what a nice drink

Hot Stuff

Part 1:

After spending months piloting Blue. Lance had become used to the slight chill that would fill her cockpit from time to time.
He had asked Coran about it once and he had explained that the Lions sometimes gain comfort by surrounding themselves in their element.
Coran then went into a long story about how Green would occasionally sprout flowers in her cockpit.
So after Red claimed Lance as her paladin and he found her cockpit uncomfortably hot one day while on his way to a mission, Lance didn’t think anything of it.

“Ok team let’s go over the plan one last time” Shiro said over the coms.
“Hunk, Pidge and Allura will be checking their assigned planets for possible alliances. While Keith and Lance collect minerals.”
“Relax Shiro you sound like a worried soccer mom sending her kids to their first day of school,” Lance laughed as he tugged at his collar. He understood that Red liked to heat up and all, but man he was starting to feel dizzy.
“More like a worried space dad” Hunk sniggered.
“Or space grandpa when you think about his hair.” Pidge added.
“Ok that’s enough.” Shiro cut in a note of irritation to his voice before he sighed.
“I mean it be careful, the planet you two are going to has heavy storm clouds meaning if you get in trouble we can’t get to you.”
“We will Shiro.” Keith said as the planet came into view.

Getting through the clouds was easier said then done.
It was bumpy and jerky all the way down.
By time they reached the ground Lance felt sick from all the movement and couldn’t help but pity Hunk for having to put up with motion sickness at the Garrison.
He stood up and took exactly two steps before his knees buckled beneath him.
“Jeez Red… guess the beats really getting to me.” Lance mumbled as he steadied himself against the wall and slowly made his way out into what he hoped was the cool air.
However he was out of luck.
The planet was like a desert. A flat plains of dark grey sand.
Lance would of joked it was like they were on the moon, if he wasn’t sweating to death in his suite.
“What took you so long?” Keith asked standing by Black with his helmet on his hip looking around impatiently.
Lance shrugged “aww what’s wrong? Worried about me?”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get on with it.”
With that he was leading the way across the uneven ground like they weren’t walking through an oven.

After about an hour Lance was getting worried.
Keith wasn’t sweating.
Hell he didn’t even look to be hot.
He knew he had lived in a shack in the desert for like a year and all but still…
Lance had grown up in a hot country and his head was pounding behind his eyes with every step.
Not sweating could only mean one thing.
Heat stroke.
“H-hey Keith maybe you should sit down for a moment? Take a little break?”
Keith didn’t even look over his shoulder “no way, Lotor is still out there. We can’t waist time just sitting around because your sick of walking.”
Lance groaned, that’s what he gets for trying to be nice. “Fine but have something to drink atleast.”
This time Keith didn’t argue and instead took his flask from his belt and took a long drink.
Lance found himself staring at the water glistening on Keith’s lips.
He hadn’t realised his throats was painfully dry until that moment.
Lance fumbled with his belt trying to get his flask free.
However his hands felt heavy and like they weren’t quiet listening to his brain.
He dropped the metal flask to the ground and as he leaned down to pick it up the world suddenly seemed to tilt upwards.
The next thing Lance realises is that he’s lying on the ground and Keith is running towards him with a terrified expression on his face.

Brother Jungkook tells Taehyung to take you on a date, GONE WRONG. Pt.6

[PT.1] [PT.2] [PT.3] [PT.4] [PT.5] PT.6 [PT.7] [PT.8:END]

Originally posted by jimiyoong

Y/N’s p.o.v 

I can’t lie and say that I was completely terrified of this meet up with Taehyung. I felt as though there were still some healing cuts, I know I seem as though I’ve got my shit together now and I know I may seem as though I’m okay. But in reality I’m still terrified. I’m easing myself back into my old habits, trying to be the me I was before. I’m trying but I don’t know what’s real and what’s fake. 

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RFA + Saeran finding MC wearing their clothes/underwear (NSFW)

These two anons suggested something similar, so I combined these. And… two NSFW requests on a row, gurl… the sin is real!

