this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. i might as well post it

//so I was thinking this morning (always a dangerous sign) that I’ve talked a bit recently about how the Tumblr RP community isn’t always very good at encouraging people to find ways to manage or get to their drafts, and is instead more likely to coddle peoples’ anxieties without actually helping them at all. 

So this is a post of a few tips and tricks that might help RPers manage some of the more common anxieties I see crop up in our circle. Now, I’m not a full psychologist and nor am I licensed counselor. But I do have my master’s degree in clinical psychology with the intention to go on for the PhD (or get licensed to practice if I don’t get into a program) so I do kinda know what I’m talking about. Hopefully some of this advice is a little helpful:

1. “My drafts just stress me out.” This is a pretty common complaint, but I think in most circumstances it’s caused by stress going on outside of the RP world. Take a step back and breathe. Handle whatever is going on in your real life. That always comes first. If you come back and your drafts are still causing you to feel panicky, the next step is to find out the more specific reasons why. That’s going to help you best address the anxiety. Read on for some common reasons.

2. “I’ve gotten so behind, there’s so many and I’m overwhelmed.” This happens all the time! You take a hiatus for a week or two, or life just got really busy for a while, or just lost muse and now it’s back. But in the meantime, your drafts have piled up- suddenly you’re looking at 20, 50, 100- how do you even start? 

The best way I’ve found to handle this is to break them up into smaller chunks. It might be helpful to copy and paste your partners’ replies over into one or more word documents. You can then further organize those word documents even more. One for short replies, one for long, one for medium length. Or you can organize by muses, by how long the draft has been in your folder- whichever way you want to handle this. If you want to put one reply per document, you can organize them into folders instead. How you do this is entirely up to you.

Set a small goal for yourself- even one draft a day is better than no drafts at all. But by breaking the work up into chunks, you’ve taken a lot of the pressure off yourself. A goal of 1-5 drafts a day is a lot better than looking at all 50. 

Another tip- use the queue! Or simply keep completed drafts saved in the drafts folder until you’ve caught up enough to start posting. The queue will stagger your posts so replies aren’t coming out all at once, and your partners aren’t able to immediately reply back. And obviously keeping them in drafts even after they’re done lets you have more time to catch up. These are just a couple of tips, however, and there are probably other good ways to manage drafts. Find what works best for you!

And don’t be afraid to drop a couple if you have no muse for those threads anymore. Just let your partner know, they’ll understand. And if they don’t, they’re just an asshole and who needs that, right? It is better to communicate that you’re dropping them, however, so you’re partner isn’t left hanging.

3. “I haven’t replied in weeks, I’m worried my partner hates me.” I guarantee this is not true. Most people in the rp community are very understanding of slow response time. Your partners want to rp with you- they’ll be thrilled to see a response, even if it’s been several weeks. Responding, even slowly, shows a lot more dedication and excitement over your threads. 

So if it’s been several weeks, and you finally have muse for that thread and want to reply to it, but feel guilty or anxious because it’s been so long- reply anyway. Your partner will be so happy to see your response. 

Another way to alleviate this anxiety is to simply talk to your partner. And I know, this can be scary- but sometimes you have to bite the bullet and do the thing that makes you anxious. Take it slow if you need to, but communication is the best way to feel better about it. And I guarantee, you are going to feel so much more proud of yourself if you did the thing that made you anxious than if you didn’t.

That goes for replying as well. 

4. “I feel so inadequate compared to others. I should just stop.” This is an example of what mental health professionals call a “negative automatic thought”, or “NAT”. And like real gnats, these little thoughts get all up in your ears and start buzzing around. They can spiral out of control very quickly, until you feel absolutely terrible about yourself. These thoughts are very common in people with both anxiety and depression. 

But the thing is, they can be changed. You can actually re-wire your brain with a little work so that it won’t think these thoughts quite as often. One of the most effective ways is to simply replace the negative thought with a positive one- even if you don’t believe it. So if your negative thought is “I’m horrible compared to other people,” a replacement thought could be “No, I’m just as good as anyone else,” or “my writing is unique to me and it has value.”

You will not believe yourself at first, and it will seem a little bit weird when you start. It’s also a little challenging- your negative thoughts are automatic, you’re so used to thinking them that you aren’t even fully aware of it it half the time. But when you do catch yourself spiraling off into those negative thoughts- try to stop them. This is something we teach in therapy and over time, it does help. And it does get easier.

5. “It has to be PERFECT.” Perfectionism is at the root of a lot of peoples’ anxieties. But I challenge you with this- why? Why does it have to be perfect? What will happen if it’s not perfect? 

The answer to that, usually, is “my partners will hate me/lose interest/think I’m stupid or a bad writer.” Perfectionism is usually a fear of judgment, and it’s usually fueled by feelings of inadequacy or fears of failure. So to that, I refer you back to the previous advice about negative automatic thoughts. 

Challenge your thinking about your perfectionism. A good replacement thought for this one is “even if it’s not perfect, my partner will still be happy that I responded. My writing is still valuable to them.” Another good one- “imperfection means there’s room to grow. Mistakes don’t mean I’m a failure or no good.” 

In general, don’t let anxiety say “I can’t do this.” You can do it. Anxiety is not a permanent state. The body cannot sustain it very long- the elevated heart rate, heavy breathing, heightened arousal- it’s physically impossible for it to last. Eventually, your body will start to calm itself and even back out. This is something that is very hard to sit with, because your natural instinct is to run away from the thing that’s making you anxious. Your instinct is to close the drafts folder, to close the messenger, to log out of tumblr and ignore it all completely. But the truth is, that only makes your anxiety worse in the long run. 

Now, if these tips don’t help, or you’re finding your anxiety is so bad that it’s affecting your daily life in almost everything- I encourage people to please see a psychologist, psychiatrist, or some other mental health professional. Anxiety that’s chronically preventing you from doing the things you enjoy is anxiety that probably needs treatment. Having the extra support of a therapist or medication often makes it possible to implement some of these strategies, or find better ones that work for you. Especially if you’re having a hard time managing things on your own. 

Anybody that wants to add to this with other ideas that have been helpful to you, please feel free to do so. 

The Joker x Reader - “I Love You”

You never miss a chance to say the magic words to him. The Joker doesn’t want to hear about it but you are not the one to give up so easily. Actually… I guess anybody can back down if pushed enough.

– During an important meeting with new business partners, Frost interrupts and brings in a little envelope to J, whispering you said it is absolutely urgent and imperative he opens it right away. The Joker wonders what the hell it might be, opens the letter and shakes it to take out the contents when a bunch of pink glitter flies all over along with your message on  a piece of paper: “I LOVE YOU.” The other guys fake cough, attempting to pretend they didn’t see crap while The Clown Prince of Crime gives them an icy glance, annoyed with your stunt:

“If I hear a single sound, I swear you’re all dead!!!!”

Goddammit woman, stop your shit! he thinks biting on his cheek, dusting off the sparkly dust off his shirt, but stashing your little note in his pocket.

– You are away on a mission for 2 days when his cell suddenly goes off at 1 AM, letting him now he has a new message. He is more than cranky he got woken up and checks to see what it is. A text from you: “ I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU.”

You must be kidding me! J growls, pissed you bothered him with such nonsense but saves the message in his drafts and goes back to sleep.

– One night he visits the club without you and gets out of his Lamborghini when the phone beeps.

What is it, the stupid words again?!  he scoffs when he sees your name on the screen.

“Look up!” the text simply says and he does, noticing the huge light up message on the top of the building across the street; “I LOVE YOU.”

This is getting beyond ridiculous, The Joker huffs but takes a picture of what you did and saves it in his favorites.

– After taking a shower in the morning, J goes in the front of the sink to brush his teeth and finally gazes at the mirror. There it is, written with red lipstick: “I LOVE YOU.”

