#these two douchebags have completely consumed my brain i love them

[sketchedspiders]

Sets these down for the elevator hitch and eloquent countenance fandoms and runs

[lord-explosion-baku]

Lying Is A Formal Pleasure

Yandere!Hawks x Pro Hero!Reader

Forced into a “relationship” to better your image, you agonize through the night as you pretend to be head over you heels in love with a douchebag. 

warnings: non consensual touching, light violence

A/N: I posted this a few months ago, but after a bad mental health night, I deleted it like a day later. But now I’m screaming over my oneshot inactivity and the 80 WIPs that remain unfinished, so I figured I’d post something that’s done fhjfv. :’D

Blinking flashbulbs and whispering onlookers flood your audio and visual spaces, forcing you to pause while you take a moment to gather yourself, swaying uneasily in the too-high heels you’ve been forced into. You’re close to being overwhelmed when Hawks places a smooth hand on the small of your exposed back, ushering you closer to his side. He waves to a camera flickering with a red dot, the one that tells the two of you that you’re live on air. The warm impression of his fingers on your skin offers you an insincere sense of security. You’re not as used to being on screen as your ‘lover,’ so you let him take the lead. It’s easier this way, as resentful as you are to admit it.

A thin woman in a red dress holds a microphone up between the two of you and asks if the happy couple has high hopes in regards to their award nominations. Hawks, always quick to flash a charming grin, leans into the mic and says, “we’re both just very honored to be here.”

It’s not like him to be so humble, especially not when he has an audience, but your publicist recently advised you that although his pride is fitting for his singular image, nobody quite likes a power couple who, in her words, “thinks they’re the shit.” People want to see bashful, blossoming love. They want to see you be together, grow together, and develop together. You have to be shy—show that you’re excited to be by his side, and he has to be supportive—happy to introduce you to the sensational side of being a hero. It’s all a facade, even your relationship, but if you stay true to your new role, your popularity will see a serious incline.

Hawks runs his hand up your spine and you get a chill when you realize that the reporter asked you a question: how long have the two of you been together?

“Oh-” you start, shifting to look up at your partner. Amber eyes bare down on you and you swallow dryly, trusting that you look enchanted, rather than sick to your stomach. If you were to be honest with her, you’d say, ‘too long,’ but it’s not your job to be honest tonight. You have to be delightful and charming, cute and coy. So instead, you timidly blink up at Hawks, cover your shy grin with your elegantly gloved hand while leaning into him, and say, “nearly two months.”

The number two hero chuckles, moving his hand over to your side to squeeze it a little harder than necessary. He’s telling you one thing: wrong answer.

“Well, she says two months, while I say three.” Hawks is all confidence and little to no self-doubt. In a way, he’s everything you want to be, and every time you think about it in that light, the more you seem to detest him. You hate that you virtually need him in this respect to get you where you want to be in your career. You hate that he’s living this farce up. “It took my little angel a while to finally agree to go on a date with me. Even then, I knew that we were meant to be together.” His eyes slide back to you, and his tone takes a dark edge that nobody besides you will be able to pick up on. “From the very first moment I laid my eyes on her.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Hawks had barrated you to go out with him for about a month before your publicist told you it would be good for your public image to have a pro—the number two pro—by your side. Apparently, you and him work well because of your quirk: siren. Her reasoning is that you sing just like birds sing. Hawks is a bird. Therefore, you and him should go hand-in-hand. The public aptly named your relationship birdsong and you’ve already done a photoshoot where you had to pose behind a golden birdcage where Hawks sat inside, gripping onto the cage’s bars, staring up at you while you had your lips pursed subtly, pantamiming a song. The irony of your situation is that there is a metaphorical prison in your fake relationship, but it’s not Hawks who sits in the cage. The second irony of your situation is that hawks don’t sing at all; they prey.

“Awwww,” the reporter whines in a shrill, albeit melodramatic voice, looking adoringly from you to Hawks, “I couldn’t imagine how anybody could ever say no to you! That must’ve put a damper on your ego! Poor thing.”

Hawks shrugs like he does—another thing you despise. You can smell the smugness wafting off his chest that seems to puff up as he speaks. “I knew she was just playing hard to get.” He winks at you, sliding his hand down to sit not so obediently at your hip. You feel him drifting towards your ass cheek, and you struggle to not change your fraudulent smile into a full on sneer. “And she knew I liked the challenge.”

The reporter’s eyes aren’t even on you when she asks, “really, how could you say no to this dreamboat? I certainly wouldn’t be able to!”

If you want him, you can take him, you think tartly as you maneuver your arm around Hawks. He makes a sort of low, sort of grunting noise when you lace your fingers through his heavy feathers, and you realize that this might be the first time you’ve actually touched his wings. You’re bitter to admit that the feel of them in your hands are soft to the touch—enjoyable, almost. They might be the most redeeming thing about him.

You tighten your hand into a fist and tug, softly at first, but when you feel him tense next to you, you pull a little tighter, enjoying the brief sadism break you allow yourself.

“I must have been too darn shy at first!” Your words are syrup dribbling over glass. You wrench your hand, twisting into Hawks’ wings. He clears his throat in an attempt to cover up a groan, his hold on your side worsening infinitesimally. “Or maybe I just couldn’t believe that the number two hero was actually interested in me. Honestly? I was starstruck! I thought I was being used for some kind of joke!”

“Hah…” Hawks’ thumb rubs circles in your back when you guide your hand along the stream of his wings and grab at a different bunch of feathers. He whispers, “take it easy, chickadee…’

But you don’t want to take it easy. Hawks’ cheeks redden a bit more every time you move your fingers through his wings. He must be incredibly uncomfortable and you take pride in the fact that, for once, it’s not you who’s suffering. You lean into his shoulder, offer the reporter woman a smile so sickly sweet, you can practically feel sugar coating your gums when you say, “now every day I get to spend with him is a dream come true!!”

One of Hawks’ eyes twitches when you give the tuft of feathers in your hold a final twist. He spreads his palms wide on your back, and slowly curls his fingers inward, pulling on your skin.

After a few more questions, the reporter notices Hawks glancing down to the large hall being used as the ceremony venue, and thanks the both of you for indulging the public with information about your relationship. Sending a final wink to the camera, Hawks guides you through arched doors and nods at a few other well-known heroes attending the ceremony. You sneak away when you think Hawks is about to get lost in another conversation, but when you slip into an empty lounge reserved for award nominees, he’s right on your heels.

Ignoring his presence completely, you fix yourself a drink at an unattended minibar. You swirl the ice around in your glass and finally turn to scowl at your partner. He looks off, or not very present, still smirking, but dazed. Maybe he tied his tie too tightly, and he’s blocking the blood flow to his brain. You grin at the thought of choking him out while you sip on your beverage. Hawks grins back.

Engulfing and consuming the space around you, he takes a confident step towards you. You feel nothing short of a shadow to a tree with his wings puffed out and spread proudly like they are.

“Nervous?” He asks, placing a hand on the bar as he leans closer to you. You give him a half-hearted shrug, trying to be nonchalant. Even if Hawks knows you're uncomfortable, you aren’t willing to show him an inch of fear.

“You shouldn’t be,” he goes on, staring at your lips. He watches you suck down your drink and clears his throat. “You were great out there.”

“Believable?” You ask sarcastically, licking your bottom lip. You reach out to stroke the inside of his wings, running your hands along his feathers teasingly slow, enjoying the sight of each row of his crimson plume twitch down along with your touch.

“Believable,” he chuckles. “I had no idea that I was your dream come true.”

You scoff and place your empty glass down. “Mhm, my everlasting, waking nightmare.” You bring your arm back to your hip. “I’m truthful when I can be.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a goofy half-grin. It’s off-putting. He isn’t any less sharp than usual, but there’s something about him right now that has goosebumps raising on your arms.

“C’mere,” he coaxes, grabbing your wrist. You snap it back immediately.

“Oh, please.” You push past him, intentionally brushing into his wings, and begin strutting away.

“You’re such a goddamn tease,” he rasps, hooking you sideways. Both of his hands curl around your hips, and you’re immediately pulled back against him. “Have I ever told you how sexy your back is?”

“Get off of me,” you say without enthusiasm, because it’s not the first time he’s gotten handsy with you in closed spaces. Call yourself jaded, but it’s something that you’re semi-used to. So, when he doesn’t let up, all you can do is roll your eyes and fetch your compact mirror out of your clutch. While you fix your lips, Hawks lays his chin on your shoulder. His eyes find yours, and though they’re looking straight at you, they are, at once, incredibly ambiguous and eerily hyperfocused. He squeezes his arms around your torso, then brushes his lips across your cheek. Against your stubborn will, your stomach flips when he plants kisses on your jaw and trails down to your neck. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin, making your shift around in his embrace. That's when you feel a stiffening behind you.

“Hawks, what the hell are you doing?”

“Shame on you-“ his breath is hot on your ear- “touching me like that on camera, baby? Who knew my angel could be so naughty…”

You jerk your elbow back into his gut.

“I never touched you,” you seethe, ready to actually throw hands, when he rushes you forward, pushing you against the bar so that you’re lodged between it and him. Hot blood floods your face when you feel him pulse against your ass, and it doesn’t help when he snakes a hand through the back opening of your dress, sliding around to cup your stomach. He pulls you back so his bulge rubs between your cheeks.

“You’re seriously crossing the line right now!” You push against the bar, trying to bump him back, but he crowds you with his wings, shrouding you just like the metaphorical birdcage you’ve been stuck in for two—three months. You grasp a fistful of his feathers and yank on them hard, but he only snickers in response.

“Oh, little dove,” he groans, rocking his pelvis against your ass. It’s like he doesn’t even hear your protests. “Fuck. How’d you know I like it rough?” He kisses the hollow of your throat and hums appreciatively when you reluctantly shudder in response. “You have no idea how badly I wanna slip my cock into you right now. Finally wipe that sour look off your face as I drive myself in, inch by inch.” His fingers move down to pet your pubic bone. You want to scream in defiance when you feel a flash of liquid heat pool between your thighs. He dips in between your folds and he croons. “Bet you’d hug me nice and tight too. You don’t spread your legs for just anybody, do you babygirl?”

“Certainly not for you,” you rebuke. You grasp your abandoned glass, smash it against the bar, and spin yourself around, swiping your makeshift weapon across the number two hero’s face.

There’s a moment of shocked silence that falls between you two. A streak of red falls from the cut on Hawks’ cheeks and falls in spots on the whites in between his tuxedo coat. He dabs at the wound and examines the blood on his fingers, then his chest.

He snickers.

“Oh man, I wonder what they’ll think about this.” He shakes his head, grinning. “What do I tell ‘em: we were getting a little too frisky in the lounge, or do I lie and say it was an accident?”

“You can tell whoever, whatever you want,” you mumble. You know you should apologize for the sanctity of your status, but seeing his blood is cathartic to you, in a way. At least, until he speaks again.

With a clever fox smile, smug as the king of hell, Hawks drawls out, “the rising hero, Siren, is unstable and shouldn’t be trusted by the public.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. Hawks’ grin crawls wider, contented by your reaction to his threat.

“I was telling her not to get her hopes up about the awards ceremony. ‘There are a lot of other promising heroes gunning for The Best New Hero award,’ is what I told her, and she lost it…”

“Hawks—“

“She came at me with a glass she broke on the bar. Honestly, I’ve been worried about her drinking habits since day one, but I didn’t do enough to help her with the issue. In a way, it’s my fault this happened.”

“It is your fault!” You stomp your heel and throw an accusatory finger into his chest. “You attacked me!”

“Who do you think they’ll believe, sweetheart?” Hawks takes your hand in his, brings the back of your wrist up to his mouth, and kisses it. “The new hero with a pretty face, pretty voice, but is otherwise unknown, or me? Hero numero dos: Japan’s most trusted.”

You glare at him and he loves it. He enjoys every minute he puts you through mental turmoil.

“I could tell them it was an accident,” he sings, looping an arm around your waist to briskly pull flush up against him. You let him, but keep your head turned so you don’t meet his gaze. He continues—“but you’d have to make it up to me, little dove.”

His wings fall over you, shrouding you closer to him. He presses his lips to your temple, but doesn’t kiss you—doesn’t even speak again. He’s waiting for you to ask how.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” you say into his shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” he hums, the vibration of his voice buzzing down your neck, “we can just end your career tonight.”

“Hawks.”

“Don’t act like you’re not soaking wet right now. I felt that cunt, babe. Turns out, I’m not the only one who likes it rough.” He turns your head to face him. “You want me-“ he sneers-“and I didn’t even have to stroke your feathers to get you there.”

You close your eyes when his lips greet yours. The kiss is quick, but it lingers like old faith. If you let him in, he’ll stay there. You know that. But he’s backed you into a corner.

“You’re my girl,” he coos, “and I wanna be civil—I do, baby. You know I only want what’s best for us. But you’re gonna have to meet me halfway in order to get us where we need to be. Do you understand?”

Us...we…He throws those words around as if they matter. Then again, they do matter. They must, to him at least, but not to you. The only thing you really care about is me. Still, you nod.

“I’m gonna need you to say it, Siren.”

You sigh. “Yes, Hawks. I understand.”

“Good!” He chirps enthusiastically, any dark tone he previously took vanished. He spins you around to face the door that leads back to the hall. At first, you think he’s going to continue where he left off, but his hand finds its place at the small of your back, and he guides you forward.

“Now, let's go win us some awards,” Hawks says, bringing his hand down to pat your ass, “then we can make sure both of our dreams come true.”

[endlessymphony]

🧸 Congrats on 50! It is very much so deserved and so are all the future followers! If it’s not too much could I request a fluffy blurb with the one and only Remus Lupin, like a classic friends to lovers awkward and sweet first date shenanigans? Ilyyyy

thank u my beloved anon! <3

i think i’m in love with you. (pt. 1???)

pairing - remus lupin x reader

summary - the good ol’ best friends to lovers trope

warnings - cussing, lots of awkwardness, mentions of underage drinking

a/n - this is vaguely inspired by my ‘you are the kind of boy that they write love songs about.’ spotify playlist— because it’s adorable + has the same vibe

a/n continued; pls let me know if you guys want me to continue this fic to include the date! i honestly think this is just so sweet and cute, and would love to hear some feedback about it :) (might make it a two parter if y’all like it enough!!)

you and remus had been friends since fourth year, and while it wasn’t quite the ‘perfect’ first impression that brought you together, recalling the memory makes you smile nonetheless. most would claim that first impressions are truly everything, but you would beg to differ- seeing as being drenched in pumpkin juice by a very apologetic and slightly aloof boy has now led to one of the best friendships you’ve ever had.

tonight was just an average friday night in the gryffindor dorms as the marauders were hosting their usual ‘study’ night; obviously there was lots of chatter and laughter with an absence of any real studying happening, the name only aided in the fight against being caught by any teachers.

you and remus had claimed the couch whilst lily, james and sirius were scattered about the floor, peter sitting in a chair beside the couch.

glasses in hand, you were all slightly tipsy off of combinations of muggle alcohol that sirius managed to get his hands on, chests feeling as if they were alight. your skin tingled, brain and tongue feeling fuzzy as you laughed along with the others about something that james said.

you looked over at remus and caught him staring at you, you made brief eye contact before he looked away, a bit shy, but you giggled at decided to brush it off.