Hope you like this


  • He only sees your upper half since you’re behind the balcony
  • Awww, you’re wearing one of the white tank tops he usually wears to work out, how cute! But… where is your bra?
  • “Good morning, Zenny! Slept well?” “I always do when you are in my arms, princess…” this man just woke up and it’s already being that smooth? Jesus…
  • You giggle and blush. “You’re so cute when you blush, babe.” “Cute? I’m as red as your boxers, Zenny!” now he’s blushing, do you remember the color of his boxers from last night?
  • But wait! He’s not wearing red boxers and… LORD GIVE HIM STRENGHT! You move from behind the balcony to put the breakfast on the table and he sees… YOU are wearing his red boxers!
  • “B-babe?” “Yes?” you answer without looking at him, focusing on setting the table. “Wh-why are you wearing my underwear?” “Oh? I’m sorry, I just picked the first time I found in the closet, on that note, can I have my own drawer? It’s kinda messy in your closet with our clothes all mixed…” dressed like that, you can have anything you want from him!
  • “B-but babe…” “Oh, I’m sorry! I should’ve asked you, right?” you pout. OH MY GOD! It’s 8 am, MC! Too early to unleash the beast!
  • You know this look, you always know when he’s fighting internally with the beast. “I’m sorry, Zen. I’ll change right now!” you smile and pass right beside him, heading to the bedroom, he grabs your wrist and pulls you for a deep kiss
  • He pins you against the wall without breaking the kiss, his hands already looking for the bra… oh yeah, no bra… well, better for him.
  • “How come my own clothes look better on you?” he asks while his hands play with the tank top hem. “Why are we still talking about clothes and not taking them off?”
  • “Oh babe, you’re so bold…” his lips attack yours, the tank top is so baggy he manages to take it off of you just sliding the straps from your shoulders.
  •  His mouth travels to your breasts quickly, giving you some nips. Oh… you know that fight with the beast from before? Yeah, he lost…
  • Not that you’re complaining.


  • He wakes up super down to some cuddling, but… you’re already up? Too bad…
  • He blushes noticing the pool of clothes from last night still on the floor. He should pick them, but… he looks at them and can only remember what you two did.
  • “Good morning!” you greet him, he doesn’t answer. He’s frozen to the image of you cooking wearing his blue t-shirt.
  • You look beautiful in every color, but you in blue is so mesmerizing… he’s just worried if this tee isn’t dirty or smelly. Just imagine how embarrassing it would be and… HOLY SHIT!
  •  You go to him, he notices your bare legs and his dark blue boxers as your pajama bottoms. “Yoosung, are you okay?” OF COURSE HE’S NOT!
  • “MC, is… is… this… my… my, un-underwear?” “Hum? Oh, yes, it is. I’m sorry, it was dark and I took the first thing I found in the closet.” “Why… Why didn’t you turn the lights on?” “I didn’t want to wake you up, you looked so tired…” of course, YOU let him that tired, ahem.
  • “Are you mad? I’m sorry…” “N-No! I’m not mad! How could I be mad? You look so hot and I… cute! I meant ‘cute’!” he’s trying so hard not to stare, you giggle and cup his cheeks, forcing to look at you while you give him a little peck.
  • But he wants more, so he holds you when you try to back away. His hands circle your waist, bringing you closer as his tongue shyly meets yours in your mouth.
  • You sigh in satisfaction, and boy is not that shy anymore with his tongue as one hand of his moves to the back of your head, his fingers tangling to your hair.
  • “You look so good in blue…” he says, pulling you away a little to admire you one more time. “Guess I should wear blue more often if that’s how you’re gonna react.” You play with his hair and smile, oh… he really thought he was the one in control of this?
  • “MC… do you… do you mind taking this to the bedroom?” the way you wrap your arms around his neck and kisses him can only mean ‘no’.
  • But he would still like to have the upper hand this time, so his hands move to your ass, giving it a little squeeze before going down the back thighs, making you raise your legs and wrap them around his waist.
  • He carries you to the bedroom. Well, guess that pile of clothes on that floor will gain a few more pieces…


