#been struggling to draw so reverting back to my middle school days and drawings eyes lmao

[into-the-feniverse]

🪟

[darley1101]

Wicked Games Part 1

A/N Starting this doesn’t mean my other stories will be back burnered. I just couldn’t shake this idea. In this new series, I am going to explore all of my conspiracy theories and what could have happened if the MC(Aria) had been smart enough to stay home with her hunny bunny Chris. Oh, lest I forget, this story will contain adult themes. Some of those themes will include consensual sexual acts, attempted sexual assault, harassment, physical violence, and more. There will be trigger warnings in the chapters that contain these sensitive subjects and if you find it too difficult to read, I respect that. If you do read and it stirs up feelings that you need to discuss, my in box is always open.

Rating: 18+ only as it does contain sexual acts, violence, assault, and other triggering events. You are reading at your own risk and I am not responsible for you. All subjects are handled in a realistic, respectful manner. If you have been through or are going through something similar, please know that you are not alone, there are people willing and able to help you.

Word Count: 4060

tag list: @maxattack-powell @starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid @syltti78 @drivenbyfantasy @writtenbycandy @lanaartblog @museofbooks @chrispowellandzig @shirtlessbenpark @christopherpowelllover @lizeboredom @laniquelove

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Wicked Games

Part One: One More Last Chance

A sense of dread filled Aria as Chris stared at her, resignation and hurt in his bright blue eyes, before shaking his head and walking out of their bedroom. He was fed up, tired of her little half truths and disappearing acts. It was written all over his face. Heart pounding, Aria lowered her gaze to her cell phone as it chimed then vibrated, alerting her to a new message. Her stomach clenched and churned at the all too familiar name: Nathan Sterling. God, she was so sick of his cloak and dagger bull shit. Everything was such a secret with him. With all of the Alpha Theta Mu's really. And Aria was exhausted from playing whatever game they were playing. She'd said she was finished with their games before, made promises to Chris that always seemed to end up broken, begged forgiveness and received it, but this time was different. This time, she had a feeling that if she walked out that door, Chris wouldn't be waiting for her when she got home. 'Sorry but I'm not going to be able to make it tonight after all.' She hit send, relief coursing through her, and tossed her phone onto the middle of the bed. Reaching for the hem of her sheer black top, she pulled it over her head and let it fall into a heap on the floor. Her black skinny jeans followed suit, and the jewelry she'd stressed over soon found its way back into her jewelry box. Bending slightly at the waist, she pulled one of Chris' Cherryfield High Football t-shirts from the basket of clean clothes she hadn't gotten around to putting up. As she slipped into the worn, but soft cotton shirt, she could hear her phone going off like crazy. Rolling her eyes, she peeked at it, just to be sure it wasn't something important. Nope. Just Nathan with his melodramatic 'we need to investigate Beau's bull shit.

“No thank you,” she muttered, flipping off the bedroom light as she walked into the small hallway that separated the bedroom and bathroom from the living/dining/kitchen area of the apartment. She'd been investigating Beau, as well as Kassidy, and it had gotten her no where. Sure, she had some evidence that connected them to various pranks around campus, as well as the sabotage attempts against her friends, but none of it was concrete. Without something concrete, she had nothing. “Hey,” she greeted softly, shyly shifting from one foot to the other when Chris looked up from his phone.

“I thought you were going out.” He barely spared her a glance before looking back at the small screen in his hand. Ouch, Aria thought. She deserved it, though, this indifference that hurt so much. She'd brought in with weeks on sneaking around, coming clean, begging forgiveness, reverting back to the things she'd begged forgiveness for.

“I had a better offer,” Aria said tentatively, taking a few steps closer to where his tall frame was reclining on the sofa. “One that involved snuggling, a movie, and ordering pizza.”

“Maybe that offer's no longer valid.” The emotionless tone of his voice, the way he didn't look up as he said the words, were sucker punch to the gut. She felt like she couldn't breathe. It was like every fear, every nightmare, she'd had since getting sucked into Nathan's games, manifesting itself into a giant heartbreak she only had herself to blame for. Reaching up, she swiped at a single tear that worked its way loose from the corner of her eye. She wasn't going to cry. Not here. Not in front Chris. Blinking rapidly, she turned on the ball of her foot and half ran back into the bedroom. She picked up her phone, silently screaming at all the texts and missed calls from Nathan and Kassidy, and threw the device as hard as she could. It landed in the laundry basket, the towels and extra sheets smothering the chimes and vibrations.

“You're so stupid,” she muttered to her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. God, this hurt. It hurt so fucking much. She sank on to the edge of the bed, her chin dropping against her chest as she struggled to breathe. Part of her had known this day would come. Guys like Chris didn't stick with former social rejects; their relationship was bound to end at some point. Rolling on to her side, Aria curled into a little ball and buried her face in Chris's pillow. She hugged it to her, savoring the scent of his cologne and shampoo.

Behind her the bedroom door creaked open. She didn't bother turning over, she couldn't stand to see his face void of emotion the way it had been minutes ago. “Ari,” Chris sighed. She felt the bed sink slightly as he sat down on the edge of it. “I don't know what to do anymore.” Neither did she. It was like she couldn't help herself. She couldn't stay away from the drama that was brewing with the Alphas. Maybe if she had been involved in some of the bull shit that had gone down in high school, she would have been better equipped to tell Nathan to go fuck himself, that Beau and his little shit-tastic pranks and Kassidy's involvement in them weren't her problem. Except, they were. Her friends were being targeted. It was hard to step back when she seen what was happening, had opportunities to prove it. “Maybe we need a break. Maybe moving in together was a mistake.”

Her lower lip started to tremble, she tightened her grip on his pillow and tried to keep from sobbing. It was impossible. Her slender body shook as she held it all in. This was her fault. She had done this to not just him, but to their relationship. She'd let herself think she had a chance with a guy like Chris, and then she screwed it up by trying to be some investigative reporter, trying to dig up dirt on one of the most prestigious organizations on campus. She should have stuck with fluffy opinion editorials and sporting events where she could talk about how amazing her boyfriend was. She was stupid for thinking her writing skills went beyond that. “I don't want a break,” she whispered between hiccups. Not that what she wanted mattered any more. Chris had given her way more chances than she had deserved. Expecting one more was futile.

“Neither do I,” he admitted miserably. The bed shook a little bit more. Heat pressed against her back. A strong, muscular arm wrapped itself around her waist. “Don't cry Ari,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple. “Please don't cry.”

She couldn't help it. Her world was crashing down around her. Again. And, yet again, it was her own damn fault. It was like she was incapable of learning from her mistakes. “I'm sorry,” Aria sniffled.

“Yeah,” Chris sighed, resting his chin on her shoulder, “I know you are. I wouldn't be here otherwise.” His fingers tangled in her hair as he brushed some of the tear dampened strands from her face. “I feel like we don't talk anymore. And when we do, I feel like we don't get anywhere.” The pad of his thumb caressed the apple of cheek, wiping at several tears that had collected there. “What's it going to take for you to realize the Alphas aren't your friends? That they're changing you...and not for the better?”

“I know they're not,” she choked out. She did know. It was one of the reasons she had decided to stay in, to spend time with Chris. She'd let Nathan, Kassidy, and Beau draw her into their tangled up world, had let them turn her into someone she couldn't even look at in the mirror. And for what? The sake of a story? Of showing the world how corrupt Alpha Theta Mu was? Even if she did get enough evidence to prove a connection between the fratority and the things that had gone wrong on campus, the parties involved had enough money to pay off the school.“I just kept thinking that if I found enough evidence, if I-”

“Its not your job to find evidence.” Chris tightened his hold on her, his chin slightly digging into the area between her neck and clavicle. “Personally, I think they're just screwing with you.” His fingers bunched in the fabric of the shirt, his nails grazing her skin through the light weight fabric. “I don't know what pisses me off more. The fact that they're fucking with you, or the fact that you let them.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Turning just enough so she could glance at him over her shoulder, Aria waited for his response with baited breathe.

“It means they're all a bunch of manipulative liars and they're turning you into one.”

A gasp caught in her throat. It hurt to think it, but he was right. Most of her interactions with the Alphas had been the result of them manipulating situations. And she had been doing the exact same thing to the people she cared about. Letting out a groan, Aria buried her face in the pillow. “I'm so stupid.”

