i am attracted to you

The Most Beautiful Man In The World, Who Lives In My Building And Only Ever Sees Me When I Look Disgusting

The Most Beautiful Man In The World lives in my building. i don’t know his name. we met on a bus, when i smiled WAY too brightly at him for strangers because, honest to god, my whole heart lit up in a way that made me think, “oh, i must know that guy!!” no. i didn’t. he’s just The Most Beautiful Man In The World.

what does The Most Beautiful Man In The World look like? i will tell you:

  • like the way the sun spills over water at dusk
  • like the way food smells when you’re hungry
  • like the sound angels make when they’re doing folk covers of pop songs on their heavenly harps
  • and also kind of like the guy who played Chad in “high school musical,” if the guy who played Chad in “high school musical” was the most beautiful man in the world.

i tell you this not only to brag that i live in the same apartment complex as The Most Beautiful Man In The World but also because i want to know WHY, if there even IS A GOD, every single time i run into The Most Beautiful Man In The World i look like a LITERAL DUMPSTER TROLL that has just CRAWLED OUT OF ITS GARBAGE HOUSE in search of FREE WIFI AND A SLURPEE. i want to know why i can never just BE COOL with The Most Beautiful Man In The World when we ride the elevator together, which is!!!! kind of often!!!!!

DID YOU GUYS KNOW that sometimes i look nice?? sometimes i actually look like a FUNCTIONING ADULT!!! sometimes i would go so far as to say i am an ATTRACTIVE INDIVIDUAL!!!!! 

you know who DOESN’T know any of that???

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MAN IN THE WORLD, WHO LIVES IN MY BUILDING!!!

here’s a quick rundown of the last few times i ran into The Most Beautiful Man In The World:

  • i was wearing a maxi dress i had very cleverly biked home in, without a helmet* (*don’t try that at home, kids), in the VERY HOT AFTERNOON SUN, so i was a GROSS SWEAT MONSTER but without any OBVIOUS INDICATOR that there was a normal reason for it, and i couldn’t stand to look at him so i just glared at my phone while he probably wondered, alarmed, whether i was fleeing the scene of a crime
  • i was wearing a white shirt that i had not SECONDS before spilled salsa ALL OVER in a big red stain right down the front like a KINDERGARTNER
  • i was carrying two armfuls of ENORMOUS bags of popcorn with a three musketeers bar literally in my mouth and he overheard me say through my stuffed candy cheeks to my doorman, “oh, no, i’m not having a party, this is literally all for me”
  • i dropped my backpack while opening my mail and said to it, defeatedly, “why? why did you do that when i explicitly told you not to? do you like being on the floor?” 
  • i fell into and then off of the elevator

why??? why does this happen??? what vengeful god has orchestrated it so the ONLY TIMES i ever run into The Most Beautiful Man In The World are when i could easily be mistaken for a child’s doll that has been put through the wash by accident, or a dollar bill that has been stained by years of being in people’s sweaty palms, or a mop with eyes???

whatever. everything costs money and everyone you love disappoints you. Mop Eyes out.

I want you to know that I was looking at this picture for a good solid 15 minutes bc of the jawline, neck and collarbone forming a ‘Z’ backwards.

Or an ’S’ for Supergirl bc I love foreshadowing

OKAYOKAYOKAY B U T Aliens that only have mates to reproduce. Once every couple of moons they find their partner, do the do, then find a completely different one the next cycle. Imagine these aliens being confused about the human concept of marriage - “you stay with them for life?“ - and not understanding that while yes, Intaquk, you are very attractive I am married so no I will not be your mate this season. Imagine Valentines Day rolling around and one of a crews humans is feeling sad and the aliens are like “yo r u okay should we feed u or something is this natrual” and the human “just kinda bummed i dont have a valentines” and after a bit of research of the holiday one of the aliens gets down on one knee and offers the human a small rock like “I heard these..proposals are common in human culture?” AND THE HUMAN JUST STARTS SMILING AND TAKES THE PEBBLE LIKE ‘thank you fruiyo’ AND THE OTHER HUMANS AROUND START GUSHING OVER HOW ADORABLE THE SCENE WAS. THE ALIENS PICK UP ON HOW THESE PROPOSALS MAKE THE HUMANS ELATED, THEREFORE SEVERAL OTHER PEOPLE ARE PROPOSED TO WITHIN THE MONTH A N D

Inevitable

An Alpha!Bucky One-Shot

Character Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 5,109 (oops!)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ EXPLICIT Smut! A/B/O Dynamics, fingering, sexual penetration, slight(?) impregnation kink, unprotected sex, a NSFW gif, some angst (blink and you miss it), language, dirty talk…

A/N: I make my own rules. 

 You smelt him before you saw him.

Your senses came alive when you saw him walk through the main entrance.

Alpha.

He exuded the title perfectly.

This isn’t the first time you had seen him at the museum but this was the closest you had ever gotten to him. He was at the ticket counter, smiling at Mandy as he presented his membership card. The leather jacket he had on moved like soft butter as he put the card in his wallet before it went back into the side pocket.  

Catching a whiff of his scent in the air, you wanted to melt to the floor. Sandalwood. It was earthy and it warmed your whole body.

You could make out his voice from where you were hiding in the gift shop. It was deep and raspy as he talked to Mandy. He took off his baseball hat and ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. He stuffed the hat into the back pocket of his jeans as he laughed at something Mandy had said.

Damn her. You were jealous.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

(csa tw) im a psychology student and i keep hearing people say that pedophilia is an illness or orientation. it's really scaring me. i keep getting fears that people i know are closet pedophiles because they can't help it. it always seemed to me that pedophilia is a fetish and a choice, but i don't know how to argue against these people. i saw you say once that you disagree with their point of view and it would be really helpful to me if you explained why, if you're able to.



