this took me forever to make so you better not say anything against it okay

The One That Got Away

by reddit user bookshelfghost

Lily Harrison and I met at a graduation party when we were eighteen. As soon as I walked into the house, her bubbling laughter caught my attention. I couldn’t help but grin because it was so contagious, and she’d noticed. Already a couple drinks in, she pointed right at me and shouted, “Hey. You’re cute. Come be my partner.” 

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I think I love you - Jughead Jones

Pairing : Jughead Jones x Reader

Word count : 1,484

Warnings : none

Requests are closed!

Originally posted by juptern

Your phone rang in the pocket of your jacket making you jump by surprise. You answered the call before showing your index to your friend Archie, meaning that it would only take a minute.

“Hi, this is (y/n) speaking.”

“Hey (y/n), how are you?” You instantly recognised the groggy voice behind the line.

“Jughead! I’m good! What about you?” From the corner of your eye, you would’ve swore you saw Archie rolling his eyes.

“Marvellous. So, what are you up to this evening? I thought we maybe could’ve hung out tonight. You know, me, you, at Pop’s?” You chuckled lightly.

“Sorry Juggie, I was planning on spending the night with Archie… You can tag along if you want? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” A small sigh made its way into your ear. You had to admit that you spent a lot of your recent time with your new red-haired friend. Jughead still occupied the position of best friend. He didn’t have to worry about it.

“I promise we’ll do something together tomorrow, alright?” It was silence for a while before you heard back,

“Yeah sure.” You pursed your lips, mentally cursing yourself. It wasn’t the first time that you had turned down your best of friend for Archie. Lately it had been happening more than before. It made you feel like the worst pal.

“See you.” With that, Jughead hung up. You understood how he felt. It wasn’t right that you weren’t spending as much time with him.

“Jughead, wasn’t it?” You looked up and saw Archie sprawled across the black beanbag in your bedroom. His hands were attached on the new acoustic guitar his dad had got him for his birthday. You nodded and played with the sleeves of you sweater. Your friend continued strumming the strings of his instrument.

“Hey- I wrote this song last week, and I wanted to know what you thought about it. I’ve been trying to talk to Josie about her playing some of my compositions, but she’s not that into it. You’re her friend, right? Maybe you could listen to it and try to talk to her?” He asked questioningly.

“Of course, go ahead.” His fingers moved to the tuners and accorded them as his other hand rested on the waist of the guitar. A few seconds later, a pleasant melody filled the room. Archie then started singing the lyrics he had written. The song wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was quite catchy. The redhead friend of yours had talent. Before Archie could go on, you blurted out something you soon would regret.

“I’ll probably spend the day with him tomorrow.” The small tune that Archie had started suddenly came to an end. Archie hadn’t spoken to Jughead since this summer. The tree of you and Betty we’re supposed to go on a road trip the fourth of July but Archie left you hanging at the last minute. Since then, the boys stopped talking completely. When you mentioned one of  them to the other, you saw the irritation and annoyance in their expression.

“I thought you were coming to my game tomorrow. I’m playing in the varsity football team this year, remember?” You bet your lip and fiddled your hair with your fingers.

“I’m sorry Arch. I haven’t seen Jughead in a while now and I don’t want him to feel like I stopped being his friend. I’m making a vow that I’ll show up to your next game, how about that?”

“Why does it always have to be about him? Everything constantly has to be about Jughead.” Your were caught off guard by the sudden raise in his voice.

“That’s not it… I’m just trying to do what’s best here.”

“By ditching me at the last minute, that’s how your making things better? I didn’t think of you as an inconsiderate and selfish person.” He replied bitterly. In all the time of you guy’s friendship, you had never seen this side of Archie. Usually, he would be sweet and just shrug off any problem that faced his way. But the words he had just told you, they hurt your heart. Your eyes were starting to fill up with tears and your bottom lip started quivering.

“I’ve spent all my time with you for the last month. You. Not Jughead. Why are you treating me like this?”

“You know what? I don’t want to spend any more of my time with you right now.” With that, Archie got up and left you alone in your room. Without even noticing, a trail of tears had made its way down your cheeks. A sob escaped your mouth and your hands covered your face as you poured your heart out. You laid in your bed and continued crying.

It was all your fault. Archie now hated you and would probably never talk to you again. Why did you had to be so stupid? If only you had kept your mouth shut. Maybe he still would have been on that beanbag, singing.

Maybe half an hour later, you heard the wooden creek of your door meaning that someone was coming in. You didn’t even move, your pillow pressed against your face. The mattress shifted to the side from the sudden weight that it now had on it. You felt a piece of your hair being put behind your ear. You smiled at the sweet gesture and assumed it was your mother. You slowly got up and saw Jughead sitting beside you. Automatically, you vaulted in his arms tearing up once again.

“Sssh. It’s going to be okay.” He rubbed your back comfortingly. Your forehead was against his chest, his two upper limbs protectively holding you. Your eyes were probably red from all the crying but you couldn’t care less. You continued sobbing in his chest until you eventually felt calmer.

“Why- Why are you here?” You asked with a small voice. Jughead gently whipped your cheek with his thumb.

“Your mom saw Archie leave in a rush and realized that you two probably had a fight. She heard you crying and thought that you would be more willing to speak about it with me than her.” You grinned at the boy.

“I ruined your shirt.” You noticed, and felt guilty.

“Nothing to worry about (y/n/n). I never liked that jersey anyway.” You giggle with your best friend. You sniffed and observed Jughead who his face was only about a foot away from you. You had to admit that he was good looking. His prefect blue eyes were mesmerising and his pink lips appeared so kissable. Forever you considered the boy as nothing more than a platonic relationship to you. Never had you ever felt anything for him. But in that moment, something clicked. Jughead wasn’t only a friend to you, not even a best friend.  A stronger feeling overwhelmed your body. You felt love. You loved Jughead Jones. 

He was the one who your mother called when you were sad. He was the one who came rushing to your house as soon as your mother hung up. He was the one who was holding you and comforting you, whispering sweet nothing to you as you were crying. He was the one who was there for you.

“Jughead.” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“(y/n)?” You asked yourself in your mind if it was the right time to confess your feelings towards him. Your breathing started quickening as the anxiety rose in your core.

“I think I-” He watched you with intending eyes, indicating to continue your phrase.

“I think I love you.” Jughead eyeballed you, astonished at your revelation. He quietly answered, almost inaudible for you to hear.

“I think I love you too.” He leaned towards you and slowly pressed his lips to yours. Fireworks were going off in your stomach. The heaviness on your shoulders disappeared. In this moment, nothing else mattered in the world. Both of your lips moved in sync as you played with his raven locks. His arms pulled you closer to him, leaving no space between you two. Jughead backed away and kissed every each of your face, including your cheeks, temple and chin.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispered in your ear. You gave him a last long peck on the lips before saying,

“Do you want to lay down and cuddle with me?” He moved his head up and down calmly and took a blanket that was already on the bed to cover you. Cuddling was not something new for the both of you. You had always cuddled together, and whenever. His hand ran through your hair bringing a comforting and fuzzy feeling. His body pressed behind your back and his hot breath was tingling your neck. Before you even knew it, you and Jughead had fallen in a deep slumber, both dreaming about each other.

