#admins pls let me know if anything needs changing i know i took uh a lot of creative liberties lmfao

[mcthmancometh]

baylor dawson 💋

💋: did you ever lock lips? did you want to?

“Me? I’m not exactly Baylor’s type,” August scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. It’s ostensibly the truth. Everyone knows Baylor is a ladies’ man, often to great success. He goes after girls who are gorgeous, and popular, who will make a pretty trophy to brag about to his friends so he can move onto the next one, and August is exactly none of those things. But, well, the thing is—

It went a little something like this.

Almost exactly a year ago. Baylor, home for winter break, throwing the rager to end all ragers to celebrate his homecoming, the first Baylor Dawson Extravaganza Misty Mountain had seen in months. August, desperately searching for some sense of normalcy in a life that only seemed to be getting more turbulent by the day, somehow ending up there even though the two girls who used to drag him to those sorts of things weren’t exactly around to do it anymore (one of them being dead and the other acting like August went and died along with her). It was a shitty, stupid idea, and August spent the better part of two hours getting progressively more drunk as he tried and failed to track down a single friendly face. He was just about to give up and head home when he went out the back door and practically tripped over the man of the hour himself, sitting on the back deck all on his lonesome.

What are you doing here? Baylor had asked, brow furrowed, but he sounded more confused than anything. His words were slurred and his blinks were slow.

August had frozen the second they made eye contact, going full deer-in-headlights, and when he did manage to find his voice again, the truth had tumbled out: Looking for a friend. But I don’t think she’s here. So I was just leaving.

And then Baylor had said, Want some of this? and offered out the joint in his hand. August had stared warily at it for a long minute, then, with no shortage of caution or trepidation, he’d made his way over and sat down. And, for the first time in their lives, August and Baylor had had an actual conversation.

Well — Baylor did most of the talking as they passed the joint back and forth. He went on and on about school and football and his issues with his parents and his insecurities and damn near verged on an existential crisis while August listened and wondered why the hell Baylor was telling him all of this and what the catch was.

You get it, though. Right? Baylor had finally asked.

Yeah, August had replied. Because weirdly, he did.

And then Baylor had kissed him.

And August had kissed back.

He has no idea how long that went on — it wasn’t exactly just a kiss, but it wasn’t exactly more than that, either — but then there was a loud crash from somewhere inside the house and they’d jerked apart and just kind of blinked at each other in startled confusion for a minute.

Baylor had gotten up and said, You should go. And he hadn’t sounded pissed, or sad, or — anything, really. Just kind of resigned. He went inside. August smoked a cigarette and then he went home.

He hasn’t seen Baylor more than in passing since then, the few unavoidable encounters passing with a subtle but intentional lack of eye contact from both parties. Baylor hadn’t gotten into any of the multitude of reasons August shouldn’t tell anyone about it, but he hadn’t had to — August had immediately added it to the pile of shit he fully intends on taking right to the grave. (And who the fuck would he even tell, anyways?)

“Besides,” he adds, “I doubt the guy even knows my name.” And that part, at least, is the complete and honest truth.

[girls-scenarios]

Ignorance Isn’t Bliss

Prompt:  Hi, can I request a friends with benefits angsty scenario with Blackpink's Jennie and fem reader. You can add smut if you want. Thank you💙💙💙

Writer: Admin Lee

A/N: I ended up leaving out the smut :( and also made this very sad! There’s some cursing and implied adult content, but other than that it’s just angsty. Jennie might be a little OOC towards the end (and the ending was a little rushed) but it’s just to fit the prompt better. Hope you like it!

It was cold in her room, despite the events that had just transpired. Jennie had gone to shower, leaving you alone in the dark space, lit only by a dim lamp on her nightstand. You felt a little gross after the fact, both from the sweat drying on your body as you sat on the edge of the bed, and from the nagging feeling you had in the pit of your stomach; the one that made you feel like this whole thing was a mistake.

Wrapped deeply in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the door open, and didn’t register Jennie coming into the room wrapped in a towel.

“(Y/N)?” She called to you, but her voice was muffled.

She touched your shoulder gently, effectively snapping you out of the stupor you were in.

“Oh, sorry, I’m just tired.. what time is it?” It was a half-lie and a distracting inquiry, meant to placate and avoid the truth of your unease.