  • She wakes up and smells the fresh coffee. Oh… what a nice surprise drinking your coffee that early in the morning.
  • You’re wearing a long-sleeve button shirt, judging from all the room in the bust are, it can only be her shirt.
  • She doesn’t mind, you two have this habit of sharing clothes, even though yours usually feel really tight in her chest since your boobs are fairly smaller.
  • But sharing panties? That’s new! She knows it’s hers because usually you wear thongs while she likes the bikini type more.
  •  This arouses her more as she would care to admit. You making coffee while looking that cute it’s too good for this hour in the morning…
  • “Earth to Jaehee!” you tease her waving your hand in front of her face. “Why are you spacing out like this?”
  • “Don’t ask as if you don’t know. Did you finally surrender to the bikini’s comfort?” “I guess, though thongs are cuter, don’t you agree?”on you? Yes, definitely.
  • “Anyway, your clothes are comfortable and smell like you,that’s why I put it,  I hope that’s not a problem…” How would this be a problem? You can’t say cute things like that looking so sexy! It’ almost a crime!
  • “The only problem here is that you look so beautiful I feel I won’t be able to get my hands off of you.” Oh wow… so bold in the morning, miss Jaehee… “Hmm, I don’t see the problem here…”
  • “Good.” She says bringing you closer, you’re so surprised by her sudden boldness you almost don’t know what to do with your hands, you start holding her forearms, then wrapping around her neck, but holding her by the waist feels more comfortable.
  •  One of her hand is in your cheek, moving your head as she wants, the other one is already undoing the buttons of the shirt. “You’re not wearing a bra, are you?”
  • You nod negatively with a wicked smile, that’s her cue to slide the shirt off of you and plant hungry kisses to your neck as you moan.
  • That delicious coffee you made would have to wait a little… okay, maybe a lot.


  • He got a little sad you weren’t beside him in the bed.
  • But as soon as he saw your back in the kitchen, that little sadness faded away completely. Of course he doesn’t need you cooking since he can always call the chef, but seeing you like this make him feel so special and loved…
  • And then he couldn’t help but smirk in curiosity realizing you were wearing his striped shirt from last night.
  • “May I ask why you keep stealing my clothes when you have the most comfortable and beautiful sleepwear in your closet?” you yelp in scare, just noticing him standing by the table looking at you with his arms crossed.
  • “They’re so fancy I’m afraid of ruining them. Plus, this smells nicer.” Cute… unbelievably cute! He heard about people being grumpy in the morning, but you’re just… cute.
  • He was about to say you won this one, then you bend down to take something out of the oven and he notices grey boxers showing up…
  • “MC?” “Yes, Jumin?” your eyes are still focused on the oven. “Why are you wearing my underwear?”
  • “Hum? Oh… don’t get me wrong, I really like those Victoria Secret’s ones, but this is so comfortable! Why is man’s underwear so much more comfortable? Ugh, it isn’t fair!” he narrows his eyes at you.
  • “You know what is really unfair? You provoking me this early in the morning before I have to leave for work.” He comes closer, his eyes locked to yours as a predator corning its prey.
  • “Provoking you? Me? Ah, come on, Jumin, it’s just und… mmm.” He interrupts you with a kiss, his tongue desperate trying to invade your mouth while his hands move to under the shirt, making you shiver.
  • You’re not feeling like having him in charge so much, so you break the kiss and start kissing his neck, he plays along and starts undoing his pajama so your tongue can roll down.
  • And it keeps rolling down his neck, reaching his chest, his abs… you tug his pajama trousers and smile playfully as find he’s wearing grey boxers too. “We’re matching!”
  • It’s still weird letting you in charge and he definitely needs to teach you a lesson for stealing his clothes but right now… all he can focus is in your mouth.