“you guys will never guess what i got for us tonight.” sirius started, legs slightly wobbly as he stood up. he reached into his pocket and retrieved a vial of veritaserum, “what better way to play truth or dare... then with some of this?”

you all looked around at each-other skeptically, knowing all about what that tiny vial can do to friendships, relationships, and your head. “i say we do it.” james pipes up, a smirk coming to his face. “...unless any of you have something to hide.” he turns to look at you and remus, raising his eyebrows a bit. you and remus turned to look at once another, cheeks darkening as your faces start to heat up. you look away quickly and try to ignore it, again.

ignore that feeling pooling in your stomach. the way your heart begins to flutter when you lock gazes. no, it can’t mean anything, right?

you all eventually give in to sirius’ antics, passing around the vial- everyone taking a shot. you’re the one to finish off the potion, it was an odd taste, your face contorting as you swallow it. not sweet, but not bitter, but also not sour- somehow all three combined to be one of the weirdest things you’ve ever tasted.

you place the glass vial down on the table in front of you, everyone waiting for the potion to take its effect. you sipped on your drink as you waited, hoping the taste of whatever lily mixed up would wash away the taste of the veritaserum.

and soon enough the ‘truth’ serum, as its called, began to work its magic on the rest of the group and yourself. your thoughts began to run- what if i mention the way that remus makes me feel? no, y/n, we’re not doing that tonight, plus no one will ask about it anyways. well, you spoke-thought too soon. everyone knew in some way or another that you and remus each had a thing for one another, so why not play on it when you’re both forced to tell the truth?

lily turned to the two of you with a wicked grin, just finishing up her dare, which you had missed due to the fact that you were consumed by your thoughts. her voice snapped you out of the haze, “so, y/n, truth or dare?” she drawled. both were terrible options. you knew that if you chose dare, you would end up licking someone’s foot or running down the corridor topless. but! truth was all the more terrifying. though, you suppose it’s the lesser embarrassing one of the two.

“truth.” you responded flatly, mumbling under your breath begging the universe to not mention remus. “what’s going on with you and remus, hm? do you like each-other?” her eyes glinted mischievously as she swirled the remnants of the drink in her hand around her cup. you wanted to say ‘nothing!’ but that wasn’t happening, mouth going before mind.

“i think he’s cute, and he gives me this weird butterfly feeling in my chest and sometimes talking to him makes me feel nauseous because i’m so nervous, maybe i think i’m in love with him.” you slapped your hand over your mouth to stop what felt like a stream of verbal diarrhea, eyes widening at what you just said. “shit, fuck. remus, i’m so sorry.” you said turning to him as you stood up.

you could almost cry from the embarrassment, well, that’s what you were doing as you speed walked back to your dorm. you couldn’t stay there, not after that, and you definitely couldn’t face remus. you just told your best friend you were in love with him, for merlins sake! if that wasn’t going to ruin the friendship- no, don’t even go there. that will ruin the friendship.

you launched yourself onto your bed, door shutting behind you. burying your head in the pillows, you just wished the mattress would swallow you so that you didn’t have to face reality. tears were scarce by this point, most of them streaming down your cheeks as you sped away into the hall.

remus was still sitting in the common room, dumbfounded. “shit.” he mumbled, mind completely scattered after your turn. james and sirius turned to him, sympathetically, well as sympathetically as they could until sirius cocked an eyebrow and started to muse, “you gonna go get them lover-boy?”

“yeah-“ he smoothed his hands on his sweater, “i am.” remus stood up and took after you, knowing that you always holed yourself up in your dorm whenever anything upset you. ‘they’re bound to be wrapped in blankets, face in the pillows’ he thought.

and that’s how you were exactly. wrapped in a crocheted blanket, face in the pillows. you didn’t know if you wanted to scream, or cry, or just run away and get a new identity and start a new life at beauxbatons or something as a transfer student.

remus reached your dorm, fist quivering as he started to knock on your door. “y/n.” he called, voice wavering. you sat up, “the doors open, rem.” he peeked in, a goofy grin coming to his face. “there you are.” he chimed, closing the door behind him as he walked in, sitting on your bed beside you.

“you always do that, y’know? whenever you’re upset or embarrassed, you always wrap yourself in that blanket and lay face down. sometimes you scream, or cry, or just end up taking a nap.” he chuckles lightly. “i hope you don’t feel bad about earlier.” remus stares at his feet, tapping one against the hardwood flooring. “i just don’t wanna ruin our friendship with my stupid crush.” you admit, feeling defeated, but he chuckles again.

you turn to look at him and cock your head, “what’s so funny?” you feel even worse, is he mocking you right now? laughing in your face? ouch- remus you absolute douchebag.

but it’s none of that, “well, y/n, to put it plainly, i think i’m in love with you too.” he stops his foot, looking up at you. your eyes meet, hearts both racing. “oh.” is all you can manage. his eyes dart back to the floor, “would, uh” he clears his throat slightly, “could i kiss you? maybe? would that be okay?” remus’ face starts to turn pink, a colour that you always thought complimented him quite well.

“yeah. that would be fine.” you replied, breathlessly. him saying that completely winded you. he gently placed his pointer finger under your chin, thumb bumping against your bottom lip as he leaned in. your eyes fluttered shut as you met him in the middle, lips brushing. it took everything in you not to just die then and there.

you bumped noses a few times throughout the kiss, giggles filling the room as you both pulled away- feeling the same breathless feeling once more. “so, this isn’t gonna ruin our friendship, right?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips. “of course not, if anything, now i just want you to be my best-friend AND my partner.”

“that would be lovely, rem.” you smiled even wider, pulling him in for another kiss.

maybe this whole awkward and messy confession wasn’t as bad as you thought.

[radiantroope]

Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Four - Tainted Love

chapter summary: Janelle comes over to talk and starts to show her true colors. You and John B. go surfing where he gets you to open up to him about your mom. An unlikely friend saves you from falling into what seems like a trap.

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of familial death, a beer is mentioned

word count: 4.3k+

author’s note: yeah uhhh don’t hate me for this lol. i wanna fight her too. as always, please leave me some feedback and let me know if you’re enjoying this series <3

read chapter three here!

series playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

You didn’t leave the house much. You didn’t want to risk running into Rafe or Janelle anywhere. Topper had dropped by a couple of times just to check on you and see how your mother was doing. Sarah was over the most, refusing to let you waste away in your room by yourself. She was going back to school at Chapel Hill, splitting her time between the mainland and the island. You’d tried to insist she didn’t have to come over every other day, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. ‘You’re my best friend. You can try and shut everyone else out, but not me.’ she’d said.

Your mother had an appointment that day to have a brain MRI. They wanted to check the tumor and make sure the chemotherapy was helping slow the growth or at least keep the tumor at bay for the time being. Her form of cancer was aggressive and there was a chance the chemo would only work for so long. Eventually the tumor would stop reacting to it and continue growing rapidly. Your parents told you the visit was boring and you’d be in the waiting room the whole time so they made you stay home.

You stared at the fresh cup of tea in front of you, robotically dipping the tea bag in and out of the scalding water. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Rafe, as much as you tried not to think about him. You couldn’t comprehend why he’d ghosted you and started dating your best friend. Was he ashamed of loving her and feared you’d think you were replaced? Truthfully, it is how you felt. He pushed you out and made more room for Janelle in his life, letting her fill a place you thought would always be yours.

Your whole perspective on your life was forced to change. The dreams and goals you’d had when you were younger, picturing Rafe by your side, you’d instead achieved and chased by yourself. You went to college parties and drowned yourself in booze to ignore how wrong it felt being there. You had mindlessly hooked up with fraternity douchebags, hoping it would fill the void in your chest. It never did. You had tried to go on dates with guys who were so sweet and nothing short of gentlemen, but none of them managed to wow you. They weren’t rough around the edges with just enough attitude to keep you in check. They were soft, men you could walk all over and they’d let you. They weren’t Rafe. You hated yourself for comparing them all to him, but he was all you’d ever known. He was all you ever wanted.

Guilt started eating away at you for focusing so much on the boy who unknowingly broke your heart. Your mother was dying for God’s sake. You should be putting all of your attention on her and making sure she was happy in what was going to be the last year of her life. You were upset with yourself for being so angry with her for not telling you about the engagement. It wasn’t their fault your closest friends were a couple of backstabbers.

The shrill ring of the doorbell ripped you from your thoughts. You abandoned the now cold cup of tea at the coffee table, sock clad feet sliding across the hardwood as you moved through the house. You glanced down at the oversized shirt you were wearing, biker shorts poking out underneath. You had a feeling your unruly hair was sticking out in all directions from the bun it was in but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

The moment you ripped the front door open, you tried to slam it right back closed. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed against their body, growling, “Get the fuck off my porch.”

“I’m here to talk, Y/N, please!” Janelle protested, trying to look at you through the crack in the white painted door without having it crushed. “Just give me ten minutes.”

You hesitated, pausing against the door. Words couldn’t describe how hurt you were that she’d kept this from you for years. She had been one of your best friends. She knew things about you that your own parents didn’t know — that Rafe himself didn’t know. Could it hurt to at least try and hear her out?

You finally pulled the door open, avoiding her striking green eyes and waving your arm out to let her in. You shut the door loudly behind her and moved to the couch. “Ten minutes,” you stated, sitting at one end while she took a spot on the other.

“How’s your mom?” she started, giving you a sad smile.

You shrugged once, responding monotonously with, “Fine.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Janelle said softly, seemingly sincere as she stared at her lap. You kept quiet and didn’t show any change in emotion on your face, so she continued, “I should have told you. The second things changed with Rafe and I, I should have come to you about it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply as to collect your thoughts. There were a million things you could say to her right now, most more unpleasant than others. You sighed, “You knew how much I loved him, Janelle. You were the only person I told. Do you understand how much of a slap to the face this is?”

“I know. I broke, like, the first rule in girl code. I suck,” she replied, shaking her head a bit. She had been avoiding your eyes but looked back over, “We didn’t expect it, you know. It just kind of… happened. Things were really rough for both of us for a while and I guess it made us closer. We were able to connect on a deeper level.”

You stared at her, unable to read the expression on her face. You couldn’t pinpoint one sort of emotion swimming in her eyes. A weight settled on your shoulders, something within you feeling unnerved.

“Do you love him?”

There it was, a smile. The first real emotion the dark haired girl had shown you since she stepped foot in the house. Did she even care about you at all? Did she care that this was ripping you apart inside? “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have said yes to marrying him if I didn’t,” her response lit a fire within your chest, spreading through every nerve ending in your body.

“Then why did you never seem interested in him before?” you questioned, watching the creases form between her eyebrows. “You chased after Kelce for two years without giving up. You never once gave any indication that you were remotely interested in Rafe until I left, apparently.”

You were simmering in pent up anger and betrayal, jealousy sitting just below the surface. Though, you kept yourself calm, refusing to let those emotions through. You knew Janelle like the back of your hand and you knew there was more to this. You wanted to push her until she said exactly what she was thinking. The slow contort of her face into an angry scowl proved to you that it was working.

“You don’t just wake up one day and decide, hm, I’m in love with this person now, Janelle. How do you even know if what you have is real?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so conceited and wrapped up in yourself you would have noticed,” Janelle spit, the olive toned tan to her face turning a light shade of pink. “Everyday I had to listen to you bitch and moan about how he’d never love you back. All you did was cry because you were too scared to tell him how you felt. I always loved him but you always made everything about you.”

You blood boiled under your skin. Your face became hot and you clenched your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Your bottom lip was sure to start bleeding soon with how tightly you bit it between your teeth.

“You weren’t there for the fights with Ward, when he called him names and made him feel less than. You weren’t there for the nights he got black out drunk because he wanted to forget. You weren’t there for the fucking cocain addiction that almost ruined his whole life,” Janelle seethed, leaning closer to you with every word she spoke.

Your jaw clenched painfully as you grit out, “How was I supposed to be there when he’s the one who cut me out of his life?”

“He cut you out of his life to send you a message, Y/N!” Janelle shouted through a laugh, a condescending smile settling on her lips. “He was so happy when you moved to California because he was finally free! He wasn’t being suffocated by you anymore!”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, shaking your head quickly. Your mind flashed back to your going away party. The soft voices and gentle touches. The way he looked at you like you were the only person he had eyes for — at least that’s what you thought.

“It is, and the sooner you accept that, the better. Rafe doesn’t love you,” the raven haired girl stated. Your glossy eyes flickered to hers. The bright green in them was gone and replaced with a cold, mossy color. “He never loved you. He never will love you the way you’re so desperate for him to. You moving was the best thing that ever happened to him — to us.”

You stayed seated on the couch as she got up and slung her entirely too large of a purse over her shoulder. Your eyes were full to brim with tears that you refused to let fall in front of her. You wouldn’t let her see how much this was ruining you. This wasn’t the girl you’d met back when you were ten years old, it was a completely different person. Or maybe she had been this person the whole time, and you had just been a pawn in some sick game. Only did you look at her when she opened the front door.

“And Y/N,” the sweet tone replaced the venomous one she used only moments ago. “Stay away from him. I don’t need you messing with his head before the wedding.”

The door slammed and you sat there, allowing the tears to flow down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t sob, you didn’t scream and throw things around like most would have thought. It was just a silent flow of saltiness that felt never ending. A numbing feeling came over you as you let Janelle’s words absorb into your head. Had you really been so blind by your own love for Rafe you never saw hers? Had you been so stupid to think the Kook Prince would fall for someone as ordinary as you?

You don’t know if it was only minutes or maybe hours that you sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall. Eventually, you finally pulled yourself up and located your phone. There was one thing you knew would help you escape the depression spiral you were heading down. And there was one person you could call who would be willing to do it with you — despite hardly knowing you at all.

“Hello?” John B. sounded utterly confused as to why you were calling him.

“H-Hey, I uh, I know this is weird,” your voice was dry and you cleared your throat, “Do you, i dunno, maybe wanna go surfing with me?”

—

You sat on top of your board out where the water was calmer, watching John B. pull off an intricate trick with his own surfboard. You hummed in thought, wishing you could pull off some of the moves he did. You tended to just catch the biggest wave you could and ride it out for as long as possible. You’d picked up some things over the years, but just riding out a long wave was your favorite feeling. You loved the rush, like you were flying.

“You’re really good,” you complimented the brunette as he made his way back out to you.

“Thanks,” John B. chuckled, moving to straddle his board just as you were, “You’re pretty good at riding out the big ones. I bet I could get JJ to teach you some things. He’s better than I am.”

You laughed softly and shook your head, brushing your wet hair behind your back, “JJ would rather scrub Heyward’s boat to the bone than hang out with me.”

“He’s not that bad,” the Routledge boy tried to defend his friend. “Well, not anymore. He’s more… tolerant.”

You hummed in response, staring out into the open water where the edges curved at the horizon. The sun was beginning to go down, casting an orange glow over everything around you. John B. watched you, seeing the gears turning in your head. He’d barely seen you smile all day and from what Sarah had told him, surfing always made you happiest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You turned to look at him, his soft hazel eyes saying It’s okay, you can trust me. You sighed heavily and averted your gaze to the purple and white board below you. You could feel that you wanted to cry again but your eyes remained dry, like you had nothing left in you. The hollow feeling in your chest felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

“You sure you want my demons weighing on your conscience?” you asked playfully, the corners of your mouth upturning slightly.

John B. smiled softly, shrugging a bit, “We all have our demons, Y/N. Some worse than others.”

You nodded and eyed him for a moment longer before asking, “What was it like.. to lose your dad?”

The curly haired boy sucked in a breath. It had been four years but it never got easier. His dad was all he had and then he was alone, still a child having to grow up entirely too fast. He let out a soft breath, “It was hard. I didn’t know what happened to him for nine months, and then to find out he was dead? It was like a part of me died with him.”

You nodded, silently listening along as he opened up to you.

“It was painful and ugly. I lashed out at my friends… It’s still painful sometimes. I try to think about the good things though. The fishing trips on his boat, going to work with him.. His horrendous endeavour to find The Royal Merchant,” he paused to laugh at the memory, and you did too. You’d heard enough stories about him and his friends searching for the lost gold as well. “I know he’s still with me. He watches over me. Your mom will too.”