“It’s almost 1 a.m.” She replied, turning from you grab some pajamas from her closet. “Are you going to shower?”

You got up, catching the used towel that Jennie threw your way and wrapping yourself in the slightly damp cloth.

“Yeah, I guess I will.”

-

The shower was warm, physically comforting you as the water washed over your skin. You feebly attempted to scrub the guilt away, rubbing until your skin was red, but to no avail. Everything stayed, stuck to you like glue; the most recent events, as well as the ones of days past. You didn’t want to realize that she was using you, didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that this situation wasn’t something good anymore. Really, you tried to hold out for her. You were friends - are friends. Couldn’t you talk to her? Maybe rethink the whole “benefit” addition to your friendship? You sigh, running your hands through your hair. This was a lot of heavy thinking for what, ten minutes? You should get out of the shower, you think. So you do, and you’re back in Jennie’s room within a couple of minutes.

“Hey,” you greet softly, not wanting to startle the girl, who was now reading in her bed. “Sorry I took so long.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it. Feel better?”

You frown, which goes unseen by her.

“Yeah.” You tell her, but it’s a lie.

-

You’re up before anyone else in the morning, and work on extricating yourself from Jennie’s bed, careful not to wake her. Thankfully, she was a heavy sleeper. You then pad into the bathroom to brush your teeth and look a little more presentable before you ultimately leave to go back to your small apartment. When looking at your reflection in the mirror, you noticed there were bags under your eyes; unsurprising to you, because you had ended up not being able to sleep at all that night. Whether it was the overthinking or the extremely close proximity to the girl that was causing the overthinking, you couldn’t be sure. But, one thing could be said: you were dead tired. A nap would definitely be in order when you finally got home.

Upon finishing in the bathroom, you complete gathering your things before slipping out, still unnoticed by the 4 members of the household you were in.

-

At home, you distracted yourself until it was nearly noon. You decide to make lunch, hoping a warm meal will make you feel at least a little better. Though after eating, you found that the festering feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach isn’t sated by something so simple. You rush to your bathroom, that feeling now making you sick. And now when you look at yourself in the mirror, you notice the ugly bruises that mar your skin; becoming more visible from where she was a little too rough with you last night.

But if all of this was something you agreed to, why now did you regret it so much? Whatever. It happened, it’s over. For the moment, at least.

You needed a nap, you remember.

-

When you wake up it’s 8:00 p.m. You check your phone; there’s 3 missed calls and 6 texts from her.

           1:30 p.m.

Jennie: (Y/N) where did u go??

Jennie: did you just leave?

Jennie: u didn’t even say goodbye :(

          4:23 p.m.

Jennie: is smthn wrong?

          5:10 p.m.

Jennie: (Y/N) pls answer my calls

Jennie: im worried.

It’d be decent of you to let her know you’re alright, so you give her a call back. The line on the other end rings for a few seconds before it’s answered.

“(Y/N)? God, I was really worried.. Why’d you leave without letting me know?”

“I’m sorry. I had some work at home I needed to take care of. I would have woken you up, but we were both up late and you looked like you needed some sleep.”

“Oh,” She replied, calmer now. “Well, I’m glad you got home safe,” Jennie hesitated, seemingly about to say something else. An awkward silence loomed over the two of you, the only sound being made by the soft static of the phone. “Um, the members and I were going to go out to dinner.. Did you have any plans?” Jennie asked with a nervous lilt to her voice.

You weigh your options for a moment, should you go, or stay? Going would mean pushing down those ugly feelings once again, denying yourself the solace of a silent evening in your own home; a safe space free of anything that reminded you of her. Staying would mean you could try to forget.

“I can’t.. I’m really sorry,”

Sorry. You were always sorry. “Maybe some other time? I just really have some stuff I have to finish before the week is out.”

“Oh, uh, yeah of course!” You hear. It’s a weak attempt at sounding positive even though you know she’s disappointed. “I hope you finish everything you need to.”

“Thank you, have fun at dinner.” You reply, saying your goodbyes and hanging up the phone.

The rest of the night is spent in your bed. You’re not able to sleep thanks to the nap you took, so you watch a movie, play on your phone, pretty much whatever to keep you distracted from the stuff that’s really bothering you. But eventually, you’re bored and you end up staring at the ceiling, thinking once more about everything.