He rolls his eyes, fed up with your behavior and erases the words, not before that wide smirk creeps up on his lips. He hears you giggle and goes back to frowning:

“Cut it out, Y/N!!!”

– You bring the white mocha to his office and place it right on top of his papers. J stares at it for a few seconds and sighs, lifting his blue eyes from the cup, complaining about what you wrote with foam: “I LOVE YOU.”

“Are you done with this rubbish, Princess?” he mutters while you just innocently lift your shoulders up, not answering. “Bring me another mocha and NO FUNNY BUSINESS, understand?”

You pout, disappointed he never appreciates your efforts and by the time you are back with his new coffee The Joker already finished the other cup.

“What?” he snarls when notices your smile. “Don’t get it to your head, Doll, I really couldn’t wait any longer so I had to drink it; you’re so slow!” he makes sure to admonish but kisses your wrist when you hand him the mug.

–During a heist you go with a few henchmen on the upper floor while he stays down with the rest, looking around for the diamonds and gold. You go behind a wall and dial his number. He picks up after 3 rings and you just say; “I LOVE YOU,” and hang up.

Really?! The Joker mumbles, astonished at your unprofessional conduct (that’s how he likes to call it). He simply texts back: “Shut up, Y/N!”


I totally can’t stand her; she really drives me nuts, he concludes, irked at your game, but saves this message in drafts too.

– J wakes up and his feet touch something cold and pretty sharp when he gets out of bed. You got him a ton of gold chains and arranged them on the floor to spell “I LOVE YOU.” His mouth opens on amazement, considering chocking the life out of you at this point. Your green haired boyfriend kicks the chains all over the place, mad again, but not before taking a picture of your accomplishment and saving it in his favorites. He hears you snicker.

“I said cut it out, Y/N!!!!”

– “Bubble bath is readyyyyyy,” you announce, proud of the nice evening you planned for the two of you.

J comes in, taking his clothes off, suspiciously scrutinizing the bathroom.

“Any hidden ‘I love you’ anywhere?” he smacks his lips, warning you he’s not going to tolerate your actions anymore. He had such a shitty day it’s not even funny.

“Nope,” you confidently declare, moving back in the Jacuzzi so he can sit by you.“Nothing at all, baby.” He’s starting to relax when you massage his shoulders, then lean over and kiss his neck, whispering: “I LOVE YOU.”

“That’s it !!!” he splashes all over, angered at your little stupid plan to squeeze in those stupid words again. “Quit bothering me, you pain in the ass!!!”

“What, you don’t want me to love you?” you raise your voice also, not understanding why he’s so worked up.

“I didn’t say that!” he yells back and you are baffled.

“So what’s the problem then?!”

“STOP SAYING IT!” he hisses at you, panting.
“Why should I?! Aren’t you happy that I love you?!”

“NO! I don’t need your stupid love!!!!!” The Joker has a fit, kicking all the candles and shampoo bottles in his rage, making sure to direct them your way.

You gasp in pain when one of the candles hits you right in the face since you didn’t have enough time to dodge it. You don’t say anything, just step out of the hot tub, holding your numb left cheek with your hand.

J stops his tantrum but doesn’t react in any other way as you leave him standing in the water, still fuming at your absurdities.

– The I LOVE YOU’s stopped. He doesn’t get any more letters, texts, hidden messages or sky lights on the buildings. So exciting you finally got it into your head you irritate him with your stupid feelings all the time! The King of Gotham doesn’t even hear it when you make love and that delights him.

The white mocha doesn’t taste the same though. When he asks why, you sassily respond:

“Because it’s not made with love so get used to it!”

“Cut it out, Y/N!” he snaps as you quietly walk away and couldn’t care less.

– He didn’t hear the words out of you in a few months and it’s perfect. Today he even went through his phone to delete all the useless pictures and drafts he saved from you.

– “Look up,” you urge him, pulling on his arm and his heart starts beating faster for some reason, but then all he sees is The Batsy signal in the night sky.

“He’s close, we should get going,” you tell J and he agrees, disappointed at the revelation. He kind of expected something else.
– Frost brings the letter to him in the meeting, whispering it’s urgent and J impatiently opens it to find inside just a dull piece of paper: “Dinner at 6, robbery at 7.30 . All ready to go.”

She could’ve texted me, he sulks, cramming your note in his pocket. He kind of expected something else.

– You are away for one night and he gets the text at 3AM. He immediately jumps out of bed and grins when he sees your name on the screen.

“This undercover mission you assigned me is very boring.” That’s all you sent. He grumbles something not very sweet and tosses the phone on the table, stretching and going back to bed, frustrated. He kind of expected something else.

 – He gets out of the shower and looks at the mirror just to see your insipid notation with red lipstick: “Be back soon.”

Why doesn’t she just text me if that’s all she has to say?! The Joker whines, grabbing a paper towel so he can clean your mess. He kind of expected something else.

– “Bubble bath is readyyyy!” you shout and he comes in, ready to unwind. You move so he can sit by you and begin massaging his shoulders, talking about a bunch of stuff that happened during the day.

“Well?!” he interrupts your speech, turning his head towards you.

“Well what?” you ask back, not getting the point, already forgetting what you were talking about and it annoys you.

“Say it!” he commands, slowly blinking, elbowing you.

“Say what?” you squint your eyes, trying to remember the topic he just made you forget.

“You know what, Pumpkin. Say it!” he mutters through his clenched teeth, not thrilled he has to bring it up.

You take a deep breath and gaze at each other for a few good seconds before finally kissing his neck and enunciate: “I LOVE YOU.”

“Good, I was wondering about that,” he grouchily comments, leaning backwards so he can rest against your body. “My white mocha better taste great again, Doll,” The Joker makes sure to point out, closing his eyes.

“With or without foam?” you tease J and since he’s such a difficult person he sure deserves it.

“With and it better spell something,” he reaches his hand to tug on your wet hair.

“It might if I still have the skills; it’s been a while,” you debate and it’s actually the truth.

 “Don’t care, make it work,” he puffs, not giving a damn; he just expects it.

You want to laugh but can’t: your strategy worked- it was learned from the best. Your boyfriend should be proud since manipulating things to obtain what is desired happens to be his specialty. 

Also read- MASTERLIST :

After the Beep.


Pairing: Lin-Manuel x Reader

Summary: All of the in-between moments of a relationship, captured in the one-sided monologue that is voicemail. 


This has been sitting in my drafts for over a week whoops.

This isn’t the Untitled Garbage Fic that I’ve been rambling about but hopefully it will hold you over until that one is post-able.

Basically, I wanted to start getting words flowing again for the first time since we finished WYCH and that manifested in me choosing the absolute worst format for telling a narrative story. Honestly, this may or may not be the dumbest thing I’ve ever posted like @ becca why would you think this is a good structure for a fic? 

I hope you get a kick out of me fumbling my way out of writer’s block lmao.

Also ps shout out to @fragmentofmymind​ for being great at all times and for reading through this monstrosity for me (and providing that gif), she’s super awesome and super talented and if you aren’t following her already then honestly where have you been??

Word Count: does it even matter? the format on this is weird I’m so sorry.

The number you are calling cannot be reached. Please leave your message after the beep.

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Here’s a fic based on the first part of this post w/ College AU klance, Lance sick and stranded at the airport, and Keith knowing what caretaking is.

For Lance, bad news comes in the form of a woman’s voice, calmly notifying the lobby full of passengers that their flight to Michigan has been delayed for five hours due to severe weather conditions. His stomach drops. Uncomfortable dread washes over him. He can’t take another five hours in the airport, he just can’t.

