, instead you get up out of your bed, quietly opening your door and then closing it behind you. You take three quick steps across the hallway, opening and closing Jughead’s door as quietly as you did your own.
“Hey,” you say softly, standing in front of the door.
Jughead props himself up on his elbows, the first thing you notice is the lack of a grey beanie upon his head.
“Hey,” he says back in the same tone, “you okay?”
Those two words again, this time sounding even better as you can hear him say it in his own voice.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, pushing some hair behind your ear nervously.
Why are you nervous? You ask yourself as Jughead motions for you to come join him. It’s only Juggie.
You slide under the covers, but only because the room is cold, and you’re next to him, but only because it’s his room, and his arm is around your shoulders, but only because he’s a good friend and he wants to comfort you.
“Why can’t you sleep?” He asks, rubbing his eye with one hand.
“Did I wake you up?” You ask.
“No I was working on my book,” he explains, pointing at the computer on the bedside table, “don’t change the subject.”
“I dunno…overthinking I guess,” you reply, shrugging a bit.
“Everything I suppose,” you say, “about how if Pop’s wasn’t full that one day or if I had decided not to go then we probably wouldn’t have ever met. About how if I hadn’t continued to sit there we probably wouldn’t have become best friends, about what Archie sa-”
“Archie?” Jughead cuts you off. “What about Archie?”
You curse yourself silently. You didn’t mean to say anything about Archie.
“Nothing, nothing,” you reply quickly, but the look on Jughead’s face told you that he wasn’t going to let it go, “okay um…back that one day when you sent him to Pop’s to tell me that you were going to be late uh…he said that you had been seeing someone but that you weren’t anymore and I was…I guess I was just thinking about who it could’ve been.”
He’s silent, more silent than you’ve ever experienced with the many months of knowing him. Minutes pass, they feel like hours. Finally, you decide to break the silence.
“Juggie?” You whisper.
“Sorry I um…” he shakes his head, raven colored hair flying everywhere, “why were…why were you thinking about that?”
“Curious, I guess,” you explain, “sorry if that seems intrusive or weird or whatever bu-”
“No no it’s…it’s okay,” Jughead replies, wrapping his arm around your shoulders a bit tighter, “it…it was Betty. We had a thing for a few weeks but in the end we decided we were better off as friends.”
“A few weeks?”
“Before I met you, we stopped about two days before that day at Pop’s”
“And are you?”
“Am I what?”
“You and Betty, are you better off as friends?”
You nod, falling into silence once again.
This time Jughead breaks it.
“Look I’m not…I’m not good at this whole feelings thing,” he says, “Betty was the first girl I ever really had those types of emotions for but it wasn’t…it wasn’t what I’m supposed to feel. Or rather what I want to feel.”
“Do you know what you want to feel?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at his face.
He looks almost angelic in the pale light streaming through the semi-closed blinds.
“Do you know anyone that makes you feel like that?”
The answer comes quick, almost too quick.
“I can’t say.”
Your stomach drops on slightly, but enough for you to feel it nonetheless.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he rushes, running one of his hands through his hair, “it’s just that I don’t really know how to.”
“You’re a writer, Jug,” you say, “I know you’ll figure out how to tell her. You’re good with words.”
“Not when it comes to these kinds of words,” he laughs lightly, “I don’t want to mess up.”
“Don’t psych yourself out,” you encourage, regardless of the weight on your heart, “maybe you don’t need your words this time, maybe actions is the way to go. I believe in you, I know you’ll figure it out.”
Jughead finally looks at you, dark hair falling in front of his face as it’s still free of the infamous crown beanie.
“Actions?” He repeats.
“Yeah, you know what they say,” you smile, “actions speak louder than words.”
He blinks a few times, it’s almost like you can see the thought processing through his brain.
And then suddenly his hands are cupping your face and his lips are on top of yours, your eyes closing as if they had minds of their own. You’re shocked, who wouldn’t be, but it only takes a fraction of a moment for your mind to kick into gear and then your kissing him back, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck.
If I’m dreaming I hope I never ever wake up.
He pulls away too soon for your liking, both your chests rising and falling little faster than usual.
“That thing you said about actions,” he says breathlessly, “I believe it.”
You smile wide, Jughead pressing his forehead against yours.
“You were talking about me?” You ask, still a bit shocked.
Jughead nods a few times, a smile on his face as well.
“I like you, Y/N,” he finally says, “I know that’s not poetic or artistic or anything like that but I just…I don’t have any other words. I really like you.”
You think your face is going to split in half by the giant smile you can’t keep off your face.
“Juggie,” you bite your bottom lip lightly, shaking your head, “god I can’t even tell you how much I’ve been wanting you to say that.”
Jughead’s smile widens and you swear the room brightness a bit.
“I’m really glad you couldn’t sleep tonight,” he whispers, laughing quietly.
“Me too,” you smile even wider, if that’s possible, “Juggie I’m…I’m really really happy right now.”
“God I am too,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “do you maybe want to have dinner with my friends tomorrow? I know they’re going out after the game, I can finally introduce you, properly too.”