*gif is not mine!!

Watch Me Babygirl [pt.3]

[pt.1] [previous part] [next part] [pt.5] [pt.6] [pt.7] [pt.8] [pt.9] [pt.10] [pt.11]  [pt.12] [pt.13] [pt.14]

Summary: Jungkook is your brother’s annoying best friend. You can’t stand him but he just can’t resist teasing you. How far will he actually go?

Warnings: slight language


“Thanks for the ride Tae,” you said, giving his arm a squeeze before sliding out of the car.

You walked up your drive and unlocked the door, giving Taehyung a wave before you slipped inside. He always waited until you were in the house to drive away which never failed to make you smile. He was sweet, you had to admit.

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let’s hurt tonight

hello, this was loosely based on a request that i will put below, that scene is in here but it’s definitely not the main focus of the one shot, hope you like it!!

anonymous: hiii i was wondering if you could do something where harry is eating you out but your work calls and you have to answer while he keeps going down on you???

Heels in one hand, purse and phone in the other, you skipped down the stairs to where Harry was waiting, hands in his pockets.


He turned at the sound of your bare feet padding on the hardwood and a grin stretched across his face when his eyes landed on you. You still weren’t used to that look; his eyes flaming with desire as they made their way across your body. You would never admit aloud what that look did to you, but you were sure Harry knew anyway.


His eyes slowly made their way back up to yours, but darted traitorously to your mouth, “I like your lipstick.” Was all he said as he admired the redness of your mouth as it stretched into it’s own grin.

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Different Ways to Say “I love you”

Peter and you had been seeing each other for quite some time – longer than he had imagined you staying with him, anyway. Five months of his life had been dedicated to you, romantically. Peter would never tell you, but he had dedicated his life to you since your first day at Midtown High. You had met Ned in one of your classes and he had convinced you to join the decathlon on your first day. Peter had owed him ever since that day.

It was hard for Peter to ask you out – hell, it had taken him a year to even tell you that you were pretty. So, it didn’t come to a surprise to him when he found himself too terrified to tell you how deeply he felt for you. He loved you – he loved the way you were smarter than him (you knew that, but you never made him feel insignificant), he loved that when you wanted to hold his hand you’d walk next to him and let your hands brush first (you’d start tapping his fingers with yours until eventually your hand engulfed his completely), he loved how when you found out he was Spider-Man you weren’t mad that he kept it from you (“I get why you couldn’t tell me – you have to promise me you’re going to come back… you have to come back to me.” “You’re the only reason I’ll always come back… a-and Aunt May, obviously.”). He loved you – he knew he did. He had tried to tell you so many times. But, what he didn’t know was that he had already told you he loved you – in so many different ways.


“You got me this?” Peter nodded at you. “You were in Berlin – fighting alongside the Avenger’s… and you found time to get me something?” Peter couldn’t fight the blush on his face even if he tried.

“I-It’s not a big deal. I saw it in the window. I don’t know, I just – it reminded me of you.” You smiled, leaning in to peck him.

“I love it.”


“Ugh, Pete,” you whined, your eyes welling up with tears. “It’s broken.” You held up the charm bracelet that Peter had given you for your birthday. “I’m so sorry,” a couple of tears had fallen and Peter was quick to reach up and brush them away.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, “it’s just a bracelet, it’s okay.” You shook your head.

“I loved this gift – it’s my favorite bracelet.” Peter’s heart beat a little faster.

Come here,” he whispered, “come on. Let me fix it.” And he was relieved to see the smile on your face as you made your way to him.


“I’m glad you came tonight, Peter.” You nudged him as you walked out of Liz’s house together, side-by-side.

“I am, too.” He smiled softly at you, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets as you both fell into a comfortable silence. It was a cool night in New York and as Peter saw you wrap your arms around yourself he registered you had forgotten to bring a jacket. He automatically pulled his sweater over his head, straightening out his shirt. “Here,” he handed you his sweater. You shook your head.

“Peter, no. It’s fine, I’m fine.” He gave you a pointed look.

Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” You reluctantly took the jacket and pulled it over yourself, feeling his scent overwhelm you and a smile ghosting on your face.

“Thank you, Peter.” You linked your arms together and pushed yourself up to kiss his cheek. Smiling when he turned red and mumbled a small ‘anytime’.


“I’m sorry that I’m ruining our date night, Peter.” Peter shook his head until he remembered you couldn’t see him over the phone.

“You’re not ruining anything, babe,” he said, packing up his backpack with the necessities May told him he’d need. “You need to focus on that sore throat.” There was silence. “Babe?”

“Huh?” He chuckled, walking out of his front door. “I’m sorry, Petey. I dozed off.”

“It’s fine, I’ll see you later. Okay?” You mumbled an incoherent response before Peter decided to end the call. He found himself outside of your home fifteen minutes later. He knocked and your mom let him in, letting him quietly use your kitchen to warm up the tea he had brought for you. He then quietly walked to your room, opening your door to see you sleeping. He almost didn’t wake you up, but knew your tea would be cold. “(Y/N)? Babe?” You stirred awake, feeling alert and sitting up when you saw Peter on your bed.

“Peter! What are you doing here? You’re going to get sick!” He shushed your hoarse voice, picking up the cup and handing it to you.

“Here,” you grabbed the cup, looking at its contents, “drink this. You’ll feel better.” You looked at his dough eyes and opened your mouth to say something, until deciding to just keep quiet and drink the tea, a soft smile on your face.


“Oh, my god.” Peter turned around from his seat at his desk, seeing your distraught expression as your eyes grazed over the test you both had received from Calculus.

“What’s wrong?” You bit your lip to stop it from quivering.

“I failed,” you whispered. You had studied with Michelle and Betty for two weeks straight. You had thought you were doing so well – even Michelle had thought so. How could you have failed?

“Hey,” you looked up at Peter, “it’s just one test. You’ll get ‘em next time.” You smiled at the use of his words – it was a phrase you’d use on him whenever he didn’t pass a quiz or test he didn’t study for due to his after-school activities.

“I guess,” you sighed, your smile fading. Peter stood up, walking over to his dresser. He opened the top drawer and shuffled through it, picking up a CD case. He sighed, counting to three before turning around to sit next to you on the bed.

“Here,” you took the CD from his hands.

PETER’S HAPPY MIX

You looked up at him, seeing him shrug. “You might like this,” he stated. “It makes me feel better when I feel like crap.” You reached over and hugged him, mumbling about a million thank you’s.