I’m so sorry you’re being surrounded with pedophilia apologism. I can absolutely explain my thoughts on this. 

Pedophilia is a paraphilia, not an orientation. 

An orientation describes the gender of those to which one is capable of being attracted. It does not mean that someone is attracted to the idea of a gender, or that they are going to be attracted to anyone of that gender, and orientation does not inherently include sexual attraction (for instance, you can be attracted to someone without being at all interested in sexual intimacy, people of all orientations can have crushes as little kids in purely romantic ways, people of all orientations can be asexual and never be sexually interested in anyone, etc.) 

To the contrary, a paraphilia refers to recurrent, intense sexually arousing fantasies, sexual urges, or behaviors. Paraphilia might include fixation a variety of qualities or concepts, but often involve dehumanization/fetishization (e.g. “teratophilia” sexual desire to people with severe deformities, often based in a dehumanizing perception of them as “monstrous”), as well as nonconsensual or violent behavior (e.g. “zoosadism” being sexually aroused by inflicting pain on animals, or “frotteurism” being sexually aroused by non-consensually rubbing their genitals against strangers). 

This distinction is extremely important. Sometimes homophobic pedophilia apologists will bring up that “homosexuality” used to be included in the DSM as a paraphilia and present that fact as a way to either demonize gay people or to defend pedophiles. I want to be extremely clear in that the previous decision to call people’s same gender attraction a paraphilia was a reflection of deeply homophobic views about LGB+ people. 

They did so because they reduced our entire personalities into the desire for specific sex acts, and also often depicted us as predatory and seeking out non consenting straight people. If wildly homophobic beliefs were accurate, yeah, that would be a paraphilia, but it’s fucking wildly homophobic and completely inaccurate. 

They used that diagnosis to completely demonize us, and to justify various forms of abuse and torture. It was institutionalized homophobia and anyone who uses that as an argument to suggest a bullshit ‘moral relativist’ argument that “anything could be considered a paraphilia, maybe we need to accept everyone, pedophiles are the new gays!!” they are being horrifyingly homophobic and contributing to pedophilia apologism and rape culture and they need to fucking stop.

Pedophilia is a fetishization of abusive control

Pedophilia is intrinsically linked to abuse, and indeed multiple studies have shown correlation between men abusing their spouses and sexually abusing their children.

“Multiple studies have established the high overlap between battering and incest perpetration (Herman, 1981; McCloskey et. al.; Paveza; Sirles and Franke; and Truesdell et. al.). These studies, taken together, indicate that a batterer is about four to six times more likely than a non-batterer to sexually abuse his children. These statistics are in line with studies of batterers’ risk to physically abuse children; the largest study of this kind showed batterers seven times more likely than non-batterers to frequently hit their children (Straus) About half of incest perpetrators also batter the children’s mother (Herman, 1981; Sirles and Franke; Truesdell). A recent major publication on family violence recommended that any history of sexual assaults against the mother be treated as a warning sign of possible sexual or physical abuse of the children (American Psychological Association).”

– The Connection Between Batterers and Child Sexual Abuse Perpetrators

Pedophiles are not attracted to individuals, they are fetishizing and aroused by their projected ideas surrounding innocence, control, power, possession, corruption of innocence, vulnerability, etc. Pedophilia is inherently abusive (yes even for “non offenders”) because abuse stems from abusive values and entitlements. 

There is a quote by Lundy Bancroft which, while not specifically about pedophiles, explains the way that abusers understand love, and I think it’s relevant to include, because pedophiles and their apologists will try to depict this as attraction to people when it’s not, it’s fetishization of abusive control over children.

“Another point I wanted to draw your attention to is how the abuser defines love. Part of why I underline this point is because this is one of the areas where abusers have the most success in creating confusion. When he says ‘I really love you’ that’s all about him not about her. The feeling that he has, through his teens and into adulthood, come to identify as love, is not the same feeling that you and I would call love. This is about a very intense desire to own and control somebody. That’s not very related to seeing this person as a human being. It’s much more akin to how you would become attached to a thing. ‘I love you’ means ‘I am so attracted to what I believe you could do for me.’ […] ‘I am so attracted to what you must do for me. What it is your obligation to do for me.’” 

They engage with this paraphilia, not because it is an intrinsic part of them, not because they have no control over their own behavior (they do, it’s a choice they’re deciding to make), and not because they’re unable to confront their extremely harmful values and beliefs, but because they’re unwilling to. The same reasons that abusers continue to abuse their partners, the same reasons serial rapists continue to sexually assault others– pedophiles continue to engage in the fantasy or practice of sexually assaulting and abusing children.

 Pedophilia is not a disease to be ‘cured’ it is a set of abusive values and practices that we should treat as unacceptable. 

The reason that it’s dangerous to assert that pedophilia is a disease is because this mythology (largely created and perpetuated by pedophiles and abusers themselves) contributes to a pedophilia apologist and CSA apologist culture wherein we are expected to extend sympathy to the perpetrators of this violence, and we are expected to forgive them or grant allowances to “non-offending” members because of the false notion that it isn’t their “fault” or that there is no “cure.”

But it’s important to realize that these desires are prompted by their values and their behaviors are chosen, consciously. We need to hold these people accountable. It is not a disease or an orientation or any other excuse that allows pedophiles to insist it’s “out of their control.” 