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Request: “Could you do a Alec imagine of being Izzy’s parabati and best friend since childhood and Izzy talks you into going on a double date with her and Simon and Raphael because she knows both you and Alec need a push to make a move and she knows Alec knows Raphael has a thing for you which will make him extra jealous?? And you can’t deny you didn’t have a good time because Raphael is nice once you get past his layers of undead doucheness and you both were sarcastic snarky brats the whole date??”

This has been sitting in my drafts for ages so I decided to finally post it.


Word Count: 1384

Clothes, shoes and a range of other items Izzy deemed ‘necessities’ lay scattered across the entirety of my bedroom floor like that first, crisp layer of freshly fallen snow, or perhaps a more accurate description would be that it looked as though the heavens had unleashed an almighty roar and sent waves of snow cascading down in an avalanche.  In reality, Izzy had come barrelling into my room, her arms laden down with a rainbow of fabrics and all sorts of beautifying concoctions that I couldn’t even name.  Somehow or other, I had allowed myself to be convinced into going on a date with Raphael.

I knew I shouldn’t have let Izzy talk me into it.  It was a crazy idea from the start, and I had somehow, foolishly let her convince me that I was doing this to help her out, and that things weren’t the other way round.  It was just so hard to argue with her perfect,well formed, valid arguments.  I mean, really, what reason was there for me not to go?  Apart from the obvious one which was that it would be a date with a vampire, but Izzy had managed to counter that argument faster than those superhuman bloodsuckers could run.  The one and only good reason I had for not going, was that I liked Alec.  I really liked Alec if I was being honest with myself… but Izzy didn’t know that.  Or at least I sincerely hoped that she didn’t.

Sneaking out of the institute was going to be near impossible.  Sneaking out of the institute without our absence going unnoticed was going to require divine intervention.  I didn’t know how Izzy managed it on a regular basis, especially with those terrifying high heels she always wore. Izzy had insisted that I wear something she picked out, and Izzy could be pretty stubborn when she wanted to be.  I supposed it was a Lightwood trait, it was definitely a huge contributor to all of the arguments she had with her brothers.  Her brothers.  If Alec caught us out here he would definitely kill us, if I didn’t die of embarrassment first.  Perhaps I would just sink down through the ground once and for all into my own grave.

Somehow, we made it out.  That wasn’t to say that we would make it back in, because I certainly wasn’t sure about that, but I was sure that Izzy would be able to sweet talk her way out of almost anything.  Or sweet talk somebody else into almost anything.  Like how she sweet talked me, into going on a date, with a vampire, with Raphael.

To be fair to Raphael, he wasn’t an awful date.  Sure, he could be snarky and sarcastic as hell, and had had a good few lifetimes to perfect the art of the perfect comeback, but that didn’t mean he was worse than me.  One of the good things about this constant bickering was that I think it made Izzy regret her decision to invite me along just a little bit.  I caught her rolling her eyes at Simon more than a couple of times throughout our meal at Takis Diner.  Especially when we first walked in.  
“Well hello there darling.”  Raphael had practically purred, his eyes crinkling with mirth as his lips tugged to the side in a smirk in reaction to the glare I shot his way.  
“Hi.”  I replied, stiff as a robot.  Simon stifled a laugh as he reached out to embrace Izzy in a warm hug.  
Raphael offered me a pout, his arms outstretched.  “Hey!  Where’s my hug?”  
“Same place as that Shax demon I banished yesterday, would you like to join it?”   
“I’m beginning to think that might be a better idea than this date.”  
“Good, then we’re on the same page.”
“Can’t you two be nice to each other for one night?”  Izzy interjected with a frown and a sharp glare. 

As it turned out, the answer was no.  Whilst we weren’t being serious, or at least not entirely with our insults and snippy snide comments, they did carry on for the rest of the night.  They continued through the meal itself, while I watched, with morbid fascination as Raphael and Simon both drank glasses of blood.  “Something the matter dear?”
“Just wondering how that stuff can possibly be appealing to you.”  I frowned, glancing at the deep red liquid.  
“Don’t worry darling, I’d much rather be drinking your blood.”  This was said with a deep breath in, which got him exactly the reaction he had desired.  With my fists clenching around my cutlery I managed to snap back with sickly sweetness.  “Well don’t you worry either sweetheart, I’d much rather be spilling your blood.  Guess we can’t all have what we want.”  
“I have to agree, I certainly don’t think I’ll be getting any -”
“Hm-hmm.”  Simon cleared his throat with a meaningful glance towards Raphael who sighed, leaning back with his drink in hand and a roll of his eyes. 
The bickering also continued along the walk home, although I did notice that as the night wore on, and we spoke more, chatted more, I began to like him more.  Not like like him, I was still head over heels for Alec, but I couldn’t deny that Raphael could be a nice guy.  When he wanted to be.  Or maybe it was just that I had wanted to see it before, or hadn’t looked close enough, hadn’t read between his sarcastic lines.  Either way, for somebody who was dead, he certainly managed to make me feel alive.  He managed to make me laugh and smile, and warm up to him little by little, right up until the moment Alec met us at the institute gates with a scowl to rival them all.  

Simon and Raphael got the message straight away, and scurried off into the night, leaving Izzy and I to approach a gently fuming Alec with dread curling in the pits of our stomachs.  “Heey.”  I greeted as I swung open the gate.  “Fancy seeing you here!” 
“Fancy not seeing you two here!  For the last 2 hours!  Where the hell have you been?  And why were you with that bloodsucker?!”  I took note of how when Alec said that, how he didn’t use the plural.  He was referring to Raphael, and Raphael alone.  
“We were on a date.”  Said Izzy with care.  
“A date?!”  Alec all but roared.  “With a vampire?!”  He was looking straight at me now, and I got the distinct feeling that I was the person his anger was directed towards.  Or perhaps it wasn’t quite anger.  Was it jealousy I was detecting?  “Do you have any idea-”
“It was my idea.”  Izzy butted in, her tone as pointed as her stiletto heals.  Hurt and a hint of betrayal flashed across Alec’s face.  
“Why?”  To me, he directed his next comment.  “I’m sorry she dragged you into that then, although you seemed to be having a very nice time.”  Was I imagining things?  To me, it sounded like jealousy, for sure.  
“I did have a very nice time, but I can assure you it won’t be happening again.  Raphael is nice, he’s funny, but I don’t see him that way.”  
“Oh.”  He seemed to pause to collect his thoughts.  “Well, that’s, good to know I guess.  But, why did you go on a date with him in the first place if you didn’t think of him that way?  You know he likes you-”
“Wait, what?”  
“And,”  Alec carried on regardless, “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t just ask somebody you do think of that way.”  Alec’s fists were now clenching and un-clenching at his sides as his eyes darted about.  He was thinking about something.  And if I wasn’t mistaken, he was jealous, which meant maybe this would be a good time to finally say what I had been thinking for a while.  
“Maybe I wasn’t sure he thought of me the same way.”
“Yeah, well you’ll never know if you don’t ask.”
“Okay then Alec, will you go out with me?”  For once Alec seemed entirely lost for words.  He nodded, still not uttering a single word, even as his mouth opened and closed while Izzy danced beside me.

a few things i’ve learned from trying to write more in the past couple of years

usual disclaimer that i’m not published and these are things that work for me, when i say “you” i’m being abstract and referring to myself, etc, etc

this is a VERY LONG post, to everyone on mobile, i apologize

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Title: A Letter to Jake McKenzie (An Officer McKenzie fic, Slight JakexMC)

Follow along the audio post by reading Rebecca McKenzie’s letter here

Characters: Officer Rebecca McKenzie, Jake McKenzie, M/C
Word Count:
Rebecca thought he was out of her life for sure.  It’s been far too long.  Since he disappeared, she has mourned, stored away the memories, and moved on with her lifeThat is, until a glimmer of hope resurfaced into her life, reviving her determination to search for Jake again. 

