#when she deleted the photos on Stephen’s laptop?

[naneki-maid]

Hohohoo ohhh so diana is crazy crazy

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Green

My first attempt at a modern au! Based off a fantastic idea by @minky-for-short where Stephen and Lucien's relationship starts off as a sugar daddy arrangement!

Please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3

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If anyone had asked- God forbid, he’d rather die- Stephen would have rushed to his own defence. He’d probably have done it while turning bright red and spluttering but he’d have insisted it was just a matter of timing.

It wasn’t a lie. He’d have to work right up until he went to meet Lucien if he wanted to get the reports on his last few cases submitted in time. Lucien had meetings early in the morning, Stephen didn’t want to ask him to push their date back any further than he already had and the thought of cancelling...well that wasn’t an option. Not because of Lucien, who was extremely flexible and understanding as far as people in this kind of arrangement went. He just couldn’t and he wasn’t going to give it any more thought than that.

But it was just because of the timing. Stephen wasn’t getting off on this or anything. There just wasn’t going to be time to change into it between the end of his overly long day at the justiciary and the start of his date so wearing it all under his work clothes was the only option. He’d have insisted that until he ran out of air, if anyone had asked, probably before jumping out of the nearest window.

But this, Stephen did have to admit to himself, was entirely indefensible. This was just because he was a hopeless degenerate.

“Just going to the bathroom,” he announced in what he hoped was a casual tone, dropping his pen down with a thunk on the blanket of newspapers spread out on his desk, ones he’d been scouring for signs of magical miscreancy. More than half of their cases came from just noticing something odd in those tiny stories crushed up into the margins of local papers.

From the desk that joined onto his, though much neater and better organised and with less coffee cup rings etched permanently onto it, Esther looked up with a frown.

“I’m not your teacher, Steph. But okay, good for you,” she muttered before turning back to her computer. She’d lost their game of rock paper scissors that morning so it was her turn to deal with all of the emails that were inevitably sent to the justiciary every day, majority of which were complete nonsense and all of which were painful to read.

Stephen winced, snatching up his phone and making a quick exit before he could make it any more obvious that he was hiding something. Getting to the bathroom was harder that it really should have been, given how close the desks were shoved together, how many stacks of papers sat precariously on desk edges, how many odd trinkets and artefacts humming with magic were left to scatter across the faded carpet. But Stephen had worked there amongst the justiciary’s chaos for long enough that he made it to the other side of the cramped office without causing a disaster, only needing to nudge a few things back into place with his power as he went. Thankfully at this hour there was no one else still here to express their irritation.

The bathrooms in the Council Building were a microcosm of the rest of the place- too small, poorly maintained, outdated and a decent place to cry when overstressed, overworked and overwhelming. But for once, Stephen was rather grateful for that fact because it meant the bathroom was only built for one person at a time, meaning he could lock the door and be confident that no one was going to walk in on him doing what he was about to do.

Stephen pushed back his hair and gave a long, steady exhale. Since he’d entered into this arrangement with Lucien Vaudrey he’d been doing a lot of thinking with cock rather than his brain and, honestly, he’d had no reason to regret it yet. Save a few mornings where walking wasn’t as easy as it might have been.

So his brain didn’t get a look in, he put his back to the door and quickly yanked open the first few buttons of his shirt, just enough that he could pull his collar aside and show a little of what was underneath. Not too much, just the start of the lacy paneling that made up the band that circled his upper chest, the edge of one of the black straps that zig zagged across his body in an array that had taken longer to work out than he was willing to admit.

Stephen ran his thumb along the black lace, shivering a little. He’d been so wrapped up in his work since walking into the office that he’d mostly forgotten it was there but every so often he’d shift in his chair or he’d stand too quickly and he’d feel the feathery touch of all that silk slip between his skin and his clothes like a caress. He’d had to shove the awareness away very quickly before it could send any more than a quick jolt to his groin and was just thankful that today had been one spent entirely at his desk.

But he was only wearing it because of the timing. He was on a tight schedule. Of course.

Now, as he flicked his phone camera open with a thumb and held it at a slightly raised angle like he’d seen people do when they knew far more about taking selfies than he did, he couldn’t help but be aware of it all. The way it snaked around his body and held him tight, branching out like roots hidden in the ground, putting the barest pressure on his hips and chest and the curve of his arse like the ghost of Lucien’s hands. Invisible under his deliberate choice of a dark blue shirt and his usual shabby suit, except for the barest glimpse he was allowing. Only known to him.

And now to Lucien.

Stephen took a quick photo of himself, holding his shirt open with one hand, using a little of his power to brighten his eyes. Of course he didn’t find the picture particularly impressive, all he saw when he looked it back over were the hollowness of his cheeks, the jut of his overly large nose and the immense bags under his eyes. How his hair needed brushing and the out of place tooth that showed in the slight part of his lips. But he’d learned to trust Lucien’s opinion on these things, his blindness to all the flaws that jumped out to his own eyes, and his lover’s response to this picture was too good to pass up for the sake of insecurity.

So he opened up the many texts he’d been exchanging lately with the contact in his phone that was nothing but an emoji of a feather. He typed out a quick message before attaching the photo and sending it on it’s way.