Extensive research with abusers shows us that the only chance there is to “cure” abusers or, more accurately, to get them to stop abusing people, is to give them literally no choice. Abusers need to be held accountable relentlessly. Their abuse must be consistently be considered unacceptable under any circumstances, and they must face consistent consequence for every single transgression. 

Within an abuse culture and rape culture like ours, the odds of pedophiles actually being relentlessly held accountable are not great, there are far too many apologists and people willing to protect them from accountability. So for anyone in danger, we need to prioritize getting them away from these people and protecting children. In my opinion, children’s safety will always always always be the immediate priority. 

So anyone who is prioritizing trying to “cure” pedophiles and doing so through essentially buying into pedophiles’ own mythos of their abuse being an “orientation” or “illness” is contributing to a culture that harms children. It is actively dangerous to feed into the belief that pedophiles need compassion and understanding for their abuse. Abusers do not deserve compassion for their deep entitlements and toxic values, they deserve condemnation and being held accountable until they are forced to give up their violence. 

MADDOX-RIDER; 2016 ART SUMMARY

You can say I spend majority of my year with Dan & Phil. I am so glad that the phandom welcomed me with open arms. I made a lot of new friends, did fun projects and achieved many goals that I’ve set for myself; like having an entire art summary filled with colours+digital and completing inktober. To me, it was been a very successful year. I may or may not still be in the phandom but where ever my art takes me, I hope to create new memories in 2017 like this year.

Jan: Kiss Me
Feb: Phamily
Mar: Dentist Kink
Apr: Shibes!
May: Love Me Like You Do
June: If I lose myself 
July: Majestic Pastel
Aug: Team Mystic
Sept: Only one
Oct: TATINOF
Nov: Phanime
Dec: Secret Santa

RQ characters as things I've said and done today:
  • Mare: "I don't know, I'm just trying not to lose my shit."
  • Cal: "I just wanted to know if you did the study guide not if you were considering murder."
  • Maven: "I don't think you're going to appreciate how hard you're being baited."
  • Cameron: *exasperated sigh*
  • Farley: "My immediate reaction to a lot of people is 'fuck off'."
  • Evangeline: "I know, but consider this: I don't care."
  • Shade: "I might be a mess, but I'm a hot mess."
  • Kilorn: *falls down the stairs for the 4th time in a month*
7

I want ‘em all

College selfie for the anon

4

From 0 to Albert Rosenfield in Twin Peaks, how done are you with everybody?

They Wanna Make Me Their Queen

( Prompt: princess diaries style “I grew up not knowing I was royal and suddenly my royal grandparent showed up out of nowhere and told me I was so now I guess I’m the heir to the throne and you’re my crush from my pre-royal days but I still have a crush on you” AU ) 

PART 2

A/N: Yeah, okay, I have had this fantasy playing out in my head. Picture it: me, a princess of some small and obscure island, and my long-lost grandmother tells me I’m a princess and I get married to Tom Holland AND WE ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER. Okay, on a serious note - Princess diaries AU anyone? I watched the movie and it was great. 

Taglist: @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter | @tomsleftbrow | @tryn25 | @tanglefire | @midnight-memorial


You drop your backpack on the floor inside your front door. It’s the area that your mum not-so-fondly refers to as the ‘shoe graveyard’ where everyone who comes in leaves their coats, shoes, umbrellas, and in this case, a backpack and a soggy cherry-printed umbrella.

(Y/n)? That you?” Your mum calls from the kitchen.

That’s odd. Mum doesn’t usually get home from work until six o’clock. Shaking out your rain damp hair, you head down the shadowy hallway and into the sleek, modern kitchen of steel and chrome. What you see there makes you gasp.

Mum’s gotten out her best china, gold-rimmed and floral, the ones she’d gotten as a wedding gift. She’s sitting and having tea and fancy pastries with the strangest-looking woman you’ve ever seen. She has pale skin, ruby red lips and hair piled up on her head in an elaborate bun. Small and bird-like, with a stern expression on her wrinkled face, she’s sitting ramrod straight, staring and assessing your every move. She’s dressed in a black cashmere cardigan, and flowing jersey pants, her legs crossed delicately at the ankles. On her feet are black Chanel ballet slippers.

“This is her?”

“Yes,” Your mum answers, glancing up at you with a too-big smile. “This is my daughter, (Y/n).”

“Um,” You say intelligently, glancing at mum for help. You want to ask the woman, Who are you? But you think that might come across as being a little rude. “Um?”

“This is your Grandmother,” Your mother says, waving you forwards. “Your father’s mother.”

“I thought he died.”

“He did, but now his mother – your grandmother – wants to see you.”

“What, after years of total radio silence?” You snort, flinging yourself down into an empty chair. You grab a small finger sandwich, making a face when you realise you’ve grabbed a cucumber one. “What does she want from us? Money? My left kidney?”

Lips pursed, voice clipped, the old lady says, “I can assure you, I have no need for such frivolities.”

“Frivolities? Really? Who even says that anymore?”

(M/n), if you do not tell her, I shall,” Your grandmother says sharply, brandishing a butter knife and heaping a large dollop of clotted cream onto a scone. “There is much to be discussed.”

(Y/n), the thing is . . .” Your mum’s tripping over her words, and you tilt your head to the side as you always do, saying nothing but willing her to continue. “You’re a princess, (Y/n).”

And grandmother nods sombrely along to every word, as though she has to give up her left kidney.

As for you? You take the news remarkably well.

You faint dead away, right then and there.