“You're not stupid. You're just too nice.” His grip on the shirt relaxed, his hand splaying across her lower abdomen in a way that spread warmth throughout her nether region. “And you're sweet,” he pressed a kiss against her fluttering pulse point, his mouth opening just enough that his lower lip dragged against her flesh. Her breathe quickened as he pressed his body closer to hers, the hardness of his cock secure against the curve of her ass. “Plus...” his hand started to move south, slipping between her flat abdomen and the lace of her panties. Her breathe hitched in her throat as his index finger stroked along her slit. “Plus,” he repeated, “I love you. And I would never,” the tip of his finger parted her outer lips, dipping between her folds, “love someone stupid.” She pushed against his hand, desperate for the physical connection. It felt like weeks since they had made love. Oh, they had had sex. Hot, hard quickies first thing in the morning or after an especially stressful day, but they hadn't made love. Not like this. Not where Chris was touching her and whispering how much he loved her. She'd miss this. She'd missed him.

Chris gathered her long dark hair in the fist of his free hand, moved it away from her neck, and pressed kisses along her nape. She shifted slightly, tilting her head back so that he had access to her throat and the side of her neck. A moan caught in her throat as he started to gently suck on the sensitive skin just below her ear. It would leave a mark, but she didn't care. Let people see it, let them remember that she belonged to Chris Powell. The moan she had been holding back escaped as he plunged first one, then two fingers, into her. She wanted more. She wanted to feel his cock thrusting into her. Stretching her. Filling her. Through hooded eyes, she caught their reflection in the mirror that hung over their dresser. It was so fucking hot, a gorgeous six feet four inch golden boy finger fucking a pansy eyed girl with swollen pink lips...was that really her? Had she really transformed that much from junior high and school? Yet, the sexy girl thrusting against the football captain's hand had to be her. It was their reflection after all.

“I want you so fucking bad,” he groaned, his breathe hot against her cheek. In response, she twisted as much as she could to kiss him. The moment his lips met hers, she felt it. That electric jolt that seared her clear to her soul. Their tongues mimic the sensual dance his fingers are playing inside her pussy. Slow, deep thrusts. Teasing flicks. Quick plunges, followed by a repeat of the slower, deeper thrusts. It was torture. Punishment for almost passing him over for more drama with the Alphas. He kept taking her closer and closer to the edge, only to back off right before she toppled over.

“Please,” she panted, grinding her ass against his erection. “Please...Chris...” The need to feel their bodies connected bordered on painful. There was always this spiritual connection, this feeling that it wasn't just their bodies, but their souls, joining together. And right now, she needed that connection. He needed it as well, she was certain of it.

“We can't,” he groaned, pulling his hand out of her underwear. “I shouldn't have even started anything.” Cool air hit her back as he rolled away from her. He was less than two feet from her, yet she had never felt more alone. “We need to figure things out. Figure out what we're doing.”

Dread started churning in her gut again. Just when she thought things were going to be okay, they weren't. A lump formed in Aria's throat as she sat up, her dark blue eyes roaming Chris's flushed face. “I thought we had,” she said tentatively, toying with the ends of her long, brown hair. “When we both said we didn't want a break.”

He looked away, his throat visibly working up and down. “Sometimes what we want, isn't what we need,” he whispered.

No! Her mind screamed against it. This. Was. Not. Happening. Chris was not breaking up with her. Please, anything but that. Drawing her legs up against her chest, Aria buried her face in the small valley between her knees. Her eyes burned, her vision growing blurry as they filled with tears. Again, all she can think is she'd caused this. She'd done this to herself and to Chris. Two years down the fucking toilet because she couldn't mind her own fucking business. And when her friends found out, her real friends, that she was the common connection with their problems, they'd leave her too. Why had she ever thought any story was worth losing people she loved?

“Ari...” One of his large hands settled on her shoulder. Fighting to breathe properly, she shrugged it away. Who the fuck did he think he was? Telling her one minute that he didn't want a break, touching her, holding her, telling her that he loved her, and then pulling back so he could suggest they break up. No. He could keep his fucking hands to himself. Maybe she should have gone to the Alphas initiation party. At least she knew they were playing games. And maybe then she would have found a solid connection, something to make destroying her relationship semi-worthwhile. “Aria, come on.”

“No,” she choked on a sob, shaking her head as she raised it. “You don't get to act like you care when you're trying to dump me!” Scooting the to edge of the bed, she swung her legs over the side and stood up. Her shoulders shook as she gave into the urge to sob. Fingers trembling, she grabbed the hem of the t shirt and yanked it over her head. Wadding it up, she threw it at him, hitting him in the face. Goose pimples raise across her flesh as Chris vaults off the bed and grabs her. She pushed against his chest, struggling not to scream at him to keep his hands to himself. “Let go,” she seethed through clenched teeth, pulling back as hard as she could. It was useless. He had at least a hundred pounds of solid muscle on her.

“No,” Chris growled, pulling her tight against his chest. She could hear his heart thundering beneath her ear as her rigid body relaxed in his familiar embrace. “If I was going to dump you, I would have done it long before now. I just don't know what else to do, Ari. You've changed, and not for the better. You're so obsessed over digging up dirt on the Alphas that nothing else seems to matter. How many times are we going to do this? You wanting to pretend things are okay and me letting you because I love you so fucking much it hurts.” His arms grew slack, dropping to his side as he took a step back. “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you Aria,” he said quietly. “I pictured us graduating college, getting married, eventually having kids. I used to think that was what you wanted too but now...with all this Alpha crap...I don't know what you want anymore...other than to dig up dirt on some stupid fratority.” He shook his head. “Do you know how badly that sucks? Knowing you would rather run around like some fucking Nancy Drew wannabe because some rich dickhead has filled your head with bullshit...than spend time with me?”

Aria felt her lips part. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could use to argue against what he was saying. Hadn't she had similar thoughts? That she was letting Nathan manipulate her into snooping around Beau's life, as well as Kassidy's. That all of the Alphas were probably full of shit. That she was tired of letting them manipulate her into being underhanded and deceitful. The real kicker was she didn't even know why she had thought it would be a good story. It wasn't like the school would actually let her publish it. Too many members of Alpha Theta Mu came from alumni families that donated huge amounts of money. Plus, the organization itself was well known and much loved thanks to Ryan Summers membership. Logically, she hadn't stood a chance. So why had she continued to dig, to be drawn in? Was her life really that lacking?  It wasn't her relationship with Chris, she loved him more now than ever before. Despite their petty fights and her ridiculous fixation on the Alphas, he was everything to her. When she thought about the future, Chris was always there. The thought that he might not be, that she had let something that shouldn't have concerned her destroy their relationship, she didn't think she could bear that. She wouldn't be that girl who told the boy she couldn't live without him, but it was true. She didn't think she could go on if Chris wasn't in her life. “I love you,” she whimpered. “I love you so much Chris and I'm sorry. I know, I keep saying that. I know we keep having this disagreement but its true. I love you and I don't want to lose you. Whatever it takes...just tell me how to fix this.”

His face crumpled, a million emotions playing across his beautiful face. “I don't know what to do,” he shook his head. “Jesus, this hurts.” His fingers shook as he raised his hands, shoving them into his already mussed up hair. “What do you want me to do, Ari? Because we've been down the me forgiving you path how many times? Three that I can remember. And you keep going back. You keep screwing around with those fucking Alphas.” Anger blazed in his eyes when their gaze connected. She could feel the rage boiling just beneath the surface as he struggled to find the right words. “You want us to get through this...you want us to work...then it's me or them. You can't have both. Not anymore.”

Relief shot through her. He wasn't ready to give up on them either. What he wanted was a simple enough request. The story on the Alphas corruption was dead in the water, and pinning the attacks against her friends on them was futile. Turning her back on anything and anyone Alpha related was something she would gladly do it if meant saving her relationship. “Done.” She started toward him, ready to throw her arms around his neck, when he stopped her. “What?” She tried to keep the hurt from her voice was everything in her froze. He wouldn't take it back, would he? He wouldn't do that to her, to them, would he? God, Aria hoped not.

“I'm serious, Aria.” His voice was hard, the tone similar to the one he had used the night his father left AJ alone in an unfamiliar apartment while he got a burger and made friends. Hearing it directed towards her was a hard pill to swallow. “I'm done forgiving you where they're concerned, so you had best be damn sure you're finished with them because there won't be repeat of this fight.”

“I'm sure,” Aria whispered. Their eyes met, his still dark with anger and hers pleading for him to trust in her, to believe that she meant it when she said there would be no more chasing after evidence that the Alphas were corrupt. Her focus would be on their relationship, school, and their future. She wanted the proverbial American Dream with Chris more than anything. “I'm sure,” she repeated, cupping his face in the palms of her hands. She rubbed her thumb across his full lower lip, inwardly sighing when he pressed a soft against the pad.  

