A/N: So hello dear reader, this is my first ever kpop related fanfic. Hopefully I won’t dissapoint. English isn’t my first language so bare with me if you see any mistakes. I also didn’t proof read this much so yeah. Expect A LOT of smut because that’s the reason for this au being born, some fluff and a lot of angst as well. Enjoy ^^
celebrating my birthday. To me it was just another business night out in the
streets, wiping off a target, negotiating a dealing contract, sabotaging lame
ass competitors. It was nothing special. Yet the gang cherished birthdays
dearly and were always looking forward to partying, thinking another year of
life for us, given all the types of twisted shit we do for a living, was
something to celebrate. The night was starting to cool off when they dragged me
over back to our dorm, popped champagne bottles left and right and filled the
place with gorgeous, expensive whores.
on the couch I thought I might as well try to enjoy myself and in the blink of
an eye, I had a beautiful ebony girl dancing for me, grinding on my lap with a
pill between her lips. Her body was elegant, strong and gracious, like art, warm,
cinnamon skin glowing under the dim lights and bare for everyone to see. I bet
she’d be a pleasure to fuck but I’ve never fucked a prostitute. It’s too easy,
too superficial. I thoroughly enjoy the process of chasing a woman, making her so
mad with want she willingly ends up being a slave in my bed, surrendering her
whole self to me knowing she’ll be pleased by whatever I want to do to her. The
fact that’s been over six months since I did that has me burning up. My job can
be very tense and there’s nothing that can relax me more than coming back home
to a woman looking at me like I’m her whole world and a good, hard fuck. Sighing
I realize, I could never get that from a whore.
“What’s with the long
face, boss?” a familiarly annoying voice asks.
“I’m not your boss.” I retort.
“Yet. Not the boss yet.
But you will be soon. We all know that. Boss.”
“Quit it, Hyunbin. Not
in the mood.” I grunt. Hyunbin is a doubtful member of the gang whose
permanence in it I question a lot recently. I have a bad feeling about him and
my bad feelings usually end up being right, sadly sometimes later rather than
sooner. He’s been trying to lick my ass insistently since rumors arose suggesting
I might take on the Boss’ spot sometime soon, once he retires. I sigh heavily.
I can’t believe I have to put up with this asshole even when I’m trying to have
a good time.
“Oh, come on, boss. Don’t
be so touchy. Follow me. I’ll show you a little something I got you for your
I reject his request
telling him he could show me later but he insists so I give up to it thinking I’ll
get him off my back sooner if I do. Shoving the beautiful ebony girl off, I
follow Hyunbin to the garage feeling uneasy somehow. I glare at his back suspiciously.
I don’t trust him all that much. I don’t know what sort of present we’re
heading to but it better not end up with a bullet inside someone’s forehead.
Once in the garage,
Hyunbin turns the lights on showing a really large box in the center of the
room, covered in a large piece of black velvet. He smiles at me expectantly, most
likely waiting to see some emotion on my face only to find an annoyed
expression on my features I presume.
“Listen, Sehun,” he
started, his face lighting up. “I have a great feeling about this present. I
think you’ll like it. No, actually I think you will absolutely love it.”
“Just show me already.”
Eagerly, he unveiled the
box and it turned out to be a cage. Inside there was what it looked like a
corpse. The dead body of a woman. Only after a few seconds I realized she wasn’t
dead, she was breathing, shaking mildly, coiled up like snake, protecting herself.
Her hair was a deep chestnut color, silky soft looking that fell on her back.
Her right ankle was chained to the cage. Hyunbin’s voice took me back to the
“See, you’re speechless.
I knew you would like it boss.”
To be quite honest I wasn’t
only speechless but also petrified. Shocked. Then I was enraged and considering
the fact that I had a gun right here with me, wasn’t good news for Hyunbin. The
bastard knelt down right next to the cage and knocked on it twice with his
“Hey, sweetie. Remember
the conversation we had earlier? Say hi, doll.” He slowly spoke to her like she
was an animal and then unlocked the cage with a small key.
The woman rose her head
and looked at me. Not one sound leaving her lips. She appeared to be quite
young. Very young. Not older than 21 years old. She looked pale, cold and
afraid. It was evident she had been given some sort of drug as her gaze seemed
somehow lethargic. She was completely naked, her body shivering, looking so
fragile and weak. Poor little girl just stared at me pleading for something.