Author’s Note:
The soundcloud audio and visual of the letter are just ADDITIONAL COMPONENTS!  You can still enjoy the fic without reading the letter or listening to Rebecca’s audio post.  The letter is in the story, just separated in chunks between Rebecca’s memories.  I just got really into this story so added a lil something extra. 

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Made with SoundCloud

rigormortisbutt  asked:

OK SO I really need a fic told from the point of view of one of Will's students, and they're just really annoyed that their classes keep getting cancelled and rearranged and they signed up for this class because Will is a genuinely good teacher but they're getting almost zero time with him what the hell.

I will file this away in the idea bin, but for now, how about I offer you a little something from the “abandoned fic ideas” pile?  Way back when a bunch of folks were doing the Tale of Two Murder Husbands collaborative thing, I was going to do a ficlet from the perspective of Will’s former TA.  I got started on it late because I was originally going to do a different character and then let someone else have that character, so in the end I couldn’t pull my fic together in time, and I ended up not finishing/posting it.  

But I still have the draft of what I got done!  And it does touch on Will, The Very Good Yet Never Around FBI Teacher.  So it might at least help scratch your itch.

Draft half-fic below the cut, in the form of a transcript from an interview with Will’s former TA.

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Suit and Tie

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2,311

Note: As promised, here is probably the last scenario that I will ever be posting on this blog. This scenario was actually finished and has been sitting in my drafts folder since January 2016, and I wrote it because of unfortunate events that unraveled in my life. I thought it was too personal and too sad to post, so I didn’t know what to do with it, until now. Here is my last scenario, and I apologize for the angst.


The first time you met Jongin, he had been wearing a suit.

A rather gorgeous and well-fitting one, if you might add.

You had been to few weddings in your life, and if you had known Jongin was going to be at your cousin’s wedding, you would have worn a dress less tacky and practiced your strutting in the heels your mother had gifted you.

It had been during the reception, dimmed lights and the soft gleams of colored glows in the hall with music ringing in your ears in a constant echo, that you had been sitting at one of the tables. The shuffling of feet across the floor and the pungent taste of alcohol made your head dizzy, until a pair of polished shoes came into a view, a low voice asking, “Would you like to dance?”

Your eyes flickered up to trace warm brown eyes and disheveled hair once styled neatly, a handsome male wearing an equally attractive gray suit. You recognized him immediately as the groom’s best man.

“I don’t dance,” you slurred.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t,” he smiled, his coarse hand taking yours and leading you to the dance floor.

It was with graceful swoops that he twirled you, his legs almost floating as he led you into a waltz. Perhaps he had a shot or two or perhaps he was just a natural flirt, for you felt your cheeks burning when he said, “You’re a very bad person, you know.”

“How is that?” you asked, slightly befuddled.

“Don’t you know it’s a crime to look more beautiful than the bride on her wedding day?” he smiled.

You turned away, cheeks flushed and hair hiding the affectionate glow in your eyes. You weren’t normally bold, but you knew it was the alcohol when you blurted, “You know it’s a crime for a man to look as good in a suit as you do.”

The male had chuckled, and you could never forget the first time you heard the soft ring in his beautiful laughter, the creases around his eyes as they melted into a smile.

“Do you think anyone will notice if we leave?” he whispered.

“They’re too drunk,” you laughed.

It was from that moment that you and Jongin were utterly in love.

The first time you and Jongin fought, he had been wearing a thin wifebeater and a pair of worn jeans.

Sweat glistened from his forehead, loud pants left from between his plush lips, his angry gaze avoided you, slowly travelling to the teetering boxes stacked around the dusty apartment. He had proposed moving in together, a year later, to which you gladly agreed.

But frustration had slowly begun to diffuse after spending hours heaving boxes up two flights of stairs, which flared, lighting up the fuse and causing an explosion of anger to ring through the apartment. It was at that point that you couldn’t even remember why you had begun to fight- it was something stupid, probably disagreement over the placement of furniture or your anger towards Jongin for not hiring a mover to carry all your stuff.

The atmosphere was tense, you had small disagreements once or twice, but Jongin had never shouted at you or kicked anything out of anger in your presence before.

“I’m going to step outside for a bit,” you sighed, your hand running through the tangled mess of your hair before dropping to your side.

It was before you could reach the door that Jongin’s arms were around you, lips pressed against your ear whispering, “I’m sorry.”

You turned around in his arms, meeting his apologetic eyes.

“You were right, and I was stupid,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sorry.”

It was from that moment that you knew Jongin was the one you would spend your future with.

The first time Jongin had openly expressed his love for you in front of others, he had been wearing a blazer and some nicely fitted pants.

Which was coincidentally the day he proposed to you.

He wanted to wear a suit, but the one worn to the wedding nearly four years ago had begun to lose its glamorous luster and was slightly wearing at the sleeves. Only chuckles are incited as you remember how he would complain nearly every day for about a month how he didn’t propose to you wearing something nicer than an old blazer and a pair of dark pants feigning to be dress slacks.

He had taken you out for dinner that day to a rather expensive restaurant nearly twenty stories above the streets, your eyes constantly travelling between Jongin’s handsome features and the view of the city skyline outside the broad windows of the restaurant. The evening was the literal epitome of romance, every fantasy that you had was played out by Jongin, from the expensive wine in your glass to the sunset splaying out like a vibrant painting outside.

It was after perhaps an hour that your head was lightly buzzing from being drunk on fine wine and Jongin’s intoxicating laughter.

You were still laughing about something Jongin had said, while the male remained silent, hands nervously fumbling with the pockets of his blazer as his eyes gazed with admiration at your smile. With your hand self-consciously running through your hair under Jongin’s intent gaze, you told him, “You’re awfully quiet.”

His lips cracked into a smile and the slightest hint of coral dusted his cheeks, as his hand reached for yours and tugged gently on it. When you simply raised an eyebrow in confusion, he had laughed, “I need you to stand up.”

Other than the kisses stolen between conversations in public and his hand holding tightly to yours, Jongin had never expressed to others his love for you in words. His arms steadied you as you anxiously stood up from your seat. You weren’t sure whether it was hard to balance on your heels because of Jongin’s sudden request or because of the alcohol.

“I know I’m not the best with words,” Jongin smiled bashfully, “but I just have to tell you tonight that you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and I feel like the luckiest man alive to be in your presence.”

Though a bashful red began to dance along your cheeks, you were still wondering why Jongin was standing in an expensive restaurant and declaring his love for you.

“What I’m trying to say is, I am utterly in love with you,” he said, perhaps a bit too loudly. Your hand clamped over your gaping mouth when he pulled out a ring from his pocket, his eyes looking up to yours with so much love as he asked, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you had cried in a flurry of gratitude, surprise, and excitement. You threw your arms around his neck, as Jongin embraced you, lifting your feet off the ground and twirling you around.

Not even the applause and whistles of the others in the restaurant could whip you back into reality, especially when his lips against yours brought you to a paradise of pure ecstasy.

You knew euphoria was an elapsing occurrence that was bound to pass by, but you were still convinced that Jongin would bring eternal happiness once he had proposed to you. Your friends who once thought that you and Jongin were absolutely inseparable were mortified that you had somehow become even closer after the proposal.

The flames of bliss in the form of fingers intertwined and soft kisses pressed to flushed cheeks had died out as quickly as the match was struck.

It had been not even six months since the proposal and you feel as if the word is crumbling at your fingertips, waves of horror and despair swallowing you whole because Jongin is no longer there to save you.

The last time you see Jongin, he would be wearing a suit.