I didn’t expect it to bother me this much, but here we are.

I still like Jennie, I think. Maybe just as friends. I want to be friends with her.

I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. The bruises are sore and the marks are still there.

There’s no way I can actually talk to her about it though. She’d be disappointed. I can’t disappoint her.

These thoughts are all scrambled as they switch places in the forefront of your mind; they stress you out, make you feel sick again, but you just lay there and deal with it.

-

You wake up once again with barely any restful sleep. Following your normal routine, you get ready, eat, check your phone, etc. It’s a pretty mundane day so far, nothing’s particularly bothering you (you know that’s not necessarily true, but in the moment, you’re fine).

Until you hear a knock at your door.

Your heart drops when you realize it could only be one person: Jennie. Getting up from the couch, you walk to the door and open it, finding her just behind it.

“Hey.”

“Hey, uh, come in.”

You step aside and gesture for her to come inside, closing the door behind her.

“I know something’s been going on with you. You’re usually not so distant,” She paused, looking down. “Was it because of what happened two days ago? I thought we both felt the same way about it.”

You sit back down on the couch after following her to your living room.

“Jennie. I’m bad at this kind of stuff, you know. I just didn’t really know how to act. I didn’t think you’d come over..”

“Why wouldn’t I? I was worried.”

“This isn’t working out anymore.” You tell her, rushing your words and starting to feel clammy because it hurts you to say the words you’ve been holding in for so long.

She looks at you, shocked. You could only imagine what must be running through her head right now.

“I don’t know what you mean.. what isn’t?” Jennie asks, her voice unusually timid and small.

And now for the waterworks. Everything had just been building up before now, and you couldn’t hold back. You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, and seconds later they were streaming down your cheeks.

“I just - everything that’s happened lately has been.. a lot. I think we moved a little too fast and at first I was okay - I was fine with everything. I don’t know what changed but… are you using me Jennie?”

It was really just word-vomit at this point. And who could blame you? You were running on nerves for the most part, and on the verge of really breaking down.

Her jaw dropped.

“Are you fucking serious? How could you think - No, of course I’m not!”

You flinched when she rose her voice. God, that must have looked pathetic.

“I’m sorry. I just thought - I don’t know what I thought.”

“Yeah, it’s apparent,” Jennie bit back, tone laced with hostility. “You know what? I’m done. Talk to me when you’re not being so fucking difficult, (Y/N).”

She turned on her heels and walked out the door, leaving you with no time to react or reply in any way. It hurt a lot, to say the least. However, it’s not surprising. Jennie was using you, you were sure, so matter what she told you moments ago. You sighed, now being left with nothing but a broken spirit and aching body. What were you supposed to do now? Jennie was gone. You didn’t particularly want her to return, but it was more than a little upsetting to see your friend of nearly 2 years leave you like that.

Some things just happen though, and you’ve come to discover now that ignorance isn’t bliss.

[itsthedrugsiswearmom]

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" They questioned, a millennium of voices echoing around the barrenness of the mind they called home.

"No one asked." You had answered back placidly, but truly... it was not as if no one had asked, no.

"... I did." You say, after a few beats of silence pass, glazed over eyes directed to the space infront of you. Your voice had wavered, as if you were internally weeping, though your face was tired and held no true emotion - after all, exhaustion couldn't really count as an actual "emotion", right? Exhaustion was a physical thing, like sadness, and happiness, and love, that the neurotypical's often used to describe what they felt. To them, emotions were just... there. They didn't need to be explained. They existed, only when the time for them called - they were not sporadic, they kept in their own lane.

"I did tell," you continued, a silent, tired sigh leaving your lungs, "A long time ago. Could have been a handful of people I told, insignificant compared to the numerous human beings that inhabit this world, but they meant something; to me at least they did. As suprising as that sounds." I remember the way you smiled, full of so many emotions not one person could understand, not even yourself. Secrets hidden behind lips that could tell stories like no other - you weren't special. No, that's not it. Nobody was, nobody experienced things the same, so that was a fact. No one was special. Everyone was their own seperate individual, with their own experiences - special didn't exist. It never had, honestly. A lie told by the ones just as insecure as the rest. After you had smiled, you looked at me, just gazing, calculating, observing something that I, could not.