Got your present this morning. What do you think?

Stephen gathered himself together quickly, buttoning his shirt again and checking swiftly in the mirror that nothing was showing through. He wasn’t sure what someone looked like when they were wearing lingerie under their clothes but he tried to make his whatever the opposite of that was. With a thought, he set off the old, roaring hand dryer so it would sound like he’d been doing something people were supposed to do in bathrooms. When dealing with Esther, there was no such thing as overcovering his tracks.

He navigated his way back through the obstacle course of office equipment and magical paraphernalia to where Esther was scowling at her computer screen and stabbing the keys as she typed.

“I swear, if we get one more sodding email about UFOs I’m going to throw this thing out of the window,” she declared, viciously deleting like each one had offended her personally.

“Y’know there are days I wish practitioners actually were secretly working for a cabal of interdimensional aliens,” Stephen hummed, sliding back into his chair, “We’d probably have more funding if we were.”

Esther gave a mirthless snort of laughter, the text on her screen reflecting in her glasses, not even glancing from it as she took a swig of coffee. A mug had appeared on his desk too, freshly steaming.

Stephen was about to thank her when his phone buzzed in his hand, making him jump. He scrambled to check it, feeling his heart thud when he saw it was from Lucien. Two messages, short and sharp and impossible not to read in his cool tones.

Beautiful witch

You are in so much trouble

The handful of hours between those messages and half past ten had felt like an eternity. Enough that Stephen couldn’t hide his haste as he nearly sprinted from the Council Building to the Underground. He spent the long ride from the shabby borough the justiciary called home to Knightsbridge staring at his phone, rereading that message over and over again, his mind running away with all that so much trouble implied. He knew fine well he was going to arrive flushed, already half hard and salivating, ready to do whatever Lucien asked of him.

He wove his way through the evening crowds, stumbling into the bar they always came into. It was a sleek, expensive looking place, the kind of bar he’d never set foot in if he hadn’t been beckoned by Lucien. He felt every penny in his meagre paycheck when he walked through the door but he did like the warmth, the rich leather, the fact that nearly all of the other couples there were pairs of men too. He liked how Lucien would put his arm around him as they sat in their usual booth and he’d feel that flicker of belonging, in spite of everything else.

Stephen’s eyes, betraying his excitement more than anything else by being a sparking gold, tracked over the room until he spotted him. Lucien, having far more control over his working hours, often arrived well before Stephen and sat with his laptop or a book or a newspaper, a glass of whiskey at his elbow. But today the table before him was clear of distractions, he simply sat with his fingers steepled at his lips, his fine features set into an expression of patience. The kind of face a hunting cat would wear, knowing their prey would be along in due course.

And when his clear, grey eyes locked on Stephen, he simply smiled.

Swallowing hard, the younger man leapt to attention, clearing the bar and sliding into the booth with his lover.

“Evening,” he tried, casually, though his heart was hammering and his cock was aching.

“Just what did you think you were playing at, sweet boy?”

Lucien dispensed with the pleasantries, his voice already dropped into the low, rolling tones he used when Stephen was about to lose his clothes. He spoke softly so their conversation didn’t carry past the oak panelled confines of their booth but not enough that Stephen missed the heat in his tone. He tried to get a grip on himself, he had a feeling he’d need to walk across the room before too long.

“I thought you’d want to see,” he shivered as his tone slipped almost unconsciously into something playful, something teasing and faux innocent, an affectation that would have made a past version of himself gape in disbelief, “It looked so pretty and the note said you wanted me to wear it tonight…”

Lucien’s eyes flashed, “Did the note say to be a little prick tease and send filthy pictures to me while I was infuriatingly far away and couldn’t get my hands on you?”

Under the table, Stephen felt Lucien’s far longer, wiry muscled legs slide over his own. After waiting all day even that bare contact, through two layers of clothing, had him swallowing back a whimper.

"No...” Stephen dropped his chin, seeming to bow under the intensity until he let his eyes flicker up and catch Lucien’s, “My lord.”

He watched as the hard line of his lover’s jaw tightened. They’d been in this arrangement for a couple of months now and one thing Stephen had learned, amongst a host of new desires he’d never suspected he owned, was those words. Those words, referencing the titles that Lucien actually did own but denied in his everyday life, were essentially a crooked finger. They were Stephen essentially pinning a badge to himself that read ‘complete and unapologetic brat’, carte blanche for Lucien to master him however he saw fit. To break him, if required.

“Then you deserve everything you’re getting, don’t you?” Lucien shifted into something not unlike a lion winding back to pounce, “Because if you’re going to act like a slut, that’s exactly how I’m going to treat you.”

Stephen felt those words grip him by the nerve endings and he knew fine well he was fidgeting but didn’t know how to stop. He just looked at Lucien with mute, pleading surrender.

“I am going to get up and go into the men’s bathroom,’ Lucien gave the low command, “In five minutes, when you’ve got some kind of control over yourself, you’re going to join me. And I am going to show you what happens when you think you can make me wait. Colour?”

That last word was ever so slightly softer, offered rather than dictated. Lucien never failed to check in with Stephen whenever they were playing. It was in their agreement, of course, but Stephen had the strong sense this was just how the man would be with all his partners, for all his domineering tendencies.