Now here Peter sits, next to you on his couch, watching a movie of your choice. It was one that you had seen at least a hundred times, but he didn’t mind. If you loved it, so did he. And, god, did you love it. He watched your profile, seeing your lips move as you recited the character’s lines – every character’s lines. Your hands were moving in tune with them, too. And as he looked at you he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t plan it coming out like this, but it just happened. He just – “I love you.” Your hands stopped and so did your lips. You turned to look at him quickly.

“What?” Peter nodded slowly, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

“I love you.” He repeated. “I love you, and I have for awhile. I don’t know when liking you stopped and loving you started – it all kind of just blends together but – yeah. I love you.” You blinked a few times, registering how your shy and reserved boyfriend, Peter Parker, got the nerve to tell you he loved you before you did. You shook your head at the thought. Peter Parker was braver than you – who knew?

“I love you, Peter.” You finally said, the look on his face telling you your silence was scaring him.

“You do?” He asked, too ecstatic, but he didn’t care. You nodded, setting the bowl of popcorn that was on your lap on top of the coffee table. You sat up and crawled closer to him, leaning over him slightly.

“I love you so much, Peter Parker.” You leaned all the way down, pressing your lips against Peter and feeling Peter wait not even a second before matching your pace.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled against your lips, but not stopping your kiss.

Even though Peter Parker had told you he loved you more than once, he felt a weight lift off of his chest after hearing it come out clear as day from the both of you.

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a tiny bit jealous

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Prompt: Reader has been friends with Peter since forever, and has been in love with him even longer

Requested by: n/a

Warnings: sadness, slight self-consciousness 

Word count: 2,018

Notes: There! Will! Be! A! Part! Two! Message me if you want to be tagged in it! Writing this gave me major feels you don’t even know.

Part two

Originally posted by tom-is-bae


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Worth Keeping

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Tags: Fluff, smut, smut with feelings, biting kink (idk how that got in there)

Words: 3,326

A/N: It’s been too long and I apologize profusely, please take this as a peace offering :)) I reallly like this one :)

Originally posted by heytheredeann

Forever Tagging:  @kay-marie19,  @classicteenagenothing, @that1awkwardfangirl,  @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel,  @writingbeautifulmen, @immostlyconfused ,  @sii88, @feministcastiel, @iamflanneltrash, @wrapbuckyinablanket, @restricted-illusion,  @imtotallyaunicorn,  @chickenmcsade, @xtina2191,  @doctorcziken, @envydean, @itsoliviajohn,  @that1seniorchick, @sis-tafics, @ilovetardisblue,  @iwantthedean, @wibly-wobly-winchester,   @mrswhozeewhatsis, @drarina1737, @milkymilky-cocopuff, @ellen-reincarnated1967,  @a-sea-of-fandoms, @voidobsession,  @that1seniorchick, @purgatoan @rikkielovesmusic88 , @maddieburcham1 , @shippingismythang , @a-broken-hunter , @fangirlofeverythingme , @senselesssamii , @darquethoughts , @kris–ann– , @capislife123 , @katekitoka

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The Better Kisser - Tom Holland Drabble

Request: Anonymous - Hello! I love your writing and was wondering if you could do a fluff imagine where the reader is dating tom and she helps paddy with homework and stuff and tom tries to distract her + paddy being grossed out by toms affection for her which causes tom to want to kiss the reader more just to make fun of paddy

Warnings: Fluff and teasing Tom

Word Count: 778

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: Hope you liked it : ) Guys sorry they’re so short I just haven’t really had any inspiration.

~Masterlist~

“Ok so what’s 16 times ½?”

“I don’t like fractions, Y/N,” Paddy whined.

“Come on Paddy you know this. If it’s difficult to work out, then you just have to put it in the calculator,” You handed him the calculator and watched as he pressed some buttons.

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Queen in the North {Pt. 2}

Originally posted by ladysarah94

Requested: By myself, because I am Trash™. Also some other absolutely lovely people.

Pairings: Robb Stark x Reader

Previously: {Part 1}

Summary: Y/N was sent to live with The Stark family at a young age, and ever since then, she seemed to fit perfectly, maybe even more than she had ever noticed.

Warnings: I just watched the episode so fluff to the max

Word Count: 2,433

A/N: I am so pleased to see how many of you like the first part to this, and I sincerely hope that the second part is even better! Special shoutout to @secretschuylersister for looking over this/encouraging me to actually post it. If you have any requests, please feel free to send them to my ask box!

It was nice of Sansa to say that she was almost done poking and prodding and adjusting your dress, even if you all knew that it was a lie. Sansa had and affinity for dressing you up, claiming that if she tried it with Arya, she would lose a finger. You couldn’t say that the idea was entirely off base.

The dress was lovely. It looked a bit delicate in comparison to the usual style that ladies favored in Winterfell.  It was somehow different and you’re the same as the dresses that you favored on an everyday basis. Although you had lived in Winterfell for most of your life, your mother and father had lived much farther south.

So, you tended to favor lighter dresses, made of silk and lace in a wide array of colors. Jon liked to tease you that you were the brightest thing to ever live in Winterfell. What you didn’t know is how much Robb silently agreed with him. The dress was white, with layers of gray peeking through towards the bottom. It was lovely, although you had no idea how Sansa had managed such a lovely effect in the short amount of time since she had asked you about making a dress.

“I may have been working on it for a little while before I asked if it was okay,” she said, picking it up off of the bed and motioning for you to change into it. “But I knew that you were going to say yes anyways.”

You laughed, she was right. You had a hard time telling people no, especially when they were doing something so nice for you. After all, the Starks were your family. And if they were willing to put the time in to help you, then there was no way that you were going to refuse. It did make your schedule feel a bit cramped at times, in between dagger lessons with Arya and the boys, knitting with Sansa and tea with Lady Stark, who was forever insisting that you call her Catelyn, there were never enough hours in the day, something you often fought about with Robb.

“Well then, put it on!” Sansa laughed, tossing you the dress and pulling out her needle and thread, claiming that there were a few alterations that needed to be made. Sansa worked in silence, adding a few stitches here and there. And somehow, when she was done, the dress looked even more spectacular. She had managed to somehow make it fit you like a glove at the top, yet have the perfect amount of sway and flow in the skirts.

“Thank you, Sansa,” you said, admiring the skirts in her mirror. If you hadn’t been so caught up in how nice it was for Sansa to make you this lovely dress, you might have noticed the smug look on her face as she admired you admiring her dress. And you might have noticed that you were wearing in the Stark family’s colors. “But I really think that I should go see if your mother needs help preparing-”

“I was downstairs with her all morning. While you were fretting over nothing, I was making sure that you didn’t have an excuse to run away.” She laughed, guiding you over to the chair that was set up in front of her mirror. “Now, you have to stay and let me do something with this.” She sighed, motioning to the braid that you wore every day. Sansa took your braid in her hands, making quick work of fanning it out across your shoulders, running a brush gently through the ends or your hair.

“I cannot understand why you never take the time to style your hair unless I force you to. You know that anyone would do anything for you.” Sansa rain her hands through your hair, twisting it one way and then another, attempting to choose a style for that evening.