Freedom, most likely, or mercy. God only knows what she has gone through. I
sure as hell don’t want to hear the gory details.
“Boss, I know you don’t
like to fuck whores and also you don’t have so much time off to chase after
women, so I thought I would give you one as a present. And listen the best part
is that her cherry here is completely intact. She’s still a virgin. Just for
I grunted. A virgin
girl. Maybe she was even younger than I initially thought. A virgin. Poor
angel. How did she end up here in a cage? Sold to the highest bidder no doubt.
Adult virgins are extremely rare and expensive in the black market. She most
have costed a fortune.
“Come on boss, say
something. Do you like your present? Only the best of the best for y-“
“You have one second to
shut the fuck up before I degut you with a fucking spoon.”
For the first time since
he unveiled the cage my gaze turned his way. I had the feeling that Hyunbin was
unreliable but I never thought his thirst for power would hand him to me like
this, completely in fraganti.
“You know we don’t do
this shit, Hyunbin.” I growled.
“Listen, boss. Let’s
keep it a secret. It’s not a business after all, it’s a present and no one has
to find out where she came from.”
Poor fool, he really has
no idea. We have never traded with people, it is forbidden within our
organization and personally, there are very few things in the world I despise
more than trafficking with human beings. Women, men, children, whatever they
are. If Hyunbin would’ve known a couple more things about me he wouldn’t now be
playing with death at such narrow distance. Anyone else in the gang might have
just taken him to the boss and let him decide what reprimand suited him best for
breaking the rules. Too bad I wasn’t anyone else. I had no desire to take him
to the boss but to do something a lot worse. I laughed at the thought realizing
I knew all along this birthday was going to be just like any other shitty day,
ending up with blood dripping from my hands.
“I think you don’t understand,
Hyunbin. I specifically don’t mess around with this shit. You should’ve known
He looked at me with
surprise in his eyes, laughing incredulously.
“Oh, man. Come on. What
are you jabbering about? I brought you top quality virgin pussy. A whole woman
just for you, Sehun. You should be thankful.
Now listen if you don’t want it, I could sell it myself. You know Dragna
loves purchasing young cunts.”
I launched myself at
him. Over my dead body, I thought. Dragna
was a competitor; boss of a relatively small but rich gang, everyone knew they
had no problem negotiating with human lives just as they would with drugs or
weapons. Dragna himself was famous for buying or kidnapping young pretty women
and slaving them for long periods of time. It was obvious he would sell or kill
them once he considered them to be replaceable for a new one, being suspected
for the death of quite a few girls. May God send me to the most painful and
slow death if I allow this poor creature to end in the hands of someone like
Hyunbin tried to defend
himself, fight me off. He couldn’t. I was bigger, stronger and smarter. I wanted
an excuse to get rid of Hyunbin and he handed it to me on a silver plate.
The tall man standing
right in front of you snarled at the one who had held you captive.
“You know we don’t do
this shit, Hyunbin.” He said. You had finally heard the name of your latest captor.
Then everything was even
more confusing or maybe just happened very fast. They were fighting. Really
fighting each other. You couldn’t help but stare trying to get a clear, sharp
view of anything you could, but everything was so hazy. Filthy drugs in your
body, rushing through your veins made you feel so weak to the point that only
speaking was a huge effort. The cage was cold and so was your skin. Your
body felt so strange you could barely exert any control over it.
Then you heard his rough
“Don’t look, honey.” He
said, locking your eyes with his for an instant. His raw, growling voice scared
you so you obeyed and shut your eyes closed. He seemed so frightening, the
other man was also terrifying. Everything was. Cancelling out your vision in
fear, now you could only rely on your hearing. Pants, punches, kicks, even what
sounded like bones snapping all mixed in a big haze of noise and then it rang
clearly. A gunshot. Then another gunshot. The sound of a body dropping heavy on
the ground. Then silence.