Stephen swallowed and glanced around. There weren’t many people in at this late hour, this bar was more of a sophisticated runway for a night out and most of the crowds had moved to somewhere louder and more raucous. Just a few couples, like them, more wrapped up in each other than anyone else, not quite ready to let their dates end. He did some nervous mathematics on how likely they were to get caught, balancing the number of other customers with his ability to double lock the door with magic, dividing in the failsafe that he could always use a little bit of fluence in a real emergency…

Hopeless degenerate, Day, his brain sighed.

“Green,” he murmured and he couldn’t help the grin that flickered to life on his face, just for a moment.

Lucien clearly forgave the break in character, answering with one of his own before composing himself and smoothly rising, looking effortlessly in control as he loped casually towards the gent’s. Stephen stared at his arse the entire time without much remorse. He’d already made his bed, after all.

He timed the five minutes on his phone, drinking the remainder of Lucien’s whiskey in the meantime, giving the heady, smoky taste of it every scrap of his attention in an attempt to redirect some blood flow. It took the full time before he judged himself ready to walk across the room, before he could scramble up and follow like a dog at his master’s call.

Twice in one day, Stephen found himself endlessly thankful for single-person bathrooms, as he was yanked into one by the front of his shirt and the door slammed behind him with the very reassuring click of a lock. He double secured it with a little magic, all the same, as Lucien kissed him fiercely.

“There you are,” Lucien purred once he was done bruising their lips, not letting go of Stephen’s lapels and keeping him awkwardly standing on his tiptoes, “Surprised you managed to wait the full five.”

“You told me too,” Stephen gasped, aware that Lucien’s eyes were looking into his shirt, hungrily tracing the lines of lace that were now visible.

Lucien chuckled, “Too late to try and be a good boy now, darling. Shirt open. Trousers down.”

Stephen willed the ether into work, knowing it always impressed Lucien just a little to see the buttons and zips and buckles falling away with apparently no effort at all. It was quicker too, only a few moments before he was as instructed, all of the lingerie now visible to Lucien’s searching gaze. He seemed to drink in the sight, his gaze ravenous as those grey eyes slid up and down the length of him.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’d look divine?” Lucien groaned appreciatively, running a finger under the lace trim below his chest, raising goosebumps as he went.

“Uh huh,” Stephen gasped, unable to be more articulate than that, his need drowning everything else, “My lord…”

“Against the sink, sweet boy,” those strong, slightly calloused hands took his shoulders and guided him until he was bracing himself on the edges of the sink, Lucien’s chest pressed against his back, “I want you to see yourself.”

So Stephen watched this other version of himself in the mirror, bathed in harsh light from overhead. He watched as his pupils blew wide, as his slightly swollen lips parted in a gasp when he felt Lucien shift to pull a bottle of something out of his jacket pocket. He watched this ethereal, high contrast version of himself flush as one large hand caressed the curve of his ass through the lace before hooking it to one side. He watched his eyelids flutter and his head tilt back when a slick finger teased him open, and saw his lace wreathed chest heave when it breached him. Stephen watched this man who was somehow him be opened and readied with care and attention, felt every moan reverberate in his own chest, felt his own nerves pulse and thrum with pleasure. And he found himself thinking, as much as he’d been unable to say it before, Lucien had been right.

He’d told him he’d look divine and he did. He’d told him he was beautiful and he was. Maybe he always had been.

“Ready?” Lucien murmured, grazing his earlobe with his teeth, “Give me a colour, sweet boy.”

“Green,” Stephen gasped, voice raw and ready to snap, “So green, my lord, please…”

He felt Lucien’s laugh echo through him, his arms coming around to press them close, “You need to be quieter, darling, or we’ll need to find a new date night place.”

“Well get on with fucking me then,” Stephen grumbled, forgetting himself in his desperation.

“Ah ah ah,” Lucien let his voice grow dangerous again, one hand snaking down to squeeze his aching cock through the lace panties, none too gently, “What kind of tone is that, sweet boy?”

Stephen whined, biting his lip and shuddering, “Sorry, my lord.”

“Better,” Lucien pulled his hand back, using it to unzip himself, “Don’t I always give you what you need?”

He proved his point as he moved the panties aside again, pressing into Stephen, now giving him everything he needed with no hesitation, right up to the hilt. Stephen had to fight to stay quiet, gripping the sink with white knuckles, planting his feet as far apart as he could to try and make room. Lucien paused, kissing the crown of his head, before finding a steady, natural rhythm with his hips, aware they didn’t exactly have a lot of time.

Stephen melted into it, gasps and grunts as soft as he could make them wrenching from his chest, shuddering as Lucien’s hands began roving again. Between the hand working him through the fabric and the cock pounding into him, the tension climbed punishingly fast, until he was scrabbling for balance, heart pounding, breath coming in desperate pants.

“I...fuck, Lucien, I’m there, I...oh god,” he gasped incoherently, arching back against his lover.

“I’ve got you,” Lucien groaned, shifting to work at a deeper angle, “Come for me, sweet boy.”