“I would rather spend my time with other engagements. And I’m sure that every single person in this castle has at least five things that they need to be doing at any given time. And shockingly, none of them include helping me with my hair.” You laughed, raising an eyebrow at her in the mirror.

“And does one of those things include pretending that you aren’t in love with my brother? Or is that simply a given, considering it is something that you do every waking minute of every day?”

You felt yourself tense, your shoulders locking back into place and your teeth grinding against each other. Sansa, on the other hand, continued brushing your hair into place, humming a soft tune to herself. You wished that you had an appropriate comeback, but you were left to sit there, mouth agape, while Sansa fussed with your hair for longer than should have been possible.

You’d hoped that you would have a bit of time to yourself before the feast that evening, but Sansa had insisted that a bit of rouge had never hurt anyone. By the time that she decided you were ready, the both of you were late.

“A queen never arrives at her own party on time.” Sansa laughed as you hurried down the hall. You hated to be late, and it seemed that the only time you were more than a few seconds late to anything was when Sansa insisted on helping you get ready.

“Then it’s really too bad that I am not a queen.” you reminded her, withholding a glare.

She snorted at you in a very un Sansa-like way, simply brushing past you and breezing easily into the banquet. You, on the other hand, were not nearly as confident. You took a moment to steady yourself, a moment to catch your breath, before stepping into the banquet hall.

The noise and liveliness of the hall erupted around you, pulling you in. You glanced around, taking in the musicians and the dancers that took up most of the space in the large banquet hall. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were elated to see Robb standing with Jon and Theon near the edge of the dance floor.

You gathered up your expansive skirts, making your way along the edge of the room to the boys.

“Well don’t you just look dashing in the Stark colors?” Jon teased you, gesturing for you to do a twirl.

You landed a punch on his arm, not hard enough to actually hurt him, but firm enough to tell him to shut his big mouth, paired with an expression that told him you were going to pretend to be cross with him for a while. “If you must know, your lovely sister made me this gown, and as usual I had no say about the colors. But, I’m sure that it is just coincidence.” You attempted to sound sincere, even though you knew what Sansa was most likely thinking when she was picking out the material.

You pretended to listen to the boys ramble on about one thing or another, but your eyes were scanning the room in search of Arya. You knew that she was not particularly fond of feasts, so you always made a point to seek her out and reassure her, even if it was only for a few minutes. After few moments of searching, you spotted her, slumped into a chair, looking like she would much rather be anywhere else but here.

You felt Robb’s hand rest on the small of your back, attempting to draw your attention away from the very important matter at hand. “Y/N, do you want to-”

“Maybe in a minute, Robb,” you said, already making your way over to Arya, not even bothering to look back towards the sound of Jon’s booming laughter.

“Arya!” you laughed, taking her hands in your own and pulling her out of the chair. “Won’t you come and dance with me?”

“You know that I have been skipping my lessons,” she mumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. Somehow, she was in a worse mood than usual.

“I never said that we were going to make our way through the most boring waltz in existence.” You were already halfway to the band, who looked almost as morose as Arya, which wasn’t surprising when you thought about the music that they were being forced to play. “If this is to be the mood for the entire evening, we are all going to die of boredom.”

You let go of Arya’s hands for a few moments to whisper your instructions to the band. They all seemed to perk up immediately, sitting up in their chairs, the light coming back into their eyes. The tune changed from the sullen one that you had grown accustomed to hearing, to one that was jubilant and full of life. Reclaiming Arya’s hands in your own, your spun her around, prancing around in ridiculous circles until a smile finally graced her lips, and then a small laugh bubbled through, and you knew that your work was done.

You gave her one last smile, twirling her in another circle before stumbling off of the dance floor. All of the spinning had made you a bit dizzy, and with all of the skirts that Sansa had swaddled you up in, you weren’t surprised that you had nearly tripped a few times before you had even made it away from the dancers.

Robb’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you away from the mass of bodies that had swarmed the dance floor. You would have been surprised, especially because you hadn’t thought that Robb was anywhere near you, but he had a habit of turning up when you needed someone.

“What was it that you wanted earlier?” You asked breathlessly, collapsing into the chair that he had guided you to.

“Do you remember when my mother was so angry at us for sneaking into these feasts that she made us attend all of those dreadful dancing lessons?” Robb asked, smiling at Arya dancing with Rickon among the masses.

“Of course I do,” you laughed, recalling the many afternoons you had spent with your slightly nasty dance master. “Your mother was so sure that we would never turn up to another ball again if we had to take those lessons, but you were at every single lesson.”

“Naturally, you were so excited, and there was no way that I was going to miss it when you tripped over your own two feet.”

“If I recall correctly, you were always responsible for catching me after I messed up a new step.” You lazily punched him in the shoulder, but the laughter died in your throat as Robb caught your fist and linked his hand with yours.

“And I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

It wasn’t the act of holding his hand in yours that caused your breathing to falter. You had been holding pinkies since you had met, so after that, what was a hand? It was the way that his eyes were staring into yours, unwavering. For the first time in a long time, you felt yourself blushing because of Robb Stark.

It wasn’t something that happened often, the two of you had grown up together, after all. Your mother had been best friends with Cat, and when they passed away, it was no question that you were going to stay with Ned and his family.

You had been quiet when you arrived at Winterfell for the first time. It had only been a day or two since your mother and father had moved on, taken from you suddenly by a terrible affliction. You were assured that your friends would all be waiting for you, but that wasn’t good enough. You wanted your parents.

And even though you constantly reminded Robb of that, he was there for you at every turn. Bringing you a flower he found near a spring, hoping to make you smile, or telling you a poorly thought out joke, just waiting for just a glimpse of the dimples he used to know so well. And as much as you wanted to give him a glimpse of your former self, you needed time. Somehow, even at such a young age, both of you understood. And you had remained solemn, until one afternoon, he heard a giggle echoing from her chambers.

Robb threw open the door to find you sifting through a drawer full of dried flowers, picking them up one by one and examining them. He marched into the room, demanding to know why you had been so sad before. You never had been able to give him an answer, simply handing him one of the flowers and telling him that you were sorry. You never had offered him an explanation for those first few weeks.

“Y/N?” Robb’s voice and both of his hands cupping yours somehow managing to effectively draw you back to reality. “Are you okay?” his voice was soft, almost as if he was afraid to scare you away. He should know better than that by now.

“I was thinking about when I first came to live with you, well everyone. And you worried yourself over making me feel welcome, and you were so confused when you found me with that drawer full of flowers.” You sounded dreamy, still thinking about the days when things felt easier.

“You never did tell me why you kept all of those flowers. Especially when they never made you smile in the first place.” He smiled down at your hands, where his thumb was stroking the back of your hand.

“Because I knew that they were going to make me happy eventually,” You met his eyes, hoping that he understood what you were trying to tell him. “And I was right, wasn’t I?” Robb looked like he was going to answer, but you were finished wasting time moping about when there was a party going on. “Let’s dance, Stark.”