Taking a deep breath, Aria let her hands fall away and walked over to the laundry basket. She fished out her phone, wincing at the notifications. 24 text messages and 9 missed calls. All but one text from Kaitlyn were from Nathan or Kassidy. Jesus. Had they always been then invasive? Looking back, she realized that they had. Her body trembled as she opened up the text log from Nathan. Message after message demanding to know why she wasn't coming, why she was bailing on him when they were this close to finding evidence against Beau, didn't she want to prove Beau and Kassidy had hurt her friends, and finally who the fuck did she think she was leaving him in a lurch like this. Please don't contact me again, she text. She sent a similar message to Kassidy. “There, no more Alphas,” she told Chris, throwing the phone back into the laundry basket, mentally noting that she needed to talk to her friends, Kaitlyn especially about everything that had been going on. She could only hope they would forgive her, give her the opportunity to make things right the way Chris was. And, she grimaced, hopefully she wouldn't fuck things up this time.

[wellhellsbelles]

it’s a switch flipped, it’s a pill tipped back, it’s a moon eclipse

another installment in my riarkle new girl au! please enjoy! :)

ao3 link here.

//

It’s been a long enough time after what happened between her and her ex Brandon where she’s finally starting to accept that: a.) he’s not going to take her back, b.) she doesn’t want him to take her back, and c.) she’s a permanent fixture in the loft.

The pushback against her was clear at first, but then they came to know each other, came to accept each other for their slight differences and annoyances, and they started to become friends. Now, Lucas, Zay, and even Farkle would do anything for her if she asked and likewise, and Riley feels warm every time she thinks about how she gets to live with these amazing people that genuinely like her back.

It's amazing. Even better than living with her ex, for sure.

But then there’s still this small hesitancy from Farkle’s end that takes Riley forever to combat. She doesn’t get it, really—they really had been getting along the most out of all her roommates, but all of a sudden Farkle reverted back to how he was when she first moved in, just like the flip of a switch.

She has no idea why he’s so insistent upon keeping her out and why she’s so insistent upon pulling him in.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t see her as permanent in his life. Perhaps he feels like he’s just biding his time living in the loft, because she knows he’s still in love with his ex, Sarah, and he’d do anything at this point to get back together with her.

Whatever the reason, Farkle still manages to avoid her like the plague when he can, maintaining an almost palpable amount of distance between them, something that endures for quite a while until Riley can no longer stand it.

So she begins to press Farkle’s buttons by invading his space in any way she can—brushing up against him in the hallway when they go in or out of their rooms, a soft touch of the arm when they have a brief conversation . . . things like that. She can tell she’s testing his patience, but frankly she doesn’t give a damn. He no longer has the option to ignore her, and if he has a problem with it, then he’ll talk to her.

Easy as pie.

Except Farkle has to be the nicest person on the planet, because even though he’s obviously bothered by her intruding upon his personal bubble, he is so non-confrontational that he doesn’t do anything about it. It frustrates Riley to no end.

“Alright, I give,” Riley announces in a huff, collapsing into the chair at the kitchen table in front of Zay and Lucas. “Why is Farkle avoiding me?”

“Maybe because you can be slightly irritating,” Zay tells her, sipping at his tea nonchalantly. Riley shoots him a look of disdain.

“Impossible. C’mon guys, really. I’m really upset over this.” Lucas shrugs.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Riley. I mean, Farkle’s always been really shy with girls in general, and living with one certainly doesn’t make things easy. Have you tried asking him why he’s avoiding you?” Riley blinks a moment, her face blank.

“. . . No, I haven’t. That’s . . . that’s actually good advice.”

“Go figure,” Zay quips. Riley reaches into the fruit basket on the table and throws an orange at him. “Ow! She hit me!” he cries to Lucas, who’s only grinning.

“You kind of asked for it, man.”

“Well, thank you for your help, Lucas,” Riley emphasizes as she rises from her chair. “I’ll go talk to him.” Zay sticks his tongue out at her as she leaves the table, and Riley makes a point to ignore it.

She’s got bigger fish to fry.

 //

 Unfortunately, and this is absolutely the truth and not her trying to avoid conflict, but Riley becomes way too busy with life and doesn’t get her time to talk with Farkle. She’s busy with preparing for the upcoming EOG for her class, the end of the year test that they take before saying goodbye for the summer. Riley has to admit, she spends a little extra time working on her class because she always hates to see them move a grade up and out of her class.

What can she say? She loves her kids.

As soon as that wave passes, however, Riley’s schedule frees up, and she tries to plan the perfect time to talk to Farkle. She’s noticed that he’s eased up quite a bit, and that’s probably due to her not trying to viciously invade his personal space like she had been doing before. But now she’s off the clock for the summer, so it’s his time to suffer again.

He can’t get away with ignoring her that easy.

But then life gets in the way again, and Riley becomes increasingly frustrated.

The boys announce that they have a wedding to attend on Sunday, the first day of summer, and that’s exactly when Riley was planning on confronting Farkle. They end up inviting her to tag along, however, and she thinks to herself that maybe it’s not all for naught. It’ll make it even easier for her to approach him, too, because Zay and Lucas announce that they know Farkle’s ex is going to be there and that she needs to help them be on “Farkle Watch” so that he doesn’t do anything idiotic like try to get her back or something.

Well, they can definitely count on Riley Matthews to be on Farkle Watch duty as his wing-woman for sure.

She always thought she’d be a good wingman, and now’s her chance to prove that.

“No, you are not bringing a deck of cards with you. Why are you like this?” Zay asks as he takes the card pack from her hands, tossing it onto the floor. Lucas looks at her disapprovingly, as well.

“Because I like to be fun, and card tricks are fun!” Riley exclaims in a huff. “Alright, fun police, what’s next on your fun police agenda?”

“We’ve gotta approve your dress,” Lucas tells her, and Riley gapes.

“What, now you’re the fashion police, too?” Zay and Lucas exchange glances before nodding profusely.

“Yeah, we kinda have to be. Your dresses are cute, but they’re only cute around third graders. We’re going to an adult wedding where we’ll be around adults, so you better show us an adult dress,” Zay instructs. Riley sticks her tongue at him before disappearing into her closet to rifle through her menagerie of dresses and find ones that Zay and Lucas might deem “appropriate”. She manages to find three dresses she thinks are perfect, but Zay only groans, pushing her out of the way after taking one look at them to search her closet himself.

Zay returns not too long after with a dress in hand, and Riley backs away, shaking her head. It’s one that she had stuffed in the back of her closet for a reason. The dress is hardly modest, the length of it reaching barely the middle of her thighs, the neckline plunging too far for her liking. It’s what she calls her “little black cocktail dress”, or rather what Maya called it when she gifted it to her when she realized that Riley didn’t have a single sexy dress in her closet.

“Ohhhhh no no no no,” she insists, waving her arms around sporadically. “Maya gave me that one for my twenty-fifth birthday and really it’s not me and—”

“Go put this one on now,” Zay demands and Riley swipes the dress away from him angrily, returning to her closet to change. She steps out after struggling with the dress for several minutes, her arms crossed and lips pouted.

“This up to your standards?” she asks. A look of relief washes over Lucas and Zay’s faces.

“Freaking finally!” Zay shouts. Lucas seems to approve, as well, and Riley storms off with her makeup bag towards the bathroom afterward, tired of being around those two buffoons. On her way out the door, she bumps into Farkle, the makeup bag dropping from her hands.

“Whoops, I’ll get that,” he tells her, crouching down to retrieve the bag off the floor, relinquishing it to her once he’s back up. His eyes shoot open in surprise at her, and she tilts her head as she accepts the bag.

“What?”

“That dress . . . it looks really good on you,” he says, clearing his throat immediately after.

“Oh!” Riley exclaims, a prickle of heat biting at her cheeks. “Thank you.” Farkle offers her an unsure smile and a nod and then turns away without a word, heading towards Zay and Lucas. Riley sighs, knowing fully that she’s got no idea how to approach Farkle on the subject of how he feels about her. That always was her fatal flaw, especially during grade school.

Riley cares too much what people think about her to the point where it can destroy her from the inside.

Luckily, she’s got faith that things can smooth out. So where her shortcomings lie, she makes up in an unyielding dedication to any task she sets for herself, no matter how difficult or unlikely it can come to fruition.