You nodded again, bottom lip quivering slightly. Your voice was strained as you spoke, “It fucking sucks seeing her like this. Everyday I feel like I can tell she’s getting worse.”

“I regret not being around more the last couple of years. If I had known this was going to happen I would have done so many things differently.”

John B. waded his board closer to you, resting his hand on yours that was gripping your knee. His eyes were remorseful, lips turned down in a frown. His father’s death was sudden and unexpected. He understood your pain but he also had no idea how to handle knowing the inevitable was coming. He couldn’t imagine watching someone you love slowly slip away.

“Don’t think about that. Don’t beat yourself up for what you didn’t do or wish you did. Spend this time reminding your mom how much you love her and helping make these last moments she has some of the best. Make more memories with her that you’ll look back on and smile at,” he told you, squeezing your fingers softly.

You met John B.’s eyes again and nodded, giving him a soft smile. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t exactly know you on that personal level but could also relate to you. He had experienced a loss like you were about to and it was refreshing to hear how he coped with it and get some advice. You wondered exactly how much Sarah had told him but it was nice that he was judging you. Maybe years ago, he would have thrown it back in your face, called you a snob and any other insult he could think of. Maybe it was dating Kook that changed his outlook, or he’d grown up and matured and realized the stupid rivalry wasn’t worth being a complete dick all the time.

John B. drifted away from you again when he saw you seemed more relaxed, he looked out where the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. He offered, “Why don’t you come back to the Chateau with me? Sarah’s coming over and I know she’s dying to get you to hang with us.”

You contemplated for a moment, unsure how inviting the other Pogues would be to another Kook in their company. But for once, getting out and being around other people sounded a lot better than going home and burying yourself in Ben and Jerry’s while binge watching a show you’d already seen. So you nodded and smiled, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

—

Rafe didn’t listen to Topper’s advice of leaving you alone. He couldn’t pretend like seeing after all of these years wasn’t a sucker punch to the gut. He kept replaying everything over the course of five years in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he could’ve done differently. The different outcomes of his actions replayed in his head like a broken record. What could have happened if he hadn’t cut you out of his life? Would you have ended up together in the end, despite the distance? Should he have told you how he felt that day, when it felt like your gentle touch was the only thing holding him together?

He traveled out onto the South side and watched from his truck as you and John B. left the beach. He thought about getting out and speaking to you there but instead he watched from the shadows as you strapped your surfboard to the top of your mother’s car and drove away behind the Volkswagen.

Against his better judgement, Rafe followed you. He stayed far enough behind that you wouldn’t recognize his truck. He knew his way to the Routledge boy’s house anyway. Many a night’s he had gone there when he was younger and looking for trouble, or when he got older, to pick up his sister when she didn’t have a ride. He knew that’s where you were heading. He would pretend it didn’t bother him slightly that you were hanging out with the Pogues. He’d grown more accustomed to seeing them around but the roots of the rivalry were still deeply embedded within him. He still thought they were at the bottom of the food chain.

You didn’t think much of the headlights that pulled up behind your car, thinking Sarah had just arrived. You dug around in the backseat, trying to gather the things that had spilled from your bag. The headlights shut off and it was quiet for a moment. You heard John B. curse softly and your heart nearly stopped when you heard the voice.

“Sup, John B.?” Rafe’s gruff voice filled the air, nodding his head at his sister’s boyfriend.

“Rafe,” the Routledge boy greeted back, an edge to his tone.

You slowly removed yourself from the car, turning to face the last person you wanted to see, next to Janelle. You hated the way your heart skipped a beat when his azure irises met yours. He swallowed thickly, waiting for you to make the first move, which you did.

“What are you doing here?”

“I- I uh,” Rafe’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, eyes leaving yours to stare at the ground. “I don’t know. I wanted to see you.”

You scoffed and shook your head, reaching back into the car to get your bag. He hesitantly moved closer and continued, “I’m worried about you, Y/N. I know things are weird right now and I’m sorry about your mom but I-”

“Don’t,” you snapped, standing upright and slamming the car door, “Don’t pretend like you fucking care.”

“I do care. I just want to talk.”

“You had five years to talk, Rafe!” you shouted, voice shaking as you did so. You bit the inside of your lip and begged your body not to betray you. You didn’t need him seeing you cry. “I waited and waited for you to talk to me. I asked myself ‘why’ for years! You’ve moved on with your life, that’s fine, I can accept that. But don’t expect me to be a part of it anymore. Just go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

Even from a distance Rafe could see the glaze to your eyes. He could see your body shaking as you tried to keep yourself composed. It looked like you were about to fall apart in front of him and it made his chest ache. You always were the one to pretend to be strong for as long as you could until it crushed you. He shook his head and tried again, “Y/N, please, you don’t understa-”

“Yo, Rafe! Didn’t know you were stopping by!” you turned to see JJ Maybank bouncing down the porch steps, an arrogant smirk painted on his chapped lips. His unruly hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards baseball cap. He was shirtless, flaunting his physique in only a pair of grey cargo shorts. He’d heard you yelling and figured he may as well come investigate.

“Maybank,” Rafe greeted the Pogue stiffly, a lot more tense than he’d been around John B.

The younger blonde boy threw his arm around your shoulders as he came to your side, catching you by surprise. You glanced up at him, but his eyes never left Rafe, his smirk widening. You didn’t see the look of anger that flashed across your former best friend’s face, a fire igniting in his eyes — JJ caught it though, and he was going to run with it.

“I heard about the engagement, man, congrats!” JJ spoke enthusiastically and you had to resist rolling your eyes. You suddenly had the urge to throw up like on the Druthers, but you swallowed the feeling down. Your eyes met Rafe’s again as JJ kept going, “Don’t you have, like, a cake tasting to get to or something?”

Rafe’s hands curled into fists, knuckles cracking as he squeezed. If anyone knew how to get under his skin in just the right way, it was the Maybank boy. He breathed out slowly through his nose, choosing to ignore the comments from the Pogue. He pleaded with you, “Can we just talk, real quick? Please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, bro. Y/N’s really busy right now,” JJ answered for you, tilting his head to look down at you, “Aren’t you, bubs?”

You stared up into the tan blonde’s indigo eyes that were screaming at you not to go to him. You knew he was trying to help you, but you weren’t friends. You didn’t understand why he came to your defense so quick. He could have just let you stand out there and allow Rafe to rope you back in like you knew he could.

“She can speak for herself,” Rafe snapped at JJ who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t moved out from under his arm so clearly you had no interest in going to the Kook.

“Go home, Rafe,” you said, turning with JJ to walk up to the Chateau. “Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore,” you took a dig, repeating what Janelle had said to you earlier in the day.

Rafe stood there, watching as you walked to the porch, wrapped in someone else’s arms — someone he despised. His heart pounded harder in his chest the further you got away from him, like you were taking it with you. He silently got back in his truck and backed out, tires squealing as he peeled off down the road. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, breathing raggedly. Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore. Those words bothered him, knowing he’d heard something like that before but he couldn’t recall when, where or more importantly, who.

“Well that couldn’t have been anymore awkward,” John B. stated as he led you into the house.

You’d expected JJ to drop his arm the second Rafe was gone, but he didn’t, guiding you into the kitchen for you to put down your bag. You sighed heavily and rubbed your face with the hand not pinned to your side, “I’m sorry about that. And thank you, JJ, you didn’t have to do all that.”

The boy hummed and waved his hand, finally stepping away from you and moving to the fridge, “The guy’s an asshole and needs to learn he can’t always get what he wants. Especially after what happened on daddy dearest’s boat.”

You felt your face flush, looking over at John B. who held his hands up as if he was surrendering, “I didn’t say anything, swear.”

“Word travels fast ‘round these parts,” JJ clarified, walking back over and handing you a beer. He sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, patting the one beside him for you. “C’mon, tell your good pal JJ what the Prince fucked up this time.”

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[jeonggukkiepabo]

MOONCHILD 🌙  2

SUMMARY: Soulmates are a common thing. Everyone has one. Some people think soulmates are the greatest gift fate could give, others are envious about happy couples that were lucky enough to receive a wonderful partner. One of them was Min Yoongi. Your time to meet your significant other hasn’t come yet, stumbling into the tattoo parlor with a simple idea in mind, not knowing that you will be bound to step by more often. When you leave for the first time, you’ll go home with your masterpiece of a tattoo.

When you leave for the second time, you’ll go home with not only one, but two soulmates.

The man that was supposed to be your only soulmate, the one that never wanted to tell you that he woke up with the exact same koi karp tattoo just sits and watches - until he can’t take the pain anymore.

PAIRINGS: Y/N x ?? / Taehyung x Jungkook

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, mentions of anxiety / depression / unrequited love, there’s one small mention of a quickie in the storage room but no actual smut (yet), swearing, mentions of homosexual relationships (member x member)

WORD COUNT: ~ 6k

NOTE: Now from my side, I’d love to welcome you to our baby as well. It took us quite some time to plan this fic before we even started writing, but I think we did a great job and I am really proud that we came to the part of actually uploading this fic. I think I can speak for Dolly as well when I say that we were surprised by the amount of people asking to be tagged in the upcoming party, thank you so much! Now I don’t want to get simpy and stuff, so please enjoy chapter 2 of Moonchild!

PART 01 ~ MASTERLIST  

Yoongi can’t believe it, everything is too ridiculous to be real. It’s one of those disgusting pranks you usually just see on TV, isn’t it? This isn’t supposed to be real… right? But then again, why would anyone pull a prank on him like that?

To begin with, he’s utterly pissed because of the cupcake incident. It’s pitiful; Yoongi knows it all too well, but nevertheless: he can’t help but feel like an asshole and he hates the way you indirectly and unknowingly called him one as well. The douchebag that couldn’t come to grab the cupcake that was handmade by Hoseok? That was no other than Yoongi himself - and knowing that you, out of all the people that step into the shop to get some pastries, got it instead of him makes him think that maybe the cupcake-ritual isn’t as special and important to Hoseok as it is to Yoongi. 

He goes to this specific bakery religiously, always grabbing some coffee and this disgustingly sweet pastry that he doesn’t even like. At least that’s what Yoongi tends to say when people ask him about it. 

But fuck, who could say no to Hoseok who endearingly prepares those cupcakes by hand, just to make a different flavor for Yoongi every day? The little batch of batter he whips up every morning for one single cupcake? Yoongi could never refuse such a gesture. And why would he? Hoseok pours all his heart into baking, into decorating and it’s the cutest shit anyone has ever done for Yoongi, of course he accepts them. He even eats every single one, even though his teeth hurt due the amount of sugar in them.

So, why the hell did Hoseok just give it out to you? Wasn’t their ritual as special to him as to Yoongi? How could Hoseok know that Yoongi wasn’t planning to grab it during his lunch break? Or after his shift? Right, Hoseok couldn’t know, he just assumed Yoongi wouldn’t go and get it. Great. That makes him feel like shit even more than before. 

But, it wasn’t just that. It would have been way too easy for Yoongi to let his anger consume him throughout the day. He knows that he could simply go to Hoseok later that day to get a coffee and calm himself down (not to talk about his jealousy, obviously) - that would have been it, no stubborn behavior from his side, no self destructive thoughts that will probably hunt him in his sleep tonight. But Yoongi wouldn’t be Yoongi if he’d do that, if he’d just forget about his ego once. He’s so fucking naive. 

Yoongi had obviously noticed the slight discomfort in his neck as he had been tattooing you, but even though he probably should have, he didn’t think anything of it. He just felt like it was phantom pain.

Yet, your tattoo is there, inked into his own skin, permanently reminding him what he just had to realize. He shivers at the thought, but not in a good way. He hates it, he hates himself for pulling you into the shop that day and he hates you for being who you are.

The exact same design he just tattooed onto your lower neck is proudly showing up on the same spot, covering the exact same spot on his body as well now.

But that’s not possible, you can’t be his soulmate. There’s nobody in the world that could be mated to Yoongi and he knows that. He doesn’t deserve a soulmate.

Yoongi doesn't even have the strength to stop his own hands from shaking so much, what on earth is happening to him right now? Isn’t his life complicated enough the way it already is? He wants- he needs to break something, anything really. He feels the urge to just punch into his mirror, but he can’t hurt his hands, those are the only good things about himself - those hands that create such amazing art on human bodies. But today, those hands deceived him. 

Yoongi needs a break. 

He needs to think of something else, to silence his own thoughts because his brain feels crowded, 

his breaths get shorter and shorter, he’s breathing in a more hectic way now as the panic rushes over him. It feels like Yoongi is underwater, his throat burning with the desire to fill his lungs with more air, but it feels like there’s no oxygen around him.

He’s used to his anxiety, panic attacks are more usual than he’d like them to be, but the anger that is added into the mix causes his emotions to feel unbearable. 

He even wonders for a second if he shouldn’t just go outside as quickly as possible, leaving the suffocating room, before he actually breaks something out of anger. It’s overwhelming, too much for him to manage by himself. 

Yoongi needs air, he needs to stop thinking, at least for a minute. Feeling his newly inked skin burning, he wants to scream until his voice disappears because he should not feel this pain and discomfort. This isn’t his own tattoo, and he doesn’t want it to be on his neck. He doesn’t want to share anything with you or with anyone else. Actually, he hates the thought of it. 

He hates everything: from the burning pain inside his heart to the tattoo that he wants to tear off with his nails if needed. The fresh lines of ink feel wrong under his touch knowing how precious and personal it is to you.

 It feels like Yoongi stole something from you even though you were the one that did exactly that to him. You stole his freedom, the freedom of meeting his true soulmate. Because you weren’t that for him. You weren’t his true soulmate. You stole the hopes he had to ever end up with the love of his life. He hates you. 

Breathe, he has to breathe, but it gets harder each time he tries. The air is stuck inside his lungs, aching to be released in some sort of way, but it’s hard. Yoongi feels like he just lost the ability to breathe out, just collecting his used air inside his lungs and by now, he feels like they’re going to explode soon. Maybe that would change something, maybe he could lose you like that.

He is somewhat frightened by his own thoughts, but he chuckles darkly, noticing how much his body is shivering. He can’t even open his fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he feels no pain. Yoongi is so easily falling apart because of you, and even that makes him angry. He feels pitiful, even for himself, and god knows how much he hates to see any kind of pity in the eyes of anyone looking at him. That’s until his knees suddenly hit the ground, the shock sobering him a little bit, eyes widening because of the abrupt pain. The pain of not accepting his soulmate, the pain of not giving into the bond. Instead, he gives up on both you and himself. Giving in to the pain, allowing himself to feel it all. There is a little voice in the back of his head that tells him that he needs to stop trying so hard not to see the truth, that he is preventing you from feeling this pain that you can’t control. He shakes his head violently, trying to get rid of this annoying voice.  

He refuses. You can’t be his soulmate, you can’t and you won’t. 

You won’t if he doesn’t let you know, right? You probably don’t feel it, it was him that got bonded to you, not the other way around. He has your tattoo, he’s the one that’s supposed to go and talk to you, to show you how he feels and kiss you to seal the bond. But Yoongi won’t.

He already feels awful about the decision he has to make right now, because in the back of his mind he knows that he is taking the choice away from you, he knows that it’s awful and that you will probably hate him if you find out, but what else is he supposed to do? There’s only one man he would accept as his soulmate - and you weren’t him. You weren’t Hoseok and you will never be like him.

He never believed in this soulmate fantasy anyway. He never understood how people could randomly follow those kinds of things, as if the universe would choose people to be destined for each other. The man he loves is in love with someone else, isn’t that proof enough that the whole thing about the universe putting souls together is completely fucked up? Fate doesn’t exist. Not for Yoongi. Not for his broken soul.