  • He is a light sleep, so when he hears some noises coming from that kitchen, he immediately wakes up.
  • Then he finds you wearing his hoodie and… nothing else? Ohoho, what a view in the morning, am I right?
  • “Good morning!” you notice him behind you and smile, he hugs you from behind and buries his face in your hair. “Yes, it’s a great morning!”
  • He presses his body against yours and feels there are some panties down there. Well, not as if this was less hot, anyway.
  •  “Someone is in a good mood, usually I have to drag you out of the bed, your lazy bum!”
  • “Well, now you should be careful I don’t drag you back there.” He tries to tickle your sides, but you shoo him away. “No! We have to eat something beside HBC at least in the morning, you know?” he pouts, but you ignore him, focusing again on whatever you’re cooking.
  •  And he knows you’re right, so he sits and just watches you. And he was really willing to leave you alone, but when you raise your arms to reach something in a higher shelf, revealing his kitten pattern boxers, he’s gone!
  • “MC?” “What now, Saeyoung?” you glare at him, only to find his eyes roaming to your body. “You know stealing my hoodie is one thing, but stealing my underwear is something I can’t let you get away, right?”
  • “So what? You’re always stealing my bras and I never say anything!” “But I do to be funny because I know I look pathetic, you can’t steal my boxers and look that hot!” “Well, I’m sorry I look so hot, are you happy?
  • He knows you’re not actually mad, you’re just teasing him. “Oh, you’re sorry? I see… but I don’t think I can’t forgive you just like this” he’s behind you again, now using his arms to lock you and corner you against the balcony.
  • “What do you want me to do, then?” “First, give me back my hoodie…” he unzips the hoodie, making you shiver. “But then… then I’ll have nothing on…”
  • “That’s the idea.” He takes it off of you and tugs your hair behind your ear, letting your neck and shoulder completely available to his nips and bites while one hand slips to inside the kitten pattern boxers.
  • Well, he warned you about dragging you back to bed, didn’t he?


  • It took him a while to get used to sharing the bed, but now he got used to it, he hates waking up without you beside him
  • Then he finds you in the kitchen making breakfast… okay, you’re forgiven this time.
  • But he can’t forgive you for wearing one of his sweaters and… one of his black boxers? WHAT THE FUCK?
  • “Hey! Who told you could steal my clothes like that?” “Good morning to you too, Saeran!” you smile sweetly, ignoring his glare.
  • “Don’t mock me! And what’s with you wearing my boxers, you pervert?” “Don’t think too highly of yourself, it was just the first thing I found in the closet.”
  • “Ugh… you’re impossible! What would you do if I stole one of your panties?” your eyes gleam “Would you really? I would recommend a pink one, you would look so cute!”, he blushes, you’re obviously not taking him seriously… or maybe you are a pervert after all.
  • Either way, he’s not pleased. He doesn’t like this invasion of his personal space, like, the most personal space he could have.
  • So he corners you against the balcony, and having you this close wearing his sweater and boxers, nothing else… he’s almost forgetting why he was mad.
  • “You’re tempting me, aren’t you?” “Ugh, not everything is about you…” you look so cute when you get mad like this… he grins.
  • “But okay, since you don’t like it, I’ll take it off!” YES! Oh… no, you mean change, right? “Well, allow me to take it off for you.”
  • He hooks his thumbs on the waistband of the boxers, you look down in anticipation, then look back at his face, reaching his mouth for a deep kiss.
  • He takes this as a chance to grind on you , his hand slowly pulling the boxers down your thighs as he moves his mouth to your neck, biting and letting a few hickeys.
  • Now he definitely forgot what he was mad about before.

neon-lagoon  asked:

"Dark Star: H.R. Giger's World" was a pretty good documentary on him, I enjoyed it. My favorite thing I learned bout him was the tiny train he used to ride in a miniature nightmarish theme park he had in his back yard.

And you just improved my day considerably since I’m now imagining Giger (with a black conductor’s hat on, of course) rolling around on a tiny train. :D Thanks. You know, I’ve had that doc suggested to me before…I think. Yeah, I believe I have. I also think I say that I don’t know anything about him and would probably enjoy learning more pretty often (every few months or so). I guess I should bump it up on my endless list of stuff to explore, hm? I appreciate the rec very much. Have a nice weekend.

Originally posted by mirkokosmos

painthekiller  asked:

Okay so logically I know you write porn. But for some reason I can't picture it. Like at all. You're just the fun quirky witch living down the street giving advice and spilling your life stories from your environmentally controlled porch with your very nice allergy considered cookies and drink of choice.

What a pleasant mental image you conjure up of me. You’re half right with the cookies, though I dare say one day I’ll get round to having a porch.

And while I can see why the two ideas might conflict for you and a lot of other people, I don’t necessarily regard writing porn as something seedy or underhanded to be hidden away. I might joke about how my mind is like the gutter, particularly when I veer towards writing things a little more…involved, but like the Oscar Wilde quote, I’m also looking at the stars—it just so happens to be the brightness reflected in another person’s eyes.