Stephen did, with a strangled moan, all of the waiting and teasing and tension unravelling in one blissful moment that turned his vision white. A heartbeat later he felt Lucien empty into him, heat pooling low in his stomach which then ignited into the familiar rush of power their lovemaking always gave him. He went rigid, feeling that rush that was so, so close to too much, but he knew it would ebb and leave him boneless and trembling in Lucien’s arms.

“We...may not have thought this through,” Lucien panted, steadying him gently.

“Because I’ve ruined the lovely underwear you got me?” Stephen murmured, closing his eyes a moment, “Because we’ve somehow got to clean ourselves up and walk out of here with some dignity? Because you might have to carry me because I’m not sure I can actually walk?”

Lucien chuckled, “All of that. But also…”

He held out his arms, showing the patches of tan skin where the magpies should be. They were off again, animated by Stephen’s magic, a few already exploring under the lace, pecking curiously.

“I really should have worn long sleeves,” Lucien admitted.

Stephen couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing, both hands flying to his mouth to try and muffle the sound. Lucien dissolved too, burying his face in Stephen’s curls as he shook with wracking laughter.

Stephen knew, with his trousers around his ankles and shirt slipping over one shoulder, standing in a public bathroom freshly fucked and wearing lace lingerie, he should be feeling like a hopeless degenerate. And he did, pleasantly so. But that wasn’t the only thing.

If anyone had asked him he would have denied it. But in that moment, Stephen felt loved.

[bugheadjones-the-third]

Title: Inspiration . Summary: Jughead is suffering from writers block and Betty decides to help him get inspired. . A/N: Thank you, Lili and Cole, for destroying my study schedule this week. Those photos of Lili surrounded by flowers were just too beautiful and I couldn’t help make a Bughead version of that XD I hope you enjoy it, and please, give me some feedback! . . . She hates to see him like this.

A deadly glare is set on his laptop screen, three empty cups of coffee resting aside and that troubled inconstancy that consists of typing and deleting everything. His fingers are making a loud, clicking sound, as they dance violently around his keyboard, and she can hear the cursing under his breath, even if they’re coming out in a really low whisper.

Her boyfriend had been like that for what felt like hours now, suffering from the worst writer’s block she has ever witnessed, as he runs his fingers through the exposed locks of his dark hair every now and then. He's puffing his cheeks in pure frustration as he continues to stare at a blank page in front of him, tapping his feet against Pop’s tiled floor.

Perks of being a writer, she thought.

Jughead Jones the Third was sitting in a booth at Riverdale’s number one meeting spot, completely unaware of the world that surrounds him. Betty is sitting across from him, trying to finish her homework, but failing miserably as her blue eyes refuse to leave the boy in front of her. She knows he’s not conscious of her presence, for he’s even ignored the basket of fries Pops left for him, and she knows how serious things are at this point.

While he’s trapped in that attempt of writing a new paragraph of his novel, nothing else seems to matter for that boy and his beanie.

Oh, but it does matter for the girl with the golden ponytail.

Watching him slowly and uselessly drowning in that current state is harder than watching him write without being able to have a taste for the words. Betty doesn’t understand what’s going on in his head, but she sure as hell knows that if he doesn’t figure it out soon, his beanie will be covering an entirely bald head.

She has to do something, she thinks. She has to save that soft hair of his.

“ Hey, Juggie…” Her voice breaks the silence that had started after his keyboard was briefly spared from his anger. His eyes didn’t leave the screen, as his right hand rests over his upper lip.

It’s obvious that her words didn’t cross the barrier he had placed around himself, and for an instance, she can feel a certain annoyance building up in her stomach. She bites her lower lip, ready to try a little harder- and a little louder this time.

“ Jughead.” Her voice is, indeed, louder, but she still has no success. She clenches her fists, and her big, bright, blue eyes are now glaring at her boyfriend. He’s giving her no choice. “ Forsythe Jones!”

At the sudden mention of his name, the writer snaps his head up, his greenish-blue eyes now set on her. His Adam apple goes up and down in a gulp, for he can tell Betty is annoyed by something- someone- him. He doesn’t like the way she’s staring at him, and for the first time, he chooses to grab one, cold fried potato, shoving it into his mouth.

“ Hey, Bets… What is it?”

“ Don’t you think you should take a break?”

“ A break? But I barely wrote one line!”

“ Yes, and that’s exactly why you need a break. You’re stuck.”

“ No, I’m not.”

She says nothing, her eyebrow lifting in a way that says it all.

Oh, really?

“ Well… Maybe… I’m kinda stuck. But it doesn’t mean I should give up right now! What would’ve happened if Stephen King had given up while writing one of his books?”

“ Juggie, that’s not the point. Yo-“

“ Or what if Mary Shelley had decided to stop writing because of menstrual cramps?”

“ …What? That makes no sense, I mean-“

“ Or even better! I bet Truman Capote didn’t, couldn’t and wouldn’t stop writing his articles for In Cold Blood! Betty, I can’t give up!”

“ I’m not telling you to give up, Jughead! What I mean to tell you is that even Edgar Alan Poe must have suffered from writer’s block!”

“ Writer’s block?” He lifted an eyebrow, his lips creating a gap in pure disbelief. For a moment, Jughead seemed to be offended by his girlfriend’s words, and before he knew it, his head was already shaking in pure denial.