The worst part about this whole ‘princess’ thing, you think grimly to yourself as you stomp down the hallway of Midtown High, is that you’ve been forbidden from telling anyone. Not Ned Leeds, not Michelle Gonzales, and most certainly not even your best friend, Peter Parker. You’ve just become princess of a small island called Serangoon, have a queen for a grandmother, basically have unlimited power and resources at your fingertips, and you’re not allowed to talk about it. Grandmother had explained – rather impatiently, in your opinion – that if you told your friends, the information would spread like wildfire. You could – and would – be compromised, assassinated like a character in Game of Thrones. This was for your safety, she’d assured you.

You don’t even get a makeover like Taylor Swift in her You Belong With Me music video. You’re still the same old (Y/n), with your frizzy hair, less-than-ideal clothes and the acne scars on your face.

What you do get are princess classes – Mondays to Fridays, 3pm to 7pm. History classes, etiquette lessons, and basically whatever your grandmother saw fit to throw at you. You’d seen the disdainful way she’d looked at you. Because of course princesses had to be charming and graceful, with impeccable manners.

You’d tried to tell her that you had homework, a social life, but your pleas for mercy had fallen on deaf ears.

How is it that a freaking princess can be invisible, you think grouchily, slamming your locker with a little more force than is strictly necessary. The metal trembles violently, then stills, and you glower angrily at it.

Stupid locker, stupid grandmother, stupid, stupid, stupid!

“What did that locker ever do to you?” Peter demands laughingly, sidling up to you, a soft, sweet smile on his face.

Instantly, your mind goes fuzzy, a big useless snowstorm. Your mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and you gulp. That crush on Peter hasn’t disappeared at all, has it? It’s almost amazing to consider – you’re a princess, who will likely be married off to a prince/duke/king to provide heirs to both kingdoms ( or maybe this is your Game of Thrones obsession shining through ), but you still feel awkward and small around a boy you’ve known ( and liked ) since middle school.

Of course, the only way he’d ever notice you was if you became as gorgeous and as popular as Liz Allen.

If only you could tell the press …

But no.

“Earth to (Y/n)!” Peter’s laughing now, waving a hand in front of your face, his eyes bright and happy. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Um. Um?” You shake your head to clear away the fog. Your face feels far too warm for your liking. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Movie night? My place or yours? A new episode of Star Wars came out, and you agreed that we’d watch it tonight.”

“Thanks a lot, grandmother,” You mutter, cursing your grandmother out in your mind for scheduling princess classes on a Friday. “I can’t, Peter. Not tonight. I’m sorry.”

Peter’s face falls, and you’re kicking yourself for having to flake out on him and this time honoured tradition. For a moment, you think about just caving and telling him – but the resulting earful you’ll get from your grandmother is not worth it.

“I’ll make it up to you,” You say instead. “Promise.”

You glance anxiously at your watch. 3.12 pm. You’d asked Stanley – your chauffer cum body guard – to pick you up three blocks away from school, outside Hunan Kitchen, a dingy Chinese place, and you can practically picture his stern, youthful face as he waits, the engine of the Rolls Royce idling.

“Okay.” Peter’s smiling a little now, and that’s worth something, at least. “As long as you promise.”

Ever Since New York

Originally posted by riverdaleselite

Check the Ever Since New York Masterlist for series updates!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: After his junior year, Jughead goes to New York for a writing internship.  

Warnings: some swearing, you might cry

Word count: 4,574

A/N: umm first of all thank you for 7000 followers?? holy crap. anywho wowowow this is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written. It’s based off of the song “Ever Since New York” from Harry Styles’s album (which I love btw).  This is probably my favorite thing I’ve ever written tbh. Hope you all enjoy!


Tell me something, tell me something
You don’t know nothing, just pretend you do

After years of saving the money he earned at the Twilight Drive-In and other odd jobs, Jughead finally had enough to buy a plane ticket to New York.  He had discovered a writing internship there that he knew he had to do. It didn’t take much effort to convince his dad to allow him to go; in fact, FP even offered to pitch in some money. Jughead refused, claiming that he wanted to do this all on his own.  He wanted to deserve this internship as much as possible.

He started talking to Veronica frequently, asking her about her time in New York.  She, of course, gladly answered all of Jughead’s questions.  She was glad to finally bond with her boyfriend’s best friend.  

Jughead also pestered Betty with questions, seeing as she had done an internship similar to his two summers ago.  It was a bit awkward at first, since the two of them used to date.  However, they both got over their awkwardness for the sake of preparing Jughead for his internship.

“It’s really amazing,” Betty told him.  “It’s a great experience, and you’ll learn so much.”

“What are other people like?” Jughead inquired.  “Are they pricks?”

“Sometimes,” Betty laughed. “It depends.  Do you know how many other people are participating in the internship?”

“Just one,” he answered, shrugging.  “I don’t know who it is though.”

“Well, if they’re a jerk then that’s gonna suck,” she offered.  “But if they’re nice, they may become one of the closest friends you’ll ever have.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Betty replied and nodded.  “You’re gonna spend all summer with this other person.  They’re either gonna drive you up the wall or become your new best friend.”

I need something, tell me something new
Choose your words, ‘cause there’s no antidote
For this curse, oh, what’s it waiting for?
Must this hurt you just before you go?

“Have fun in New York, Jug.” FP patted his son on the back as they stood at the airport gate.  Betty, Veronica, Archie, Fred Andrews, and Kevin stood behind FP, all wearing supportive smiles.  Jughead glanced around at the group who followed him to the airport, filled with admiration of his friends and family.

“Thank you guys,” he said, fighting back a giant grin.  “You didn’t all have to come, though.”

“Of course we did,” Fred Andrews argued.  “We’re not gonna see you all summer, Jughead.  We have to give you a proper send-off.”