Ugly tears are threatening to spill, the salty drops burning in his eyes and Yoongi doesn’t know if they are meant to be shed for his newly found soulmate that his body seems to be aching for, or if it’s the pain of losing someone he never had, the one that remains in his heart, the one that proves him that love isn’t something that he can handle. He keeps on being the one who’s left out, the short straw, the one who stays on the side, never picked first. Maybe he wasn’t made for love, neither to give nor to receive.

Hoseok didn’t choose him first. He chose Seokjin. And god, that shit hurts. It hurts each time he sees them together and he quickly found himself hating the man who’s giving Hoseok everything. 

He can feel Seokjin’s confusion about his cold shoulder, with his thoughtful and gentle looks. But he doesn’t know. He shouldn’t know, because Yoongi knows that fate isn't about choosing, it’s not about who you want to be mated with, it’s about having the same souls, the same interests and the same needs. Hoseok and Seokjin are perfect together, they share the same sense of humor, they even finish each other's sentences. They’re a couple right out of the schoolbook.

Who is he kidding, Yoongi can’t bring himself to hate Seokjin and that’s what annoys him the most. Why can’t he even hate the man who stole the love of his life? Yoongi tries to tell himself that he really does hate Seokjin, that the eldest deserves his hatred, his envy and jealousy. But he can’t, he just can’t hate the kind man that seems to try his best to leave Yoongi in peace when he comes to their coffee shop. He hates the kindness that is shown to him each time he steps inside to grab a coffee. But what he hates the most is that he treats Hoseok like he deserves to be treated. Something that he wishes he had gotten the opportunity, but he didn’t, and he won’t. 

Yoongi isn’t stupid. He knows that he is nothing more than a good friend to Hoseok, they may have been more than that in the past, but that was before fate decided to step in between them. Though, Seokjin and Hoseok will never treat him with anything but kindness. 

But, oh, how he wishes that it wasn’t as forced as it is. Yoongi just wants to be loved, but he knows he probably doesn’t deserve it. What could he offer Hoseok when a full Kim Seokjin exists? 

Right. Nothing. 

The tears are doubling up and Yoongi closes his eyes to not see the blurry room anymore, tired of everything. He doesn’t care about the hot droplets that roll down his cheeks, about the ugly sob that finally leaves his lips. Suddenly, even the air in his lungs is gone and he feels empty once again.

A shaky sigh leaves his lips, the craving for more than just a cigarette boiling under his skin.

What kind of soulmate could he ever be anyway, if not a pitiful and horrible one? Would he treat anybody else different to how he treats himself? Is that why fate chose you for him? Are you just as broken, just as anxious and wrecked as Yoongi is? Are you hiding something under your soft features?

How is he supposed to develop feelings for someone as long as he’s in love with another man? He hates it. Somehow he hates it because he knows he wouldn’t be enough as a soulmate for you. Why would you pick him anyway? Does… he even like girls?

Suddenly, Yoongi is laughing. He must have lost it, truly. He’s still crying even though he can’t help but feel how ridiculous his situation is. His plan is to avoid you because honestly, he has no other choice. 

You won’t be his soulmate and he couldn’t care any less. He has to find a way to make you disappear from his life, he has to forget about you. Maybe that’s why fate sent you - to test him, to test if he is really meant for Hoseok, if his love for him is real.

If only he had never met you, he wishes he could just forget about it, never going out to bring you into the parlour and just go back to his useless crush on Hoseok. 

Yoongi’s throat is tightening again but he won’t allow himself to suffer even more. He is going to ignore everything. His life has to go on - and it will. Without you.

He is going to hate you, even if it takes years, maybe his entire life. Because as much as he just tries to believe that he hates you, he knows that he does not. It’s impossible.

He hates fate maybe even more than you. This stupid attraction. You’re his... no. You’re nothing. You’re not his soulmate. He’ll never let you be.

You won’t be his soulmate whether you accept it or not, because he does not want you in his life.

He does not, and if you ever understand who he is supposed to be for you, he is going to make you understand that he doesn’t want you, as cruel and horrible as it sounds, even to him. And that’s it.

You come back for the check up two weeks later, just like Taehyung scheduled you. It had been pretty hard to adapt too your new tattoo for the first few days. You had to turn around every time you walked past a mirror because you just had to look at it over and over again. Sleeping has been torture, though. Each time you tossed and turned in bed, laying on your back or simply move your shoulders in an unusual way was hurting your damaged skin. After that, the itch started - and it was horrible because you knew that you were supposed to leave it alone, not removing the healing skin because your ink will fade, but it was itching so bad. 

The last few days were obviously way easier than the beginning, even though the permanent itchiness of healing skin was driving you insane. Though, that beautiful masterpiece was worth every second of it.

You had indeed thought about what Taehyung told you that day - that he wanted to leave something on your skin as well. In the beginning, the thought had been slightly overwhelming. You didn’t even know why, you had felt joyful but anxious at the same time. 

You would’ve thought that the reason behind that was your fear of needles, but you did survive the tattoo you just got perfectly fine, which left you wondering why you were feeling so anxious about it. 

As time passed, you grew fonder of the idea of getting a tattoo from Taehyung. 

And to be honest, you don’t think you would oppose Jungkook doing one either, as weird as it sounds. Even to you, it sounds pretty odd. You’re not one to let anyone near you easily, especially to get a tattoo that will be on your skin forever. 

You now start to understand why people say getting tattoos is addictive.

Because strangely, the idea does not sound as frightening or dangerous if you think about Taehyung or Jungkook tattooing you. You feel somewhat safe with them and you know that the both of them would probably take good care of you. 

However, now that you’re back in the parlour, you’re not so sure anymore. 

“What do you mean, Yoongi is full? Didn’t you schedule an appointment for me last time?” You ask incredulously, because it doesn’t make any sense to you. You even noted that date in your phone, there’s no way that you accidentally wrote down something wrong.

“I’m very sorry Y/N. I don’t know what happened to the schedule either, a lot of things got changed, Yoongi switched many time slots, I’m pretty confused at his schedule myself, especially since he rescheduled you, like, in two weeks. I can’t really let that happen, you need your check up pretty soon, not in a month.” Taehyung sighs and you’re feeling confused. What happened? 

Yoongi had asked Taehyung to book you a check up session, why did he change everything without telling anyone? Especially the fact that Taehyung, the freaking co-owner, doesn’t know why is making everything even more weird.

“I mean, it’s okay, I can always come back in two weeks, it’s alright, no big deal.” You try to smile, but Taehyung sees right through it. He thinks about calling Yoongi for a few seconds, asking him why the hell he changed it all, but he knows better than to interrupt him in the middle of an appointment.

 “You know what? I don’t have any appointments right now. I’m going to call Jungkook to the front and I’m going to make sure that you have your check up session just like we promised you would. He’s probably eating his third bowl of ramen right now.” Taehyung smiles soothingly, but you’re not very sure of his words right now.

“Are you sure? Really it’s okay, I can come back in two weeks, I wouldn’t want to be a pro-”

“You’re not a bother Y/N. Don’t even think about that word. I’m going to take a look at you, it shouldn’t be long anyway, so don’t worry about it, yeah?”, his smile slowly transfers onto your face once again and you feel yourself nodding at his words, somewhat comforted. That man has some sort of power over you, as weird as it sounds. 

“Okay, then we’re going in the room just right there, the left one. That’s mine. Jungkook! Could you come to the desk? I’m taking Y/N for her check up.” He yells, still not too loud to make sure that he does not startle Yoongi while he’s working on someone’s skin. Even though you’re not sure if he’d actually hear anything that happens outside, when Yoongi was tattooing you he seemed pretty concentrated and didn’t even talk to Jungkook or you. But maybe he just felt weird around you. 

“Oh! Y/N is back? Hola! How have you been?” You can hear Jungkook running towards you, excitedly bouncing on his heels and you laugh at how fast he arrives. 

“Hi! I’ve been quite good, thanks. How about you?” He smiles widely, excited about something.

“I’m very good! I’ve been told that I was improving on the fake skin I had to tattoo all the time, so I’m determined to prove myself when I’ll get the occasion. Yoongi told me that I should be able to work on real skin soon if I get to find someone that actually ag- Y/N!” he suddenly shouts, causing you jump in shock. “Would you let me tattoo you? Please! I’d do anything, I’d even do it for free. I really need someone to let me do it. I mean, I already did bits and pieces on Taehyung, but Yoongi says that this doesn’t count”, he asks with his big doe eyes, a pout forming on his lips and you’re way too close to just recklessly say yes. 

“Not that I’m against the idea of you tattooing me, because I’m pretty sure that you must be damn good to be able to even work here, but I’m not sure when and if I decide to get another one...” You try to soothe him down but Jungkook just gets even more excited, already bouncy on his heels again.

“But then, when you’ll be ready, could I? Pretty please? I think I could come something pretty-, no I know that I can come up with something pretty. You have perfect skin and your design that you got inspired me a little bit. I’m sure I could do well, please?” 

You almost feel yourself blush because of his weird compliment, but you both are interrupted by Taehyung.

“Get in the line, Kook. I asked her first.” It’s childish, really, but Jungkook can’t help but pout at his hyung. 

“You get to tattoo people everyday, Tae! Let me have my turn!” 

You can’t help but laugh at the two of them, their friendship must be very special and it’s endearing to look at them. Jungkook must have forgotten that he’s going to tattoo people everyday soon enough as well.

“Okay, okay, Jungkook I’ll think about it, I promise. Now, I need my check up first.”

Jungkook nods with a big smile on his face, eyes crinkling a bit and front teeth showing, causing you to giggle at his adorableness. 

“He’s very persuasive when he wants to. Be careful, his cuteness is his main weapon. He uses it whenever he can at home.” Taehyung sighs quietly, a fond smile decorating his lips when you suddenly realize something.

“Oh! Are you two living together?”, you ask, genuinely curious about the two men. 

“Ah, yes. We’re in a relationship. Soulmates as they say. Bonded for life. Till death does us apart and all that romantic stuff. In the end, Jungkook can be a pain in the ass.” 

Your eyes widen at his confession. “You’re soulmates?” 

You sound so surprised that Taehyung chuckles. You obviously didn’t mean to sound rude,  you just genuinely didn’t expect that chaotic duo to be soulmates. 

Taehyung’s weirdly eased not to hear any judgement from you, even though he usually doesn’t care about the thoughts other people have about his relationship. On the other hand, he would probably be somewhat upset if you were one to judge his relationship - he really likes you, he’d even consider spending more time with you, even though he doesn’t know why. Something about you is just… interesting to him.

Taehyung’s still thinking whether or not he should include the fact that his relationship doesn’t only consist of Jungkook and himself, but on the other hand, maybe it’s not really needed at this point. He is pretty sure you wouldn’t judge him because of that, but as much as it feels like he knows you since forever, you’re strangers, barely even friends. He will keep this story for another time, maybe when the three of you get to know each other a little bit better. 

“Yeah we are. It was weird in the beginning, working together is very different from what we’re used to from our private life, but we just get to see each other more, neither of us is complaining about that. Yoongi doesn’t mind that either as long as we stay professionals - all in all: if we don’t fuck in the storage room again, we’re good!” Taehyung smiles and you can just feel his beaming happiness. 

Wait- the… the storage room? You can’t hide your chuckle because, yes, somehow, it sounds like something they would do, as weird as it sounds.

Taehyung makes it look effortless to be happy, you almost wonder if you could ever be that happy once you  meet your own soulmate. You try not to think of it too much though, it always leaves a bitter aftertaste. Many of the people that surround you have found their soulmates already while you’re one of the few to still be looking for them. You wonder if they are searching for you too and try not to imagine too many things like their gender, skin color or looks. None of that matters anyway. It’s all up to fate.

You know that you will love them for who they are. Because you do feel it sometimes, the loneliness. It’s suffocating, even oppressing but yet, you try your best not to think about it too much, to overcome it. You just have to hope that you will find the lost part of your soul soon, because you cannot wait to finally feel whole.

“Anyway! Any recent pain, something that I should be wary of, or worried about?” Taehyung asks as you remove your shirt, letting him see the healing ink on your skin. 

“Can I touch you?”  You nod as you answer. “Nothing really, I’m just always worried about accidentally hurting myself and destroying that masterpiece. But otherwise, I’ve been pretty good the last few days.” You try not to overthink his cold finger on your back that felt.. strangely good.

“Ah, I’m sorry, my hands are quite cold, I should have warned you. Well, it seems to be healing pretty well. The crust on it looks good too, I’m glad you didn’t peel it off. Have you been able to sleep correctly? Back tattoos are sometimes a pain in the ass during nighttime.” 

It almost feels as if he tries to ask trivial questions for you to loosen up, which you really do.

“I kind of figured it out, I thought it would be hell but it’s really fine. The first few days were eventful but otherwise, everything has been good, I’m not a back-sleeper anyways.” 

His fingers are gently following the black ink, featherly touching your skin, making sure that everything is alright. 

“That’s good. No weird discomfort, you didn’t faint back at home or anything? I remember my first tattoo and how horrible my blood sugar was afterwards.” You almost chuckle even though you know he’s serious, so you stop yourself right in time to answer instead. 

“Nope. I’ve been great. I thought the aftermath would be hard but it was surprisingly okay.” Taehyung smiles at that.

“That’s good news then. Some people look like they are big, buff men, able to get through it, but they call us the next day to tell us that they can’t get up without having a headache. For the majority of them, it’s only them stressing and their anxiety coming down after getting the tattoo. We still need to check on them, because it obviously could be something else, but it’s never happened so far. Getting a tattoo is pretty intense, it’s not something that everyone can handle, and that’s fine. We’re also here to make sure that everything heals without a problem. The aftercare is almost as important as the actual tattooing.” 

His statement makes total sense, keeping your anxiety and stress at bay can come back in a less comfortable way - you’ve already experienced that in the past. 

“Anyway, I don’t think you were too stressed before getting the actual tattoo to get any of those side effects. I’ve heard from people that have to vomit before their appointment.” Taehyung laughs while you feel a blush creeping on your cheeks. Is he referring to the week where you stood in front of the shop, before running away because you were freaking out? 

“Ah please that’s embarrassing.” His laugh is the only hint that he is indeed thinking of what you’re thinking too. 

“Well then, it looks like everything is healing just fine! You’re basically free from now on, even though we can always schedule another check up in a few months if you really want to make sure everything is fine, which I can probably tell you will be the case, but it’s up to you. I know that the first tattoo is a stressful experience, so I would understand if you want to come back. You can get a free touch-up as well, just call within the next six months and Yoongi will be there to do it for you.” His soothing voice is empty of judgement and you feel secure, able to ask for anything. 

“I should be fine, thank you for telling me, though. I appreciate it a lot.” You believe every word he says and it's comforting. You feel at ease, Taehyung is an easy person to talk to and you feel yourself loosen up more and more. 

“I’m glad.” His eyes are gentle, accompanying you as he watches you walk out of the room, going back to Jungkook, who seems equally enthralled when he sees you. 

“So, when should I schedule the next one?” Jungkook smirks cheekily, knowing that he is pushing it, but he really wants to see you again. For tattooing, obviously. Right. For the tattoo. No other reasons. Because there weren’t any.

“Jungkook stop trying to convince her to get another tattoo. She only gets one if she wants to. Go back on working on your fake skin if you’re that desperate.” Taehyung is quick at reprimanding him, even though it’s more playful than really upset. 

“Tae, let me convince her, will you? She just needs a little push. I know she wants another one. I see it in her eyes.” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows, playfully looking at you, making you laugh as you see his wide smile. 

“Don’t be a brat about it, Guk.” Taehyung is doing some paperwork while you're trying to get yourself together. 

“Yes, Daddy”, Jungkook mumbles with a smirk. It takes a lot of strength from you not to laugh again.