Your fingers tremble as you hold up a dark suit jacket to the light, palms running over the smooth material and admiring every curve and crease. You hold it against Jongin’s old suit jacket, ensuring that it’s the proper size. A heavy sigh slips quietly from between your lips, but it’s not as quiet as you hoped for it to be, for you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Jongin would like it,” his mother smiles. “He likes everything you choose for him.”

It’s amazing how immense love can turn to utter hatred within a blink of the eye. You hate Jongin so much right now, so so much. If he was going to propose to you, he should have at least planned on staying with you. Instead, he’s decided to leave you and his family behind and go off to who knows where.

That jerk.

His mother takes the suit jacket from your hands, rummaging through her purse to find her wallet.

“This is the last gift we can give to him,” his mother sighs. “You know how much he’s been complaining about that old suit of his.”

You manage a bitter chuckle as Jongin mother whispers, “I’ll pay for this. Go pick out the tie before any of his sisters can.”

Even as your fingers run over the satin and the silk and the intricate patterns, you can’t help but yearn for Jongin’s skin and his warmth to be under your fingertips instead.


Your head reels as tremulous fingers press a damp handkerchief to your burning eyes.

You can’t keep your tears from falling as you stand up from your seat, wrapping your black coat around your body as slightly familiar faces part for you to walk ahead. You feel a large hand rest on your shoulder, and you tilt your head up and blink through the tears to make out Sehun’s face.

“I’ll go with you,” he whispers consolingly.

Sehun is Jongin’s best friend, and they’ve known each other even before the awkward voice cracks of puberty. Besides yourself, Sehun is the only other person who has probably witnessed Jongin’s interludes of silent anger on bad days, the only other person who Jongin has trusted with the delicate fragments of his feelings.

Sehun reassuringly rests a hand against your shoulder as you walk up to the thick wood holding Jongin’s limp body. A torrent of tears come over you quickly as sadness wrenches your already feeble heart when your eyes rest upon the love of your life.

Fragments of the day you had heard of his death piece together in your shaken mind, your face contorting into a countenance of pain as you remember trying to comprehend how a collision with a truck near the exit of the freeway had led to a lethal stroke. There had been no tears then, in fact you nearly scoffed at how ridiculous the situation was. You were beyond foolish to think that your fiance would remain by your side, simply by a binding pact of love.

But your resolve had faltered and the tears had spilled once you laid your eyes upon the male at the hospital.

And now you see him once again.

His skin looks almost plastic, and his rigid lips once graced with a smile now unfamiliarly dressed in a frown. His hands seem stiff and lifeless, and you find yourself missing the warmth his coarse fingers brought when they lovingly caressed your cheek or playfully ran through your messy hair.

The man lying lifelessly before you is not Jongin.

Jongin never frowns, he never stays still, and he always reaches out to hold you whenever you’re around.

Your knees nearly give out when you see Jongin, or a body that seems to be Jongin’s, but luckily, Sehun has both his arms around you. The look of surprise on his face is written over by worry and concern as he asks, “Hey, you okay?”

All you can manage is a trembling nod as tears streak over your cheeks and your fingers rest against the coffin.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Sehun mumbles, before leading you away from Jongin and the hard wood carrying his cold body.

Sehun takes you to the bathroom and waits patiently at the door, until you finally emerge after splashing some cool water on your face and resting against the cold counter to recollect your thoughts.

“Thanks,” you mumble, your cheeks red from the tears and embarrassment.

Sehun tries to force a smile of gratitude, but the death of his best friend wrenches his lips into a rigid pout.

“No problem,” he sighs. “They’re going to close the coffin and prepare for the burial soon. We can wait out here if you feel uncomfortable with all the people inside.”

“No,” you rasp while shaking your head. “I want to see him one last time.”

Sehun pushes open the door to the stuffy room, the swarm of people wearing dark surrounding you in a sea of black as they hold their heads down. You stay along the back well, your eyes timidly searching through the sea of bodies until they find Jongin’s body once more.

His closed eyes remind you how you’re never going to wake up each morning to his swollen cheeks and long lashes looking at you with love, his rigid lips telling you how you’re never going to hear the words “I love you” once more.

Confidence falls from your limbs as your feet rest idly against the ground and your arms fall weakly to your sides.

You just don’t have the courage to touch his lifeless body once more.

As your eyes scan over the stiff hair, the almost plastic skin, and the immaculate dark suit wrapped around his body, you can’t help the tears of irony that spill once more.

The last time you meet Jongin, he is wearing a suit.

More Than Enough

Hello lovelies!
So I’ve never posted anything here before, but I wanted to give it a shot. Very nerve-wracking but I’d really appreciate feedback from the community! Hope you all like it!

What happens when Jughead discovers a secret that Betty has been keeping? What would have been a blissful Sunday afternoon is potentially ruined when he confronts her about it, or is it? Could something greater come from the Pandora’s box that Jughead is about to open up? Bughead One-shot.


“Hey Betts, your phone is ringing!” Jughead called out from the desk in the Blue and Gold headquarters. It was an office first and foremost, but they had come to calling it their headquarters until their investigation was completed.

It was Sunday afternoon and both teenagers were exhausted. The duo were working on another piece about Jason Blossom, and had spent the better part of their weekend cooped up together in the office with empty takeout cartons scattered around them. Betty was on the couch, editing yet again their rough draft with a red pen twirling in her hand. 

“Just ignore it. It might be my mom and I definitely don’t want to speak to her right now”. 

Shaking her head, she refused to speak to her mom after their discoveries at Jason’s funeral. Not only did they stop her from seeing Polly, they hid something as important as an engagement  from her. Realizing that she could no longer focus on her work, she stood up from the couch and stretched her arms over her head, groaning in satisfaction as she felt her spine crack. 

Jughead looked up at the sound of Betty groaning and stared, hypnotized by his blonde friend. Her stretch caused her shirt to ride up over her midriff, showing smooth pale skin and Jughead could feel a telltale blush making its way up his neck to his face. She had undone her usual ponytail earlier and he was still unaccustomed to seeing her full, blonde hair loose, curling around her shoulders. Who knew that just a simple work session could make him feel so frustrated. She’s his best friend, he shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. Clearing his throat and looking back down at his laptop, he tried to concentrate on the article but was unable to do so with the blonde beauty sitting next to him. 

Betty’s cellphone ringing again shook Jughead out of his thoughts. Reaching into her schoolbag, he pulled out her phone and went to decline the call like he had done millions of times before. His friendship with Betty wasn’t quite the same as she and Archie used to be but theirs was a stronger, more intense one.

 There were no flitting feelings between the two of them, and that allowed a closer camaraderie to develop. Theirs was more intense. It was inevitable, trying to solve a murder with someone did end up bringing you close together. They finished each others sentences, they answered each others phones, spent their weekends together at the Blue and Gold, and surprisingly enough, the Coopers didn’t hate Jughead the way they did Archie. 

Betty was a good influence on Jughead, they said. She got him into doing his homework, joining an extracurricular activity and broke through that sardonic, sarcastic armour he’d donned so early on in life. They weren’t crazy about their daughter being out at all hours of the night, but due to the ongoing drama with Veronica and Archie, they preferred that she spent her time with fellow aspiring journalists and writers like Jughead. 

With Archie, she felt this pressure. This constant need to be the ‘golden girl’. She had to be perfect if she wanted to be good enough to be his girlfriend, she had to always look perfect, sound perfect, be perfect. She was always so careful, so exact in everything she did because of how she felt about him, scared that even the smallest slip could ruin everything she had worked so hard for. Ultimately, that was what ruined it all in the end. He didn’t want her because she was ‘too perfect’ and he felt like he wasn’t good enough for her. 