Writer's block, seriously? Who does she think he is? An amateur who spends hours writing about cliché couples and their dramatic hypocrisy?

No. He’s Jughead Jones and he’s writing his own, criminal novel about his own, small town. He’s living his own words, so there’s just no way he could actually be suffering from that curse.

No, not him.

His tongue is now playing around his lower lip, as a smirk tugs on the corner of his mouth. His head is slowly tilting to the sides, and his eyes are still trapped on hers in a way that sends shivers down her spine. Jughead’s expression looks amused as he looks at the concerned, cute blonde, and if not for his current writing issue, the beanie boy would’ve allowed a chuckle to escape his throat.

But he has no time for such thing.

“ Tch, There’s no such thing as writer’s block, Betty.”

“ Then how do you explain what you’ve been doing for the past 2 hours?”

“ I’m just unsure of which words to use. I’ll figure it out soon.”

“ I believe you will, and I want to help.” She says, softly, reaching out for his hands. Betty is trying her best to show him her support, but judging by his expression, he is not really taking her intentions seriously.

“ Thanks, Bets, but…” He holds her hands, brushing her knuckles with his thumb. “ I don’t think I would like to hear you reading the entire dictionary for me. Even if I’m sure your voice would make all the words sound a lot better.”

A sigh escapes her lips, as they soon return to their previous positions. Her hands are now forming a bridge in front of her face, as his eyes are now back to the screen. She hates his sarcastic, smart words more than everything now, and the pout on her lips shows how unsatisfied she is with this situation.

Apparently, he won’t be giving her another option.

Without thinking twice, the blonde stands up from the booth, and unconsciously, his eyes follow her golden pony tail dancing around in the air. She went to talk to Pop Tate and they giggle a bit before she finally returns to the booth with a wide smile spread around her face. Betty doesn’t sit, he notes, as she simply stands there, looking at him for as long as it takes for him to feel uncomfortable.

Betty Cooper really knows how to get his attention.

“Bets.” He stops and looks at her. “ Are you really just going to- Wait, what!?“

Before he could even finish his line, the Cooper girl is already closing his dark laptop, leaning down so their faces are just a couple of inches away from one another. Her eyes are intimidating right now, and somehow, he feels all the words and the sarcasm escaping from his body.

“ Listen, Juggie. If you really wanted me to read an entire dictionary for you, believe me, I would. However, I know this won’t work so I’ll be doing something that might actually take you off of this writer’s block.”

“ There’s no such thing as-“

“ Yes there is. And now, you’re gonna stand up, hold my hand and we will both be going out to find you some inspiration. Deal?”

Her breath is tickling his nose, her eyes are blinding his and her vanilla scent is invading his nostrils. Suddenly, he feels his palms sweating and his heart beating faster, as her idea- order- starts to sound quite appealing.

Perhaps, taking a break with his girlfriend won’t be that bad.

“ Fine. And where do you-“

“Awesome!” She pecks his lips, before carefully placing his laptop inside her purse, and in a blink of an eye, she’s already pulling him by the hand as they storm out of Pop’s. His free hand is holding his beanie down, as he stumbles, trying to keep up with her excitement.

Cheerleaders, he thinks.

“ Hey, shouldn’t we pay before we leave?”

“ It was my treat! Just tag along, okay?” While they are still running with no particular reason, Betty quickly turns to face him, with a warm, soft smile on her face. Her cheeks are blushing due to Riverdale’s cold air, and before he notices, there’s a blush spread around his cheeks too. Jughead is smiling, and when he finally answers the tight grip she has around his hand, the writer finally realizes that his girlfriend may be right.

And if he does need inspiration, then who would be better than his her to give him some?

————————————————————

At the beginning of their unexpected hike, their hands were intertwined together. However now, after walking through so many, rocky miles, Jughead is barely being able to keep up with Betty Cooper and her excited ponytail. They’ve been walking for almost an hour already, chasing the SweetWater river’s water upstream, and by the look on his girlfriend’s eyes, there’s still a long way to go until they reach the so called inspirational place. There’s a smile decorating her lips, and even if he appreciates the fact that she’s forcefully dragging him around, right now, he just wants to go back to Pop’s and resume his miserable and failing attempt to write something.

Jughead Jones the Third was not created to walk long distances.

At least not without a vanilla milkshake.

“Bets… Not that I dislike Riverdale’s natural, cold scenarios, but… Can we just go home? I’m starting to feel like the Revenant and I don’t really feel like going through that whole thing for an Oscar.”

“ Tch, stop being such a kid, Juggie… We’re almost there.”

“ You said that like half an hour ago…” He whispers, a childish pout gracing his lips.

“ Did you say something?”

“ Nope.”

“ Uhm… Then hurry up! Move faster or we will take longer than Leonardo took to crawl from inside that horse!”

A sigh escapes his lips as soon as he watches the girl cheerfully hopping from stone to stone as they reach a steeper part of the mountain. His lungs and his muscles are protesting as his eyes try to figure out the best way to cross those rocks, and it’s only when he reaches the last one that he knows he shouldn’t have ignored his own body when it tried to stop him from moving.