“It’s alright Taehyung, don’t worry. Jungkook is probably right, though. I wouldn’t mind getting another tattoo. I'm just not sure what or when.” You grin when you see Taehyung’s surprised face. 

“See? I told you! I can totally draw you something Y/N, you can choose from any of my designs if you want.” Jungkook seems overly excited and you find yourself not being able to not think about getting another piece inked into your skin. God, what is he doing to you? 

“Y/N, are you sure? You don't have to, you know? You can always come back later.” Taehyung  smiles gently, giving you the chance to make your own choice again. A wave of comfort hits you and you start to wonder what it is about this man that makes you feel so at ease.

“I'm positive, Tae. Sure, it seems rushed and like I didn't think enough about it, which might be true. But, I really like Jungkook’s idea. If I like none of his designs, I can always say no, right?” You still ask, just in case, because you’d be crazy to sign up without any withdrawal possibility. 

“Of course you can. Anything else would be illegal. I'm pretty sure Jungkook will spend hours on it, making sure that you’ll find something that you like, but you can always refuse.” Jungkook is already mumbling his ideas, making a list on a piece of paper that he found on the desk. You both lost him already and the realisation makes you both chuckle. He is endearing as well. 

“When should I come back then?” You ask curiously, tiptoeing, trying to see his schedule as he checks when he could book you. 

“Well, would you like both Jungkook and I to work on it? Jungkook is not an official artist here, so he needs either mine or Yoongi’s approval before tattooing, but we also need yours, obviously. Let me reformulate that, it sounded like Jungkook was not pro enough to tattoo you on his own. The actual question is, do you trust Jungkook enough for him to have a part of the tattoo, more than just the design? He definitely can, but only if you agree. It would be the best for him to practise, though. I’ll be on his side all the time, making sure he doesn’t mess anything up. He has practised on fake skin a lot, he knows what he’s doing.” You hear Jungkook mumbling again that you already agreed on it. But you know that Taehyung is asking because Jungkook is only an apprentice, and as talented as he is, he still needs your consent before anything. 

“I’m 100% positive, no worries about that. That’s the whole point of it, him actually having real skin to work on, right?” 

Taehyung smiles happily, he knew that you would say so, but hearing it directly from you is reassuring.  “Good. Then, I have some free space in three weeks. It's a Saturday at 11 AM, are you free for us?” He shows you the time slot that is available and you mindlessly nod, noting it down in your phone as well. 

“So, I'll see you both in three weeks?” You look at them, silently waiting for one last smile, you wonder why you crave to see one on both of their faces before leaving, but you brush away the thought quickly.

“For sure! Take care of yourself Y/N, we’ll see you in a bit!” They both smile and you suddenly feel accomplished, you don't even know why, but it feels right. And you can't wait to be back, glad about the fact that your bank account won’t hate you this time. 

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[itsreigns]

Starting Over

Adam Cole x Reader

(Y/N) gets added to the Undisputed Era. Neither Adam or her are super happy at first. When their lives are at stake will they make amends?

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Being a young female wrestler, you’ve been working your ass off to be valued and recognized as one of the best. It’s a tough path for sure, but you’re not backing down. 

And now, getting the phone call you so anxiously waited for, you feel so overwhelmed with emotions. You can’t believe you’re probably about to get the push you’ve been working so hard for. 

It’s only when you get to Carrano’s office that you truly understand what’s going on. Adam Cole and the other members of the Undisputed Era were all there. 

Sure, it was a step up on your career. But you weren’t a hypocrite… you were waiting for a different outcome. And being in the same team, working directly with Adam Cole, wasn’t exactly your biggest dream. 

He’s just so… irritating. So full of himself. Honestly, you just wanted distance from him. The less you have business with him, the better. But clearly that wasn’t an option right now. 

Judging by the look on his face once you stepped inside the room, he wasn’t very happy either. The others looked excited, and even greeted you joyfully. 

Two months in, the animosity between you and Adam is still the same. You talked the bare minimum and kept it professional, but the others took notice of the tense atmosphere surrounding the both of you. 

You’ve grown close to the other three though. Especially with Roderick. 

You love Kyle and Bobby, they are amazing friends. But you had a deeper connection with Roderick, you’d vent to him, he’d give you advice. He just makes it easy to talk to him. He’s like an older brother to you, and you absolutely love his family. His wife is super sweet, and you won’t even get started on the baby! He is so cute and adorable! You loved playing with him, and Marina would always say what a great mother you’d be someday. 

You’d love to believe her, but you couldn’t see yourself actually creating a family with someone, being a wife, a mother… It just seems so unrealistic. In theory, it sounds amazing, especially to a romantic soul like you. But... you just can’t imagine someone loving you, no matter what… wanting to marry you… wanting to create a family with you. It’s just a fantasy. 

Anyway, those five are the closest you have to a family outside of your blood-family.

Adam… well, he just keeps to himself. Just like you, he doesn’t really like to let his guard down. So the both of you just pretty much avoid every possible opportunity to actually talk and address the elephant in the room. 

Roderick once told you that you should just talk to him about it, just to clear things up, or as he had said “to solve whatever’s messed up between you two”. 

Thinking about it, you don’t really know what was messed up… He annoyed you, and you weren’t really fond of his cocky attitude. But that was it. 

You have no clue why he acts the same way towards you. Maybe you annoy him too. Who knows. You have to admit that it bugs you though. And you could tell the others are a little unsettled by the situation, but you didn’t know where Adam stood, so you just let it go.

Today, the group decided to make a barbecue at Roderick’s place. Marina created a to-do list with all the chores split by every one. You ended up having to go to the grocery store with Adam. 

You knew it had Roderick’s finger on it, but you decided to pay no attention to it. 

The sun is setting already when you and Adam are walking to the store. No words have been exchanged so far, there’s just an awful, awkward silence filling up the hair. 

You’re walking, looking down at the ground, hands in your coat’s pockets, completely lost in thought. Adam is walking right by your side, himself focused on his own thoughts, while looking down the street. 

Suddenly, coming out of nowhere, three men surround you. Giving him no time to react, two of them grab Adam, preventing him from escaping or retaliating, while the other grabs you hard by your arm.

“Give me your phones and money now!” The asshole screams at you. 

You nervously nod your head no. Adam is viciously trying to set himself loose, and you’re sure that if he can, he’ll kill them. 

“What do you mean no, bitch?” He snarls, slapping you face, hard. You could feel your cheek sting. So hot and numb. 

“Don’t you fucking touch her! I’m gonna kill you!” Adam spits with so much anger, you’ve never seen him like this. It’s getting harder and harder for the other guys to keep Adam in his place. The asshole just laughs in his face, making him even angrier.

“You can’t say no to me, you fucking bitch. Or you want your lover boy over here to get hurt?” He starts grinning, that maniac, as he pulls his gun from his waist, pointing it at Adam. 

“No, no, no… Pl-please, put it down. I’ll give you all what you want.” You choke out, tears building up.

“Oh, you’ll give me all I want? I like the way that sounds.” He says seductively, running his calloused finger down your red cheek. You’re crying now, the nerves consuming you. You can’t even think straight. 

“Don’t you fucking touch her, I swear to God!” Adam is getting out of his mind. 

“Y-you wanted the phones, right? Here, take it.” You sob, pulling your phone out of your pocket with your trembling free hand. “Money too, right?” You reach your other pocket and pull out the twenty dollars you had in your pocket. “T-take it. It’s all yours.”

“Nah. I changed my mind.” He grins widely, while twirling a strand of your hand. “I don’t want that. I want you.”

Adam barely let him finish. He freed himself from the two douchebags, and within a minute, the three of them were beaten black and blue, groaning on the ground. You tried to stop him, so you could run out of there, but it was all to no avail. Adam was blind by rage. 

He stands tall over them, his fists balled up tight, his breathing hard and uneven. 

“I told you not to touch her.” He says, kicking the guy once more. 

When he turns to face you, his anger quickly turns to shock.

“(Y/N)? Y-you’re bleeding… Your nose… How-” He chokes out, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. 

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, much less answer him. You can’t even move, it’s like you’re stuck. He takes one step at a time towards you, carefully, until he finally reaches you. 

Adam takes your hand in his, very gently. You can’t help but flinch away from him. 

He let go of your hand and took a step back. You finally face him, and the hurt sprawled on his face tore your insides apart. You know he didn’t mean it. Hell, he didn’t even noticed you were there. He was protecting you. But it was too much for your brain to process so quickly. 

Truth is you just wanted to get out of there. With him by your side. You don’t know why, and your brain is in no condition to try and make sense of it right now. But you wanted him next to you. 

Adam quickly realised that he wouldn’t be able to speak to you now, no matter how much he wanted to. He decided that it’d be best if you’d just went back home so you both could calm down and get cleaned up.

You locked your eyes with Adam, and saw nothing but understandment there. He extended his hand out to you, leaving it to you to make the decision to take it or not. You sigh heavily, a small sob coming across at the same time, as you gently connect your hand with his. 

Taking a final glance at the three douchebags lying on the ground, you finally head back home with Adam.

The way back is filled with silence once again, but this time your hands are linked together. Halfway back, you bring your remaining hand around them, feeling safer at the warmth of his skin.

Once you get to Roderick’s house, you make it through the front door, when Adam stops in his tracks, disconnecting your hands, and clears his throat, attempting to talk to you again.

“(Y/N), I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey guys, you’re finally back!” Kyle happily greets, until he looks at your face. “What the fuck did you do to her, man???” He yells, angrily.

The others heard all the noise and quickly appeared in the hall, confused and shocked looks crossing their faces. 

“What happened?” Roderick asks worriedly.

“Did you hit her???” Bobby asks, shocked. “I can’t believe you hit her!”

“Stop!” You shout, feeling tears threatening to spill again. “Stop, guys. Please. It was an accident. We were being robbed and he was beating up the guys, I was trying to stop him, and you know the rest.”

 A tense silence filled up the air. No one really knew what to say. Marina, being the sweet soul she is, worked things out. 

“Girl, come with me. Let’s clean you up, and calm you down a bit.” She says, a soft smile playing on her lips, as she steps forward and takes you by the hand.

Once you reach the bathroom, she puts the toilet seat down and motions you to seat down. Then, she begins cleaning your face. There’s barely a minute of silence, and she doesn’t even need to ask you anything. You start venting right away. 

“I don’t know why he did it.” You say blankly. She shoots you a confused look. “You should see him. He looked crazed up. The guy hit me, and was touching my hair and my face with his disgusting hands, and Adam… Adam told him that he’d kill him if he touched me. And he nearly did.”

Marina stands there, smiling down at you. Now you’re the one confused. Why the hell was she smiling? 

It’s like she can read your mind, because she answer your question right away. 

“Why are you so shocked about him beating up the guy? You said it yourself, he beat you, he was disgusting, and he was a robber.”

“I just… I never thought he’d do something like that for me.” 

“Why is that?” She asks, stopping what she’s doing to fully face you.

“I just assumed he hated me. Hell, he never showed me anything else until today. Truth is I never thought he gave a damn about me.” You finally confess. “And I know that’s partially my fault, because I wasn’t any better at it.”

And there she is, smiling again. What is wrong with her? 

“Do you really think he hates you?” She asks you, smiling gently. 

You avoid your gaze to your hands. “I think so… I don’t know. I’m confused.” 

An hour or so later, you’re resting on the couch, a blanket covering your body, when Adam sits down next to you. 

“Can we talk?” He asks, fidgeting a bit in his seat.

You nod him yes. He sits there for awhile, trying to figure out where to start.

“I went to… apologize to you, you know, when you were with Marina in the bathroom. And I… I heard what you said to her.” He explains, carefully, trying to read your reaction. 

You’re panicking on the inside, but trying to maintain your cool on the outside. 

“I want you to know that I never, never hated you. Ever.” He sighs, waiting for you to reply. When you don’t say anything, he lets out a sad chuckle. “You know… it kills me inside that you’ve even thought that. But… who am I fooling? I knew I’d never be good enough for you. And now, you know it too.” He finishes, running his hands on his thighs, getting up and turning on his back.

“Why do you think you’re not good enough?” You finally find your voice, taking him by surprise. He stops in his tracks and faces you again. 

“Because I have a bad reputation. I don’t want to be a bad influence to you. I don’t want to affect you or your work.” He confesses, feeling a weight leaving his chest. “See today. Our first time going out alone. See what happened.”

“This wasn’t your fault.” You say, motioning to your face. “You didn’t mean it. You didn’t even see me. You were protecting me, and I’m thankful for it.”

“I still hurt you… He still slapped you, and touched you. So I’d say I did a pretty lousy job at protecting you.”

“I’m here, and I’m fine, so I’d say you did a pretty good job.” You reassure him. “And also, I don’t give a shit about your reputation. Did I find you annoying? Yes. Did I find you cocky? Also yes.”

“Wow, thank you for the honesty.” He lets out a small laugh, amazed by your sincerity. 

“I wanted to know you for myself, but you never let me. And I know that’s my fault too, because I never let you in either.” You sigh, fully knowing you’re both at fault in this. “And also, I think I’m the one who decides who is good enough for me and who isn’t.” 

“Can we start over?” You furrow your brows in confusion, and he smiles. “Hi, I’m Adam Cole, it’s very nice to meet you.” 

You finally understand what he’s doing, so you smile back at him. 

“Hi Adam, I’m (Y/N). It’s very nice to meet you too.”

Give me some feedback please?

[waywardnerd67]

From the Inside

Summary: (Y/N) struggles to handle her life and ends up falling down a dark path. The only person who can help her is thousands of miles away. Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader Warnings: Angst/Mental Illness/Depression/Suicidal Thoughts/Thoughts Self-Harm Word Count: 1872 Prompt: Solitude - a state of seclusion or isolation. A/N #1: This is for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Beautiful Words Challenge A/N #2: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

“Let me ask you something. If you cared about someone but didn’t feel the same for them as they felt for you then what would you say?” (Y/N)’s boyfriend for the last two years asked her one night on the phone.

She chuckled, “I don’t know. I might say we need to go our separate ways.” He had been acting weird the last six months ever since she moved to Austin, Texas to be closer to her family and friends. He was an executive at a financial firm in New York.

“(Y/N)…” she hummed her response as the next words hit her like a ton of bricks, “I think we need to go our separate ways. The whole long-distance thing is not really working, and I have met someone…”

The rest of his words fell on deaf ears as her heart pounding was louder than anything. When there was a brief moment of silence she spoke, “O-Oh okay.”

That was the last time they spoke. He had shipped anything of hers to Austin with a note simply saying sorry. She spent weeks in a fog barely making it through the day without bursting into tears. Her boss was sympathetic to a point until it was obvious that this was not going to end until soon.

She was sitting in the break room staring at her phone. She had chosen this time since it was after lunch and no one would be in there to stare at her or look at her like she was a pathetic loss dog.

“(Y/N), how are you?” her manager asked as she shrugged. “I’ve noticed your numbers are down for the last month and your performance surveys have been low as well.”

She sighed heavily, “I’m sorry. I will try harder.” She looked up to see her manager’s face and a feeling of dread spread throughout her body.

“Sadly, there won’t be a chance for you to make up the deficit. We’re going to have to let you go.” (Y/N)’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She felt like she should be crying but her eyes could no long produce tears to match the level of sadness sitting in her chest.

She simply nodded getting up and grabbing a nearby empty paper box to collect her things. It was just the next thing in her life to kick her while she was down the final straw was losing her apartment and having to move in with her parents again in Dallas.

That was where she was now. The bottom of the barrel, surrounded by soul crashing darkness and silence. Her brain urged her to pick up her phone and dial the one person who instantly made her feel better. The thought of his olive eyes and charming smile almost gave her the strength to press his name on her phone.

Yet, she never did. The silence and darkness consuming her slowly with each passing day. Not remembering if she had eaten, drank or the last time she had spoken to someone. Her parents would knock and call out for her. The anguish that started off so small a couple of months ago after her break-up had now completely shut her down.