I enjoy writing about sex, it allows me to explore other ways in which people connect and find joy in each other and themselves, however vanilla or “extreme” that exploration might be. 

I don’t believe it to be the ultimate expression of love, because love is not a necessity towards good sex, and neither is sex necessary to express deep love, but I do believe it can be a part of it for two or more like minded people. Whether it’s gazing deeply into your partner’s eyes as you move tenderly together, or trusting someone enough to let them tie your hands behind your back and take care of you.

Ultimately I like people and I enjoy writing about people, and sex is just one more way of doing that. So I might be the well meaning witch down the road sitting on my metaphorical porch sipping lemonade and eating allergy friendly cookies with a hopefully sage bit of advice for anyone who needs it.

But I’m also Nanny Ogg—crude old baggage with more children than is respectable and a healthy appreciation for innuendo and puns. And I’m quite content with that.

Second Chances || 01 (A)

Word Count: 4.9k
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Angst, Smut, College!AU
Synopsis: You run into your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook, at a frat party one night. Tension builds between the both of you once again after another argument about his infidelity. Will you finally look past his mistake and forgive him, or will you go on forever hating him?
A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely @seoulscapes for beta-ing my first fic! This series will have about eleven chapters to it and will be updated as time goes on. Feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy the first chapter of my “Second Chances” series!

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2D☆STAR Vol.6 - B-PROJECT Private Uncensored Special

B-Project, who while going through movie appearances, live concerts, in the middle of 6 consecutive new song releases, and always going through the pressure of work, talked about their private lives! Driving, drinking, and even their bedrooms!? We’ll reveal what they talked about! There’s no doubt that you’ll be knocked out from the difference in the smiles you see on TV ❤

Please consider supporting by buying the magazine!

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Cozy Sweaters, Fall Weathers

Summary: Fall time has come around, one of your favorite seasons of the year, pre-apocalypse. Thanks to a lucky run of the Saviors, you were able to relive some of your favorite things once again.

Words: 1103

Pairing: Negan x Reader

Warnings: None, maybe implied Smut? Idk, it’s very soft here

Originally posted by rikkisixx

A/N: This is written for @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash ‘s “fall into negan writing challenge” and I’ve chosen the prompts Cozy sweaters and Pumpkin Spice Lattes! :) Hope you enjoy and leave some feedback!

Fall time has arrived at the Sanctuary. And while you used to love Fall time due to all those little things you could finally do, drink or wear, it just wasn’t as easy anymore now that you were in the Apocalypse.

It was hard enough to find yourself warm clothes and if some were found, you had to work hard to earn them. Except you had a good relationship with Negan or were one of his wives. You weren’t one of his wives and you didn’t really work for points but Negan and you were sure something special. In all honesty, you didn’t know why he even let you stay at the Sanctuary, considering you’ve known him before all of this happened and he liked to keep his past hidden but you honestly couldn’t explain.

You had been receiving some nice treats every now and then and you got to sleep with Negan. Weird, considering he had his wife-policy but why would you care? You knew that meanwhile, he just kept them as a nice look, he didn’t really do anything with them. Some of ‘em liked it, some of ‘em didn’t. But why would you care?

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imagine #16

character - Newt

words - 1073

warnings - n/a

description - Part 2 of this imagine

Originally posted by thefirstgingerdoctor

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Come lay your bones on the alabaster stones

A second one-shot inspired by the 1x13 deleted scene. Alice and Jughead have a late night heart-to-heart.

ao3—> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11758992

(also because i like continuity and cross-referencing, here’s the first one-shot)

It takes a week before he’s comfortable enough in the Cooper house to wander around without Betty, which makes it awkward in the moments he’s home and she isn’t. He winds up penned in whatever room he’s in when someone comes in. Sometimes, it’s his room which is nice because he basically has the run of the basement and there’s a TV down there, but which also makes him feel guilty, like he should be trying harder to assimilate with the Coopers as a unit. But if Jughead’s in the kitchen or the living room, he winds up stuck in that room, trying his hardest to make small talk and seem normal. Once, he spent forty-five minutes talking to Hal about car engines. He knows nothing about car engines. He had to check with Betty later to make sure he hadn’t said anything stupid.