“Well, proper send-off achieved,” Jughead laughed.  He watched as others in the line began to move.  “I guess I should go now.  Thanks for this.  See you all in August.”  As he turned on his heel and walked away, the group of six gleefully waved at Jughead’s retreating figure.

“You aren’t worried about Jughead all alone in a giant city?” Fred asked FP as they exited the airport.

“Nah,” FP responded, waving his hand.  “He’s a smart kid, he’ll find his way.”

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know

“Hi, I’m Jughead Jones,” he introduced himself at the front desk.  “I’m here for the writing internship.”

The lady sitting behind the desk glanced up at Jughead.  “Ah, yes! We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Jones!” she exclaimed, standing from her chair.

“Oh, am I late?” Jughead inquired.  

The lady shook her head. “Oh no, not at all.  Your counterpart just got here early, so we’ve been waiting for you to start.”

“My counterpart?”

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she gestured to a girl sitting on a chair against the wall, flipping through a magazine.  The girl perked up when she heard her name, and saw Jughead and the receptionist staring at her.

“Is this him?” (Y/N) questioned, standing up and setting the magazine down.  Jughead noticed it was a TIME magazine.  

“Yes,” the receptionist answered.  “(Y/N), this is Jughead Jones.”  Jughead stuck his hand out to shake, and (Y/N) firmly shook his hand.

“I hope you’re not an asshole,” she blatantly said as they released hands, “because we’re gonna be stuck with each other all summer.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” he quipped.  

(Y/N) raised her eyebrow in interest.  “Quick-witted,” she noted with a smirk forming on her face.  “I like it.”

“You better,” Jughead fired back, biting back a grin.  “Like you said, we’ll be around each other all summer.”

“If we were together any longer, I’d worry about you falling in love with me,” she jokingly warned. “So be careful.”

Brooklyn saw me, empty at the news
There’s no water inside this swimming pool

“When’d you get here?” (Y/N) asked as she and Jughead exited the building, their first day of the internship finished.

“Two days ago,” Jughead answered with his hands in his pockets.  “What about you?”

“Last week.”  Her pace was quick, and she seemed determined to get somewhere.  “Are you hungry?  Because I’m starving.”

“I would love some food,” Jughead almost moaned at the thought of food.  He was only able to scarf down a small lunch in the midst of the business.

“I know this great burger place,” (Y/N) explained as she led the way to the restaurant.  “It’ll make every other burger you’ve ever eaten seem like a pile of shit on a bun.”

“I doubt that,” Jughead scoffed.  “There’s a diner where I’m from that makes the best burgers you’ll ever eat.”

“Where are you from?”

“Riverdale,” he said. “Pop’s diner, that’s what it’s called. If you ever find yourself in Riverdale, stop by Pop’s.  Trust me, you’ll thank me.”

“Well we’re not in Riverdale right now, Jughead Jones,” (Y/N) reminded him.  “So you should thank your lucky stars that I am your counterpart, because I’ve been here for the past week. You know what I’ve been doing for that week?  Exploring, Jones.  I have tried and evaluated twenty-one restaurants, and I know where to go for whatever you’re craving.”

“What if I’m craving Korean food?” he quizzed.

“32nd street, there’s a great Korean grill,” she immediately responded.

“Ethiopian?”

“There’s a quaint little place on 135th street.”

“What if I want to get wasted?” Jughead smirked.

“There’s a club a couple of blocks away with shitty security,” (Y/N) answered with a smirk equally as wide.  “Or maybe I was just an exception, seeing as how attractive I am.”

“I think you overestimate yourself,” he scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes.  

(Y/N) lightly slapped him on the arm.  “I do not!” she retaliated.  

“Whatever, keep lying to yourself.”  Jughead quickened his pace, leaving (Y/N) behind him.

“Hey!” she called out, rushing to catch up to him.  “You better not leave me!  You don’t even know where you’re going.”

“You’re still here,” he noted, casually wrapping his arm around her shoulders.  “Lead the way, (Y/N).”

Almost over, had enough from you
And I’ve been praying, I never did before

“God, this food sucks,” (Y/N) whispered, gesturing towards the plates of Japanese food sitting in front of her and Jughead.  “That place we ate at last week was so much better.”

“True,” Jughead agreed with a mouthful of food.  “But this place is cheaper.”

“Rightfully so!” she exclaimed, jabbing at her tofu with a chopstick.  Jughead silently laughed and shook his head, continuing to eat his fried rice.  He watched as (Y/N) picked at her dish, examining each aspect of the meal.  

It had been three weeks since their internship had begun, and Jughead and (Y/N) quickly became close friends.  They bonded over the overwhelming amount of work at their internship and their food-discovering adventures.  Jughead didn’t know how he would’ve survived an entire summer in New York without (Y/N) by his side.  They even stayed at the same hotel, so during a sleepless night, one would wake the other and stay up all night talking.  On those nights, they would drink hot chocolate.

“I’ve got the check tonight, Jug,” (Y/N) said, snapping Jughead out of his thoughts as she took the bill from the waitress.  Jughead furiously shook his head.

“No, (Y/N), you got dinner yesterday,” he protested, reaching out towards the bill.  “I’ll cover it tonight.”

“You got lunch!” she exasperatedly exclaimed.  “I can handle it.  Dinner wasn’t even expensive last night or tonight.”  

Jughead huffed as the waitress returned and took (Y/N)’s money.  “Fine,” he pouted, “but we’re gonna go out for desert, and I’m paying for it.”

“Fine.”