And without another word, the two of you were out of your chairs and headed for the dance floor. The musicians had kept their promise, and the music was lively. You were pleased to see that Arya had dragged Sansa into a group of dancers, and it brought a smile to your face to see that everyone was happy, for the time being. It was rare to stumble upon a moment where someone wasn’t squabbling, and when you managed to find one, you most certainly weren’t going to take it for granted.

Read Part Three Here!

you caught me || scott mccall

word count: 1479

warnings: very cute scott mccall

prompt: none

author’s note: you may have seen this before, i promise this is my imagine. my blog was deleted and so i’m reposting it on here! enjoy this imagine!

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I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Twenty-Seven

Summary: You look more into the possibility of getting a dog, and your surprise baby shower brings more than one surprise.
Words: 3k
Jared x Reader x Gen, Jensen, Tom, Shep, assorted friends and family
Warnings: none
Beta: @blacksiren

I Know Your Wife - Masterpost

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Can I Be Her || Tom Holland Oneshot (Alternate Ending)

Request: Anonymous asked: Can I please get an imagine where the reader is best friends with Tom and Harrison but loves Tom. The reader is witnessing Tom fall in love with Zendaya and tries to forget about Tom but can’t. In the end, Tom ends up having a serious relationship with Zendaya and Tom and the reader fall apart. You can decide the end but I want it to be a sad ending. I’m sorry if it’s complicated or just plain stupid. Thank you.

Warnings: Sad, happy ending!

Word Count: 1,697

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: Enjoy! Only difference is the ending lol. This is not part two by the way!

~Masterlist~

You didn’t think this would happen. You were falling for Tom, hard. At first you thought nothing of it, but once you got to know him, the real him, you were in a trance. You developed a love for Tom, it was completely indescribable. You never told anyone, not even Harrison, knowing he’d never keep his mouth shut. He’d spill everything to Tom, and you couldn’t bare let your affection for him to get in the way of your friendship.

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To: KPop Tumblr / From: An Angry Black Girl

WARNING: This is a RANT. If you don’t want to read this, or you don’t want to have to sit through my deepest disappointment and the annoyance that has been dwelling within me for the longest about this; please just scroll right past this and you will be a-okay.

- Admin Dayna


Okay so, I know I’ve mentioned before that I wanted to avoid the topics of racism and culture appropriation within K-Pop because the list goes on forever, and as a black girl with anxiety and depression, having to constantly speak up against these things get extremely tiring and weigh heavy on me. But the reason why I’m deciding to write about this now is because I’ve been seeing certain things floating around in the K-Pop side of tumblr that’s quite honestly being left untouched and I just… I really can’t sit back and let it not be known.

I want to first start off with my deepest concern for the constant validation black girls seek on tumblr about whether or not so-and-so or such-and-such Idol group likes black girls. We see videos on Tumblr and YouTube quite often of compilations of idols interacting with black girls, overthinking and overplaying said interactions/conversations and romanticizing it to gain some sort of self-worth from said videos. As if these girls need confirmation that they are beautiful and can be loved by anyone. Which really hurts because what other race of girls has to sit down and ask themselves if the person they’re interested in likes their race and not them, themselves. The only time that I see anything in regards of afro-fans within the K-Pop side of Tumblr is when the blog specifically caters to said race – which truly bothers me because then my race often times get sexualized in said blogs. We should be able to intermingle no matter what our races. POC girls are of the norms, bruh like tf?

Which leads me to this topic: Black Girls – or more so Black Culture – are used as props within K-Pop so often that when I try to express my distaste towards a certain idol or a certain music video, I get backlash for it from stans because they’re so blinded by either; A) The need to be loved and noticed by their biases despite the fact that their bias is using them as an object to enhance whatever aesthetic, concept, or audience they’re trying to appeal to, or B) the aggression or culture appropriation either doesn’t affect them or is so trivial (yet very wrong) that it ends up being dusted under the rug because “they don’t know better”.

But the thing is, some of these idols have been overseas, worked overseas, lived overseas, that they have been exposed to these things already, so the truth of the matter is, they do know better. So many idols have been called out for saying certain words (for example dropping the word nigga around as if they know what it’s like to be followed around a store just in case you decide to steal something, or to have an irrational fear of authority figures just in case they go ape shit and decide to shoot you unarmed) or carrying out certain actions (for example, painting their skin black and over drawing their lips, and pretending to know what it’s like to struggle out in these streets and use our means of coping – music – as a source of entertainment and costume). It is 2017, they have social media, and so many idols before them have made these mistakes before that there is just no fucking excuse anymore.

NONE.

What lead up to this rant was the fact that Jay-fucking-Park, took a revolutionary name brand and rode it out for his own fucking label. Jay Park has taken NWA (Niggas with Attitude) and turned it into his own NWA (New Wave Attitude) and I am incredibly pissed that he would do that because Jay Park SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

The entire purpose of Niggas with Attitude was to reclaim and expose the hardships, stereotypes, and struggles of black people who find themselves cornered and stuck in the ghettos that they were forced into, and explain to the mass audiences why black people are “always angry”. Why black people “always steal”. Why black people “always do drugs”. It’s because majority of us don’t have a choice. We don’t have the same resources and do not know anything beyond the struggles of the streets because we’ve been cornered and kept there all our lives.

Now here is Jay Park, a man who has been exposed to black culture, knows black people, love black people, taking such a powerful name brand and turning it into some whimsical ass whatever-the-fuck for the hype or the wave and shit – completely dismissing the historical importance of the original NWA in music.

This shit ain’t no fucking joke. This shit ain’t to be messed with, b. Gangsta rap, hip-hop – just rap in general isn’t a fucking game. It comes from starvation. It comes from self-hate. It comes from poverty, and degradation, and discrimination. Hip-Hop and Rap became what it is because black people were too broke to afford instruments and shit – we had to use our voices. Because music was all we got. From the slave trade to now! It ain’t shit for people to be twisting up for their own fun like this.

Put some respect on our names or get the fuck out!

Now we got people like fucking Keith Ape running around snatching up Atlanta’s trap music calling it “noisy rap”. We got fucking Taeyang saying “he wanna experience black people’s pain”. We got Jackson and Jooheon making a fucking fool of themselves (bless they souls man, don’t even come for me because Jooheon is my ultimate bias, y’all know this. i fucking love him and Jackson but they were wildin’) claiming that Jooheon is like “the Korean Kendrick Lamar”. Like the fuck they know about Kendrick Lamar? The fuck they know about “The Blacker the Berry, the Sweet the Juice”? The fuck they know about “Nagus to Niggas”? The fuck they know about “How Can I paint a picture, when the color blind is hanging you?”

What does Jay Park know about “Fuck the Police”?

Black people aren’t props.

Stop protecting y’all biases and get with the shits bruh.