He’s getting over that though, slowly but surely, his curiosity overtaking his social awkwardness. Because he’s discovered that he’s the only one ever awake at 2 am, and so it’s prime snooping time. He discovered it by accident, one night coming out of his writing trance dying of thirst. He filled a glass from the chute in the refrigerator door and wandered the ground floor in the dark, peering into picture frames. The wall below the stairs is a visual timeline of Polly and Betty, from photos of them in their hospital blankets right down to a photo of Polly at prom last year and one of Betty with Toni Morrison’s arm around her.

Now it’s become a bit of a nightly ritual. He’s moved on from picture frames to picture albums. Mundane residua that exist as testament to the Coopers’ deep love for one other. He knows his father loves him. But their life has never encompassed either the leisure time or the inclination for an activity such as scrapbooking.

Tonight he eases his way up the stairs, avoiding the creak he’s discovered in the second step from the top. He’s had a breakthrough on how to wrap up a dangling plot thread, and is ready to sleep knowing he’s earned the night’s rest. But not before he makes it through “Polly and Betty 2011-2012.”

At first, he doesn’t notice the under cabinet lights are on in the kitchen, because at least one usually is. A courtesy night light for any late night prowlers, ie, him. But tonight they’re all on, and Alice is sitting at the table, wrapped up in an oversized sweater, both hands around a steaming mug of tea. He stops in the doorway.

“Jughead, what are you doing up? Couldn’t sleep?”

“I’m always up now, Mrs. C.” He cups the back of his neck with his hand and ruffles his hair. “I actually haven’t been to bed yet.”

“You’re a night owl. And you’ve been up night after night alone?”

“I don’t mind. Betty’s tried to stay up with me a few times, but she always falls asleep.”

Alice’s face moves as if she’s smiling, her eyes crinkle warmly, though her lips stay motionless. “I suppose we’ll all have to make some adjustments. That will be good for us.”

He gets his water and takes a seat across from her at the table. “Listen, Mrs. Cooper. I just want to thank you again. I don’t know how to tell you how much I appreciate your and Mr. Cooper’s letting me stay with you.”

“Jughead, I’ve told you, if you’re going to be living here, I want you to call me Alice.” She pauses to take a sip of her tea. “Are you settling in alright?”

“Yeah, it’s nice.” It is, but he can’t quite articulate to Alice what he means by that. He’s still adjusting to things in the Cooper household. They’re quieter than he’s used to. People move more softly. They say please and thank you and they offer to refill each others’ drinks when they go into the kitchen. He’s not suffering from any delusions, he knows they’re all crazy, even him, but still it’s nice.

There’s a soothing regularity to being warm when he falls asleep and when he wakes up, to knowing where his next meal is coming from and that all the USDA-mandated food groups will be covered. He loves Archie and Fred, they’re his family, but he doesn’t think it ever occurred to either of them that an air mattress on a cold wooden floor doesn’t the warmest of beds make. Especially in November in an old house. Plus, with a few more consecutive meals of frozen pizza, he’s pretty sure he’d have gotten scurvy. Especially because the Andrews men always opt for ‘Meatzza.’ And it’s been a long time since FP was capable of getting a family dinner on the table.

He feels guilty even having these thoughts. But Betty’s stopped brushing his under eye bags with her fingers the way she’d taken to in the last few weeks when she got so preoccupied worrying about him she stopped being self conscious. So yeah, it’s nice.

“What are you drinking? It smells good.”

Alice’s fingers tighten on the mug. “Oh, an herbal tea blend I use sometimes when I’m having trouble sleeping. Mostly chamomile, but it’s got some other herbs in it. Lemon balm, valerian root, catnip. I can make you a cup.” It’s a sentence but her intonation tells him she means it as a question.

He doesn’t know how to say no, he doesn’t drink tea, especially not tea with catnip in it, so he says, “Sure.” Apparently he doesn’t know how to talk to Alice Cooper at all. The Coopers are middle class in a way even the Andrews aren’t, in a way that goes beyond their gross yearly income. He’s known Betty since they were four and yet he hadn’t expected catnip tea and kale salads and the whole set of all-natural shower and shave products that had been waiting for him in the bathroom on the day he moved in. He’s been dying for days to make a joke about how bougie they all are. But of Archie and Betty, only Betty would get it, and he doesn’t want to give her another thing to feel self-conscious about. He knows she already worries about the class differential between them, that she still feels guilty about not knowing he was homeless.