“Ice cream?” Jughead offered, standing from his chair.  (Y/N) followed suit, and they exited the diner.  She slowly grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“I’m feeling frozen yogurt tonight,” she countered his offer, grinning up at him.

“What’s the difference?” Jughead playfully scoffed, trying not to blush at their hand-holding.  They had started doing it last week after he almost lost (Y/N) in a giant mass of people.

“I swear to God, Jug, you said the same thing last week, and I explicitly explained it to you.”  (Y/N) rolled her eyes.  “Ice cream is-”

“Made with cream, whereas frozen yogurt is a yogurt-based treat,” Jughead quoted what (Y/N) had told him last week.

“I knew you paid attention to me.”

Understand I’m talking to the walls
I’ve been praying ever since New York

In the middle of the night, the phone started ringing.  Jughead, still half-asleep, answered it with his eyes remaining shut.  

“You can come over,” he said, not waiting for the caller to initiate the conversation.

“Okay,” (Y/N)’s quiet voice responded, and she hung up.  A few moments later, a soft knock resonated through Jughead’s hotel room.  He rolled off of his bed, throwing on a t-shirt, and opened the door.  (Y/N) stood in the doorway, slightly shaking.  

“You cold?” Jughead murmured.  (Y/N) wordlessly nodded.  He gently grabbed her arm and led her inside, shutting the door behind them.  He stripped the blanket off from his bed and draped it over her shoulders, wrapping (Y/N) in the soft white material.  (Y/N) smiled up at him.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asked, sitting on his bed.  Jughead mimicked her actions and sat next to her.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

“How are you not sick of me?” she elaborated.  “I mean, we’ve been constantly hanging out for, what, a month and a half now?  You know if I’m annoying you, you can just tell me. I’ll back off.”

“Why would you annoy me?” he asked, slowly wrapping his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. “You’re the best part about this internship.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not,” Jughead lightly laughed, slightly nudging her.  “I’m serious, (Y/N).  Before I came, I was asking my friend Betty about internships.  She did one two years ago, so she knew what she was talking about. She told me that the people I’ll meet during this internship will either drive me up the wall or become one of my closest friends.”

“So I haven’t driven you up the wall?” (Y/N) inquired with a tentative smile.

“Of course not,” Jughead laughed loudly this time.  A moment of silence ensued, both (Y/N) and Jughead overwhelmed by sleepiness.

“Is Betty your girlfriend?” (Y/N) broke the silence, staring up at Jughead.

“No,” he muttered, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.  “She was,” he admitted, “but not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” he shrugged. “Sometimes things just don’t work out, you know?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) muttered. “I had a boyfriend.”

“Really?  That’s shocking.”

“Shut up!” she whined, elbowing him.  “Yes, I had a boyfriend.  He was actually a total dickhead.”

“How?” Jughead asked, growing concerned.  

(Y/N) looked up at him and giggled.  “Oh, you’re worried,” she cooed, placing a hand on his chin.  Jughead swatted it away.

“Sue me,” he retorted, but then grew serious.  “But really, what happened?”

“Nothing bad,” she replied, facing away from Jughead.  “We were dating for a while, and… I don’t know.  He never really supported me in anything.  He wasn’t nice to any of my friends, and I didn’t notice for so long because I was so fucking smitten.  Eventually it hit me one day, and I realized that he was horrible.  So, naturally, I dumped him.”

“As one does,” Jughead nodded, nonchalantly tracing patterns on (Y/N)’s right arm with his thumb.  

(Y/N) slumped and sighed. “What time is it?”

Jughead glanced at the clock with its blaring, bright red numbers.  “Three o’clock.”

“Jesus,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.  “I should… I should get back to my room.”  She jumped off the bed and trekked towards the door, her bare feet dragging on the carpet.

“Wait,” Jughead commanded, grabbing her arm.  “Don’t go, it’s too late.”

“You say that as if I have to walk across New York City,” (Y/N) joked.  “It’s fine, Jug, my room is down the hall.  I’m not gonna get mugged.”

“No, but you may fall over before you reach your room,” he countered with a lighthearted smirk. “Just stay here tonight, okay?” (Y/N), too tired to argue, needed no more convincing as she turned around and climbed into Jughead’s bed. He laid down, patting the space next to him.  (Y/N) tentatively settled next to him, slowly resting her head on the neighboring pillow. “You can get closer than that, you know,” he told her, amused by her unusually timid nature.  She hesitantly scooted closer to him, until she was near enough for Jughead to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against his chest.  “That’s better,” he whispered into her hair.  She draped one arm around his torso, the other arm tucked under their now-shared pillow.

“Night, Jug,” she murmured, eyes already closed.  He smiled at her.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know

“Oh, Jughead, how is it?” Betty eagerly asked, her face displayed on his laptop screen.  

“It’s been great,” Jughead answered.  

“What restaurants have you tried?” Veronica questioned from her spot next to Betty.

“A bunch,” he vaguely replied.  “(Y/N) is attempting to try every restaurant in New York City.  I think it’s impossible, but she’s determined.”

“Who is (Y/N)?” Archie inquired, popping his head into the camera’s view.  

Jughead laughed, “Where do I begin?  She’s my ‘counterpart’ for the internship.  We’ve become very close.”

“I told you,” Betty grinned. Jughead nodded.

“You were right,” he admitted.  “Right when I met her, I… I don’t know, it just felt like something clicked between us. We’re inseparable.”  Betty’s expression slightly darkened, but Jughead waved it off as a bit off jealousy.

“Ah, you’ve got it bad, bro,” Archie laughed at his best friend.  Jughead rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like that, Arch,” he explained.  “It’s like Betty said, you grow really close to people when you spend so much time together.”