The last rock was covered by a thin layer of moss, and as soon as his dark converse steps on it, the only thing Jughead can feel is his entire body falling back in slow motion. His eyes widen, his lips part in awe, allowing a loud gasp to escape his lungs, and before he knows, the world is spinning.

It’s definitely gonna hurt, he thinks.

But surprisingly, it doesn’t. When his body stops in the air and his hand is enveloped in a warm, soft sensation, Jughead realizes it doesn’t hurt at all.

“ Wow! I gotcha!”

Big, bright, blue eyes stare at him with a little fear shaking her pupils, and a relieved smiles plays on her lips as she stands still, firmly holding his hand so he won’t fall and hit his head. For a moment, he feels his heart beating faster and a blush hovers over his cheek as he watches- from the best seat in the house- the sheer light that surrounds his blonde heroine.

She’s certainly a super girl.

“ And that’s why kids must stay at home.” He smirks, as she pulls him up so he can sustain his own weight.

“ Maybe next time I can find a way to carry you all the way up here.”

“ You know I wouldn’t find it all that bad.”

“ Oh, so are you saying I can ask one of the joggers to come and stay with us all the time? Maybe Arch could come.” She teases, watching as his lazy expression suddenly turns into a more serious one. Even if he knows she’s just joking, this is not the kind of humor that makes him laugh.

“…. I’ll pass. Tch, couldn’t you have chosen a closer place to take me? I wouldn’t complain if we went to somewhere as close as Pop’s.”

“ Stop being so lazy, Jughead! If going to Pop’s had helped, we wouldn’t have climbed all the way up here.” She holds his hand, swinging it back and forth. Slowly, she guides him a couple of steps ahead and before he notices, Betty stops and her eyes turn to face another direction. There’s a new light shining upon them, and a wide smile takes over her expression.

It’s definitely a good view, he thinks, feeling a silent sigh escaping through his nostrils.

“Now open your mind and let the inspiration come…. We’re here.”

It takes Jughead some seconds to finally build up enough strength to turn away from her porcelain face, but when he does, his greenish-blue eyes widen in pure surprise. In front of him, a bright, yellow field of lilies extends itself, blending in with some orange daisies and destroying the constant, winter gray that envelops the town. It’s a secluded and protected area that certainly goes against Riverdale’s own cold and mysterious atmosphere, and even if he’s not really fond of flowers himself, the writer suddenly starts to feel awkwardly well while surrounded by them.

His girlfriend really had a good idea in order to make him relax.

But inspiration is not something he can feel building up inside himself. At least not now.

“ So, what do you think? Beautiful, isn’t it?” She asks, biting her lower lip in pure anxiety as she waits for his answer.

“ Yeah… It’s really breathtaking, and I’m not saying this because I might have dropped my lungs somewhere on the way up here.” She punches his arm playfully, making the corner of his mouth lift in amusement. “ I appreciate the fact that you’ve brought me here, Bets… I really do…”

“ But…?” Her expression is soft, as she waits for the truth. The Cooper girl could tell by the way his eyes looked at the scenery in front of him that her attempt was, indeed, useless. She waits to hear it from his lips, and for they’ve always cherished the truth, Betty knew he will tell her exactly what’s on his mind.

They are trying to solve a crime. Lying isn’t really their thing.

“ But I’m writing a novel about a murderer… I doubt beautiful flowers and sweet scents will give me any kind of motivation.”

“ You’re right. It was a stupid idea…”

“ I wouldn’t say stupid… Far from that, actually. You were just trying to help, and it’s not your fault if it didn’t work. You did all you could.”

Oh, did she?

As a cold breeze hits their bodies and dances with their blonde and dark locks, Betty Cooper starts to think that she didn’t really try everything she could to help him rid himself of that block. Looking at the flowers right now and feeling his warm hand against hers is suddenly making her feel lighter than usual, and Betty doesn’t know if it was his scent or the flowers’, but she can feel a sweet scent invading her nostrils and leaving her in an inebriated state of heart.

Betty can feel the slightest changes happening around her, and as her heart starts to beat faster, she realizes that maybe bringing him all the way up here was nothing but a selfish wish from her jealous and needy love for the boy with the beanie.

Maybe all she wanted was his attention and those stunning eyes of his set on her.

Her eyelids are half closed right now, as she looks at him and allows the fresh air of the mountains to fill her lungs. She suddenly lets go of his hand, and before she knows it, her legs are dragging her towards the middle of that field of flowers. The yellow and orange petals brush against the tips of her fingers, as she looks like a little girl who has forgotten about spring after a long winter. There’s a simple smile on her face, and when she finally turns to face him and their eyes lock, her smile only gets softer.

Oh, how good it is to be observed by those eyes…

The eyes of someone who can eternalize that moment with his own, pure words.

“ Betty?” He’s confused, watching his girlfriend entangling herself with the flowers. “Are you okay?”

“ Of course I am! Come here with me. Have some fun!” She smiles brightly, not paying attention to where she’s heading to. “ I don’t understand how you can’t get inspired by this.”

“ I think I’ll pass… Maybe it’s the thin air… My brain needs oxygen.”

“ Your brain needs oxygen and I need a- AH!”