Do you have an opinion on the Sherlock characters' MBTI? I've heard a lot of conflict and you seem to have an idea about these things :)
Okay, yes. I’ve heard profound arguments from people claiming Sherlock (BBC) is an INTP, ISTP, ESTP, and even INFJ. But, no, I think he’s an INTJ. Why? Well…it takes a lot of explaining, but here goes:
Sherlock the INTJ
Ni > Te > Fi > Se but explained from inferior to dominant
Yes, those who think he’s ISTP or ESTP, Sherlock is very observant. He notices the tiniest details. He takes drugs to feel the rush. He gets high on the challenge of a good mystery. That all seems like Se-Ti or Ti-Se. Sorry. No Ti. Sherlock has masteredinferior Se, but it is not natural. He learned to use it from a young age in order to outdo his brother, who is naturally very observant. But he still sucks at using it in a common, normal way…he forgets his pants.
So if we’re going from the bottom up, the next thing you have to remember is that he has Fi. Fi is actually a core part of who he is–it’s just that it never shows. He values his family and friends perhaps more than anything, even though he would never, ever admit it. John is his shoulder to cry on, his dependable best friend whom he loves. He also loves Mycroft, and respects him, though he’d never, ever say that. His love is deep, narrow, and strong. It’s just getting to that Fi is incredibly hard because he’s learned to cover it up.
Next is Te. Sherlock doesn’t operate on Ti. Think about it. He didn’t know the earth revolved around the sun because he didn’t care. As he explained, it has nothing to do with his life, so why would he care about that? He cares only for facts that will help him in some way–as a utility. Sure, he has a “mind palace,” but it’s for gathering back up those things he learned so he can solve crimes.
Finally, Ni. Ni is his dominant function. This is his mind palace. This is what makes him the genius he is. He connects the dots at lightning speed and can predict outcomes and people’s motivations in a second flat. His mind operates rapidly and others are blown away at his accuracy and his intelligence. They also think he is weird, because his Ni is so strong.
Albeit, he is an unhealthy INTJ, but still an INTJ.
That is my personal analysis of his personality type.
As for the others?
John: ISFJ Mary: Multiple personalities, so it’s hard to tell, but perhaps ENTP. Mycroft: ESTJ or INTP. He is hard to type because he’s so mysterious and unhealthy. Molly: INFP or ISFP Mrs. Hudson: ESFJ Moriarty: ENTP
Autistic people are often framed as having only a singular, heavily involved "special interest", or perhaps 2 or 3, to the absolute exclusion of anything else. While I know this is likely true for some, I can't imagine that every autistic person ever doesn't have multiple hobbies or interests pursued with varying degrees of engagement. The sense I get from the NT-written things I've encountered make autistic folk seem very one-dimensional. I'd like some help clearing this up, please!
This is one of those topics that hasn’t really been researched, as far as I can tell, so I’ll be sticking to my usual method of speaking for myself and inviting autistic followers to add their thoughts. I can in no way claim to speak for everyone, but am happy to share my perspective.
First off, let me explain how a special interest works for me with a simple metaphor: falling in love. When I first come across a new special interest, its eyes sparkle at me from across the room. I get a tiny taste of it, a fragment of information or a glimpse of a picture, and a spark flies, and a fuse lights, and a bomb of euphoria goes off in my head. This thing, this thing right here, is quite clearly the most amazing, important thing I’ve ever come across. This thing is frigging incredible, the best thing that’s ever happened, and the world needs to know.
I become obsessed. I gobble up information wherever I can find it. I learn everything there is to know as quickly as I possibly can. I become an expert on this thing in a remarkably short amount of time. This is LOVE, man. Well, more accurately, this is infatuation. Puppy love. That drug-like rush of chemicals in your brain when you feel you’ve found THE ONE. I talk about it constantly, much to the annoyance of those around me who just don’t quite understand why this thing, this one thing, is so amazingly great that I need to rant about it to the exclusion of everything else in the world. (Especially since they’ve heard it all before.) Just talking about it gives me a rush of euphoria. Sometimes I can see that those around me aren’t interested, but I just can’t stop. The words pour out of me, the excitement radiates off of me, I can’t be ignored, can’t be interrupted. This is like nothing that has ever happened before! Surely, if I can explain it well enough, everyone else will see, too, right? Right?