He was her best friend, she had imagined a future with him, she had grown up picturing a picket-fence house with kids running around. She hadn’t ever pictured anything else and having to accept that none of that would happen was one of the hardest things. She thought it was normal to be honest. She genuinely thought that being in love with someone meant that she felt the way she did. She thought that she felt safest and most herself when she was with him, in a booth at Pops. Turns out that she was wrong, and Forsythe Pendleton Jones III was the one to prove it.

Trying to get a grip on everything, she had started taking her adderall again. She had stopped taking it at the beginning of the semester, wanting to see what would happen to her school and life if she didn’t drug herself. She had managed well, her grades hadn’t slipped but then she lost control of everything with Archie and couldn’t make heads or tails of anything anymore. That loss of control, that feeling of 4 walls closing in on her again-the way it had so many times before-she didn’t know how to maintain control and fell back into the habit she worked so hard to break. 

Betty made her way to the chair next to her friend and sat down, laying her head on his shoulder while he typed. There was something relaxing about being near Jughead. She didn’t have to make sure that her hair was perfect, that her clothes were ironed, that she was wearing makeup. None of that mattered to him. He made her feel at ease, as though she didn’t have to be the perfectionist her parents so often expect of her. She could say whatever she wanted, without being worried about hurting anyone’s feelings. He made her feel peaceful, and in light of everything else going on, it was exactly what she needed. She didn’t think about the fact that she was back on prescription medication to get through 8 hours of school each day, or that her institutionalized sister was engaged to the now officially dead high school quarterback. 

It’s the weirdest feeling, really. He was her best friend and he made her feel ways that Archie never did. Being around Jughead soothed her inner demons, eased all her fears. He helped in ways she could never even begin to explain to him, and in the last few weeks, he had become one of her most important people. She couldn’t have imagined going through any of this with anyone else. She couldn’t imagine not having him in her life at this point. She texted him at all hours of the day and he was always willing to talk about whatever she was thinking of. She had witnessed him grow from the little boy with a long nose to an older, taller man who was willing to do anything for his friends. 

Looking up at the man sitting next to her, she let out a sigh of contentment. ‘He really is attractive’ she thought. From his dark unruly hair, to his piercing green eyes, he was certainly more attractive than people realized. She reached up to brush some hair off his neck but caught herself mid-act. Shocking herself out of her reverie, she stood up abruptly.

Jughead turned to look at the now flustered blonde. “Betts? Are you okay?” He began to get up from his chair to take a step closer to her but she shook her head. 

“No, no. I’m fine. Just, uh, gonna clean up the mess we made this weekend and bring it to the recycling outside.” Betty began scurrying around the office, picking up all the empty cartons and piling them into a recycling box. 

Jughead just stared at her. When she had put her head on his shoulder, he froze. He didn’t know what to do and she hadn’t realized that he was looking at her through the reflection of the laptop. She sure was acting weird today. She was looking at him the way she used to look at Archie-not that he minded of course. 

He was sure that there was something more between them, something electrifying. He just didn’t know what to do about it, or how to get around to bringing it up. He had just reconciled with Archie and he wasn’t sure that the redhead would react very well to the news of him and Betty together. Not that they were together, but Jughead was sure that to a certain extent, Archie did have feelings for Betty.

Betty had finally picked up everything and was heading the door now to drop off the recycling. While Principal Weatherbee didn’t mind that they used the office on weekends, they had promised that they wouldn’t make a mess of it. As soon as Betty left the room, her phone started ringing again. 

Frustrated and grateful for the distraction it provided, Jughead reached his hand into Betty’s school bag, not quite paying attention to what he was doing. Digging around, he found the offending device but as he went to grab it, he heard the telltale jiggle of a pill bottle. Stopping at that noise, Jughead finally looked down at what he was doing and saw that there was in fact a prescription bottle at the bottom of Betty’s bag. Praying that she wouldn’t walk in right now, he pulled it out and read the prescription.


Betty struggled to carry the giant green bin to the recycling room. The school had a designated closet that connected to a chute outside. This way students could bring their recycling and not have to worry about going outside during the cold season. 

‘How much food did we eat this weekend?’ she mused, looking into the bin. ‘Then again, it is Jughead that we’re talking about’. Giggling, she made her way down the hall. While she didn’t mind the trek, it was across the school from the Blue and Gold, so she had quite a bit of time to herself. 

Betty repositioned the bin and her thoughts strayed back to the dark haired boy in the office. She was sure that she hadn’t imagined what happened before. Back before Jason’s funeral, Betty and Jughead had a moment in her bedroom, they had locked eyes and it was intense, but they hadn’t mentioned it since. This was all getting to be a fine mess. Two weeks ago she would have told you that she was madly in love with Archie Andrews, and today she’s thinking about how attractive Jughead Jones is. She was sure that her feelings went beyond those of a platonic friendship but she didn’t want to push it just in case things didn’t work out. She struggled enough losing Archie, but to lose Jughead would push her over the edge. Betty contemplated the idea of asking Jughead out for dinner that night but then thought against it. She’d only do that if something as crazy as them kissing were to happen.

“Well, crazy does run in our family.” Betty whispered as she opened the closet door and emptied the bin into the recycling chute. Shaking it a few times to make sure that she got it all, she closed the closet door and began to make her way back to the office. There was a slight kick to her step, feeling lighter than she had in weeks and it was all thanks to Jughead Jones. 

Walking down the hall, Betty was unaware of the storm brewing within the man in question who was waiting for her in the office.


Jughead placed the pill bottle down on the now cleared desk, and sat down on the edge of the desk that was facing the door. He had braced his hands on either side of him and waited for Betty, trying to look as casual as possible. Seeing her reflection in the glass window, he straightened his spine a little and decided to cross his arms across his chest at the last minute. 

Betty smiled at Jughead as soon as she walked into the room, and he faltered a little bit. She looked so happy, did he really want to do this? Did he really want to have this conversation with her?

Betty went to the corner of the office to put away the recycling and decided that opening a window would allow the office to get some nice fresh air. As much as she loved the room, it was starting to smell a bit stale in here. Clearing his throat, Jughead took a deep breath. 

“Tell me Betty, have you had ADHD for a while?” 

“What? Of course I don’t have ADHD Juggie! What kind of a silly question is that?” She looked back at him as she opened the window and smiled, pulling that silly face he had come to adore. Refusing to falter again, he glowered at her. Once the window was fully opened and secured, she looked back at her best friend and realized that he wasn’t laughing.

“Then maybe you’d like to explain why you have a prescription for adderall in your school bag?” He held up the bottle in question, with the name Elizabeth Cooper written clearly in block letters.

Betty covered her mouth, she didn’t quite know what to tell him. This was something she hadn’t told anyone. Sure Jughead was her best friend, but she was entitled to her secrets every now and then, wasn’t she? She didn’t have to tell someone every little secret she ever had. 

“Betty, are you taking these? Are you knowingly drugging yourself to get ahead in school?” He shook the bottle in front of her, cruelly. He thought she was better than that. He thought she was above medicating herself just to be the best. Tears began forming in Betty’s eyes at the accusations and while he felt disgusted with himself, he needed to know.

“No! Jughead, you don’t understand!” Betty cried and reached out to grab the bottle from him, but he kept it just out of reach. She held her hands together in front of her chest.

“Then make me understand. I’d like to know just why you think this is okay?” He held firm in his convictions, trying to get her to explain, to try and justify just why she thought she needed drugs like this.

“It’s not me! It’s .. Oh Juggie!” Never one to be hysterical, Betty covered her face with her hands as she cried. Jughead was taken aback by the sudden emotion from his best friend and put down the pill bottle. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around her while she cried.

“Betty … What’s going on? Are you sick? Do you need help?” He asked as gently as possible. He rubbed her back while she cried into his shoulder.