“But you don’t blush when you talk about them,” Veronica noted, pointing out Jughead’s dusty pink cheeks.

“You’re imagining things,” Jughead scoffed.  Betty, Archie, and Veronica shared a knowing glance.

“If you say so,” Veronica sing-songed.  Before Jughead could respond, there was a knock on his door.  A smile subconsciously grew on his face.

“Speaking of (Y/N),” he said, standing up and walking towards the door.  He opened it, and, as expected, (Y/N) stood there.

“Are we going or not, Jug?” she pressed, grabbing his hand.  “I told you the line for the rainbow bagels is super long.  I don’t want to spend all of Saturday waiting for one, even though they’re so fucking pretty.”

“I’m video chatting with my friends right now,” Jughead told her, gesturing towards his open laptop. “Can you wait like five more minutes?”

“Fine,” (Y/N) huffed, crossing her arms.  She stepped into his room, allowing him to close the door behind her.  She followed him as he sat back down in front of his laptop, resting her chin on his shoulder as she peered at the screen. “These are your friends?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “That’s Archie,” he gestured towards the redhead, “the blonde one is Betty, and that one is Veronica.”  (Y/N) smiled at Jughead’s Riverdale friends.

“You must be (Y/N),” Betty smiled.  “Jughead was just talking about you.”

“Of course he was,” (Y/N) joked, nudging his arm.  Jughead playfully shoved her back.

“So how’s it been? Three months with the infamous Jughead Jones?” Veronica inquired with a smirk dancing on her lips.  

“Well it hasn’t been three months quite yet,” (Y/N) corrected her.  “I’ve only gotta deal with this guy for two more weeks.” Jughead’s face slightly deflated as this realization hit him.  “Let me tell you, he’s quite the handful.”

“We know,” Archie laughed. Jughead opened his mouth to say something, but (Y/N) interrupted him.

“Shit, I left my phone in my room!” she exclaimed, standing up.  “I’ll be right back, Jug.”  She turned and faced the laptop.  “It was great talking to you guys.  I hope we can meet sometime!”  She quickly exited Jughead’s room.  Immediately, Veronica, Archie, and Betty bombarded him about (Y/N)

“She’s perfect,” Veronica cooed.  “She’s actually flawless, Jughead.”

“You lucked out, bro,” Archie told him.  “She’s a keeper.”

“She’s absolutely amazing, Jughead,” Betty smiled.  Jughead grinned and shook his head.

“You guys, I told you-”

“Don’t even go there,” Veronica interrupted him.  “That girl is absolutely perfect for you.  The way you two look at each other is… it seems like it’s from a fairytale. You two are soulmates, Jughead.

“She does seem great, Jug,” Archie agreed with her.  “I mean, I’ve never seen you like that with anyone.  No offense, Betty.”

“None taken, Archie,” she waved his comment off.  “They’re right though, Jug.  You never looked at me the way you look at (Y/N).”  Jughead couldn’t think of a clever retort.  “But be careful, Jughead.  Like (Y/N) said earlier, you two only have two more weeks together. If you haven’t done anything up to this point, you might want to consider whether or not it’s worth it to start something now.  Just ask yourself, is it worth the heartbreak that’ll happen when you have to leave her?” She pursed her lips as she watched Jughead’s face darken on her screen.

“Thanks guys,” he said halfheartedly.  “Really, thank you.  I’ll see you all in two weeks.”

Tell me something, tell me something
You don’t know nothing, just pretend you do
Tell me something just before you go

“Our last day!” (Y/N) exclaimed, prancing into Jughead’s hotel room.  After the video call he had two weeks ago ended, he decided to give her a key to his room.  “Our internship is over, and we have one last night to spend together, Jug.  Out of every place in all of New York City, where do you want to go, Jughead Jones?” she asked seductively, a coy smirk growing on her face.

“I’m feeling burgers tonight,” Jughead answered, trying to stop his expression from deflating.  “And then maybe we can get some cupcakes?”

“I like it!” she grinned. She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room, beginning the trek to their favorite restaurant.  “Jesus, I can’t believe it’s been three months already.”

“I know,” he agreed.  “It seems like my plane landed just yesterday.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) breathed. They spent the rest of their walk in silence, choosing to listen to the bustling New York traffic.  

The waitresses at the restaurant, at this point, knew Jughead and (Y/N) as regulars.  They didn’t even bother giving them menus, knowing exactly what each of them would order.

“You two are my favorites,” the waitress whispered as she set their burgers in front of them.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) grinned. “I’m sorry to say, but it’s our last day here.”

“Oh,” the waitress sighed. “Well, you two better visit.  I don’t know what I’ll do without my favorite regulars.”  She walked away, leaving (Y/N) and Jughead to enjoy their burgers.

“You know,” Jughead noted through a mouth full of burger, “I don’t know how you’ve tried almost every restaurant in New York City while becoming a regular here.”

“Talent, Jug,” she told him, wiping her mouth on a napkin.  “It takes a hell of a lot of talent.”

They finished dinner and went to their favorite bakery to get cupcakes.  On their walk back to the hotel, they fell into silence once again. It wasn’t broken until they entered Jughead’s hotel room.  By now, almost all of (Y/N)’s stuff ended up in here.  They found it easier, rather than constantly having to switch back and forth between rooms to grab their stuff.

“So that was our last day,” (Y/N) claimed, flopping onto the bed.  Jughead stood by the bedside, crossing his arms with an amused smile.

“Unfortunately, it was,” he nodded.  He jumped next to her on the bed, earning a shriek from (Y/N).  He swallowed as he stared at her, knowing what he had to tell her. “Do you remember what you said to me on the first day we met?”