She stalks off to the bathroom, a lot on her mind as the three boys yell loudly from the other room, something that’s become almost the norm for her now.

 //

 They arrive at the wedding late because Zay insists they pick up a last-minute gift from IKEA for the bride and groom, taking only about an hour to pick out a stupid nightstand that they will probably a.) not be able to figure out how to put it together, and b.) not even use at all in their lifetime. Riley taps her foot rapidly in the car as finally parks outside their destination, silently wishing she had driven her own car to the damn wedding instead of agreeing to carpool.

Luckily enough, by the time they make their way up to where the ceremony is being held in the building, they find out they’ve got five minutes to spare, quickly making their way to a row of empty seats in the back, hoping no one notices them slip in late. The music starts up and the wedding party begins their procession down the aisle, and Riley counts the minutes until she can get to the reception.

Riley should feel bad about that, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t even know these people, so why should she even care? She’s just on Farkle Watch today to make sure he doesn’t do anything idiotic, so even though she likes weddings, she’ll be glad when this one’s over.

After a painstakingly long amount of time, the ceremony finally draws to a close and the bride and groom announce that the reception is in another room in the building, and Riley lets out a sigh of relief. But unfortunately for her, the relief doesn’t last long because suddenly a familiar, long-haired brunette rounds the corner, and her, Lucas, and Zay all go still around Farkle.

It’s her. The ex.

Sarah Carpenter.

And suddenly it becomes a waiting game as she closes in, everyone silently trying to figure what the hell kind of move to make. Riley watches Farkle carefully, trying to decipher his emotions as she approaches, but he’s a statue, unmoving.

“Well, well, well, Farkle Minkus. Long time no see,” Sarah greets him, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Oh hey, Sarah. Good to see you, I guess,” he mutters, scratching the back of his head. It’s so cringe-worthy, Riley can’t stand to watch anymore. She grabs Farkle’s arm, tugging him towards the reception hall.

“Come on, we’ve gotta go to the reception hall, remember? It’s good to see you, Sarah,” Riley waves, gritting her teeth as she guides the boys away from the horrific situation.

“What did you do that for? I was handling it!” Farkle exclaims as she drags him along.

“I don’t think you need to interact with her. Nothing ever good comes out of interacting with your ex,” Riley explains.

“You looked like you had met death at your doorstep,” Zay comments. “It did not look pretty.”

“Sarah did always have that effect on him,” Lucas adds, much to Farkle’s chagrin. “C’mon, man, we’ve gotta get to the reception.” Farkle sighs, giving in as the rest of the group guides him down the hall.

They find their table huddled in the corner away from everyone, and Zay complains the whole time because he’s nowhere close to any of the bridesmaids. Lucas is just bothered by the fact that he hadn’t eaten much in the morning and the pictures were taking way too freaking long, and Riley couldn’t help but notice Farkle’s gaze glued to the other side of the room, right where Sarah Carpenter is sitting, laughing away with a man by her side. She reaches out to him underneath the table where his hands are curled into fists, gently taking one and lacing her fingers with his.

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on,” Riley offers him a small, sympathetic smile. Farkle’s breath hitches and he nods.

“Yeah, for sure,” he says quietly, only loud enough for Riley to hear him.

“Farkle, do you want me to set you up with a bridesmaid, too? It might be good for you,” Zay announces across the table. Riley thinks to herself that he’s lucky he’s not in front of her or she’d kick him in the shin with the stiletto heels she has on.

“Uh, no thanks,” Farkle shakes his head. “I appreciate it, though.” Zay shrugs.

“No problem, dude.”

They all make idle chatter from then on to ignore the fact that they’re growing increasingly hungry. About thirty minutes later, the wedding party bursts into the reception, breaking apart to showcase the happy couple as they have their first dance. As she watches them, Riley makes a note in the back of her head to never, ever play “Low Rider” at her wedding because it is just atrocious. The guys seem to echo the sentiment, their expressions ranging from to disgust to horror at the display in front of them.

When they finally finish, the couple announces that everyone can go grab food and the four of them race for the buffet line, practically pushing over elderly people and children in the process to get towards the front of the line. They fill up their plates and then head back to the table, each one of them not saying a word as they devour the meal in front of them, happy to be eating at last.

A sudden clink drags their attention away from their plates as the groom holds up his champagne glass, clearing his throat. The chatter in the room dies down, all eyes falling on the happy couple. Riley sighs in her seat, leaning her head back as she prepares to listen through the droning of speeches from the wedding party of people she doesn’t even know.

Why, exactly, did she come again if she doesn’t know these people?

. . . Oh yeah. She’s supposed to be Farkle’s wingman.

For Farkle’s sake, and as her word to Zay and Lucas, she tries to appear happy and stays in the room, but she’s itching to take a plate of food and sneak out the back. Good thing she’s fairly patient. She does have to work with children all day, after all.

After half an hour of speeches, the bride and groom finally raise their glasses, toasting to one another for a long and happy life together. Riley hits her champagne flute against the rest of her table’s, draining the glass once it touches her lips.

It’s just that kind of night.

Then they watch as the father-daughter dance happens, and Riley has to admit, it’s very sweet. It’s one of those things that she’s anticipated about getting married one day because she’s so close with her father, so she doesn’t mind sitting through it. Even the song is sweet—it’s “Wildflowers” by Tom Petty. She taps her foot to the beat, humming under her breath.

Once it’s over, the dancefloor is opened to everyone. Zay hops up from the table almost immediately, making a beeline for the bridesmaids table while Riley, Lucas, and Farkle all remain.

“You’re not going to join Doofus McGee over there?” Riley asks, pointing at Zay. Lucas shakes his head.

“I’m good. I’m not really looking for anything right now.” Riley shoots him a suspicious look, making a note to look into that later. When she turns to look back at Farkle, however, he’s gone, and she begins frantically searching the room for where he might be.

“Uh oh. Where’d Farkle go?” Riley grits her teeth. Lucas scoffs.

“We give you one job and you already blew it?” She sneers at him, crossing her arms.

“You told me to help. You did not say this was my job alone. You, mister, are just as accountable. Now help me look for him!”

Riley stomps over to the other side of the table, tugging Lucas up by the ear. She drags him over to the dance floor while he complains, instructing him to search the right side of the floor for Farkle while she checks the left. She has to elbow her way through people way too close for comfort as she scans the crowd for the genius she’s supposed to be, essentially, babysitting.

It shouldn’t be all that difficult all things considered. Farkle is tall, towering over her by several inches, so he should be noticeable in this sea of people.

Apparently not.

She really wishes he was wearing his bright orange turtleneck today of all days.

Riley discovers him finally, but much to her dismay, he’s talking to Sarah Carpenter, and she looks like she’s flirting with him hardcore. She pushes her way up next to him so that she can do her job as a wingman and get him out of there as quick as possible.

“Farkle, there you are!” Riley exclaims as soon as she’s beside him. He looks at her surprised, while all Sarah does is sort of sneer.

“Riley? What did you want? I’m talking to Sarah,” he nods toward her, as if to say, “Get out of here.” She links arms with him, gently pulling him towards the dancefloor to get him away.

“You promised me a dance, remember?” she tells him. He furrows his brow, confused.

“No?”

“Farkle, what is going on?” Sarah interrupts them.

“Nothing, Sarah, it’s—”

“Hey, Babe.”

Before Farkle can finish, he’s cut off by a big, burly man leaning in to kiss Sarah. Riley can tell he’s confused and hurt by it, and she can understand why.

It’s like Sarah’s keeping him as a backup. He’s on her hook just in case she needs companionship, and Sarah had no intention of cutting him loose. So Riley does the only thing she can think of.

She cups both sides of Farkle’s face with her hands and pulls him in, pressing her lips against his and kissing him passionately.

. . . It goes on for a good thirty seconds, too, until they both decide they need air. If Farkle was confused before, he’s absolutely bewildered now.

“Uhh, I guess we should leave you two alone?” Sarah asks, obviously annoyed. Riley decides for the both of them, nudging Farkle out to the dancefloor and waving goodbye to his ex.

“We’re gonna go dance now. Goodbye, Sarah.”

The two of them say nothing until they’re stopped in an empty spot of the dancefloor, and Riley guides Farkle into a dancing position with his hands on her waist and her arms wrung around his neck. His eyes aren’t looking to focus on her any time soon, but she clears her throat, demanding his attention.

“Uhhhhh,” is all he can say, the internal conflict clear in his eyes. Riley breathes.