If you’ve never been in this kind of love, you might not have learned this lesson yet, but here it comes, folks: that kind of love doesn’t last. That euphoric high that results when your brain decides to take a bath in happy chemicals - it’s just physically impossible to sustain it. Eventually, the high, the firey passion, wears off. For me, this usually takes about a year. I’ve read and watched and learned everything I can about this thing. It’s been the center point of my life for a long time, the thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. And one day, suddenly, it just… doesn’t hold the same appeal. It’s not that I don’t love it anymore! I will always love it. But the love changes. It becomes the old, familiar love that comes with time. You don’t get that high from being together anymore, but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy each other’s company. You no longer try to persuade the world that this one is the one, is the best thing ever. You no longer need to. This love just settles into the back of your mind, always there, always a comfort, always ready to give you a hug when you need it.
The expertise I’ve gained from all my intensive research, that stays. I will always know just about all there is to know about that thing (at least, all there was to know when I was researching it). I’ll always be able to call that knowledge to mind later on, when it’s useful. And I’ve developed quite the reputation for being a “know-it-all”. I always seem to have some random, obscure fact right on the tip of my tongue, and it’s usually debunking some common misconception that my friends would just as soon keep on having rather than feeling like they’re constantly under attack by that one girl who just HAS to know EVERYTHING.
But it doesn’t feel that way for me. A key difference I’ve noted in communication between autistic and allistic people, and the source of a large percentage of our miscommunications in life, is this: allistic people communicate to bond emotionally and to establish and display power and dominance or submission. Autistic people communicate to share information. When I correct someone, it’s because I know that if I was wrong, I would want to be given the correct information, so I could stop being wrong. But when an allistic person is corrected like that, they take it as an attack on their status, a display of power, and a denial of their feelings. The “golden rule” doesn’t always work. It’s a constant problem.
In any case, I have always been described as someone obsessive. Someone who finds one thing (although it’s often two, three, even four things at a time) and just obsessively learns everything about it and won’t shut up about it for months and months on end. And that really does seem to be true, in a sense. I have very extreme levels of interest. Either something is amazing and I need to know everything about it, or it just doesn’t catch my interest at all. There isn’t much in between.
On the other hand, due to all the many special interests I’ve had over my more than three decades of life, I have built up quite a broad range of interests. I never lost any of them. All of those things still interest me now, and when someone brings one of them up in conversation, I still get a spark of the old obsessiveness deep inside. As a result, I now seem to have a wide range of interests, some of which I’m overtly obsessive about, and others which I keep on file, ready to pull out whenever they’re needed. When I was young, that probably wasn’t the case. It’s likely that I may have been viewed as somewhat one-dimensional as a child, obsessed with just a few things and completely uncaring about everything else. (And when my parents, trying to make me act “normal”, tried separating me from my special interests, the pain was as crushing as being forced to leave your True Love because the rest of the world doesn’t want you to be together - and only made my obsession stronger.)
What I want you to understand is that I don’t see that as a negative thing in any way. An allistic person might see that narrow range of interests and think “oh the poor thing, it’s like she lives in a tiny world and is missing so much of life!” But from my perspective, it’s allistic people who are missing out. Allistic people never seem particularly interested in anything, not by my standards. From where I’m standing, it looks like allistics just drift through life, dabbling in a little of everything but never mastering anything, never finding any real interest, never getting any real, intense joy out of any of their hobbies. An allistic person might say to me, “Yeah, I do a little crocheting, but I’m not really that into it.” And in my mind, I’ll think… then why do it at all? How horribly unsatisfying must it be to go through your entire life, never falling in love with anything you do? Never feeling that euphoria that I get to experience over and over again every time I find a new interest?
Autistic and allistic brains are specialized differently. Allistic brains are best at navigating social rules and structures and internalizing broad strokes and large categories. They look at a table for the first time and think: “That’s a table.” And that’s pretty much as far as they go. They might spend a few seconds to note the material or color or overall condition of the table, but that’s it.
Autistic brains are specialized in details. It means we have more information to process, all those details without any mechanism for discarding the ones that aren’t important, but it also means we get to see everything about something. I see that new table and I can get lost in tracing the patterns of the grain for hours on end. Sure, it takes me longer, but I get a lot more out of it, and I get a joy from that which allistic people just don’t seem to get.