Anyways, I hope y’all have a blessed day. Love you.

Originally posted by eataburgerr

Liability (Part 2)

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! This one hurt..not gonna lie, and it kinda opened up old wounds that I thought I was over so this was really personal, but I feel like this is a healing process in it of itself.  You can catch up with Part 1 here and if you wanna read more of my work here is my masterlist. 

Dean x Reader (ish), Sam, Jody, Claire

Warnings: Angst, Swearing

Word Count: 1500

Tags: @msimpala67 @escabell @angelus320 @katymacsupernatural @melissasalvatoremikaelson @kazosa @angelsandwinchesters @mogaruke @star-gazer178 @pickupthatamulet @cozyjaws @mychemical21fallingphandoms @sammysgirl1997 @saradiamayaf @enthusiasmisdepressing @badsongwinchester @i-want-to-believe-x @jensenackesl @hellogracebarnes @aquabrie @holahellohialoha @snazzyunicorn @itsjaybro16 @cameronbraswell @xthefuckerysquaredx @toridawn892345 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @keep-calm-and-omfg-jensen-ackles @samdean-67 @svannah @kiejera @erule @sams-little-toy @supernaturalqueen47 @formulafun @smalltowndivaj @adellyhatter-blog @jennylj16 @trinty33 @earthtokace @hunterpuff @deansgirl215 @iamthemaskhewears @lipstickandwhiskey @today-only-happens-once

“Was she on a hunt?” Sam asked, gently handling a cup of tea and setting it before Jody. Dean had yet to move away from his spot on the couch that rested a few feet away from you. The sun was beginning to creep over the quaint houses of Sioux Falls.

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random harry concept™

You’re at a party talking to some of your shared friends.

And Harry is next to you, his hand around your hips softly but lowkey protectively.

And he has a drink in the other hand, his ring-clad fingers wrapped around the round class, leaving smudges in the condensation, the metal of his jewelry clinking against the glass. He smells like Dolce Gabana, wine and smoke bc he took a swig from Ben’s cig.

And you’re talking about school and life and stuff and he leans in and his hair tickles the back of your jaw and ears. It’s starting to grow back out, little curls struggling to wrap around his ears.

His breath is cold from the ice in his drink as he talks. “I’m gonna go talk to Alexa for a bit, yeah? Haven’t seen her in a while.”

And you murmur a quick “okay,” feeling the warmth of his body slide away from you but you don’t worry bc you know he’ll be fine.

After a while you glance around the flat to see where he is, spotting him at the bar surrounded by a couple of people and tipping back tequila shots with someone like a pro.

It’s a race, apparently, as you see a row of shots laid out before him and he tosses them back as fast as possible, his jaw clenching and face scrunching up at the sour taste, but he shakes it off with a shudder of his broad shoulders. He flips the tiny glass upside down on the marble counter, reaching for a blue snowman cup filled with orange juice.

He’s going at it hard– it’s evident even from far away. Sweat has matted his hairline and beads his forehead, his lips a cherry pinkish red, his cheeks flushed lightly and his pupils are blown out of proportion.

The people around him cheer him on, one of his family buddies filling up more glasses and sliding them towards him. The guy opposite him is tipping them back hella hard, too, being ahead of Harry by three hits.

Alexa is standing behind him, massaging his shoulders and giving him a rough pep talk. You see Harry nod his head hazily, smiling all watery and drunk off his ass as his fingers go up to his shirt, popping the first three buttons air out some heat.

He then downs two shots, making an audible grunt as he slams them down on the tabletop, the cheering around him swelling. You smile softly because it’s good to see him so happy and carefree. He deserves some hardcore fun after all his hard work on the movie.

Some more time passes as you talk Christmas plans with Gemma, who had arrived right after Harry had won the tequila contest.

You turn your head to check up on him again and your words lodge in your throat.

He’s gripping a booze bottle by the neck, a sparkler shoved into the top. Alexa is next to him, smoking a cig, and to your horror, you see him stick his tongue all the way out, making a beeline for the end of the lit cigarette. When Alexa backs up, laughing, shaking her head at him, he veers off course, his sights set on the crackling sparkler instead.

“Harry!” You call over the thumping music, scrambling up from the couch with a quick apology to Gemma and pacing towards him.

You get there just in time to snatch the popping firework off the bottle, putting it out and setting it on the nearest table.

“Have you gone mental?” You screech quietly, prying the booze from his big, clumsy hand as he pouts his ruby lips and puts on his puppy dog eyes.

“Y/NNNNNN,” he slurs, stomping one of his feet and coughing thickly, “s'just some fun, sweetheart. Liven up, would ya?”

“Swallowing a goddamn firecracker and licking a lit cigar is your idea of fun?” You snort in disbelief, grabbing at his arm as he teeters on his feet.

“Ooooh,” Alexa hums dangerously, chuckling as you scold him. “Someone’s in big trouble.”

You roll your eyes at her playfully. “You have no idea.”

You tug Harry away from the bar, heading towards the first bathroom you see. He stumbles over his feet behind you, whining half-heartedly. At one point you pass Sandy, who whistles over at you both.

“You gon’ get a spankin’, Styles? Been a bad boy?”

Harry gives him a toothy grin, throwing the man a lazy wink. “You know it, mate.”

He then proceeds to slap his rear several times, releasing a high-pitched moan. “Oh, baby, just like that! I’ve been such a bad baby boy! Whip me into shape, please. I’m begging you!”

His friends burst into a roar, causing your cheeks flush.

“Come on, you bugger.” You tug him harshly, continuing your journey to the loo.

The door swings open and you shove him through it, locking it behind you. He wobbles over to lean on the marble counter, knuckling at his wide eyes as he giggles messily.

The bathroom is spotless, much to your surprise. Alexa had really gone all out for this party. You grab a linen towel from a big basket near the jacuzzi bathtub, wetting it under the faucet and drifting towards Harry, who is distracted childishly with his dog tag, tugging and twisting at it.

You dab the warm cloth onto his forehead, wiping the dried sweat and sliding it down his jaw and around his mouth to rid of the residue of liquor.

He behaves obediently, reaching up to play with the ends of your hair, tugging at it every now and then, his eyes quickly flitting up to yours to see your reaction. You wipe down his neck and the exposed bit of his chest until he’s fairly clean. You toss the towel in the dirty hamper, buttoning up his shirt once again and finger combing his floppy mop of semi-curls, then massaging his ears in small, long, circular motions.

He hums appreciatively, blinking sluggishly down at you and grinning like a fool. “S'good. You’re good, I mean. With your hands. You’re good with tour hands.”

“Oh, am I really?” You cock an eyebrow, amused at the suggestiveness of his words, even though he didn’t mean them in such way.

He nods his head quickly a few times, not catching on immediately, but the idea eventually dawns on him, eyes going even bigger. “Oh, wait! No, I didn’t– I, like…Not like that or anything! I meant it as in you’re good at massaging my ears, not my dick.”