“You needed to let her go,” she explains as they sway back and forth with each other. “She was just keeping you as a backup plan in case the rest of her flings didn’t end well. You deserve more than that, Farkle.” Farkle swallows, nodding his head.

“I know. I just . . . yeah. Thank you for helping me out, even if it took you, well . . . you know.” Riley offers him a small smile.

“Of course. You’re my friend, you know that? I want you to know I’m here for you, even if you don’t want it.” He tilts his head, frowning.

“What do you mean ‘even if I don’t want it’?”

“You’ve been avoiding me lately. I thought it was maybe something I did or something, but I . . . I don’t know. I guess it’s because you just don’t like me.” Farkle laughs, actually laughs at that, and it’s Riley’s turn to be confused.

“Riley, that’s not it at all. I like you, a lot, in fact. I’ve just been . . . I don’t know. You intimidate me, and I feel like half of the time I don’t deserve to have someone like you in my life,” he admits. Riley feels her cheeks begin to burn, her throat running dry.

“I intimidate you? But I’m just a stupid, crazy, annoying girl who you guys don’t take seriously half of the time. I’m not intimidating.” Farkle shakes his head.

“You’re not annoying. You’re fun, kind, smart and . . . and really beautiful, and it’s hard for someone who’s just lived with guys to get used to that. I’m sorry you felt like you weren’t wanted.”

Riley has no words for that. Instead, she just pulls him close, hugging him tightly, her face buried into his shoulder. He leans his nose into her hair and hugs her back just as tight, and they stay there on the dancefloor for the rest of the night, talking and enjoying each other’s company.

And Riley . . . Something’s changed. She doesn’t quite understand what it might be exactly, but after tonight, she’s certain that their dynamic has shifted.

She’ll figure it out. Eventually.

[stonedgeneral]

Switch: The Struggle

A/N: its pouring outside right now so this is perfect writing weather

Synopsis: taehyung is hired to paint a mural for a high school. Jungkook is one of the students that volunteers to help and finds that he’s the only one interested.

part 01.

“This decision shouldn’t be made lightly. You are fully responsible for all the work you miss, no excuses.” Jungkook nodded, grabbing the pink slip from Mrs. Fukuhara.

“Where is the mural being painted?” Jungkook asked, only now realizing how little he knows about this project.

“It’s going to be painted on the wall facing the courtyard.” He nodded again, saving the remaining questions for when he met the artist in charge of the painting. He thanked Mrs. Fukuhara and walked out the room. This was his lunch period so he decided to spend the remaining time to meet the artist. He weaved through students sitting in the hallways, their packed lunches and lunch trays sitting beside them as they did their homework.

He pushed open the door to the courtyard, walking down the long sidewalk until he caught sight of an older male, sitting on a bench, a sketchbook in hand. Jungkook could see that he wasn’t wearing the school uniform, so he assumed this was the man in charge of the mural. He slowed his steps as he came closer, finally being able to make out a face.

“Uhm… hello. I am Jungkook. I, uh, volunteered to help you out here.” He had a shy smile on his face. His popularity didn’t erase or ease his anxiety every time he had to speak with someone unfamiliar. The man looked up from the sketchbook, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“Oh, hello. I’m Taehyung. Come, sit, don’t just stand there.” Taehyung moved the backpack seated beside him onto the ground. Jungkook took the seat and glanced over at the sketch Taehyung was drawing.

“So… uh, what do you have planned for the mural?” Jungkook asked, looking up at the wall, finally seeing how big this task really is. Taehyung hummed, resuming his drawing.

“I’m actually not sure. I’ve spent all morning drawing out possible plans, but I don’t want to do something… predictable. Or simple.” Jungkook nodded along, eyes reverting back to the book in Taehyung’s lap.

“Well, this is a really… really big wall. You could maybe merge two ideas?” Just as that came out of Jungkook’s mouth, Taehyung gasped, sitting up and halting his sketching.

“Oh my god, that’s actually genius!” Taehyung flipped over the page to a blank one. He drew a light line in the middle of the page, then going to the right and once again resuming his drawing. There were a couple seconds before Taehyung realized he had to convey the idea to the student helping him, so he started to explain it, hand expertly drawing out more light line. “This is both an art and academic focused school, I could have one side show the importance of academics, then on the other, draw out all the arts this school has. Oh god, that’s going to be such a complicated idea to execute, but I’ve had to way harder, and way more intricate projects.” It took a moment before Jungkook understood Taehyung’s train of thought, but once he did, he hummed.

“Do you have any painting experience?” Taehyung asked, breaking the silence that had formed between the two

“Uhm… no? I mean, I draw by myself at home, but I’ve never taken a class or worked with paint.” Taehyung hummed in thought.

“Show we what you can do. I can tell you what to paint, but you have to have skill and talent to be able to do it just right.” Jungkook stuttered for a moment, not knowing how exactly to show how well he could draw. Taehyung noticed the boys hesitance and stopped what he was doing, flipping over the page again and handing the blank book to Jungkook.

“Draw…”  Taehyung looked around, trying to find something simple to draw, but could only see the building and a bunch of trees. He clicked his tongue and looked back at Jungkook. “Draw me. That’s simple enough.” Jungkook Took the book and the pencil handed to him and nodded, looking over Taehyung’s face. He kept looking up at the elder’s face, then back down to the paper, drawing out what he saw. Not even five minutes later, the bell rang out, signalling the end of this period. Jungkook stopped, looking at what he had drawn. Taehyung took the book back, looking over the basic sketch.

“Not bad. Maybe if you had more time it would be better, but I trust your skill.” Jungkook laughed lightly, handing the pencil back to Taehyung and standing.

“I, uh, have to have my attendance marked in my next class.” Taehyung hummed, letting Jungkook know he had heard. By then, Taehyung had flipped the page back over and continued his work on the idea he had.

“Take your time, there’s not much to do yet,” Taehyung joked, looking back up at the kid in front of him. “As of right now, it’s just us working on this, though. That means once I get my idea drawn out and sized for the wall, we’re gonna have some serious work to do.” Jungkook hadn’t quite realized that he might be the only volunteer, but he didn’t wanna back out now.

“I gotcha.” With that, he left, quickly making his way to his next class.

–

It took Taehyung the rest of the week to get the full idea out, spending the weekend properly sizing it. By the next monday, he was ready to get down to business.

“You’re gonna need a change of clothes,” Taehyung pointed out. Jungkook was still wearing his uniform, not quite thinking of that fact that he might stain it with paint.

“I, uh, I have my gym clothes?” Jungkook suggested. Taehyung let out a quick ‘that’ll work’ as he unboxed the materials from the art room.

“You’re gonna need a slip from the office saying you can wear it, though. Go get the slip and change, I’ll just be setting everything up.” Jungkook nodded and headed towards the office. Taehyung hummed a song that had been stuck in his head as he pulled a table and two chairs by the wall. He had decided that spray paint would be the best to work with and pulled out a can of white paint. Just barely five minutes later, Jungkook came jogging back, donning a pair of light grey basketball shorts and black t-shirt, a red paper safety pinned to his shirt.

When he had made his way back to the wall, he set down his uniform, opening his backpack and shoving it in the bag. Just before he closed it, he remembered the sketch book he had brought. Throughout the week, Taehyung had been asking Jungkook to practice sketching faces since the idea he had come up with involved painting certain teachers and faculty members. Jungkook opened the book to the first page, setting it on the table Taehyung had brought over.

“These are the faces I drew this week. I just drew the teachers I had and some of my classmates.” Taehyung stopped his preparation and looked down at the page open in front of him. The first face that was drawn was of Mrs. Cho, Jungkook’s first period teacher. She was fairly old, but still young at heart. Taehyung fondly remembers having her class when he was in high school. Jungkook had a more realist way of drawing, capturing as many real life details as he could. Taehyung’s art style was more experimental, but he still stuck to a more real look to his paintings.

“These are great,” Taehyung said, flipping the pages until he came across one of a student. It was by far the best out of all the faces he had drawn. Jungkook noticed this, and looked at which one the elder was looking at. A bright red blush spread across his face, remembering how hard he worked to get her face right.

“Who is this?” Taehyung asked, encaptured by how real the hair looked.

“Uh, a, a girl in my gym class. W-we also have chemistry together, so I had a longer time to draw her out,” Jungkook quipped, hoping that this excuse was going to be easily accepted. The truth is, he spent a whole night working on her face. He had pulled up a photo she posted online and did his best copying it. Taehyung didn’t believe the excuse given, but he didn’t prod.