Her sarcastic comment is abruptly interrupted by a hidden root that ended up trapping her foot, and like an autumn leaf, Betty falls in the middle of the flower field. It was quite an amusing view, he admits, as he holds back the laughter that had suddenly built up inside his stomach.

Betty Cooper is beautiful even when falling.

“Betty?! Are you okay?” There’s an amused smile playing on his lips, and as he finally enters the yellow and orange field, Jughead starts to carefully look around for his girlfriend. Yellow pollen is sticking on his pants, and the buzzing sound of a bee tells him that he has messed with the wrong flower.

“ I’m okay…” She says, lifting a hand in the air as if to indicate her location. “ Damn, how did this happen?”

His long legs take him to the place where she is, and when his eyes finally find her, Jughead is surprised by the sudden hit he feels on his stomach. His eyes widen, his heart skips a beat, and before he knows it, the writer is at loss of words as he simply looks at the girl below.

Her golden locks are mixing with the flowers, as they're messily splayed around, daring to pop out from the ponytail. Her legs are brought up to her chest as she massages her lower back, and the faint yellow that covers her cheeks give the girl an air of freedom and innocence. Her eyes are still as blue as they could be, and he has to hold back the urge to call her the personification of the Blue and Gold.

Betty really looks cute like that, he thinks.

“ Were you trying to act like a disney princess or was that your audition for playing the role of the flower number 3?” He says, looking at her with an amused smile.

“ Really funny… I guess they forget about the things you can’t see hidden under the flowers.”

“ Well, if I were the director, I would call you back, Bets.”

She chuckled, holding a broken flower in between her fingers. “ I guess I only got the part because I murdered the competition.”

And that is when the 'M' word hits his senses. His eyes widen, the gears in his head start to spin and as he looks at her, Jughead can feel a certain excitement burning the tips of his fingers. There’s something about her position… And something about the scenario and the flowers…

Everything suddenly starts to blend together, and even Betty can tell that there’s something going on with him. She looks at him, with a confused expression ruling her face, and she soon finds herself deciding on wether or not she should call his attention.

There’s something going on with him.

But by the way his lips are twitching, the Cooper girl doubts it’s anything bad.

“ Juggie… Are you ok-“

“ Bets! You’re a genius!”

“ Am I?”

“ Yes! I mean… This is definitely not the best crime scene ever, but the way you fell and all… Do you think that’s how a dead body falls?”

“ … Are you looking at me and thinking about dead people, Jughead?”

“ Yes!” He suddenly pulls her up so they can stand at the same level, and as he observes her with curious eyes, Betty no longer thinks inspiration is something healthy for a young writer such as Jughead.

“ Should I worry about this or not?”

“ No… Maybe, I don’t know. I’m probably having a moment of epiphany right now!”

He's smiling happily at her, consequently causing her own lips to form an amused, proud smile. Seeing him like this is certainly much better than the way he was before, and even if she’s just being casted to play dead in his thoughts, Betty couldn’t be any happier for her boyfriend.

At last, the writer within him is back.

“ Thank you for bringing me here, Betty!” He says, pulling her face for a quick, chaste kiss.

And she can’t wait to read what his murdering words will do to those yellow flowers.

“ You’re very welcome.”

[whenyougoquiet-blog]

resentment

THEN: my mom for hitting me with a switch, for hitting me in general, for getting into cussing fights with her, for leaving me at home while she dated, for making me watch and care for my sister, for bringing different guys home, for spending the night with guys and leaving us home alone, for making comments about my weight, for not noticing I was sad and depressed, for not knowing I skipped school for a month

NOW: my mom for getting sick, for being disabled, for being helpless, for taking too much medicine and falling asleep on the toilet, for needing things from everyone and it never being enough, for being with a hateful man she can’t get away from, for letting my sister walk all over her and use her

THEN: my brother for never listening, for always getting in trouble, for doing mean things to me such as bashing my head into the computer screen, super gluing my hands together, constantly making fun of me, having his friends make fun of me, him and his friends calling me shamu, when people found out I was his sister they would be shocked because he was “cool” and cute and I was fat and ugly.

NOW: my brother going to prison, for cheating on all of his girlfriends, never holding a job down, never trying

THEN: my sister for being pretty, skinny, tan. for having boyfriends before I did even though I was older, for always tagging along to my friends

NOW: my for having a baby and not loving her enough, for letting her daughter witness her fighting, for getting pregnant again, for staying with her stupid boyfriend who treats her like crap, for not doing something with her life

THEN: my dad for not wanting me, for beating my mother, for beating my brother, for not claiming my sister as his own, for not meeting my mom on pick up days and we would wonder why he didn’t want to see us that weekend, him never calling to even cancel, for not talking to or seeing us for months at a time, for making us go to his family's house where they would make us feel like outsiders, constantly being judged for my weight by my family and going shopping with my grandma and aunt and being so embarrassed because nothing fit or looked good, for doing the same with his new wife- for caring more about her kids than about his own