It’s similar with our interests. Allistics have broad interests, dipping their toe into the shallow ends of a thousand different pools but never really diving in. Autistics have narrow but intense interests. We absorb every detail, and in doing so experience an intense and wonderful euphoria. Honestly, sometimes I feel sorry for all the allistic people in the world who never get to experience that. The poor things… ;)
For me, I can have both special interests and normal-level interests. Just because I have stuff that I really really love and am passionate about doesn’t mean I can’t also have other interests, that I’m not quite as passionate about but that I like to dabble in from times to timesor as a part of my routine. I do not feel however the urge or will to research them in more depth. There is joy that I can derive from it, but there is not the same “drive” to pursue it. I’d say that’s the main difference between a regular interest and what we call a special interest: a drive to learn about it, talk about it, read about it, build projects about it, engage with it, that is much stronger. So one person can have one or a few special interests, but I’d say it’s not always to the exclusion of everything else.
I think the intensity of special interests, their “obsessiveness” and whether or not the person likes to engage with other subjects that their special interests depends a lot from one person to the next. My special interests sound less intense than what Aira is describing, and I may have more varied non-special interests. So really I’d say this is something that depends a lot from one person to the next.
I also want to add that just because someone has a narrow range of interests doesn’t mean they’re one-dimensional: I’ve seen a special interest described as a lense through which you understand the world. The world is large, and even if you have only one such “lense”, that’s a lot of things to discover with that unique point of view.
Impressing Alice Cooper (Part 2 - Bughead Fanfiction)
The afternoon was just setting in as the two teenagers
strolled to Betty’s house for their mother-approved hang out. Betty had been in
such a chipper mood the whole day, so much more so than usual, that even Archie
in all his obliviousness had noticed during lunch.
He’d nudged Betty with an elbow as she was humming to herself and jotting down
newspaper article notes in her moleskin, and asked, “You’re extra cheerful
today, Betty? Something good happen?”
She’d had to shake herself out of her thoughts and smiled up at Archie as
Jughead chuckled softly in the background. “Oh, am I? It’s nothing huge,
Jughead and I just had a nice morning together.” To Betty, her phrasing was
perfectly innocent and vague enough to not elude to their team-sleuthing.
However, to everyone else, her words took a completely different meaning.
Archie was half choking on his juice, while Veronica and Kevin were looking at
each other with raised eyebrows and amazed expressions. Betty, who had quickly
gone back to jotting down ideas for articles didn’t notice the near-explosion
of questions that was about to be unleashed upon her, but luckily enough,
Jughead wasn’t as preoccupied.
“Easy, guys. No hidden innuendos here. Keep eating your lunches.” Jughead said
as calmly as possible, raising an eyebrow at the twin looks of disappointment
on Veronica and Kevin’s faces.
At his voice, Betty looked up from her notebook. “What was that?” Archie was
wiping juice off his chin while Kevin and Veronica very pointedly avoided eye
contact with her. Jughead just raised an amused eyebrow and shrugged casually.
The rest of the gang had an extra close watch on Jughead and
Betty for the rest of the day, something that Jughead found increasingly
annoying as the day wore on. This was compounded by the fact that he and Betty
spent a lot of their time together being very close; whether it was being
huddled in front of a single computer, walking almost shoulder to shoulder on
the way to class or sitting close enough together at desks in class that their
thighs touched. This had become normal to Jughead, comforting over the last few
weeks of reconnecting with Betty. To the rest of the gang, this was a sign from
above that something was happening
between the two. Jughead had to hear insufferable whisperings from Veronica and
Kevin, and feel ridiculous glares from Archie for the remainder of school, and
by the time he and Betty were able to escape the confines of the school to walk
home, he almost ran out the gate.
Betty was being drugged behind a rushing Jughead, as soon as the bell had rung.
“Juggie. Juggie! Where’s the fire?” She was half-laughing as she jogged behind
him, until he had enough sense to calm down and slow to a more normal pace.
He released her wrist and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, and
kicked his boot over the pavement as he walked. “Sorry, Bets. The guys have
just been getting to me all day.”
She shot him a confused look, straightening her backpack on her slim shoulders.
Jughead looked her in the eyes for a moment, and saw nothing
there but pure curiosity. “You have no idea?”
Frowning at missing what was apparently important
information, Betty shook her head firmly. “I really don’t. What’s going on
Jughead sighed, almost glad for her ignorance, because the
last way he wanted Betty to find out that he was almost certainly in love with
her, was through their mutual friends gossiping about it to her. However, it
was only a matter of time before Veronica spilled the beans, and Jughead needed to beat her to that punch. “I’ll
tell you when we’re at your house with food and homework stretched in front of
us, Bets. Promise.”