When Taehyung had finished going through the book, finally landing on an empty page, he gave it back to the younger. “You’ve got some mad talent, kid.” Jungkook heard a small ‘thank god’, and let out a small chuckle. The two moved onto opening the boxes, pulling out all the cans of white spray paint.

“Alright, we need to cover the whole wall in white paint so we have a clean base to work on. We’ll need to get a ladder at some point, but we can fetch that one we need it.” Taehyung handed Jungkook a can of paint and uncapped the second one in his hand. “You ever work with spray paint before?” Taehyung asked. Jungkook shook his head and Taehyung clicked his tongue. He expected that, but was hoping for a different answer.

“It’s easy.” Taehyung pulled a face mask over his mouth and nose, gesturing Jungkook to do the same. Taehyung showed Jungkook how spray painting worked, painting lines on the wall. After about twenty minutes of explaining, Jungkook finally got a hang of it. Taehyung was glad such a talented kid offered to help because if he had been given someone completely inexperienced, he most likely would’ve ripped his own hair out.

–

By the time the last bell rang out, signalling the end of the school day, the two were only ¾ of the way done. Taehyung told Jungkook he could go home, but the younger insisted on staying to help finish.

“It’s such a simple task and if I leave, it’ll take twice as long to finish.” Taehyung sighed and let him stay. By the time the sun was setting, they were just barely finishing up. Taehyung made his way down the ladder, tossing the half used can of white paint to Jungkook, who caught it and capped it.

“Your hands are covered in paint,” Jungkook pointed out.

“So are yours,” Taehyung added, reorganizing the cans of paint scattered on the ground and table. Jungkook shrugged, unaffected by the dried paint on his hands. He joined in the clean process, tossing all the empty cans in a nearby trashcan.

“Where do these boxes go?” Jungkook asked, stacking two boxes on top of one another.

“The art room,” Taehyung said, doing the same with the other two boxes. They were heavy, but the art room wasn’t that far away from the courtyard. Jungkook lead the way, pushing the door to the art room open with his side. The light had been shut off and all the chairs were stacked in the back. Jungkook sat the boxes in his hand down on a table and flicked on the lights. The light buzz of the fluorescent lights filled the room. Taehyung sat his boxes down beside Jungkook’s, walking to the closet in the back corner of the classroom. Mrs. Fukuhara’s desk was set right next to the door, and the small glass holding the dusty pink flowers caught his eye. A heavy feeling filled his chest, but he pushed past it. He unlocked the closet door and flicked the light on.

“Bring the boxes over here,” Taehyung said, rearranging a few things so the four boxes would fit. Jungkook brought over the first two, handing them off to Taehyung with ease. Taehyung struggled a bit, not nearly as strong as Jungkook was, but was able to set then beneath a shelf without pulling something. He directed Jungkook to set the next two beside the others and walked out the small closet.

“You know, I used to take this class. My first year here was also her first year teaching.” Jungkook shut the door and hummed, letting Taehyung know he’s listening. “She’s probably the reason why I ended up focusing on art. Actually, scratch that, if it weren’t for her I’d probably be working in a gas station right now.” The two laughed a bit, and Taehyung locked the closet door.

“Hey, do you need a ride home?” Taehyung asked, just now realizing how late it was.

“Uh, not really. I just walk down to the bus station and take the bus home,” he said, following Taehyung out of the room.

“Well, then, do you want a ride home? I always hated taking the bus home.” The two walked back to the wall, grabbing their things and heading back to the front.

“Only if you’re willing to drive me,” Jungkook said, pulling his phone out the side pocket of his bag. He had a text from his mother, telling him to be careful on his way home.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Taehyung said, a reassuring smile following. They made their way to Taehyung’s car and Jungkook got into the passenger seat as Taehyung started the car.

–

The two found themselves in a routine. Jungkook would stay after school with Taehyung and Taehyung would drive him home. They still had a ways to go before the mural could be declared finished and Taehyung ended up having to ask for an extension in time, due to the fact that only one student was willing to help.

Jungkook, on the other hand, spent all his free time during and after school helping Taehyung. The two had become friends after only two weeks and Jungkook found himself falling behind in school. He would panic every night he got home and would spend hours working his hardest on the school he missed. It soon got to a point where he had to drop the dance class he had been doing since his freshman year to make time to catch up.

It didn’t take very long for Taehyung to notice the difference in Jungkook. He looked tired every morning they met up and would look stressed after he returned from fetching his assignments from his teachers. It wasn’t until a Friday afternoon, just over a month into the project, that Taehyung talked to Jungkook about it.

The two were alone in the courtyard. The last bell had rang out an hour ago and all the students and teachers had already made their way back home. Jungkook was working on a worksheet while Taehyung was at the top of the ladder, painting black music notes.

“Hey, you okay?” Taehyung asked simply. Jungkook looked up from his paper at Taehyung.

“I, uh, yeah, I’m okay. Why?” Jungkook asked, not expecting the question.

“Because you look stressed out and dead tired.” Jungkook frowned a bit, the thoughts of his near late assignments all coming to mind.

“It’s nothing. I just have a lot of homework to do now. Nothing I’m not used to.” Jungkook turned his attention back to his worksheet and Taehyung paused. He frowned a little, glancing down at Jungkook. He sighed lightly, making his way back down the ladder and sitting in the chair next to Jungkook.

“What’re you working on?” Taehyung asked, pulling the face mask off and setting it on the table.

“It’s for my math class. I have to show my work for each question, but since I’m not in class, I have to use notes from my friends. The only problem is that they’re not the kinds of people to take notes to begin with, so I really don’t have much to work with.” Jungkook retried the problem he was working on and stopped halfway through, realizing that he had been doing it wrong, yet again. He grumbled, erasing what he had just written and looking back at the half-assed notes his friend provided him.

“Here, lemme help.” Taehyung pulled the worksheet and paper closer to him and grabbed the pencil sitting on the table. Taehyung worked the problem out and then slid it back to Jungkook. “Alright, this is how you do it. I don’t know where your friend was in class, but what they wrote is wrong.” Taehyung spent the rest of their time there helping Jungkook through the worksheet. Once it was finished, Jungkook’s stressed and frustrated expression turn into pure relief.

“Thank you for helping me,” Jungkook said, helping Taehyung pack up everything once again.

“No, thank you for helping me. If I were to do this alone, I probably wouldn’t finish this by the deadline,” Taehyung said, opening the door for Jungkook. The two put all their stuff away and walked to Taehyung’s car.

“How much homework do you have left to do?” Taehyung asked, pulling his car door open.

“A lot,” is all Jungkook said. He tossed his backpack in the backseat and got in the car.

“Then I’m assuming you won’t wanna go get food with me?” Taehyung said, pulling out of the parking lot. Jungkook thought for a moment. It was the weekend, he had all night and then two more days to catch up.

“No, it’s fine. I spent my lunch period with you anyways, I’m so hungry.” Taehyung chuckled and changed his route.

–

Jungkook woke up hunched over his desk, lamp still on and his phone buzzing. He scrambled for it, lifting things to see where he had set it.

“Hello?” Jungkook said groggily.

“Jungkook! You finally answered. What’re you doing today?” Jungkook recognized the voice as Taehyung’s.

“Uh, homework?” Jungkook offered.

“Great! I’ve decided that since you’re spending all your school time helping me, then I will help you with your homework.” Jungkook was in shock. This wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, but it was still a blessing. “I mean, only if you’re okay with spending even more time with me,” Taehyung joked.

“N-no! That’s totally fine. Perfect, actually.” The two arranged for Taehyung to come over to Jungkook’s house at around 11, giving Jungkook just enough time to clean his wreck of a room and to change out of the clothes we was wearing yesterday. The doorbell rang and as Jungkook walked to the front door, he found that his parents had left for work. It wasn’t often that they worked weekends, but sometimes they couldn’t get out of it.

“Do you… not have parents? I’ve never seen them around,” Taehyung said, walking into the house.

“They work a lot. They were supposed to be home today, actually, but I think they got called in…” Jungkook said. He walked into the kitchen to grab something to eat before they started working on homework. “Do you want anything?” Taehyung shook his head and took off the backpack he was wearing. It seemed heavy by the grunt the elder let out as it hit the floor.

“What’s in that?” Jungkook asked, kicking the refrigerator door closed.

“A couple of my old binders from when I was in school. I have the rest in my car, but I only took in the ones of the classes I know you take.” Jungkook was in awe.

“Why do you still have those?” he asked, opening the fridge again to put the milk away.