NOW: my dad for not wanting me, I sought my father out on Myspace then Facebook and tried to make a relationship. We met up a few times here and there but then he just stopped trying. He would message me randomly and say things like “hope you are well” and he would like my Facebook photos and even share old ones of me on my birthday even though he never offered to meet up or even see me or call me on my birthday. To share photos of him with his “grand kids” which are his wife’s grandchildren and to not be involved in his own children’s lives makes me sick. After much debate I decided I didn’t want him to peek inside my life and know everything that’s going on without actually being apart of it, to me that is not fair. You can’t tell the rest of your family about my life, tell your coworkers and not even speak to me. That’s not real and you don’t deserve it. So I deleted and blocked him and I feel better. If you’re not going to be IN my life then you don’t even get to see it from afar.

dave for being violent with me, for making fun of me, for always mocking my diets, for being too fat for him or too skinny for him, for him to buy me sugar and get mad when I don’t want it, for treating my mom like crap, for being so hateful and judgemental to everyone, for calling Kelly LB because he thinks shes a lesbian, for favoring my sister over me, for having different opinions of people on different days.

bullies who called me names, made fun of my clothes because i wore the same pants two days in a row, yelled out no I will not make out with you just so the whole class would look at me and laugh, not eating during lunch because I didn’t want anyone seeing the fat girl eat, the fat girl didn’t deserve to eat, being told by a friends parent that she needs skinnier friends, parents friend saying something about me being a drop out, being forced to drop out because I moved to a bad town and then everyone assuming I just wanted to drop out because I was a loser, constantly moving, having to go to new schools when you’re bullied, making friends and then losing them due to moving.

People at work who continue to comment on my weight saying things such as “I remember when you were thin”, “are you trying to gain weight? Cause it looks like you have”, “you’re heavy but you can tell you work out” too many people have commented on my weight and they think because they can see me with their own two eyes that that gives them permission to comment on my body. I wear a lot of baggy clothes now to hide myself...when I wear something fitted I get the “you’ve lost weight” comment and Its because I’ve been in hiding. I want to walk around in a trash bag so no one can see my body.

ex boyfriends for treating me like crap, for taking advantage of my kindness.

buying him a ticket to MO to live with me, taking my car and wrecking it, taking my car and getting a DWI and getting my car towed, getting a car repoed that i cosigned on, getting us kicked out of our apartment, breaking up with someone and then being made feel guilty for it, getting threatened to commit suicide if I did this or that, throwing a remote at me and hitting me in the back, throwing a fountain soda at me, pushing me onto the bed, overdosing and making me worry to death, overdosing after being broken up with, starting a new job a day after a break up, driving far to see someone for the last time, buying someone numerous phones only for him to keep breaking them on purpose, broken up with over the phone, myspace, being with someone who can’t hold a job, being the financial dependent in a household of two, being an enabler, being called fat when the relationship was over, laptop being thrown down the stairs.

I want someone to understand me. I want to speak and be understood. I don’t want to explain myself and when people don’t understand me I get frustrated and angry. I want whomever I’m speaking to to know my feelings and I think I shouldn’t have to say them, that person should just know and when they don’t I get hurt.

I would steal little cakes when I lived with jess and take them to my room and eat them, honestly I’ve done that a lot of places. I would just take cakes and cookies from cupboards and eat them secretly or shove them in my mouth quickly.    

Gluttony: Feeling sad or depressed, and holidays are time I always eat excess. Or If I’m at my moms house, or just at home with nothing to do. 

Wrath: I feel like I have dropped all of my grudges and made amends with those people such as connie, amanda, my dad, my exes (in a way). I don’t think you need to be best friends or even involve said forgiven person in your life for you to forgive them and let it go. It is easier for me for my dad to not be in my life since he only wants to be in my facebook life. I don’t know if I’ve forgiven John and Stephen. I feel angry writing about the things they did to me. And also shocked that they happened.

Envy: I envy alot of people. I mostly envy people who are happy and comfortable in their own skin and with their lives at the present moment. They’re not always complaining and said about this or that. Just content.

Greed: I want to be in control and get credit for everything because I fee like I have always been overlooked at my job, where I excel.

Pride: I feel I am better than mean people and dumb people. People that have gotten “far” in life only to treat me as if I am not as good as them when in reality I am smarter than them. I guess I feel like I’m better than some people and that’s not true.

Lust: When I was dating I was meeting guys and sleeping with them whenever I wanted. I personally don’t think that’s necessarily bad but I know I was looking for love and acceptance in the form of sex and attention. Sex is not love but when you are depressed and hate yourself it sure feels like it could be.

I feel guilty for a lot of things I don’t think I should feel guilty about but I am just too nice and have too much of a conscious. I feel bad when I don’t see my mom often, when I’m not there to help her with things, when I wasn’t there to help her with her surgery, that I don’t see Faith enough, that I don’t see certain friends enough, that I don’t try hard enough to get to know Aarons mom. Things that I am made to feel guilty about. I am easily guilted because I love hard and I want everyone to know I love them.

I did feel guilty when I was dating Aaron in the beginning and I had Bruce stay at my house on the couch, however I did not sleep with Bruce and it was the last time I saw him and Aaron and I became official not long after. I felt guilty for not trying hard enough with Bruce and then trying too hard when he obviously didn’t want it any longer. The only relationship I felt like I tried to make it work because I was so devastated over the end of it. It was such a whirlwind of a romance. Something out of the movies and I just thought it was over before it began. But he went on to bigger and better things without me and thats how he wanted it.