She smiled at him good-naturedly before a look of mischief
crossed her face. “You know what my mother detests, Juggie?” There were a
million answers to this question, so he simply shrugged and let her continue.
“Food and boys, with the exception of Kevin because I suppose she’s determined
that he’s safe, in my room.”
He looked at her quizzically, not entirely sure where she
was going with this train of thought but getting unintentionally nervous
“She’s not gonna be home ‘til late, and my Dad’s away. I say we set up camp in
my room and make all kinds of food. I feel like being at least a little
rebellious today.” She smiled so genuinely that Jughead couldn’t in good
conscience say no.
Instead he smiled back and said, “To hell with overload
Cooper, let’s do this hang out properly.”
That’s how, an hour after getting home Jughead and Betty
were set up on her bed with a veritable mountain of food between them. Popcorn,
sandwiches, brownies and all kinds of chips were piled on a platter. Jughead
was currently quizzing Betty on past presidents while throwing popcorn for her
to catch in her mouth in between questions. If she caught the popcorn, the quiz
questions got easier, if she missed, they got harder. And despite having missed
10 pieces in a row, Betty was still answering every question correctly.
Jughead gently threw the eleventh piece of popcorn towards Betty, which she
missed again. “How am I so bad at this, Juggie?” She whined, resting her elbows
on her crossed legs and looking dejected. Her pout was so sweet that Jughead
felt an immediate impulse to kiss her, one that was so strong he had to dig his
fingers into the material of his jeans to stop himself from moving.
Trying his best to be nonchalant and easy-going, Jughead cleared his throat.
“It’s just practise, Bets. I’ve got many years and hundreds of pieces of
popcorn up on you.” To illustrate, Jughead threw a piece in the air and caught
it in his mouth effortlessly. Betty attempted to do the same trick a few more
times before she finally slumped against her headboard, defeated and slightly
“Okay, no more popcorn throwing.” Jughead smirked before nodding his consent. “What
were you gonna tell me when we were walking home? You said you’d tell me once
we were settled.”
All of the sudden Jugheads stomach was flipping and his
heartbeat was drumming like a mockingbirds wings in his ribcage. He hadn’t
expected her to remember; he hadn’t expected her to bring it up. He thought he
had some more time to plan and figure his wording out. “Oh, that.”
Betty laughed at his horror stricken expression, “Yes, that. C’mon Jug. What’s got your goat?”
He couldn’t think of a way to divert the blonde; not a
single plan came to mind. So with a heavy heart, he decided to tell her the
truth and let whatever happens, happen. “Veronica and Kevin have a new ship.”
Betty giggled, smiling at the familiarity of the duo’s antics. “Of course they
do. Who is the lucky pair this time?”
Jughead rubbed the back of his neck roughly and took a breath. “Don’t laugh.”
It was Betty’s turn to look nervous, confusion making her
eyebrows lower. “Oh, Jug. They’re shipping you
with someone?” She scooted over next to him and rubbed her hand on his thigh
gently, trying to comfort him. “No wonder you’ve been so on edge today.” The
pained look in Jughead’s eyes made her continue. “Don’t worry, Juggie. I’ll
sort it out. I’ll have a chat to Veronica and Kevin.” He, if it was possible,
looked even more pained, and Betty wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug.
“Oh, Jug, don’t look so worried. Talk to me.”
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his thumping heart and not focus on
Betty’s soft fingers rubbing gently into his back. “They’re shipping you and I,
Abruptly, Betty sat back and looked at Jughead directly. After a moment of
silence she muttered an, “Oh.”
Awkward quiet filled the room, and Jughead waited for her to
break it. He could see gears turning in her mind, but she wasn’t voicing
anything, something that was very unlike Betty. After a few minutes of quiet,
Jughead piped up. “Bets, Betty, you alright?”
She snapped out of her daze quickly, “Oh, yes, yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry, Jug.
This is all my fault. I’ll talk to them. They shouldn’t start rumours about you
like that.” Betty looked so apologetic, so sincere that he had no choice but to
come clean. You couldn’t look at those eyes and lie.
“That’s not why I was annoyed.”
For all the time that the two of them were on the same page,
today Betty was completely on another wavelength. “I know that I’m no Cheryl,
but that’s sort of mean, Juggie.”