Just as she had finally come to peace with the sadness taking her away there was a piercing light that shined into her room. Her eyes squeezed shut at being able to stand the brightness. (Y/N) pulled the cover over her head praying whoever opened her door would simple leave her to rot in the pit she had built for herself.

“Hey pretty girl.” His deep draw and special nickname stirred something within her that she had not felt in what seemed to be forever.

She peeked her head out from the covers, “Jensen? W-What are you doing here?” she asked her voice cracking and throat burning from not speaking in god knows how long.

She listened as he closed the door slightly the burning light being pointed in another direction. Her eyes adjusted watching as his tall, dark shadow moved about her room. The sound of his boots being kicked off near the door seem unbelievably loud. His silence spoke volumes though as she could make out him taking off his jacket or over shirt.

“Jay, what are you doing?” she asked a slight panic settling in her stomach.

He stood beside her bed, “Scooch.” He instructed.

She moved over to one side, her body stiffening as Jensen climbing into her bed next to her. “C’mere.” He said softly holding his arm out holding up the blanket he was slipping under with her.

(Y/N) hesitantly slid down the bed further, her head resting on his chest as he gently laid his arm across her waist. His other arm wrapped around her back as his hand slowly caressed it. Her body refused to relax against his. That meant trusting and letting someone in again. The thought terrified her to the point of trying to push Jensen away.

They had been best friends since childhood. Even after he became a celebrity they were still as close as ever. Though she had been harboring feelings for him since the seventh grade, she never once thought about acting on them. She was a screw up and constantly going from one dark moment to the next. Jensen deserved someone who was amazing, talented, smart and beautiful. Not someone who fell down the darkest pit of despair after some douchebag dumps her for someone else.

“Stop pushing me away, (Y/N). I’m not going anywhere until either we starve to death or you walk out of this room with me.” He held her firmly against his lean body as she struggled against him.

“Jensen Ackles, let me go… please… I can’t…” she begged trying to sound angry.

He shook his head stubbornly fully wrapping his arms around her and pulling her body on top of his. Shock numbed her mind as her hands pressed against his broad chest. “I’m not letting you go, (Y/N). I’m not letting you go until we have talked, cried and agree that we are going to walk out of this room to get ice cream from our favorite place.”

His words were slashing at her causing immense pain to burrow in her chest. She felt as if she could not breath and wanted nothing more than the darkness to take her away from this world. A world that gave her a man who cared about her deeply, but she could never be with. A cruel world that would give her a best friend to fall in love with that would never see her in that way.

“Jay… I can’t. I just can’t. I have felt too much, and I-I’m scared to feel anything again.” Tears slipped down her cheeks for the first time since losing her job.

He pressed his lips against the top of her head whispered, “Scared to feel what?”

(Y/N)’s hands clenched his soft t-shirt as she fought to keep her emotions from erupting all over him, “To feel this. Hope, love, uncertainty. It’s taken every bit of strength and energy to keep myself only in isolation. I’ve… I’ve wanted to go so bad. Just let go and be free of all of this. I don’t want to feel anything again.”

She felt his body tense up for a moment as she spoke the realization of what she admitted hitting him, “Did you?” he asked his voice filled with anxiety.

She shook her head, “No but I wanted too. The only feeling I ever wanted to feel was the pain. It makes my skin tingle just thinking of the pain slicing through me. I can’t though. I promised you I would never do that again and I’ve kept that promise.”

Jensen’s body relaxed immediately hearing she had not given in to the deepest desire to hurt herself. He let out a long breath, “I’m proud of you for resisting the urge. I know that is incredibly difficult.”

“I still want too. I want to end it. My heart is beyond repair. I’m damaged goods and always have been. Just a waste of space taking up air that should be for someone worthy to breathe it.” Her brain screamed for her to shut up and to revert back into herself.

Jensen always had a power over her to get her to speak. That was probably why her parents called him. Knowing that it was all because of her that he had flown from Vancouver to Dallas for her filled her body with guilt on top of her self-hatred.

He pulled back slight bringing his hands on either side of her face. His dark eyes staring deeply into his (Y/C/E) eyes. The small amount of light shining in her room revealed the glistening tears welling up beneath his eyelids.

“Listen to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You are not a waste of space nor are you unworthy of the air you breathe.” He paused for a moment his eyes moving rapidly from side to side then he pressed his full lips against hers.

She did not move or blink in fear of it all being a hallucination. Jensen pulled back biting his lip nervously, “(Y/N), I love you.”

The three words she had always dreamed of hearing filled her with seer panic. “No.”

“No?” Jensen asked in disbelief scoffing.

“No. No. NO! You can’t love me. I’m no good and horrible for you. Everything about you is perfect and hopeful and wonderful. You can’t love someone like me… you just can’t!” She said watching his face fall slightly as he closed his eyes.

When he opened them, the fierce determination shining in them intimidated her. “(Y/N), you’re perfect and hopeful and wonderful. How anyone could not fall in love with you after being around you is either dumb or oblivious to how amazing you are.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks and he quickly wiped them away, “Jensen, I…”

He pressed his finger to her lips shaking his head, “No more words.” He whispered leaning down kissing her again.

This time she gave in to every feeling she had built up inside of her for him. Allowing him in to show her how love was supposed to feel. He hovered over her his body pressing against hers his lips brushing against her as he whispered, “(Y/N), I…”

(Y/N) woke up her heart beating rapidly. She looked around for Jensen the feeling of his body against her still as her skin was set ablaze. Her lips tingling still from his pressed against them. “Jensen?” she whispered, and the looming truth settle onto her.

She was still along in her room. She curled up tight under her blanket the weight of the darkness surrounding her crushing her spirit. Her self-imposed seclusion from the world bringing out her deepest desire urging her to take the first leap of faith into the unknown.

Sitting up, she grabbed her phone and dialed the familiar number. After the first few rings she almost hung up until the soothing voice said her name, “(Y/N)? About time you called me. I was getting worried about you.”

She took a deep breath before speaking, “Jensen, I…”

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[thanatophobix-blog]

🖊 + all do it coward

Yelling about my OCs // ACCEPTINGRabbit, you are a fool and so am I. I’m just gonna, like… give a headcanon per OC on this blog under the cut.

Achilles - His semblance is called Disconsolate. It makes others able fully feel what he is feeling, from absolute sorrow, blind rage, to pure joy, right down to the last ounce of pain he gets from a paper cut. It can take over other people’s rational thinking processes and make them react as he would, which is often never good (and leads to his death).

Alexus - She doesn’t have any real senses, even if she says its a simulated thing, she has none. She’s a cpu program! HOWEVER, she can still smell charred flesh from when her girlfriend shocked & burned to death. It’s burned into her mind even though her mind can no longer comprehend what a sense is.

Artharrachadh - Doesn’t actually like 7/11 or gas stations, they just give off the vibe he strives for in life. The mystery, the scandals, the robberies. It’s so out in the middle of nowhere that its perfect. Although, thanks to 7/11 he developed an addiction to slushies. Cherry/blue raspberry, for our god of liminal spaces, baby!!

Cas - Her powers have limits. Without her power retaining equipment (essentially, a choker, two bracelets, and two ankles), she would have ripped herself into shreds after a few usages of her powers. Her speed could send her cells into different dimensions, her ‘pyrokinesis’ could set herself on fire since she is not impervious to fire, and if she uses her luck too much, karma returns the favor with brain bleeds.

Cephriel - As angelic as they are, they are more monstrous and demonic than they’d like to admit. They eat sinners alive for nourishment, but it is all for the holy conquest. Plus, the more souls they consume, the stronger they get. The stronger they get, the quicker they can accomplish the holy conquest.

Dolores - She really wanted to get back in touch with her son but she could never find him. She went back to LA looking for him only to find that he’d been adopted and shipped off to Germany. She felt so, so horrible. It’s her fault that he was sent off to a totally abusive household and she lives with that guilt so, so horribly.

Dominique - Has never once acted like a true criminal, more like a robin hood type figure. He doesn’t kill, he doesn’t hurt, he doesn’t do anything like that, the worst he does is steal from the rich and give to the poor. Either through charity donations or through mysterious wads of cash showing up at people’s houses. However, since he steals from the rich and not the poor, that makes him evil for the media.

Eirian - Has never been one for conflict. Avoided school drama all throughout high school (minus his tiff with Lizzie which was created by him being an idiot). Now he’s running from town to town with an eldritch being chasing after him with so many guns in the back seat of his truck its almost fucking criminal. He’s learned, so, so much combat things that it scares him. He’s practically a weapon himself.

Erik - Has the hardest time keeping the ‘we’re all monsters or demons’ secret a secret out of all of Clearfall’s citizens, and he’s the one that made the whole thing happen. Lucky for him, Corey Booker, the human reporter, is kinda dense. Unlucky for Erik, he thinks that Corey is hot shit and would gladly sell him his soul to stay in Clearfall. But, for Corey to stay in Clearfall, he’d have to be turned into either a werewolf or a vampire but he doesn’t want to do that because Erik’s both a wimp and doesn’t wanna hurt

Eva-Marie - In Hell, everyone wears the sign of how their died. People shot have their bullet wounds, knife wounds, the blood loss makes you incredibly lethargic and cold, sickness makes you permanently sick and tired, burning makes you always feel like you’re on fire, and maybe you are! But Eva-Marie doesn’t show signs of her death, or at least, not if you’re not paying attention. She has perfect posture and never lowers her head, the thick choker on her neck is blood red, sometimes she starts choking and coughing up blood. She was killed via beheading, and she takes perfect care to make sure that her head never falls off.

Fane - Has extreme commitment and attachment issues because of how many loved ones he has lost. He couldn’t save… anyone. When one of his last surviving relatives, his great great great great hella fucking great nephew, Lucas, died, he was there. Fane was teaching him how to drive and they got in an accident because Lucas couldn’t take his fucking foot off the gas because he was scared shitless and they got whacked by a semi and Fane has never, ever forgiven himself for that. Or any other of the deaths.

Florian - Is destined to become fully evil, and will thrive in that evil. He was never meant to be a florist, to live and survive off of cuddles on couches and cheap pays for a good job well done. At the end of the day, he has a strong sadistic streak that was never fulfilled as a child. Florian is all smiles and no substance on the inside, and was going to kill himself if he ever had to live another second in that flower shop doing nothing, that’s what the explosion was, an attempt to end it. Now? He’s soft and sweet on  the outside as a cover, and on the inside, he’s ready to seduce your husband and blow up your house.

Fritz - Doesn’t need to sleep and doesn’t sleep. You see, on his home planet, people move so fast that sleeping was essentially something of a social death sentence. Entire empires would rise and fall while one of them was asleep, your wife could start another family and leave you behind because you would be out cold for another millennia. SO! To bypass that, they engineered a serum that would alter their chemical makeup so they’d be constantly producing energy to replace sleep.

Henri - Does not miss being a royal. She knows that the second she gets back, she’ll be forced into an arranged marriage with a guy who a) she will never love because she is a lesbian to every degree and b) she hates anyway, the guy’s a fuckin’ douchebag to every degree. She just wants to stay in NYC with the punk rock and the grunge and the Crownweaver gig with her punk gf, Dex, and never look back.

Jack - Used to be a Team Spectre Admin. Dated Salem for years, was there when the whole team got launched under Salem’s reign. They were really, really into the whole thing too, believed that the world would be better if they could just wipe everyone’s memory clean and start over with the same people, but have everyone listen to a group ‘concerned about their health, their sanity and their well-being’. Eventually realized that it was all bullshit, all of it, shit, bullshit, and that Salem? Asshole! Shit boyfriend, shit person, shit… just shit. Left, went legit, went good.

Julia - Knows everything about you. She has no clairvoyance or telepathy or omniscience or anything like that, but she knows everything about you. She has connections, her connections have connections, she’s met practically everyone in town and if she doesn’t know everything about you when you first meet? You can be sure that she’s going to hunt down someone who at least knows something. She’s incredibly well informed, scarily well informed, and also good at social cues.

Kennedy - Killed a man in university. It was her first kill and by far, her favorite. The rush she felt, the understanding of why people murder for fun, it made her understand. She had a knife on hand, took it out of the restaurant she was eating at just beforehand and completely forgot about it, but she was glad she had it. She gutted him, top of the chest all the way down to the lower stomach, and she hanged him from a fire escape by his own intestines. He was coming onto her and she was not about that life, rest in peace, fucker.

Klaus-Michael - Has a really hard time hiding his job from his father, aka the Spider-Gold job. Yes, his father is in Germany and Klaus-Michael himself is in NYC, however, it is a requirement between the two that they have a video call once a week. He comes home after fighting off an army of bad guys with so many bruises and so many cuts and dings and busted lips and broken bones and casts and oxygen tanks that his dad should be suspicious, especially since his dad is a genius. But, Klaus-Michael always seems to have some sort of excuse tucked up his sleeve.

Liz - Finds Atlantis. She does! With help, she arrives, and, unlike the dis.ney movie, there is no one alive. Skeletons line the streets of the drowned city, the location is crumbling, and she is horrified. The haunted location gives her the creeps the second she is in there, and for good reason, because something  is watching her. Not something living, but machinery, and once it catches up to her, it brands her on her side for the rest of her life. A marking, a warning.

Lizzie - Has slight celestial heritage. Didn’t think Arhkangelskaya was chosen as her last name for a reason? It was! While she doesn’t have archangel blood per say, she has guardian angel blood, and that’s what brings her back (her ghost back) from the dead to look after Eirian’s dumb fucking ass. The guardian angel blood comes from her great grandfather who was her great grandmother’s guardian angel, ever since then, the arhkangelskayas have returned as ghosts to the person they feel needs the most help.

Lori - Is destined to die at the age of twelve. In a way, she feels invincible because who in their right mind would kill a child? She thinks, that, because she’s so young, nobody is gonna raise a finger against her when she walks in to kill them, because she thinks that they don’t think that she’s going to kill them! And then, one day, she realizes that everyone is an assassin and assassins don’t have rules, assassins just want money. And, on that day, that is when she dies.

Lukas - Is not out for anyone but himself and his town. If you die, and it’s his fault, it’s not on his conscience. He’s not here to fix your problems, even though he fixes way too many of them anyway, he’s here to get the money and go. He’s here to get enough cash to either buy enough medicine to last him and his hometown years and years and years, essentially ridding them of their poisoning, or, he is going to use that money to entice scientists to search for a cure. He’s tired of having slag course through his veins, it hurts, more than he likes to admit.

Lux -  Is not impervious to fire. If she emits it from her body, she only does so from her hands for this reason, she’s not some hum.an tor.ch lookin’ chick, she’s completely human to every regard and her powers are created by machines. She can use her powers of vibrating molecules to a frequency on objects that she is not holding that are within close range, but she can also ‘set the air on fire’ (more like oxidation). She doesn’t realise this, but its how she makes her fireballs. The palms of her hands are incredibly scarred.

Madeleine - Killed a man in self defense and nobody will ever, ever know about it. Or, at least, she hopes so. She doesn’t want anybody to find out about it, because she knows that she’d be sent to jail. Sure, it started out as self defense when the main pulled out a gun at her at semi-close range in an alley way after a case where she sent a criminal away for life and she stabbed him through the heart with her rapier. It was when she took the gun and the sword and started going overkill with panic that it became less about self defense and more like making sure that that guy would never come back. She got an old friend with connections to clean the scene.

Marque - Isn’t trying to provide chaos to provide the world with equal opportunity to rise from the ashes and anarchy as a new, better evolved race, he’s doing it so he can control Giratina and take over the Reverse World. If he takes control of the pokemon, then he is also, by default, the master of the Reverse World. If he allows other to live within the other dimension, he will become their leader by default. And, by causing chaos in Kalos, Sinnoh and the other regions, he will have more and more people wanting to move into the Reverse, gaining more and more subjects and more and more power.