“I’m not Polly! I’m not crazy! I swear!” She sobbed almost hysterically. Jughead kept whispering gently, trying to calm her down enough that she could piece together a coherent sentence. This in turn, only made her cry harder and it was as though he’d broken through a dam of emotions she’d kept together for so long. 

He brought her to the couch while she kept crying, trying to find a way to ease through her pain, and his guilt for starting this. Sitting her down, he kept comforting her and eventually her crying slowed.

“Feeling a bit better?” He asked gently, as though he was afraid that she’d start crying all over again. Betty nodded and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“After Polly was… sent away, my parents didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know how to react. I had stopped eating, stopped sleeping, wasn’t studying. My mother didn’t know what to do so she started looking up ways to help me study, and found out about adderall. She convinced a doctor to give me a prescription and for the last year, I’ve been taking it to get through school.” 

She looked down at her hands, ashamed. “I tried stopping Juggie, I did. I hid the bottle from her, kept it with me at all times, anything to get her to forget about it. It worked until Veronica came to town. She started micro-managing my life again and kept pushing me to take the pills. I didn’t want to, I swear Jughead. I didn’t want to.” At the last sentence, her voice cracked and Jughead felt compelled to pull her to his chest again and just hold her. 

“God, Betty. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that it was your mom making you take them. I’m so sorry”. He kept his arms around her, relishing in the feel. ‘Get it together Jughead. She’s crying for god’s sake’. Mental battle unbeknownst to Betty, Jughead sat there with her for what felt like forever. 

“Okay here. Let’s do this then” and with that, Jughead got up and threw the pills into the garbage. “No more of that, okay Betty?” He sat back down next to her on the couch. 

“Juggie… Is it me? Am I too much?” She looked up at him with her big blue eyes and he didn’t know what to say. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder again and felt her lean her head on his chest. Opening his mouth to respond, she surprisingly continued.

“I tried so hard to be perfect for everyone, for my mom, my dad, the teachers, for Archie. I just felt like if I was perfect, everyone would be okay. I thought that if I was good enough, perfect enough, Archie would have loved me back.” Sitting up, she disentangled herself from Jughead and leaned forward, bracing her arms onto her knees and lay her chin on her clasped hands.

“I mean, I get it now. I know that I can’t be perfect and that I don’t actually love Archie the way I thought I did. I just felt like my problems disappeared when he was there. It wasn’t actually love. I was just reflecting the feelings I wanted from my parents onto the boy I’d known for years. I just thought that if I tried enough, if I was good enough that someone would love me.” Taking in a shuddering breath, Betty hadn’t anticipated such a heavy conversation on such a beautiful Sunday afternoon.

“Betty … Betts. You are good enough. If Archie is too blind to notice it, how is it your fault? You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re wonderful, and so smart and so beautiful. You don’t know how amazing you are because you’ve spent so much time letting people tear you down.” Scooting to the edge of the sofa they were on, he grabbed her hands and held them in his, looking her in the eye. 

Betty looked down at their hands then looked back up at Jughead. He was still looking at her, eyes searching for her face for something. She didn’t quite know what, but she felt compelled to say something. Opening her mouth, she licked her lips, about to speak when she noticed that his eyes immediately dropped to her lips and very slowly lifted back up to her eyes. 

Feeling her face flush, Betty was almost sure that whatever he felt for her, it was somewhat similar to the thoughts she’d been battling all day. Lifting her left hand, she cupped his cheek gently. She had never noticed just how soft his lips looked before, so full, and pink, and smooth. Leaning in, her eyes locked on his. She was so scared that something would ruin this moment. She was so close to him that she could feel his breath on her skin. She felt him cradle the back of her head with his hand, fingers tangled in her hair and closed her eyes. 

She wasn’t quite sure what was happening. The atmosphere in the room was charged, there was so much tension between the two. She held her breath, anticipating the feel of his lips on hers. She couldn’t believe that it was Jughead of all people, yet nothing felt more right. In retrospect, he made her feel things that no one else has. Is she really surprised that she’s so eager to kiss him?

She felt him brush his lips against hers, gently at first. She pressed against his cheeks with both hands, willing him to kiss her harder. With a groan muffled by Betty’s mouth, he wrapped his free arm around Betty’s waist and pulled her flush against him. He slanted his mouth over hers, and grabbed a handful of her hair  while the other hand snuck down and lifted her into his lap. Betty, now sitting on his lap, had a leg on each side of him. She moved both hands to curl into his hair, causing his beanie to fall off. He kissed her as though he was a man dying of thirst and she was an ocean that lay ahead of him. His hands rubbed her back, one sitting at her waist and the other lay itself quite happily on her behind. He felt himself drowning in the kiss, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that this was Betty Cooper, his closest friend. 

Betty let out a sigh of contentment when they pulled away and she looked at him. He was flushed, breathing heavily and his beanie was somewhere over the other side of the couch. He never looked better. Leaning down, she brushed his lips against hers in a chaste kiss.

“Well … That was something else” Jughead usually tried to sound at least a little eloquent but even this was beyond him. Betty was still sitting quite comfortably on his lap, with no intention of moving any time soon. She giggled at his expression and he couldn’t help but feel proud of her appearance. Not only was she smiling, but she looked like someone that had just finished thoroughly making out with someone. Hair mussed, lips swollen and a telltale flush from her cheeks all the way to her neck. 

Betty let her hand play with the hair at the nape of his neck. She wasn’t quite sure what was making her act so forward, but for once she wanted to go on instinct. This felt right, more than anything else she had done and Jughead didn’t seem to be running away from her any time soon. 

“Maybe we could make this a reoccurring event?” Betty maintained eye contact. She didn’t want him to think that she regretted anything that happened. Jughead just looked at her and broke out into a crooked grin. 

“Whenever you want, Betts. Whenever you want.” At that she got off his lap, stood up and held out her hands expectantly. Jughead just grabbed her hands and dragged her to him for another kiss. 

“Well I hope you understand that I don’t plan on sharing you Mr. Jones” Betty teased. She flicked his nose with her finger and laughed. Jughead replied by wrapping his arms around her again. 

“Oh no Ms. Cooper, you aren’t going anywhere. In fact, the only place you’ll be heading is to Pops for some burgers and milkshakes with me”. Betty nodded, unable to stop herself from smiling.

Jughead walked over to where the bags were laying and picked them both up with his left hand. Turning around, he saw Betty putting on her jacket and held out his right hand. She made her way over and grabbed his hand with her left one, using her free hand to get her school bag from him. Walking out of the office, they let the door close behind them and made their way out of the school, holding hands. 

Come Monday, who knew what was going to happen. They both have their issues that they have to work through, they still have a murder to solve and they haven’t even breached the idea of telling their friends about their blossoming relationship. They found each other in an unlikely situation, and for the time being, that’s more than enough. Betty and Jughead.


Summary: When you decide to have a little fun to rid yourself of Dean who was constantly plaguing your thoughts, he gives you an accidental piece of his mind

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, (mentioned) Dean Winchester x Lisa Braedon

Word Count: 976 (by far the shortest one I’ve ever done)

(A/N): Well, this has also been sitting there in my drafts. I decided to finish it and post it. I don’t really have anything to say to this, except that I’m actually on time with posting :D finally, right? Alright, I hope y’all enjoy this little story. I might be open to creating a second part to this if I get enough requests to do so. It’s completely up to you. I’m happy to oblige. Well, have a nice day everyone!

(Part 2) (Part 3)

Keep reading

something brewing: part i

The moral of this story is that I need to not do the stupid thing and accidentally press save draft instead of queue, since this was supposed to be posted at least a week ago. Oops. Anyway, this is part I of the previously discussed barista au, because I toyed with the idea for a while and it stuck around. Yes, I recognise the title is a horrible pun, but I couldn’t resist. I hope that everyone who liked the idea of this isn’t disappointed.