“Ooh, dinner with the friends,” you say sarcastically, “I don’t know, you think our relationship is ready for that? We’ve only been together all of five minutes.”
Jughead laughs loudly and you shush him, the two of you falling silent to make sure your parents were still asleep.
“My dad will kill you if you wake him up and he finds us like this,” you whisper, shaking your head, “but in all seriousness, do you think it’ll be awkward for Betty? I don’t want to cause any trouble or anything I know you guys ar-”
“Y/N,” he stops your rambling, a soft smile on his face, “it’ll be fine. Betty and I are good, like I said, we’re better off as friends. Trust me, she’ll be okay. I wouldn’t bring either of you to meet each other if I didn’t think she’d be okay.”
“Okay, I’ll come to dinner with your friends,” you say, “on one condition.”
“Oh god, what?”
“I get to wear the infamous beanie,” you rush out, reaching over Jughead’s body and plucking the hat from on top of is computer.
“Y/N!” Jughead exclaims, trying to grab the hat back from you.
“Hold on hold on,” you say, pushing his hand away.
You put the beanie on your head, smoothing your hair out under it and looking back up at him.
Jughead stops struggling, half a smile on his face.
“Well you do look adorable,” he says, brushing a stray piece of hair off your cheek.
“I wear the beanie tomorrow,” you ask with raised eyebrows.
“You can wear it to dinner,” he compromises, tilting his head to the side.
Jughead keeps his word, and when the two of you leave your house that evening and head for Pop’s, he takes the beanie off his head and places it on yours, shaking out his hair. Jughead intertwines your fingers together, smiling at you and at how happy you look.
Jughead explains his friends to you, telling you a bit about each one of them as you both walk towards the diner.
“They’re probably going to say something,” he says, “about the beanie.”
“Have any of them ever seen you without it?” You question.
“Archie has a few times, Betty once or twice,” he explains, “but other than that, no.”
Jughead’s warnings were a bit understated. In fact, when the two of you walk into Pop’s and find his friends at a booth, it seems all conversation in the entire diner ceases.
“Jug,” one of the girls, Veronica, says, mouthing wordlessly for a few seconds, “you made it, we thought you weren’t going to come for a while.”
“Yeah, yeah we left a bit late,” Jughead shrugs, “guys um…this is Y/N. Y/N, this is…well this is everyone.”
Once the awkward formalities were out of the way and Pop had brought over everyone’s celebratory milkshakes (the football team won that night), everything felt normal.
You laugh at all the jokes, even tell some of your own. You feel like you’ve been part of this group for years, and you know Jughead can tell.
“Hey um…sorry guys I gotta take this,” Jughead says after he pulls out his phone.
“Juggie?” You ask. “Everything okay?”
“What? Yeah,” he replies, “it’s just…it’s my mom. I should take it.”
“Yeah, yeah of course go ahead,” Betty says, “we’ll keep her company,” she smiles at you.
Jughead thanks them, walking out the door to the diner with the phone up to his ear.
“So,” Veronica says, holding her head up with her hands, “you and Jughead.”
You furrow your eyebrows.
“Oh come on, don’t make her spell it out!” Kevin says, “he’s letting you wear his most prized possession for pete’s sake!”
You feel a blush spread across your cheeks, looking down at the half empty milkshake in front of you.
“I think you guys make a cute couple,” Betty says, licking some whipped cream off of her straw.
“Thanks Betty,” you reply, smiling again.
“This is going to sound awkward but uh…” Archie trails off, “has Jug told you anything about what’s going with his family an-”
“Yeah,” you cut him off, “he has. About everything, including his dad and that stuff. He’s um…he’s staying at my house. Has been for a couple weeks.”
Veronica smirks, Betty elbows her in the ribs. Archie and Kevin rolls their eyes at the two girls.
“Hey, I think he’s talking about you,” Kevin says, nodding in Jughead’s direction.
The four of you look over at him, you watch as he talks into his phone with a huge smile on his face, running a hand through his hair to push it back every couple of seconds.
The night draws to a close all too soon, everyone heading back to their houses as you and Jughead walk hand in hand down the asphalt road.
“I think that went really well,” you say, smiling at him.
“I agree,” Jughead says, stopping you both from walking and standing in front of you.
Before you can ask what he’s doing, he places his lips on yours, cupping your cheek with one hand while simultaneously tilting your head up. You feel him lift the beanie off of your head, but honestly you don’t really care. He pulls away with a smirk, fixing his hat back on his head.
“Archie,” you say, looking over Jughead’s shoulder.
“Really?” He asks with semi-wide eyes, “that’s what you’re thinking about in the middle of our moment?”
“No, god you’re an idiot,” you shake your head, pointing over his shoulder, “Archie’s window, which happens to show Archie watching us right now.”
As soon as Jughead turns around Archie slides his curtains closed, causing you and Jughead to burst out in laughter.
“Did you kiss me just to steal your hat back?” You ask in a fake shocked tone.