“At first I kept them because I needed them while I was still in school, but after I moved out, they just got shoved in a closet. I really don’t know why I didn’t throw them away when I moved out, but I guess I thought I might need them for whenever I finally go to college.” Jungkook hadn’t realized that Taehyung didn’t go to college. It made sense, he spent the whole day at the high school to work on the mural and never mentioned it when they spoke about their lives.

They both made their way up to Jungkook’s room. Taehyung sat his bag on the floor next to Jungkook’s desk and looked around the room. It had posters covering every inch of wall, the shelves lined on the wall with the desk had trophies, pictures, and books filling the spaces.

“Holy shit, you have so many trophies.” Taehyung walked to all the trophies and ran his hands over a couple of them, reading what each one was for.

“Y-yeah… I’m an, uh, overachiever,” Jungkook said, a light blush coloring his cheeks. When people come into his room, they aren’t amazed by the trophies. They usually let out a teasing joke about how annoyingly ambitious he was.

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. A lot of kids in high school only care about three things; popularity, passing, and how they look. It’s good you have all these. They show you actually care about what comes next in life.” Taehyung moved onto the picture frames. Most of them were of Jungkook and his parents, Jungkook either holding a trophy or donning a medal around his next.

“Who is that?” Taehyung asked, pointing at a girl who was posing with Jungkook in what looked like a park. She was very pretty, but she seemed… familiar?

“That’s Sunhi. She’s been my friend since my freshman year. I, uh, she was one of the faces I drew for you.” Jungkook sat at his desk, pulling out the first assignment they could work on.

“Ooh. Do you like her?” Taehyung asked bluntly, turning to look at Jungkook. Jungkook paused for a moment and hesitated to reply.

“Yeah, kinda,” he said. Taehyung hummed, now wanting to prod.

“Why ‘kinda’?” Jungkook shrugged, looking at Taehyung.

“She’s not exactly the kind of girl to date me. She also really likes one of our friends.” Jungkook tried to sound nonchalant, but it didn’t really work. Even though he had accepted these facts when he met her, it still stung.

“Hmm. It’s not healthy to dwell on unrequited love. Have you even told her how you feel?” Taehyung asked, his mind falling back on Mrs. Fukuhara.

“No? Why would I do that?” Jungkook said, as if not saying how he felt was the most normal solution.

“Maybe because she might actually be the kind of girl to date you? Or that you have nothing to lose if she doesn’t actually like you?” Taehyung was surprised that this kid hadn’t done so yet, but then again, he reminded himself, Jungkook is still in high school. This kind of ‘nothing to lose’ thinking hasn’t even formed yet.

“I do have something to lose. She’s my closest friend. I mean, why would I wanna lose something like that over feelings?” Jungkook reasoned. It was stupid reasoning, he will admit, but it’s what got him through nearly three years. Taehyung groaned, rolling his eyes.

“My god, you really have no idea… Come on, kid. You gotta say something to her about it. Even if she doesn’t like you back, you’ll at least know. And not to mention that if she truly were a close friend, you won’t lose a friend over ‘feelings’,” Taehyung explained. It made sense to Jungkook, but he wasn’t quite sure if he should really do it.

“Either man up and tell her or move on. You can’t let these feelings eat you up.” Taehyung was now feeling the hurt in his chest. Jungkook felt the same and sighed, deciding that now would be a good time to change the subject.

“I’ll figure it out. Right now we gotta get me caught up,” he said. Taehyung nodded and stood.

“Damn right.” The two smiled at eachother. They were becoming friends. They never expected this to flourish the way it did.

A/N: ohohoho boy, i ended this “chapter” with a sentence i used at the beginning of the story, how poetic lmao i hope ya liked it though. I don’t proofread anything i write so yikes i hope nothing is a mess.

[manabingu]

When I was recording New Divide earlier on the smule karaoke app, my mom came in with a bowl of pineapple and she made me some tea. She said she came in and wanted to give me something for my throat cuz she felt bad that I didn’t have a water bottle with me. But when I saw her eyes, it was the look of parental concern & her eyes looked kind of misty too.So I dunno if she was lying and came to check up on me because I probably sounded like I was in pain, which I am. I’m using singing as an emotional outlet so I don’t do something dumb. I just took some anxiety medicine too so I can feel reassured.

I dunno how loud I was singing, I honestly can’t feel anything right now tbh, I’m in a somewhat frozen state I get when my brain shuts down a little.

 But something I discovered thanks to joining YouTube Idol it’s that one strength I have as a singer is emotional delivery, I may not have been the most technical vocalist, but the reason I won over the others was because I made the judges feel something. Ceonn told me its the one thing he wishes he could master, and I look up to Ceonn, he’s one of the most talented friends I have, I grew to accept that strength of mine but I’m also digging deep to understand why I CAN deliver strong emotional deliveries. And this whole Chester news happened, I feel like Chester’s entire career was talking about the feelings that maybe a lot of us want to express but are too afraid to, or just don’t wanna show in public to “save face” or something like that. But the thing is, honestly we don’t take this stuff seriously enough. That man clearly was pouring out his own soul into the music. And THAT’S why his music resonated with people, because there are so many people including myself who can relate to the lyrics and the vocals that are soul shaking. Chester went through all these dark feelings, and anytime he saw a fan or friend struggling with it, he would talk to them till they felt better. And that’s something I try to do as well whenever I see anyone feeling remotely sad, I don’t want ANYONE to feel this horrible thing, I try to cheer up people when I can. I’ve been looking up vids all day to remember Chester and I feel SO bad such a kind, humble artist like that was feeling the way he did. I wish I had tweeted to him thanking him for being a big influence on me. I feel guilty for not speaking up and letting him know. But I can’t do anything now.

I’ve been growing more and more depressed/suicidal as the years go by. It kinda gets worse as each day passes & anytime something like this happens to a person I look up to, it makes me revert back to square one after so many months of progress. I don’t speak up but there are days when I still remember deaths of people I cared about like...just randomly outta nowhere. And it makes me feel numb inside or like an impending doom kinda feeling. I recently went to go see a family friend with my mom & sis so I can have medication (organic though cuz I hate chemical stuff) to help my metabolic imbalances cuz I apparently have some. I swore I would never do that because ( in all honesty I didn’t wanna become dependent on medicine to feel better. And half of me honestly doesn’t care anymore what happens to me, I am convinced it wouldn’t make a huge difference if I just evaporate or something. I dunno, I’m jut goin through the motions at this point). It takes a LOT of energy for me to feel genuine emotions anymore. But honestly things that make me happy is music, well-written shows/acting, abridging & drawing. My creative outlets are what keep me alive & help me HAVE a will to live nowadays.

But like...Linkin Park was probably one of the first rock bands I ever listened to, and it was that band that me and my friends would bond over a lot. I texted Crystal today and she was just as devastated as I was, I am gonna go see her next week. Because I can tell we just need to be in each other’s company, to watch each other’s back... she admitted she’s been feeling down too. I proly told a few people but you know how some people feel better after listening to soft, relaxing music? Well...for me screamo, metal, and hard rock (as aggressive and loud as it may sound) is what I find makes ME feel better, it’s like a catharsis of emotion. I remember in middle school I kinda started to see the harsh reality of the world. And then, I found myself starting to develop a love for rock music. I didn’t know why I wanted to wear black & enjoyed that whole rock scene (most hispanic people back then that I knew always made me feel bad for not liking hispanic music/customs enough, I dunno? So I felt like an outcast growing up?) But I remember my older sibling said “if you turn emo or dress in those fashions that they’d become a problem student”. And I of course didn’t want that, so I hid my inner musical tastes from them, but I hate the feeling of being restricted. I enjoy freedom of expression through music & art and fashion. But I wasn’t allowed to do that, I had to be prim and proper and act like a lady (I hadn’t yet realized I was genderfluid/ demisexual so that’s another reason why I probably felt socially awkward) . I CAN do that now, but I know I am still silently judged about it. When I sing or record sometimes, I go to apologize afterwards (if I wasn’t home alone. I usually TRY to record when I’m home alone so I don’t have to hold back & be more loose) because that’s just how I grew up. Being self conscious all the time and apologetic of who I feel I really am on the inside. And sure, whatever people keep constantly making fun of this stereotype about “emo kids” and the way the dress or sing or things they like. But honestly we shouldn’t do that.