Premise: Oliver is a sports science student who has to maintain his grades in order to retain his scholarship and has a good chance of playing football professionally. Despite that, he’s serious about wanting to do well. His flatmates spend more time drunk than they do sober, so he’s given up trying to work at home and finds a little coffee shop to study in. What he doesn’t expect is to develop a painful, near-instantaneous, utterly inconvenient crush on one of the baristas.

i: marcus.

It was just past 5pm, and Marcus was comfortably settled into work for the evening. There was a lazy hum of guitar as his background noise of preference, the coffee shop wasn’t too crowded and that gave him time to open his textbook underneath the counter in between making drinks while Susan handled the customers and sorted out any food orders. The page was marked with the casual ease of someone who was used to reading in what spare moments he had, and ain’t that the truth? Honestly, he had trouble absorbing it all at once, so taking information in bit by bit while he did other tasks always worked far better for him, letting him actually retain it instead of forgetting it immediately after reading.

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Demigod!Paladin AU headcanons

So I really wanted to make headcanons for this and I was talking with @jaegereska

(It’s also been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally posted it)

  • Keith is literally Nico (but actually a child of Nike)
    • Oversized avian jacket + emo hair
    • Nike’s son (goddess of victory, speed, strenght; values bravery and skill)
      • Nike had a pretty good relationship with Athena
        • So Keith might slightly hero-worship Shiro a bit; they’re really good friends and get along well. Shiro knows how to deal with Keith and Keith knows how to calm down Shiro
    • Whenever the paladins (and Allura and Coran) do some group games or whatnot, Keith is just really good at calling people out for cheating
      • Also really good at deciding who won/lost if it seemed close
    • Once he gets past his impulsiveness and takes the time to think, he’s actually pretty good at leading people because he instinctively knows where everyone is on the battlefield
  • Pidge is a Hephaestus kid
    • I mean the whole inventing technology and whatnot?
    • Plus, Pidge seems to be more comfortable around machines than people
    • Okay so obviously Pidge has talent with technology
      • Really good at re-purposing things
      • Also really good at making stuff from random pieces of junk lying around
        • Likes to go into places with broken technology and scrapyards with Hunk to see what they can find
    • Spouts off random facts about different metals/alloys
    • Really good at embarrassing others
  • Shiro is Athena’s kid
    • Totally terrified of spiders
    • Paladin squad points out a spider and he sort of just… runs the other way; he couldn’t help it
      • His immediate thought is “burn the cabin now guys”
      • Everyone teases him about it (”honestly shiro it’s just a spider) because he’s supposed to be the son of the goddess of battle strategy
        • his first thought is to irrationally burn it simply because it’s a spider
      • Pidge eventually gives him some sort of spider-repellant after pitying him for a bit
    • Really well read–can quote a hella lot of different books at random times
      • Sometimes when the situation is too serious and he feels everyone needs to lighten up, he’ll spout off some inappropriate quote from a book/movie/etc. that everyone knows
  • Hunk might be Demeter’s kid
    • He’s caring and puts others before himself
    • Demeter is the goddes of corn, grain, the harvest, earth, agriculture, fertility. She’s associated with the seasons
      • Kind of overprotective? Caring and nuturing, also
    • So Hunk is just really talented with food and really any sort of grain
      • Cereal guys, cereal
      • Designated group chef
      • Will teach the squad how to cook because he knows that when he’s busy, no one eats (also no one really wants to eat Coran’s food)
    • Is really caring and makes sure everyone’s okay
  • Lance is totally a son of Apollo
    • Friendly and easy going but has a huge ego
      • “He thought he was better at everything than everyone”
    • Knows how to lighten up a situation
    • Is actually really good at patching people up 
      • Apollo’s cabin is pretty big and he has a lot of younger siblings PLUS his huge family so he’s just really good at making sure people are okay
    • Can sing really well
      • Will obnoxiously sing to annoy Keith
        • It gets on everyone else’s nerves too, but I mean..
      • Pro at karaoke

I also wanted to headcanon Allura and Coran, so here goes

  • Allura is a daughter of Aphrodite
    • She’s strong minded and passionate, has a way with words, and the ability to bring people together
    • (On a lighter note, she gossips with space mice)
    • She has a natural beauty to her and is really really good at changing her appearance
      • Also can see the beauty in all life (think Rose from Steven Universe)
    • She can talk people into things (subtle charmspeak?)
    • I bet she’s just a really good swimmer
  • Coran might be a son of Dionysus?
    • Dionysus is the god of wine, grape-harvest, ecstasy, and theatre
    • Coran is incredibly dramatic and optimistic and loyal
    • Can be both very easy going and optimistic, but can also be very unforgiving at times
      • Ex: Allura’s head vs when Allura was captured
    • He’s also really good about knowing everything… basically he has some sort of weird ability to seem omnipresent-like 
Static (6/9)

Pairing: Phan

Genre: Romance

Rating: Mature

Summary: There’s something to say about Dan’s knowledge of his own body when it takes him nearly four weeks to actually notice that something is different.

Warnings: Mpreg, le gay

A/N: Big disclaimer – once again – that I do not in fact know any of these people in real life. I’ve been trying to avoid using the names of people at the radio station or members of Daniel’s family but I have eventually ended up doing it. I don’t mean to cast any aspersions on these lovely people. This is all fiction. None of this is real. All of your dreams are dead.

Anyway, I hope you guys like this part. Somehow it became 6k words? I’m actually slightly proud of myself because usually I end up forgetting half of what I was meaning to write. However, quantity is no promise of quality so I’ll let you lovely readers be the judge of that.

Dan’s – fictional – grandmother using ‘chickpea’ is based on my stepmother, who’s always used it. The character of Will just sort of came about by accident but I like him so he’s here to stay for a little while. Also, CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT FINALLY.


* * *

The ultrasound is heavily blurred but the doctor confirms what both Dan and Phil were thinking as they looked at the mass of black and white shadows.

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Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 7: Free Choice

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for a while. I meant to post it as a ficlet in chat form, but I couldn’t finish the first draft. Until yesterday. (Yay!) Also, there’s a little bit of Mythea in this.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: As per usual, I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.

Mycroft crossed his legs and glared at his brother. Sighing heavily, the former glanced at his watch. “Sherlock, I don’t have all day.”

The detective rolled his eyes. “Why? What coup are you planning today? Are you supposed to be rigging an election or something?” He lifted his left eyebrow. “You’re not behind the rise of racially motivated crimes and police brutality in America, are you?”

“I have nothing to do with what’s happening in America.” He winced, as if disappointed with himself for answering his brother’s questions. He sat back and took a deep breath. “Miss Hooper has been frequenting this flat for several months.”


“And you have been seen in her building multiple times.”

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anonymous asked:

sorry to bother you!!! but i see you talking about kingsman sometimes and do you have some favorite fics to rec?

Hi Nonny! You’re not bothering me at all–you’re actually prompting me to finally publish a post that has been sitting in my drafts since May 24th, 2015, when I thought it’d be fun to make a rec list and then forget all about it. Under the cut: 14 fic recs, organized by word count, all Hartwin, all finished, mostly posted in the early days of the fandom. Enjoy!

(If you read and enjoy any of these fics, please remember to leave a comment. Kudos are fantastic, but even something as simple as “I loved this” can make an author’s day.)

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Why we may never meet Baby Watson

I’ve posted various theories on the pregnancy before, and I still don’t think we have enough clues to come up with one as the clear probable case. Mary’s faking it? Maybe. John’s not the father? Possibly. Stillborn? Parentlock? Baby is an alien? Sure, why not.

Then I started thinking about the few times from the end of TSo3 onward that the baby is actually mentioned. And from a writer’s perspective, one thing started to stick out. But that thing is…well, a bit not good.

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