“That I know where to go for whatever you’re craving,” she answered with a grin.  Jughead laughed and shook his head.

“No, the other thing.”

“I hope you’re not an asshole because we’re gonna be stuck together all summer?” she offered.  He shook his head again.

“Nope.”

“I called you quick-witted?”

“No!”

“What is it?” (Y/N) demanded, sitting up so that she was hovering over Jughead as he remained laying down.

“You told me that if we were together any longer than just the summer, I might fall in love with you,” he explained, sitting up so that they were face-to-face.  (Y/N)’s grin slightly faded.

“Oh,” she murmured.  “Yeah, I did say that.”

“You were wrong,” Jughead said, trying to keep his voice steady.  He slowly grabbed her right hand.

“Really?” she asked as her eyes followed Jughead’s hand.

“Betty told me to be careful,” he explained, “because we’re not gonna be together that long.  And she was right.  I mean, why would we risk an immense amount of heartbreak just for the sake of a blissful few weeks together?”  When (Y/N) said nothing, he continued.  “So I figured I could just suck it up and get through the rest of our time together and not say anything.  It was a good plan, but you… you ruined it.”

“Sorry,” she quipped with a small smirk.  Jughead lovingly rolled his eyes.

“No you’re not,” he laughed. “You’re not sorry, and you shouldn’t be. Within the three months we’ve spent together, I’ve grown closer to you than I ever have with anyone else.  Hell, my ex-girlfriend said that we were great together.”

“She did?”

“Yeah,” he responded, grabbing her hands.  “Jesus, (Y/N), I’m in love with you.  I’m fucking in love with you, and it sucks.  It sucks because I don’t know if I’m ever gonna see you again.  And this is gonna cause so much heartbreak, for me at least, and maybe you too.  I just… I can’t keep it from you anymore.  But I also think, deep down, you already knew how I felt.”  Tears clouded (Y/N)’s eyes, and her lips quivered as she quickly enveloped Jughead in a hug.

“Fuck,” she whispered into his neck.  “Fuck, of course I love you, Jughead.”  He pulled himself out of her grip and stared at her, stroking his hand across her cheek. They both leaned in, pressing their foreheads against each other.  Their lips ghosted over each other, only millimeters apart.

“If I kiss you-”

“If you kiss me, everything is gonna go to shit, Jug,” she interrupted him.  He nodded but didn’t pull away.  They sat there like that on his bed on a minute, (Y/N) sitting on Jughead’s lap with her arms around his neck, foreheads touching and lips barely brushing.

The tension grew unbearable, so (Y/N) closed the gap and pressed her lips against his, trying to express what she had been feeling for the past three months.  

Jughead, too, attempted to convey every pent up confession he had, wishing that kisses could speak. He wanted his hands, which were encircling her waist, to tell her how she charmed him with her wit.  He wanted his eyes, which were closed with pleasure, to tell her how beautiful she was, especially when she trudged into his hotel room at three in the morning.  He wanted his lips, which were pressed against hers, to tell her how much he loved her.  He loved her, he loved her, and he wanted to keep saying it for the rest of his life.

For the sake of oxygen, the two pulled apart.  They kept their foreheads resting against each other.  

“Everything’s gone to shit,” (Y/N) whispered, and Jughead burst out into laughter.  (Y/N) followed suit by giggling, and their still-entangled limbs caused them to fall onto the bed so that (Y/N) was laying on top of Jughead. This only caused the pair to laugh harder.  

When their chuckles finally died down, (Y/N) climbed off from on top of Jughead and laid next to him, resting her head on his chest.  She combed her hand through his raven locks.

“I’m sorry that I fell in love with you,” Jughead apologized, kissing the top of her head. They were slowly falling asleep.

“Thank you for falling in love with me,” (Y/N) whispered, eyes fluttering shut.  “It may have all gone to shit, but it was worth it.”

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know

Jughead stepped off the plane and saw his dad and friends standing at the gate, excitedly waiting for him.  He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even bother smiling.  Immediately, everyone understood.  

While they were awaiting Jughead’s plane’s arrival, Betty, Veronica, and Archie explained to the rest of the group about (Y/N).  They told them about how Jughead spent three months falling in love with this girl, and they explained that they had never seen Jughead look so smitten before.  

“How was New York, Jug?” FP asked, taking Jughead’s suitcase from him.  Jughead shrugged.

“It was nice.”

“Good food?” he questioned, trying to get his son to open up.  Jughead nodded tiredly.

“Yeah, food was great,” he replied monotonously.

“And the internship?”

“Helpful,” Jughead responded.  “I think it’ll help me improve as a writer.”

“That’s good,” FP said, raking a hand through his hair.  “You had another person with you, right?”  FP noticed Jughead tense up at this.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Yeah, I had a counterpart.”

“What was she like?” Jughead looked up at his dad.

“You already know who it is,” he replied, shaking his head.  “Who told you, Betty?”  FP pursed his lips.

“Yeah, her and Archie and Veronica.  But listen, Jug, you’re going to have your heart broken countless other times.  You’ll get over this girl,” he attempted to comfort Jughead.

“Dad, she wasn’t just a girl,” he protested.  “She was amazing and quick-witted, and I fell in love with her and then everything went to shit.  But the worst part is that it’s okay, because she loved me too.  She fucking loved me, and I kissed her, and now I may never see her again.”

“Well if you loved her that much, you may see her again,” FP shrugged.  “Fate is a tricky thing, son, but the universe seems to cooperate better if you love someone.”

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