You looked away a few moments later, shoulder's set - looking to all the world as if you were preparing for a war like no other. Although this one couldn't be touched, couldn't be seen by anyone else but you. I had urged you to continue, my eyes connecting with your own - a reflection raged with such intensity, I had to took away, afraid; but of what? I could not know.

"I... told them everything. I revealed to them my most deepest, hidden secrets, the hidden parts of myself very few saw. I let them in, hoping without hope that maybe, just maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time, they would be the ones to understand, to help, to nurture me "back to health", as I had told myself I so wanted." You looked defeated then, and it was in that moment I noticed just how tired you look, as if you hadn't had a nights sleep in weeks. Your face was swathed in acne from the days you didn't shower, from the days you couldn't gather enough strength to get out of bed. Your eyes weighed with the weight of no sleep, a world-weary expression curtaining what use to be a youthful face full of hope and happ - no, that was a lie. It never really was filled with happiness, what you thought was happiness was actually just a thought, a replaced memory, trying to protect you from the horrors of, what most would have called, a childhood. A childhood that was never really quite your own, now was it? Just a lie, that's all it truly ever was. A facade.

"But; the thing about the one's I told. They never really understood, yaknow? It wasn't as if they didn't try to understand, some did. They really did. Some gave up. Some left. Most just... got frightened. Others forgot or chose to brush it aside. They thought, 'Oh, hey, one day they'll fix this themselves, so they don't really need my help' or, 'You're hopeless' and so many other things. It was the ones that chose to forhet that hurt the most. I had so much hope... I just wanted to be like the rest, yeah? Not another piece to the puzzle, or another face in the crowd. I wanted to... feel like the rest, remember like the rest, touch like the rest. I waited for what felt like forever, just wishing to someday be "cured", to no longer feel so much, and yet so little..."

You blinked, and then shook your head, letting out the little dismissive laugh you usually did, "Anyway, I'm getting off track. Thing is, I did tell, I was desperate, but apparently not desperate enough. I mean, sooner or later it was bound to happen - I was bound to... break. Like a toy - used by the toddler's of humanity, who's tantrums turned to trauma, whose playful hands turned into harsh grips, whose once gentle face used to comfort me in the night, now but a nightmare in my dreams... Uh, sorry, off track again," Your hands twitched, wringing themselves in the fabric of your shirt, twisting, pulling, but never ripping, "Just because you tell someone, doesn't mean they'll do something about it. Just... because... you tell someone... doesn't mean it'll get better. As exhausting as it may seem, really, it's only you who can make a change for yourself. No one else can. In the end, it really is just yourself. In the end... you really are alone. And sometimes, there will be others to support you. Most times, you'll be all you have, and sometimes... it can be hard, tiresome, stressful. Healing takes times, they say. And though it's true, healing takes more than time. Sometimes it takes people, sometimes it takes feelings, sometimes it angers and upsets you so much you feel like giving up. And really, you have to think, what's the point of all this stress and madness? Sure, you can take the quick road and give up... but what's the point in that? Sure, the idea of death may seem fun to others - or maybe boring, who knows - maybe it seems less stressful. An absolute promise. One that can't be broken by anything or anyone, not even yourself. It seems promising, right? I mean, the only downsides are, well, people will be sad that you're gone... but they'll get over it, right? They always do."

You had leaned back onto your bed, then your head had turned to look back towards the mirror you had placed on your wall, the one you hated so much to look into, where I sat, just like you. Our faces blurred together, becoming one. Your moves became my moves, your words became my own, and soon, it wasn't just a "you" or "i", it was a me. And that me became us. And then us became a we. And soon, everything began to come together.

"But really, what's the point to dying? There's no "what if"'s afterwards, which is... honestly pretty boring. What's the point of doing something that only has an ending? Let's say... how about we make - this makes absolutely no sense and I regret ever typing this, and it's probably gonna fuck with your head, but pls, be g3ntle, uwu."

HALF-WAY THROUGH THIS I LOST THE URGE TO BE EDGY AND NOW ALL MY PREVIOUS MOTIVES FOR THIS HAVE BEEN LOSSED SKSKSKS.

wow. i wrote this yesterday whilst looking at shit on here, venting, i suppose? dunno, but it's whatever, heh. - admin

(honestly, it's confusing as fuck and just. what the fuck yesterday me.)