“So I’m not good at handies, is what you’re saying?” You pout with fake hurt, looking down at your feet.

“What? No! No, you’re amazing, darling! You’re amazing at getting me off! It’s just that, at this moment, I didn’t mean it like that. But you aren’t bad, I swear. You’re real good at massaging everything– anything– I just–” He babbles aimlessly, seeming like a deer caught in headlights.

It makes you smile. “I know, dumbass. I know what you mean.”

“Okay, good,” he sighs in relief, looking down as you sift your fingers with his. “You’re good.”

You nod slowly, kissing his forehead with care. He squeezes your hands gently, melting into your body as you kiss all over his face.

“You’re…so good to me.” He glubs, his tongue suddenly losing feeling inside his mouth. His eyes slowly trail up to yours, his teeth worrying the inside of his bottom lip. “You’re…” Harry takes one of your hands, setting it over his belt buckle. “Incredible.”

You get the memo right away, your fingers toying with the metal bit of the accessory. “Yeah? How incredible?”

His breathing is hitching in his throat, his stomach making faint churning noises as the alcohol settles into his system. A hiccup jolts his shoulders, his eyebrows scrunching at the spontaneous motion. Your hand is already worked into his pants, fingers cupping him over his briefs. He’s hot and heavy over the fabric, twitching with excitement.

You grope him roughly, repeating your question. “How incredible, H?”

His eyes flick up and down between your actions below and your eyes up top, dopily picking at the nails on his long fingers. “Really incredible. Don’t–” he swallows heavily, chipping off a large piece of the black nail polish you had helped him coat on a couple days back. “Don’t deserve you sometimes.”

You’re movements stop and an objecting whimper strings out from him immediately.

“What d'you mean you don’t deserve me?” You question quietly, reaching your free hand up to cup his jaw, your heart melting when he cradles it into your palm.

“S'like…” He trails off, sniffling faintly and you remember how sentimental he can get when he gets drunk.

“It’s like what, baby?” You nudge gently, smiling up at him with soft encouragement.

Harry’s breathing becomes more controlled as he switches hands now, all of the nail lacquer chipped clean off his right hand. “Can you…can you keep going?”

“Hm?”

“Can you…” He clenches his thighs, bringing your attention down to his swollen prick. You hadn’t realized how badly it had started to throb. He looks away shyly, cheeks and neck strawberry red as he asks you to keep jerking him off.

“Sure, Har. Feels nice? Helps you think a little better?” You dip inside his underwear, tugging his wet shaft out of its confinements and pumping it slowly.

“Y-Yeah,” He sighs shakily, hands trembling. He throws his head back against the light, lavender wall, the muscle inside his jaw ticking. “Oh, fuck yeah…”

“Now what’s this whole–” You give him a small squeeze just below the head, thumbing a couple of times over his leaking hole, just how he likes it, “thing about not deserving me?”

“S'just…after I got off on break, I said I had done it to spend more time with youuu-oh!” His hips give a tight buck into your cupped hand and he’s obviously trying to control himself.

“Yeah?”

“And then I took up the m-movie deal. And you…you weren’t even angry at me? I did it out of no where and you were nothing but happy, even though I broke the promise…” He’s sniffling again, wiping his nose along his shoulder with the shirt sleeve. “You did nothing but support me when I just left you hanging like that and I don’t deserve your patience. I leave you all by yourself to go on tour, get off of tour and then leave you again to do a movie and you haven’t said one bad thing and I just…And then now, having to deal with me drunk off my ass and trying to eat a fucking cig, for Christ’s sake! I don’t–”

“Bullshit.” You state, your tone so strict to the point where he jumps slightly. “I knew that dating you would come with this and I did it anyways because I love you. You never have to worry about this stuff with me, H. If I ever get sad about it, I’ll tell you, but don’t beat yourself up, alright? You live an exhausting enough life as it is, so don’t worry about me, okay? I’m always gonna be here for you because you more than deserve me– you’re a good man with a huge heart and you’re doing all you can to get a good, solid career. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Harry smiles all watery, kissing your nose. “I love you– fuck, I–so much. You’re just…can’t even put it into words.”

You kiss at the pulse in his neck, murmuring comfort. “Love you, too, my sparkler-eating dumbass.”

He chokes out a laugh, which is cut off by a hearty moan as you give his dick a twist.

“Can I finish you off now without any more tears being shed?” You tease, biting along the skin of his jaw.

“Hell yeah.”

anonymous asked:

can you write something about eddie getting into a toxic relationship and richie finding out about it and pretty much wanting to kick the other guys ass for upsetting eddie + the losers club convincing eddie he deserves better & someone who will appreciate and love him for who he is (aka richie)

pining and angst are my fucking favorite thank you for this

get ready for a whole ass fic because I don’t have self-control. this is 2.3k words. I hope you like it!!!

to set the scene: they’re seniors in high school (18yo), modern au 

warnings: drinking, cursing (duh), mild nsfw parts (not smut, just a tiny makeout thing), f-slur / homophobia, and (hence the prompt) an abusive relationship


John Maxwell was a buff, handsome football player. Quarterback of the team. Did pretty well in school. Had parents with some money. A total fucking cliché, right down to being secretly in the closet.

Richie couldn’t stand the prick. Not only because he was a bit of an asshole in general, but because he was dating Eddie. Richie’s soft and caring and snarky Eddie, who had finally come out of the closet a year ago, was being strung along by a closeted guy that did nothing when Eddie was being bullied.

Richie wasn’t alone in hating John; none of the losers liked him. He just gave them a bad feeling. He wouldn’t take Eddie out, and wouldn’t let Eddie come to his house or hang out with him in public for fear of anyone seeing them together. The only time they saw each other after school was when John snuck into Eddie’s room in the middle of the night, when he was sure no one would see them. Bill had tried to talk to Eddie about it, as well as several of the other losers, but Eddie wouldn’t listen to them. “I like John,” he’d say defensively. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before; I could not have another one after this. Just let me be happy.”

But he wasn’t happy. They could tell. Whenever they caught Eddie looking at John, laughing with his friends on the team, talking to girls who flirted with him, ignoring Eddie and his loser friends, they all saw the rejected and lonely look in his eye.

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Leave A Message: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: AU, After a night of heavy drinking, Betty Cooper realizes she’s left a series of revealing messages on her crush and roommate, Jughead Jones’s phone. 

Words: 1,600

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, swearing, sexual dialogue but mostly embarrassing fluff. 

A/N: I’ve edited this myself so I apologize for errors. 


Betty Cooper’s head was pounding. She had made the mistake of going out with her roommates Cheryl Blossom and Veronica Lodge to celebrate the end of finals. Now she was sitting at their kitchen island cradling a cup of coffee, trying to figure out if IHOP delivered.

“Good Morning!” Cheryl sang as she skipped into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her luscious red was piled up on top of her head and her skin was glowing. She looked like an angel not someone who had partied hard the night before. “How are you?” She asked Betty.