He had no idea how she had jumped to that conclusion, the completely wrong
conclusion, so quickly. “Oh, Bets, no. God, no. You could do so much better
than me. I’m completely lucky that
you even deign to hang out with me, and you’re so far above Cheryl that I can’t
even see her when you’re in the room. Hell. You’re
gorgeous, Bets.” He finished his rant, his eyes imploring her to believe him,
while his hands knotted together with anxiety.
Betty’s face turned confused once more, her head cocking to
the side adorably. “I-I don’t understand, then, Jug. If you don’t care about
the rumours, and you’re not upset that it’s me
and you the rumours are about, what is it?”
With a world-weary sigh Jughead took her jaw in his hands, cupping her face
like she was the most delicate flower that had ever existed. “I was annoyed
because I couldn’t stand it if you found out that I had feelings for you from
Veronica or Kevin.”
Betty was searching his eyes, trying to find out if the remarkably kind words
were the truth. Jughead surely had no reason to lie about this, there was
nothing to gain by lying. “You… like me?”
She was so surprised, so utterly utterly surprised that Jughead had to chuckle,
a smile breaking through his pent up nerves. “If I’m completely honest, I’ve
completely adored you since we were about nine and you punched that kid in the
nose for stealing my beanie.” He laughed at the memory of a delicate little
girl standing up against a boy that was almost twice her size and lunging at
him to get his beanie back. “You cleaned up my grazed elbow, dusted off my hat,
and I think I fell in love with you there and then. It’s just taken me seven years
to actually work up enough guts to tell you out loud.”
Her voice was a whisper. “Juggie…” His thumbs caressed her
jawline, and her eyes fell closed, enjoying the sensations. After a moment she
looked up at him again, “You’re not playing a joke, Jug? You really mean it?”
His heart thudded in his chest as he looked upon her beautiful face, her eyes
so hopeful and so scared. Had Archie really destroyed her self-confidence that
Jughead rested his forehead against hers, his nose rubbing hers lightly as he
cupped her face. “I’m in love with you, Elizabeth Cooper.” From his vantage
point he could see her mouth stretch upwards in a dazzling smile, and he took
that as a very positive cue. “And if I don’t kiss you now, I think I’m going to
“We can’t have that, can we?” She whispered gently, as she
tilted her face up to meet his waiting lips. It was perhaps the sweetest kiss
Betty Cooper had ever had. Jughead cradled her face as if she was the most
precious thing in the world, his lips the epitome of gentle as they moved
against hers. She couldn’t control the sigh that escaped her lips, and she
found herself reaching up to twist her fingers in the hair at the nape of his
neck, curling her hands through it as if he were a lifeline. The quiet growl he
let out made her heart race and her face redden, and she found that she liked
that sound more than anything.
After what felt like a lifetime and a few seconds all at
once, Jughead reluctantly pulled back fractionally, not letting go of her just
yet. “If I knew that kissing you would be like that; I wouldn’t have wasted all these years.”
She chuckled warmly, curling her fingers around his
ringlets. “Well, you’d better make up for lost time then, shouldn’t you?”
A/N: I’m finally back with Part 6 after what seems like forever! I’m sorry to keep everyone waiting, so I hope the moodboards I posted kept everyone satisfied last night hehehe (there’s more to be posted, not to worry!). In this part, there is a lot of emotional manipulation, so please be warned! Take everything lightly, okay, my babes? Enjoy, and please leave some feedback when you’re done! x
Pairing(s): Chanyeol x Reader
Warnings: Emotional manipulation, mentions of firearms, slight violence, asshole Chanyeol
Summary: Just Chanyeol being an asshole and Luhan freaking out.
Luhan is awakened by incessant meowing in his ear, accompanied by the
soft pad of paws across his bare stomach. With a groan, the drug lord rolls
over onto his side and buries his face further into the pillows, drowsily
ignoring the meowing which just seems to increase in its volume.
Something soft and fluffy swishes across his face, tickling his nose and
he emits a startling sneeze, bolting upright as a result. Rudely jolted awake
from his dead-like slumber, Luhan glances around him grumpily, searching for
the source of his disturbance. A ginger cat is seated on his hunches beside
him, tail flicking from side to side urgently while repeated meows spill from
him as he gazes up at the drug lord with murky eyes.