Matthew - Will not be able to survive if he ever leaves the Entity’s realms. His body is emaciated beyond what should be humanly possible (not like the hag is, more like he’s 6′4″ and 90lbs) and he’s surviving based on the Entity alone. His blood is complete and utter drugs at this point and he’s fragile. He’s skeletal, but in the same way that b.ane works, the drugs kind of give him a boost? They give him the strength to keep moving, but he will die if all of them ever get out because he was only a little better than this before he got into the realms.

Myles - Is suffering from unknown internal damage thanks to the facial scar that he is unaware of. The deal with this is, the scar pushed the outer layer of metal inward and, while it hasn’t damaged any of his inner workings yet, if anything happens to his face… welp! A good hit to the cheek, falling head first, anything like that will push the sharp metal further inward and damage his internal wiring. This could potentially be fatal depending on how hard the hit is, or how many times he gets hit. He is very stunned after a good head injury.

Ollie - Is a little hypocrite His whole episode is about the importance of not doing drugs, but in itself, the episode really leans towards how ‘some drugs are good’. Big companies will gladly sponsor a tv show into corrupting the minds of children to think that certain drugs are alright to take by hiding information about them, just like the tobacco industry in the past with cigarettes. Ollie, the pill bottle filled with prescription drugs, may say that some are bad, but he himself offers the pills he contains to the members of the show, getting them addicted, like a fucking hypocrite.

Richard - Wants to move onto news reporting on television, but is held back by Thomas. Their personalities are incredibly similar thanks to the method of their creation, but Richard’s has always been a little bit louder and more personable and much, much more suited for news reporting. He’s always taken to celebrity incidents more, so he’d be suited for something like…. eta.lk or en.tertainment toni.ght. Plus, wouldn’t it be fun to report a death on tv that you caused?

Salem - Does not understand that he is in the wrong. Like, you know how some villains understand that to do some good things, you need to break a few eggs? And they deal with that guilt?? LIke uh, shit, like Negan had guilt on cheating on his wife and all that, like they can realize that they’ve done bad shit? Salem is so insecure that he projects all guilt and anger and anything wrong onto other people. World falling apart? People losing their families to memory loss? Not his fault, all yours.

Shae - Never wanted to be the hero. She’s watched too many superhero movies to see how it all turns out. Metr.oman? From Meg.amind? Yeah, she doesn’t wanna turn out like that, but she knows that she’ll burnout from all the people saving and all the heroics and that one day she might just have to kill her best friend so as sunshine-y as she is she’s always dealing with this black cloud that hangs over her head and heart and it hurts her that the world is always so in danger and she can only do so much. She wants to have a break.

Sinclair - Has never lived for himself. He only ever helps others. When Jack disappeared, he took it upon himself to defeat the Team Spectre residing within the League. He took over so that people could still experience the League even though he didn’t actually technically become the champion. After all that happens, he leaves to go help others because he has nothing else to live for, he doesn’t know what to do but help. Even as a child, he poured himself into others rather than building himself up.

The Boys - Used to travel the world to sate their hunger before fully settling in their new home, a now dead, formerly economically booming, rural town that still sees some people coming in. When they travelled, they were not known as the boys, more as The Figure, as they did not hivemind as much. It is only thanks to their new setting where they take place in the high school like to eat teenagers that they hivemind as seven different boys (the most they can manage with having separate personalities and appearances while still being connected).

Thomas - Once tried to have a family outside out of Richard without Richard knowing to see what it was like. They aren’t connected other than their purpose, so they share no hivemind, just basic personality. He soon realised that a family would not be for someone like him, as they would always die before him, leading him to fake his death so it’d make human sense. He lost track of where his descendants are now, however, he doesn’t care because he’s dependant on Richard.

Virgil - In Agents of Mayhem, Virgil becomes M. Squelette, the title gained when becoming the leader of the Ivory Skeletons. Either way, his Saints Row verse, he still was a member of that gang, but he left the gang life there to move to Stilwater and then got rescooped into it. He has a lot of Saints ink, the fleur de lis and all that shit, one on his neck, y’know. However, he has a piece of Skeletons ink that he refuses to blot out because its… really nice. Like the tattoo artist obviously worked really hard on it and as loyal as he is to the Saints, he also has a large respect for the arts so there is no way in hell he’ll blot out something so nice looking. Besides, he can just pass it off as something he got when he was drunk considering that he never talks about his time as a Skeleton to anyone.

Woodland - Learned how to ‘speak English’ thanks to the dying screams of the people she killed and ate alive. Some people would try and bargain with her, others would just string together a stream of ‘shit’s and ‘no’s. Of course, this doesn’t help when learning English, as you only learn certain words and all their connotations are fucked and disjointed. She tries her best though. Also, she doesn’t actually have a name. Woodland is just a term.

Xander - Found out that he was a god when he didn’t die when he should have. By all means, he should have died. He was in a car accident with some sorta not really friends (all his other friends were in the other car, thank gods) and all the other ones died horrifically. Someone got flung out the windshield and into a tree, someone stepped out of the crash and got hit by a passing truck, when the car caught on fire, two people were stuck inside. Only Xander lived, but he was in a hospital with wounds that should have never healed, but they did. He then got a message from his fathers telling him about his true parentage.

[santiagoswagger]

In a world where soulmates exist, Jake and Amy are not each other's perfect match - but maybe that doesn't matter.

It all ends with a few thoughtlessly muttered words of anger and the loud, sharp bang of a slammed door.

What had started as an innocuous disagreement between two fraught, overworked detectives – over how messy his side of the closet was – eventually escalated into a full-blown screaming match. They both dug deep into their weapons arsenals, flinging weighted words across the room at each other like exploding grenades.

It’s not that hard to put your dirty socks in the hamper, Jake! It’s two feet away!

Yeah, well I bet my soulmate wouldn’t care about my stupid socks!

She didn’t come back that night.

The fact that they weren’t soulmates had always been an issue they skirted around, but it constantly simmered just below the surface. The symbols tattooed on their ring fingers from birth may not have matched but they were in love and they firmly believed destiny couldn’t get in the way of that if they didn’t let it. But Jake had hit a nerve tonight, throwing their missing connection in her face knowing full-well how badly it would wound her.

It had always bothered her more than it did him that they weren’t soulmates. Jake had never really believed in the concept, preferring to choose his own destiny, but he knew that as practical and logical as Amy was, she wanted to believe in it more than she would ever let on. Jake had never really looked for his soulmate; he had seen enough soulmate marriages implode, his own parents’ included, to know that even the perfect match couldn’t guarantee a lifetime of happiness. Amy had looked for hers but hadn’t come close to success. When they had fallen for each other, the mismatched symbols tattooed on their hands seemed so insignificant. He should have known the marks would be their undoing.

When Jake went into work the next morning, the dark bruises under his eyes apparent to anyone who could see, her desk had been cleaned out and she had requested a transfer to another precinct. The rest of the day passed by in a blur and he could barely think about anything but Amy – where she was, what she was thinking, why she was leaving the nine-nine. He got the answers he was looking for when he arrived at their apartment that night to find Amy standing in the middle of their now barren living room with bags packed and a few cardboard boxes stacked by the door. She wasn’t just leaving the nine-nine, she was leaving him too.

It isn’t working.

We’re just too different.

I love you but I can’t do this anymore.

He could barely hear her words over the buzzing in his brain. He couldn’t believe how badly he had miscalculated; he’d thought things were good. He knew they were good. Sure, they fought – even soulmates fought – but last night’s argument, harsh and vindictive, had been an anomaly born out of sleep deprivation and a frustrating lack of time alone together. He had taken things too far and he knew that, but he refused to let that be the end of them.

He began to bargain with her, realizing with increasing panic that she was about to walk out the door and never come back. He apologized over and over for the idiotic things he had said, told her he would clean his side of the closet and organize it the way she liked, promised to be a better man for her if she stayed. But her mind was made up; it was time they stopped pretending they could outsmart fate.  

She hugged him one final time, the engagement ring he had given her digging into his shoulder, functioning as a niggling, painful reminder of what could have been. She took it off of her finger for the first time since that Halloween night and left it on the dining room table with a clack of finality. They stared at each other, both pairs of eyes searching the other’s face, and Jake was sure she was remembering the same things he was – the laughter, the tears, the separations and reunions – and then she was gone. For good.

He sat on the couch all night after she left, numb and shattered, staring at the beige walls and wondering how on earth they had fallen apart so quickly. It was hard to believe that three happy years could be undone so completely in such a short amount of time.  

The next two years flew by in a haze. Jake threw himself into the job once again, convinced more than ever that work was all he had. If he was working on a case and trying to solve a difficult puzzle, his brain couldn’t be consumed by thoughts of Amy. But they always veered to her in the end. It’s wasn’t hard – she was everywhere.

Their lives had been so intertwined that he looked around wherever he was and saw her shadow hovering in places she once stood. She was in his car, laughing wildly as he blasted Taylor Swift from the radio and poking her in the shoulder until she begrudgingly sang along. She was all over the apartment they once shared: in the kitchen attempting to cook in her flannel pajamas, in the living room slouched against his shoulder while they watched Law & Order marathons, in the bedroom smiling up at him with dark eyes. Work was far worse; her ghost haunted him from every nook and cranny of the precinct where they fell in love. It took almost three weeks before he could even think of entering the evidence lock-up, and the sight of another body sitting at her desk across from him made him physically nauseous.

Amy keeps in touch with the rest of the squad and they keep him as updated as they think he can handle. She texts with Terry and Rosa every once in a while, and she sends Charles a long Facebook message six months after the break-up when he won’t stop bombarding her with desperate pleas to change her mind. Charles won’t tell him what the message says but Jake is too heartbroken to push the subject. He knows that she and Captain Holt have lunch at least once a month to continue her mentorship. Gina ignores her calls and texts in solidarity with her oldest friend, despite his protests. Amy never reaches out to Jake but it’s probably for the best – he’s not even sure he would be able to talk to her again without dissolving into a puddle of tears. But they’re still Facebook friends, the thought of severing all ties to her proving to be too awful to Jake. He thinks it might be for her too. That’s how he knows when she gets promoted to lieutenant, when her perpetually single brother Xavier finally finds his soulmate and gets married, and when she’s transferred to a new precinct in Manhattan.

That’s also how he finds out she’s engaged for the second time. This time, to her soulmate.

When the life event pops up in his Facebook news feed, accompanied by a picture of Amy and a handsome blonde man holding up their matching ring finger tattoos, Jake’s breath hitches in his throat and he feels the floor begin to crumble around his feet. He has to blink several times to make sure he hasn’t misread the words on his screen or mistaken her for someone else, but how could he? It’s Amy. He couldn’t forget her face even if he wanted to.  

According to some pretty excellent social media stalking on Gina’s part, her new fiancé’s name is Brad and he is everything Jake believes to be wrong with the world. He’s an investment banker with a WASP-y last name, and probably the trust fund to match; but he’s on the board of a big children’s charity so Jake can’t totally hate him, as much as he wants to. Her new ring is significantly bigger than the small antique ring Jake had once given her. He wonders if that’s what she thought about as Brad slid the ring on her fourth finger, if she remembered that night in the evidence lock-up just as Brad got down on one knee. The petty, bitter side of him hopes she did.

Gina, Rosa, Terry and Charles all take him out that night and he gets drunker than he has in years. He pounds back shot after shot of whiskey, half of him hoping he drowns in the alcohol and never has to live in a world where Amy Santiago is married to a douchebag named Brad. After five straight days of coming into work hungover, Captain Holt summons Jake to his office and levels with him – shape up or ride the desk. He says it kindly and with more sympathy than Jake thought Holt was capable of, and that’s how he knows he can’t live like this anymore.

He had been unconsciously waiting for her without realizing, waiting for her to come crashing back into his arms and his life and regretting ever leaving him in the first place. But she was going to marry Preppy Brad and have his Preppy Children and it was time for him to accept that. He could only chase a ghost for so long.

Things are better for Jake after that. He tries to regain some semblance of a work-life balance and starts going to the gym three times a week instead of the bar. It’s there at the gym that he meets Sarah. She’s a pretty brunette teacher and they begin talking when she makes fun of his pathetically low speed on the treadmill from the next machine over. He jokes that he’s a world champion slow runner, relishing her laugh; he’d forgotten how much he loved to make people laugh. He stops obsessively checking Amy’s Facebook page after that.

Jake and Sarah start dating soon enough and he thinks it’s nice not to be alone anymore. She’s smart and kind and tells great stories about her ridiculous students. She’s funny too, making him snort with laughter sometimes, but she never fails to call him out when he’s being immature. He needs that. She’ll even watch Die Hard with him. When she gets pregnant after a year together, Jake proposes. He does love her after all and he can’t imagine not being there for his kid, not in a million years. The proposal is low-key, over a candle-lit dinner at Sarah’s apartment, a far cry from the last time he proposed. That memory seems disconnected now, like a still frame from a movie he saw as a kid but only remembered in scattered fragments.

They get married at city hall when she’s six months along. It���s a quiet affair but his parents are there, along with the squad, and that’s all he really needs. Charles cries but Jake can’t help feeling like he would have cried harder if it were Amy wearing white and standing next to Jake instead. But he doesn’t care as much as he would have a few years before. He finally feels like he’s moving forward instead of constantly looking over his shoulder into the past.

Before he knows it, he’s a father. When he sees his daughter for the first time in the hospital delivery room, it feels like he’s been building slowly to this moment all his life. There’s something broken in him that is pieced together when she reaches a tiny, chubby hand out of her blanket to grab his finger and hold it firmly. He cries and it feels a little like healing.

Holding Mia Peralta for the first time, Jake thinks that maybe his daughter was always meant to be the love of his life.

Life with Sarah and Mia is good, but Jake can’t help feeling like something unidentifiable is missing, and he knows Sarah feels it too. There’s nothing wrong with the marriage, but it never feels quite right either. Jake and Sarah love each other, and they love their daughter even more, but after five years they both decide to go their separate ways. You can only continue to choose the wrong person for so long before you have to give into your gut feeling.

Six months after the divorce is finalized, Jake is standing in Shaw’s bar on a Friday night waiting for Charles and Terry to show up for a much-needed guy’s night out. Jake has Mia most weekends so nights out with his friends have become a rarity. He’s standing at the bar trying and failing to get the bartender’s attention when he becomes aware of the woman shifting next to him, attempting to do the same thing. She’s a few inches shorter than him and her face is hidden by a curtain of long, glossy black hair. Jake’s heart lodges itself in his throat, as it always does when he’s reminded of Amy. He clears his throat to force the memories down and that’s when the woman’s head turns toward him. He knows it’s her before her head makes it all the way around.

It’s cliché, but time seems to stop and the chatter that fills the crowded bar is silenced when his eyes lock with hers. He hasn’t seen her in so long, almost seven years, it’s almost like seeing her for the first time all over again. Her hair is longer than it was back then and she has a few new lines around her mouth and eyes but she’s still the Amy he once knew, all brown eyes and bright smile.  

“Jake,” she says. “Oh my god, it’s really you!”

She’s smiling, but he can tell she’s startled by his presence. Her eyes are widened slightly and flecked with panic. It reassures him that he’s as thrown by this impromptu reunion as he is. So, he does what he does best in any awkward situation: he turns it into a joke.

“Yeah, I gave my clone the night off. I was worried people were starting to like him better than me.”

That breaks the ice. The tension that had filled the air between them just a moment before instantly dissipated, replaced by their quiet laughter. Her shoulders lose their rigidity and the panic leaves her eyes, so Jake knows she’s feeling more comfortable around him now that she knows it won’t be awkward.