Alice bustles around the darkened kitchen, switching on the electric kettle, scooping what to Jughead look like dried spices into a little metal ball she sets in a mug and then in front of him. Are tea bags not good enough for these people?

When she pours the water in, the smell, now much closer to his face, is overwhelmingly floral. Almost like perfume. But he lifts the mug and inhales deeply anyway, thankful that for the moment it’s still too hot to drink.

“Betty said you used to work at the Twilight.”

“Yeah, til it closed.”

She nods, as if Jughead, who had been the only one in the sophomore class with a paying job, is normal. “I want you to focus on school. And on being a teenager. But I’m sure it must be hard to lose that extra bit of autonomy that money can give. So if you wanted to find another job, for after school a couple nights a week, Hal and I could help.”

He doesn’t want to seem to eager, so he stares at the snow falling in the window behind her before answering, “That’d be great.”

“Not at the Register, though. You and Betty need at least one place you’re not together. Everyone needs somewhere to escape to. That took me five years of marriage to learn and I’m offering it to you for free.” Alice emphasizes her words of wisdom by pointing at him. “And no garages either.” Then she looks at him like he’s supposed to know what that means. Surely she knows Betty’s the one who belongs in a garage.

Then, horror of horrors, his stomach rumbles. Loudly. Alice smirks.

“How about some lasagna to go with that tea?”

“I never turn down food.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Jughead’s coasted on his reputation as a human garbage disposal for many years. It’s assumed that he’ll want seconds, that he’ll finish other people’s leftovers. Betty has made more than one comment about his unfair-teenage-boy metabolism. But a prickle on the back of Jughead’s neck tells him that’s not what Alice means. She pops a large square of lasagna in the microwave then comes back to face him, a new glint in her eyes.

“I remember what it feels like to go to bed hungry.” She doesn’t direct it to him necessarily, it’s not accusatory. But almost, conspiratorial? As if she’s charting out neutral waters where they can meet.

“I grew up in Sunnyside, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know that, Mrs. C—” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Alice. I didn’t know that, Alice.”

Her smile is warm. “I did. Until I was 17 and moved in with an aunt who’d gotten out and had an apartment over the hair salon on Fifth. It was almost too late though. They didn’t let girls in the gang officially then, but I was around enough to get into some stuff I had no business being a part of.”

Jughead chokes on his catnip tea. “You were a Southside Serpent?”

“Mhm. I’m surprised your dad didn’t mention it when you and Betty started dating. Every day I expected her to come home and throw it in my face.”

He’s not sure how to respond to that so he waits while she retrieves his plate from the microwave, setting it in front of him with a fork and a folded napkin.

“But you’re not a Serpent now?”

“Of course not. I put enough distance between us and I didn’t know anything really dangerous so eventually they let me go. Plus I started dating Hal that summer and things got serious between us pretty fast. And his dad was the mayor, so they couldn’t get too close to me anyway.”

To say Jughead is stunned would be an understatement. Alice Cooper, pastel spokeswoman for suburban perfection, grew up in a trailer park and ran with a gang as a teenager — ran with his father’s gang. It’s almost like she’s trying to tell him they’re the same. He wonders, uncomfortably, if they are. And it gives a new shade of meaning to the dream he’d had once of Betty in a poodle skirt and Archie with a knife in his back. He’ll have to untangle the resonance of that one later.

But now she’s revealed something of herself and, in the calculus of interpersonal relationships, Jughead knows it’s his turn. “I was surprised when you guys offered to let me live here. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really grateful. But, to be honest with you, I didn’t think Mr. Cooper liked me all that much.”

Alice sighs. “Hal is a good man. He’s a good father. But he has the privilege of seeing the world as black and white in a way that you and I can’t.” She looks up from her mug of tea and meets Jughead’s eyes. “He’s always been that way. So clear about right and wrong. I’ve tried for most of our lives to mimic that. I was so sure he was right.” She trails off for a moment and the silence settles like a blanket of snow. “All I’ve ever wanted was to do what’s best for my children, all my children. And I’ve made a lot of mistakes in pursuit of that. Some of them irreparable. But some…I have a lot to atone for.”