“I’m so hungover” Betty groaned resting her head on her arms. “I’ve never been this hungover.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have done all those shots of Liquid Cocaine.” Cheryl chuckled and began taking out a few frying pans. “You want some bacon and eggs?” She asked.

“I do!” Veronica answered, her silk black robe trailing behind her matching her beautiful black hair. She walked up to Cheryl and gave her a soft kiss. Cheryl and Veronica had been dating since before they had left Riverdale and their relationship was goals.

“How are you guys not hungover?” Betty asked.

“We didn’t do three shots of tequila and then perform a Coyote Ugly style dance on the bar. You drank so much you should be dead.” Veronica informed.

“I wish I was dead.” Betty said sliding off her stool and laid on the floor. “The tile is so cold. I love the tile.”

“You’ve seen better days, Cooper.” Jughead Jones exited his bedroom from the other side of the loft and sat in the stool Betty just occupied. Jughead was Betty’s fourth and final roommate and she had developed a deep crush on him since the four of  them had moved from Massachusetts to California for school.  

Jughead had blossomed in the sunshine state. He had taken up surfing and gotten a tan, transforming himself into a ripped golden god. Whatever girls didn’t like about his moodiness in Riverdale, they loved here. Betty hated that she didn’t make a move sooner and now that he was bedding Californian goddesses, she knew she didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh god.” She muttered rolling onto her back. She was so dehydrated she could hear herself blinking. She focused on Jughead messy mop of black hair when he appeared above her.

“Up we go.” He said lifting her into the sitting position. “Take these,” he dropped two extra strength Advil in her palm. “And drink the entire glass.” He instructed.

She did as she was told and steadied herself against him when she stood up. “I need to go back to sleep.”

“Yes, you do.” Jughead agreed walking her back to her room. “Do you need to use the washroom?” He asked.

“I’m not a child, Jug.” Betty snapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you not just rolling around on the floor moaning?” He cocked an eyebrow and helped her into bed. She got underneath the covers and he tucked her in. “Get more rest, you’re gonna need it.” He winked and left her room, closing her door.

Her brow furrowed at her choice of words but she was too tired to give it much more thought than that.

She woke up at 3 in the afternoon feeling much better. Still hungover but manageable. She stumbled out into the living room and found Jughead reading a book. “There she is!” He exclaimed. “I got more Advil out and grabbed some water. There is some left over Thai from lunch in he fridge if you are hungry.”

Betty grabbed the Advil, headed over to the kitchen and began heating up her food. Once the Thai was nice and hot she made way back over to the couch.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked not looking up from his book.

“Mmmm” She answered with a mouth full of food.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He questioned.

She shook her head. “Not really.”

“So you don’t remember dancing on the bar?” He inquired.

She shook her head.

“You don’t remember leading the whole bar in a rendition of ‘Come On Eileen’?”

“How do you know this? You weren’t even there”

“Cheryl was sending me videos.” He paused. “Do you remember making a phone call?”

“It’s 2018, Juggie, no one makes phone calls anymore.” She rolled her eyes and took a gulp of her water.

“You sure about that?” He asked again.

“I haven’t spoken on a phone in like two years.”

Jughead took out his cell, began scrolling and finally pushed a button. He held it up so they could both hear it.

“Jughead, mother fucking, Jones.” Betty’s gravelly drunken voice rasped out of the phone.

Her eyes widened and she started choking on her food.

“You fucking idiot with your stupid hat and your stupid attitude and your stupid face like you don’t know how amazing you are. Well, I guess you kinda do now with that revolving bevy of girls in our apartment all the time. And what is wrong with me huh? I’m hot, I’ve had six guys hit on me tonight. Six!”

She heard herself yell through the phone and she buried her head in her arms. “No, no, no.” She repeated over and over again.

“I’m smart too and my personality is okay, so what’s your problem Jughead, huh? I’ve been told that my vagina is like, the actual best. Like, what do I need to do? I guess there is a possibility that you aren’t interested in me but I’m the tits so why wouldn’t you be.” She paused. “Another thing, you actual piece of shit-” She was cut off and he lowered the phone.

“Please tell me I didn’t call you back.” She asked, looking at him through her fingers.

He was smirking and she wanted to smack him. “That was the first of fifteen messages. My favorite was how you told me that you obsess over how big my penis is but it’s probably just normal size and that you should stop worrying about it because this isn’t a romance novel.” He chuckled.

She made a whiny, crying sound, her face burning hot.

He didn’t say anything like she expected. She expected him to tease her, she expected him to tell her that they were friends but their relationship wouldn’t be anything more than that but he didn’t. She felt his weight on the couch beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“Would it made a difference if I did?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of a big difference, do you know how you appear to others? Do you know how intimidating you are?” His voice was soft and sincere.

“What are you talking about?” She snapped, rubbing her temples.

“You’re beautiful, smart and funny. You make everything seem so effortless, you should date an architect or something.”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with architects?” She moaned, falling back into the cushions of the sofa.

Jughead sighed. “Betty, did you ever think about just asking me out?”

She threw him some serious side eye. “Oh yeah Jug, I’ll just walk up to you and be like, ‘Hey, I know we’ve known each other forever and I’ve ignored you for most of it but now that you’re all hot and dating models and shit, you wanna go out on a date?’” She scoffed.

“Okay.” He replied.

“What?” She sat up quickly, wincing when he head throbbed.

“I’ll go out with you.”

“Why? You date hipster girls who wear glasses they don’t need and are way too big for their face. You date girls who always look good in a romper, always have perfect Coachella hair and eat avocado toast everyday. I go days without showering, I’ve slept in the library more than once, I’ve dropped a McDonalds hamburger on the ground and still ate it because I had spent my last dollar on it and it was all I could eat for 17 hours until I got paid. Last night I threw up in my hamper-”

Jughead cut her off with a kiss. Betty was taken aback by the sudden gesture and it took her body a moment to relax and really accept what was happening. Betty had fantasized about this moment every night for months. What he would smell like, what he was taste like, how he would feel. He tasted like the cinnamon tic tacs he was always eating, spicy and sweet. He smelled like clean laundry, the sea and coconuts from using the girls shampoo all the time. Betty ran her hands through his hair bringing him closer to her. His body was hard and muscular and he pushed it against her, his skin warm and tan and so different from what she expected.

He parted from her, a smile on his face. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Liar.” Betty whispered, her eyes still closed.

“Betty, I’ve had a thing for your since the ninth grade.” He admitted, kissing her again.

“Do you want to take this into the bedroom?” She cooed running her hands over his chest.

“No, Bets.”

Her head jerked back. “What? Why? You take all these girls to bed and not me?”

“Betty, you aren’t all girls, you’re the girl.” He smiled and kissed her again.

She smiled back. “Can you please, for the love of god, delete all the messages I left you.”

“Um, absolutely not, this shit belongs in the MOMA.” He took out his phone. “Prepare yourself for message number two.”