I think that we need to tell people that it’s ok to express themselves however they want. And IF they like something that seems “unconventional” for their race/gender/other dumb labels, that they don’t gotta be shunned for it. Let people just be themselves man. And if we just give people more love and understanding, they will grow up with healthier self esteems.But yeah. I just, I’m probably just really groggy from crying, singing till my throat stings & just having these heavy emotions all day. I am sending everyone who needs a hug a HUGE hug. And I honestly want you to have a good/day/week/year. You are important and lovely and I care if you’re happy. I’m sorry for rambling tonight But I needed to just vent a bit.

[ourceliumnetwork]

*dancing* My new therapist will be covered by my insurance! ^__^

And this new-patient appointment couldn’t come any sooner. After a month+ of a depression episode along the lines of ones I had *prior* to me being medicated, I’m now having a hell of a lot of anxiety which, again, should be taken care of by my medication.

I need...I need help is what I need. I’m struggling accepting the new dynamic between my parents and I and how they’re overcompensating for how i was raised. I also need to come to terms with a couple of my past addictions and where I am with them now as far as coping mechanisms go. And I need someone to show me how to spot a certain type of person I fall in with easily because I need to avoid them in the future. It just ends up with me being shit on and I’m tired of that.

I’ve gone over the parent thing before, but I’ll sum up some of it and bring you to where we are now because there’ve been...updates. 

Essentially I was raised by emotionally immature parents, who were not aware of the effect they had on their two young children. I was then continually bullied by them in lieu of having actual bullies in school due to my being home schooled. 

When we were taken out of the public school system, we were isolated and taught that differing opinions from mom and dad were to be punished with ridicule and infantilization and ablism. We saw that others with different opinions were called stupid, dumb, idiotic, should not be allowed to procreate, and if my sister or I exhibited a potential leaning towards that way of thinking we were picked on, and made to feel ashamed. I did not learn to disagree. I learned to bow my head and accept that what my parents told me was law, whatever it was. I never questioned it either because I had no other information coming in. I had very few friends, and the few I hung out with I didn’t do so often, and the others were online friends I couldn’t be sure were real people until much later (sorry Leah and Kellie, but how was I supposed to know awesome people actually existed???). 

I was convinced because of my parents that I was unworthy of marriage unless I had a certain set of skills because clearly I was not attractive enough to date - and yes, this was something they indicated was my unattractiveness. And some of those skills I just don’t have (cooking *narrows eyes*...the kitchen and I have an understanding and it’s that the oven submits to me, I can use the convoluted can opener, and i know where all the things are stored. Also the dishwasher. Everything else likes to...disagree with me). 

Often throughout my childhood and into my teens I realized i was being raised by an older brother and sister, not by parental figures. They were not prepared to have a child when they had me. {Also there’s a conversation Kaernak and I keep having where potentially my younger sister is actually potentially a half-sister or a cousin raised by my parents because my aunt on my mother’s side wasn’t in a good relationship and/or less prepared than my parents to care for a child. The reason for this being the absolutely uncanny and frankly disturbing similarity between my sister and my aunt in appearance. I have not yet brought this up with my parents. (If you would like a couple examples of this familial scan-troversy - that’s a scandal and a controversy in one - then PM me and I’ll see what I can do for you). )

My parents’ emotional immaturity is coupled with the fact that they are functioning alcoholics and have been my entire life. They’re the socially acceptable version of alcoholic. As they’ve grown older, they’ve become more aware of how they could have been better parents earlier, and have tried to make amends now that my sister and I are no longer living in their house. As the eldest, they realize they fucked me way over, and now that I live an hour away they’re still failing on certain aspects of making it up to me, but they’re trying. At least they’ve been...mostly supportive as of late (which is really fucking weird because literally not six months ago I was having to justify everything to them and they still didn’t take it as legitimate. And now it’s like...oh of course you’re xyz darling, we love you and will support you however you need. And also we’re gonna make sure you’re taken care of financially. Which is why I’m reluctant to bring this kind of shit up to them, because I like that they’ve got the money to spare on me since they claimed never to have any while I was growing up (and yet somehow our collection of computers only grew????).

So there’s that. That was a much longer summation than I intended. But a lot of it was coupled with the “where I am now” thing so that’s ... progress.

Now on to the addictions thing. I was a smoker for a brief period of time but it was enough. Occasionally I’ll have a shit day and all I want is a cigarette or two (or three) to ease everything. It’s not a great coping mechanism but it’s what I had at the time. I also struggle with “how much drinking is too much drinking” because of the previously mentioned functioning alcoholism that runs in my family. And on top of both of those things, I was a heavy pot smoker for a number of years (which is why cigarettes were such a easy addiction to come into). I used it to escape my problems and self-medicate for my two main mental illnesses - which was like the worst thing for them because it made my anxiety skyrocket and my depressions crash harder. Anyway, occasionally I get cravings, and it’s usually in the form of “Hey, unhealthy coping mechanism, come here!” Drinking has been cut back IMMENSELY thanks to Kaernak. He also does not put up with smoking, so I haven’t reverted back to cigarettes since I met him. And I’m no longer associated with anyone who smokes pot, so I can’t be tempted. And these are all good, but on those days where unhealthy coping mechanisms look like good ideas, I need something else to do.

And now for the last part: identifying and avoiding a certain type of person.

I want all of my current mutuals to understand that NONE OF YOU FIT THIS BILL. Okay? Now that I’ve got that covered...

I tend to find myself drawn to a certain type of person when I’m allowed to choose my friends on my own. This person tends to be the victim in everything, blames everyone else for their problems, has a perception of themselves as the main character in the story and never as the supporting character to anyone else. They tend to be very emotionally young, though they may be more “mature” than others their age, which makes it easy to hide this sort of thing for longer.

These people tend to draw me in with the victim thing cause I have a savior complex. I believe I can help people out of their hole and all it takes is showing them the right kind of positivity and love that they say they don’t get anywhere else. It’s something I’ve been working on, but I don’t realize it’s happened until it’s too late so a lot of this is like “shit I should have recognized a, b, and c behavior!” but I didn’t. 

My sister was the greatest offender of these things. She’s exceptionally self-centered and has been her whole life. My parents only fed into this, and now she’s an adult who has her own life and she’s siphoning money out of my parents under the guise of being unable to afford food and necessities using her paycheck alone, but she somehow always has a new item(s) of clothing that she *just* bought and isn’t it so cute and stylish though she has 10 just like it but this one is more new that the last 5 and more stylish than the first 5 because those were from x number of years ago and while they’re still functional, they’re? somehow? not wearable????

She also plays the victim in any disagreement we have. For example, during Xmas, we had a misunderstanding about the seating at the table she and her boyfriend and me and my boyfriend were going to be sitting at. I’d moved chairs I did’t know I wasn’t supposed to (Because no one told me??), and I misunderstood her seating arrangement because her shit was in the middle of the table and I picked a side for her and her boyfriend to sit on. She wouldn’t listen to me, and we got snippy. She was somehow the victim even though there was no victim or victor. It was my fault for everything, and I apologized and attempted to walk away to avoid further escalation and somehow that was wrong too. Staying and explaining was wrong, leaving and apologizing was wrong, and I couldn’t win. This is so standard for our interactions that I don’t always remember what the fuck she was mad about the last time, because it’s fucking stupid every time and it’s that she thinks she understands what I’m saying and when I explain she was wrong, she’s like “that’s exactly what I was saying the whole time you don’t listen” even though she wasn’t saying anything close to that at all. 

I’ve now had two former best friends who fit that bill where they’re the victim, they’re the one who is always right, and if you disagree with them and show them why they’re wrong, they claim they knew that already and that you’re the one wrong. Gaslighting is their argument method, and you can’t win against them. They’re determined to be a heroine without fault, determined that they’re the princess who needs saving but also can somehow handle things on her own. They’re the girls who claim they’re Buffy, claim they’re Bella (or whoever is the lead in any similar books), claim they’re Ana and waiting for their Christian Grey to shower them in money, gifts and food.

And...well it’s hard to deal with that. The last one, she’s young and hopefully she’ll grow out of it, or she’ll learn that people won’t let themselves be treated like that. The one prior to her...well that’s what ended our relationship in the end. I wouldn’t let her be the victim and pull me down with her. My second act of defiance against her and she couldn’t handle it.

My sister...well that’s...that’s something I need to discuss along with my parental issues.

You see, I have a lot of this on lockdown. I’m medicating the worst things, and I’m just...I need more coping mechanisms because the ones I’ve acquired from research and life experience either aren’t cutting it or aren’t healthy for me

Anyway. The boyfriend and I are probably having dinner with my parents tomorrow. Does anyone know what you talk to your parents about when you can’t discuss work because you also work with them? I find myself at a loss.