Jughead swallows. She seems to need to speak, and he wants to hold that door open for her. “I don’t know about Polly, but Betty does knows that. She knows how much you love her. You’re a good person too.”

She nods, but looks as if she’s not really paying attention.

“Good people in bad circumstances still do bad things.” It’s a truth Jughead is intimately acquainted with, and, yet, in Alice’s mouth the words seem heavier, more personal even. Maybe because he knows about her son. Maybe because he knows that, like the hand of God, she’s plucked him off his father’s path and deposited him on her own.

“You’re here because Betty loves you and because you’re a good kid. You deserve better than what you’ve been given. It’s hard, almost impossible to climb out of that hole. Someone gave me a hand once. Now I’m passing on the favor.” She twists her empty mug from hand to hand. “Your dad’s always meant well, always done his best in his own way. He doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him. If the situation was reversed, I like to think he’d do the same for my daughters.”

“You talk like you know him.”

“We were close, once. People don’t change that much.”

Jughead thinks about the baby Serpents he’d met at Southside High. “Can I ask—Betty never mentions any family—do you still know anyone, have anyone left on the South Side?”

“No, they’re all gone now.”

He reaches an arm halfway across the table then lets it fall. “I’m sorry,” then, catching himself in time, “Alice. I know this is lame, but if there’s anything I can do.”

She smiles at him as she pushes back her chair and stands up. “You know what you can do? You can make good. And rinse that plate before you put it in the dishwasher.” She takes both their mugs to the sink. His is still three quarters full. Jughead’s ears feel hot. She shakes the contents of the little metal ball into the compost bucket beneath the sink, then loads everything into the dishwasher. When she turns back she says, “Liking tea isn’t a pre-requisite for being a Cooper.”


“Sweet dreams, Jughead.”

“G‘night, Alice.” This time he doesn’t trip over her name.

A few minutes later, Betty appears in the doorway Alice has just vacated, her face a mask of sleep and concern. “Juggie? What’s going on? I got up to go to the bathroom and I heard my parents’ door close.”

“Me and your mom were just talking. She fed me lasagna.”

Betty stumbles over and curls up on the chair next to him, her head on his shoulder.

“Here, baby.”  He holds a forkful of food up to her mouth. Once she takes it, she sighs and snuggles deeper into him.

“What’d you guys talk about? Was she nice?”

“Just stuff. I’ll tell you in the morning when you’re not asleep. And yeah, she was.”

He sees her frown in his peripheral vision. “I’m not asleep. I’m just not a night owl like you.”

“Okay, Betts.” But by the time he’s finished eating, she’s fully asleep, making quiet snuffling noises.  He lifts her head off his shoulder and guides her as she melts onto the table. He turns and rinses his plate and fork before placing them in the dishwasher.

Then he lifts her back up and slings one of her arms across his shoulders. “Come on, early bird. Time for bed.” He presses a kiss against her hair, and together they stumble back toward the stairs.

Feysand Week - Jealousy

This is my third fic for Feysand Week, and the prompt is ’Jealousy.’



I was definitely not jealous.

Not in the slightest. I mean, what did I care that Rhys was talking to a woman? So what if she was stunning? I mean, Rhys and I were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. He was free to talk to whoever he liked.

But still. Did they have to flirt right in front of me? Some people were trying to enjoy their lunch. Which was what both Rhys and I had been doing at our local café, before the girl had walked in and spotted Rhys.

That had led to a hug –which I definitely did not care about – and a conversation that had been going on for about five minutes now. I don’t even think Rhys remembered that I was here.

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plot: in which fionn and ofc meet at a pub. she’s heartbroken and he hates his friends. (this is 1.1k words of nothing but fluff and some angst)

Author’s Note: I have no idea what I’m doing. I told myself I was going to stop writing fic about British boys yet…..here I am. I’d say I’m new here, but actually I write so much fic that I feel like this is about my 1000th rodeo. Still though, please be nice. xx

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Hmm.. Yeah, nice drink, thanks guys. 


What’re laughin at..? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY DRINK


Oh shit, haha, I guess that is pretty funny.. Haha

Happy April Fool’s Day, everyone x