“What are you doing at Shaw’s?” she asks. “Oh wait, it’s your guy’s night with Terry and Charles, right?”

At his questioning gaze, she turns slightly pink with embarrassment. Her fingers clutch the highball glass in her hand like a safety blanket, her knuckles turning pale and white with the effort.

“Terry told me last week. We get coffee sometimes.” She looks sheepish. Jake thinks he’s never seen anything cuter in his life, inwardly cursing himself for the thought.

“Yeah? What else did Terry tell you at your super-secret coffee meeting?” He leans against the bar with his head turned towards her. She wants to say something, he can tell, and he’s going to make her spit it out.

She pauses, mouth slightly open and on the verge of speaking, and he can see her weighing her options internally.

She makes up her mind and ploughs forward. “He actually told me about your divorce. I’m really sorry, Jake, that’s awful.“ She lifts her hand on instinct, almost as if she was reaching for his hand, but she changes her mind and lowers it back down to the wood of the bar.

Jake smiles at her sadly. “Thank you, but it’s actually fine. I’ve got my daughter so things aren’t all bad.”

At that, Amy’s face breaks out in the most radiant smile, one that finally reaches her eyes. “Fatherhood looks good on you, Jake.”

He smiles right back, and he thinks that they must look like idiots, standing in this crowded bar and grinning at each other like mental patients. The spell is broken when a short, blonde woman comes over and taps Amy on the shoulder, gesturing vaguely towards the door. Amy nods at her and holds up an index finger: one minute.

She turns back to Jake. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” she says. “I told my coworker I would give her a ride home tonight.” He can’t help but think (hope, really) that she sounds disappointed.

“Sure, yeah, you should go. Drive safe.” Jake clears his throat, wishing he had a drink right now to keep his hands from reaching to hold hers. He awkwardly waves at her instead.  

She smiles kindly at the gesture, mouth closed but lips upturned in amusement. She can see right through him. “It was good to see you, Jake.” She places her highball glass down on the bar and gathers her purse and coat, preparing to leave.

“It was good to see you too, Ames.” Her name feels foreign on her tongue, despite the fact that it runs through his brain more often than he would care to admit.

She copies his awkward wave, earning her an impressed laugh from him, and then she’s gone.

He finally gets a drink and sits at his favorite booth in the back of the bar in a daze, staring at the wood grains on the table in front of him. Seeing her again after all these years of what ifs felt monumental, like something in the atmosphere had shifted. But maybe he was romanticizing the whole thing – after all, it had just been two old friends running into each other at a bar. That kind of thing happened all the time.

His head and his heart are wrestling with each other when Terry and Charles finally arrive, shaking off the snow dusting their coats as they make their way over to Jake’s booth.

“Jakey!” Charles exclaims, hugging Jake in his signature death grip. Terry smiles and shakes his head in Jake’s periphery. When Charles finally releases him, Jake gives Terry a normal, non-lung-crushing hug in greeting before silently slumping back down in his booth.

Terry gives him a curious look, the mama bear in him flaring to life. “Jake, is something the matter? You seem down.” Charles whips his eyes away from the bar menu at the words, his eyes suddenly frantic and fraught with worry.

Jake contemplates lying and keeping his thoughts to himself, but he’s learned the hard way that bottling up his emotions never guides him anywhere worth going. He sighs and grabs his beer bottle, taking a big gulp before answering. “I just ran into Amy.”

Charles gasps dramatically, flinging the menu down on the bar and raising his hands in the air while looking up at the ceiling in pseudo-prayer. “Oh my god, it finally happened! You guys reignited your passionate love and got back together! After all these years, my prayers have been answered!”

Jake rolls his eyes in response, though not unkindly. “Relax, Charles. We talked for a few minutes and then she left. It was just two old friends catching up. She’s still married to Brad.” He gulps his beer again in an attempt to swallow his contempt for the name he never can bring himself to say out loud. “She seemed happy.”

Charles scoffs predictably, but it’s Terry who surprises Jake. “Actually, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” He shrugs nonchalantly, like he hasn’t just uttered eight life-changing words.  

Jake nearly spits out his beer, a little bit dribbling out of his mouth when his jaw slacks with shock. “What does that mean, Terry? What do you know that I don’t?”

Terry smirks. “She and Brad broke up last month. She told me last week when we met up for coffee. She’s single, Jake.”

Jake is stunned into silence for perhaps the first time in his life. He had been so caught up in seeing her again, breathing the air around her, that he hadn’t thought to look for her wedding ring, finally accepting of her soulmate marriage after all these years apart. He couldn’t believe it. He thought if anyone were to make it work with their soulmate, it would be Amy; she was too stubborn to let something that important fall apart, especially something supposedly commanded by the universe. The hopelessly romantic fragment of his heart begins to soar – Amy Santiago, the love of his life, is single again.

Charles, ever the cheerleader, excitedly smacked Jake in the arm. “Now’s your chance to get her back, Jake! Go to her!”

Jake smiled sadly at him, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “Charles, that ship sailed a long time ago. I’m sorry her marriage is over, but I can’t move backwards. I need to move forward, for my sake and Mia’s.”

Charles and Terry exchange a weighted look in the booth seat across from Jake. Terry nods once and a serious look takes over Charles’ face.

“Jake, I never told you about the Facebook message Amy sent me not that long after your breakup because I thought it would make things worse,” he says. “But I think I should tell you about it now.”

He pauses, waiting for Jake to react. Jake’s not sure what to think. Truth be told, he had forgotten about the message until now but he’d always been curious about it, especially since Charles was so emphatic in his refusal to tell Jake what Amy had written. He felt his heartbeat quicken and pulse begin to race, just like it did every time he was close to solving a tough case.

“It was a few months after your break-up and I was having a hard time with the news,” Charles continues. “I kept writing to Amy, asking her why she couldn’t be happy without her soulmate when you were clearly the best she could ever do, Jake. After a few messages, she finally responded. She said that she wasn’t sure if she would ever be happy without you , even with her soulmate, but she owed it to herself to try.”

Jake swallows harshly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He’s not surprised – Amy was always a rule follower. If she were destined to be with someone, she would do everything in her power to be with that person.

“There’s something else, Jake.” Terry shifts uncomfortably in his seat, drawing Jake’s attention away from Charles. “Last week at coffee, she asked me about you, how you were doing. She asked about your wife, asked if you were happy.”

“Terry, it’s okay. She told me you told her about my divorce.”

“No, Jake.” Terry shakes his head and laughs. “We were at the restaurant for two hours and she only asked me questions about you. She barely even looked at the pictures I brought of my baby girls.” He lifts his eyebrows and stares pointedly at Jake.

And he finally gets it. The tiny glimmer of hope that ignited when he first saw her in the bar that evening bursts into flames in his heart. A goofy smile bursts onto his face. He can’t stay here anymore, not when he has a woman to win back.

“I have to go,” he manages to stammer, feeling alive for the first time in years, flinging his limbs from the seat of the booth and jumping to his feet.

“I’ll text you her new address!” Terry yells at his retreating form. Jake only vaguely hears Charles sobbing with joy behind him as he darts out of the bar and into the night.

He decides to take the subway to his destination, hoping the wait will give him time to piece through his thoughts and decide what to say. He spends the entire journey tapping his fingers against his knee, thinking about how long they’ve taken to get to this point.

As the train rolls to a stop, he runs out of the station as fast as his out-of-shape legs will carry him all the way to her apartment. It’s on a quiet, tree-lined street, not far from their old apartment. He double checks the address Terry texted to him to make sure he’s in the right place before walking up to the door and pressing the buzzer next to ‘Santiago’. He feels a hopeful flutter in his chest at seeing her maiden name again.

To his surprise, he hears the door buzz and click open without hearing her voice come over the intercom to ask his identity. The Amy he knew had three locks on her door and kept her service weapon next to her bed when she lived alone, but maybe this newly single Amy is still getting used to being alone. Cautiously, he enters the building and heads for the elevator to her third-floor apartment. He barely gives himself a moment to wonder if this is a disastrously bad idea before bringing his fist to the door and knocking three times. The door opens in slow motion and he steels himself.

“You’re not the Chinese delivery guy.” She’s there, staring at him with widened eyes and a hint of a smile. Well, at least that explains her lax security.

“No, I’m not.” He smiles, eyes crinkling. She’s wearing sweatpants and her hair is in a messy bun, so unlike the rigid bun she wears to work, but she looks like home. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She steps back to let him in and he can hear her breathing deeply as he walks past her, almost as if she’s trying to slow her heart rate. He can relate.

The apartment is filled with half-unpacked boxes but still neat and tidy, covered with books, pillows and her beloved figurines – it’s perfectly Amy. He turns to take her in.

She’s staring at him with some trepidation, but he can see the resolve in her eyes too.

“Running into you tonight at Shaw’s wasn’t a coincidence, was it?” He cuts right to the chase and he can see her jump slightly in her socks at his candor.

“No,” she says softly, shaking her head for extra emphasis.

“Why?” He needs to know, needs to hear her say it so he knows it’s real.

She takes a deep breath, letting it out in a steady stream before answering. “Because I met my soulmate but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about us. I thought I was doing what the universe expected of me by meeting my other half, but I couldn’t help feeling like the universe was wrong.”

They stare at each other for a moment before both moving to cross the distance between them in a few short strides, meeting in the middle of her living room in a searing kiss. Hands tangle in hair as they clutch at each other, kissing with seven years’ worth of emotion and desperation.

Kissing her gives Jake the most clarity he’s had in a long time. They have a lot to talk about, but talking can wait a little while longer. His relationship with Amy isn’t fate or coincidence; it’s a choice. It always has been. They may not have identical symbols on their fingers but they continue to choose each other time and time again. And maybe that’s better.

[catcatb0y]

Like How I Met Your Mother, for example. It's a popular show! A lot of people.like it! It's very long and meant to be a Slice Of Life, there's a character for everyone-

There's Lily and Marshall, the cute happy couple that bicker occassionally, but this isn't about them.

Ted (I'm pretty sure his name was Ted, names don't stick in my brain that well) is kind of an underdog. He's the honest guy, the nice guy (but not like the Nice GuyTM that's actually just a creep). He believes in finding The One, but is also hopeless at finding dates ha ha, very funny-

But within this character, there occasionally comes the running joke that he likes Robin, and, in the later seasons, he tries and tries and tries to get over her. He knows that it's hopeless, he knows that she doesn't love him back, but he just can't get.over her because It's Love.

Robin, however, somewhere along the line realizes that she has a thing for Barney, who is characterized as an asshole and a playboy. He's a douchebag in a bunch of fancy suits, and Robin knows that he's a horrible person to fall for, but, once again, It's Love.

Barney later on down the line eventually does have love problems of his own. He starts dating one of the strippers at the "Lusty Leapord," and they end up overcoming a lot of hardships and they move (way too quickly) into marriage! Where they find out that they actually have a lot of trust issues and call off the engagement, ending their relationship.

(At this time, Robin also has a partner that obviously doesn't end up working out and it's eventually "revealed" that she 'still has feelings for Barney' (and if I recall, I think Ted is also in a relationship with one of his exes and they had a lot of drawn out history (I'm pretty sure she left him at the alter to run away with another man))

And this drama just goes on??

Robin ends up single and alone. Barney accidentally gets a never shown girl pregnant and that's somehow his happy ending despite the fact that we never hear anything about the mother. Lily and Marshall go through some shit, but at least they cope with it in a mostly healthy way. Ted ends up meeting 'the love of his life' and it's supposedly the happy ending he wanted the entire time!

The whole ending punchline is Ted telling the story to his kids long after their mother is dead, and they tell him that he's still in love with Robin and that it's okay to go find her again-

Like

As if she wasn't the one who said no all of those times.

Like listen, I don't care about what you think of How I Met Your Mother or popular/similar shows like it, but all of that? There was no basis for Ted's love for Robin. There was no basis for Robin's love for Barney. Barney actually had a reason to pursue (I want to say her name was Stella, but I can't remember if that was one of Ted's exes) the stripper, but their entire relationship fell apart because they realized that neither of them wanted marriage and actually had huge trust issues (which they never tried to work out? Like, marriage isn't the end all be all to love, and I've found that a lot of series make that out to be so? Marriage is just the beginning honey). However, for the first two, they both stated several times that their 'love' was wrong and they needed to get rid of it; they just Couldn't... for no discernable reason...

And all I'm saying is that, if a cishet drama can hop through that many fucking loops on an empty premise of love, why do the people that consume that then go out and demand a ten page essay on why those two LGBT characters should be together? It's almost always those cishets that then go and demand LBGT ships to have a wide and amazing basis of love, but all of that drama is completely normal and often encouraged simply because all if the characters are cishet...

I just realized something that I kind of hate.

Isn't it weird that, specifically in fiction, LGBTQA+ relationships need a ten page essay to be valid; whereas, two straight people can basically try to fucking murder each other, but, if they get together in the end, no one bats an eye.

Like maybe it's not that drastic, but still?? Straight ships in media require zero explanation whatsoever, which leads me to a deviating point of obvious cishet normativity. Are we as a consumption society so completely used to the push of romance that it doesn't phase us? Or are we so used to the idea of a happy ending over all (specifically a happy ending that includes a male and a female romantically involved (in a cishet relationship)) that we stop assessing the value of the ship itself?

[bughead-ficz]

Don't Touch Her//Bughead Fanfiction (C3)

Chapter 3- Tension at Pop’s

(features unnecessary awkwardness between Jughead and Archie)

☾☾☾

It was Monday, and you know what that means. Riverdale High seemed like the perfect place to study and get an education, filled with positive and friendly students, but the brightly coloured clothing on most of the teenagers certainly didn’t reflect their personalities. The hallways roamed with douchebag jocks and bitchy females, trying to intimidate anyone who looked remotely vulnerable, like they used to do to Jughead.

Betty, even though she was saddened to not be spending as much time with him, was somewhat content in the thought that Jughead was happy at Southside High. When she first found out he’d had to transfer, she was devastated. For him, for herself, and for their relationship. She’d thought that the teasing and targeting would escalate considering that side of town was rumoured as trashy and terrorising. To be honest, she should have known better.

There were only a few Serpents who she knew for definite had actually been violent, and many more who were kind, genuine people. Take Jughead’s dad, FP, for instance, or Kevin’s boyfriend, Joaquin. Or even her own mother, the one and only Alice Cooper. But she didn’t know about her mother’s Serpent history yet.

Betty’s protective instinct had taken over and she assumed the worst of his people. But when she showed up at the high school with Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge, relief washed over her.

There was her Juggie. Sat with some other teenagers who were laughing at some quality banter Jughead had said. He looked happy, maybe even the happiest he’d ever looked around other people (except the bonny blonde of course). It was okay. He would be okay. And that information made her content.

Betty recalled the memory in her mind as she sat in class next to Veronica. She was supposed to be studying in the room since it was a free period, but as she attempted to recall the quadratic formula, or state the different products of copper, she found her mind wandering to Jughead.

Jughead was her favourite thing to think about, and rightly so. He had been there for her through so much, like everything with Polly and her parents. The beanie-wearing boy was a blessing to her, and so how could she resist dreaming about his sarcasm, or cheeky smile? God knows he thought about her just as much.

“B?” Betty was broken out of her Jughead-consumed thoughts by Veronica’s voice.

“Oh sorry V, what were you saying?” She asked, baffled.

“Well,” Veronica began with a smug grin, “I was just wondering what exactly was so charming about copper chloride.” Betty frowned, confused, causing the dark-haired girl to giggle. “Betty Cooper you’re sat there grinning at your science notes like they’ve just sang you a highly romantic serenade.” Betty giggled slightly, but then it turned sad.

“I miss him.” Veronica slipped an arm round her to rub her shoulder. “I know, B, but you can see lover-boy after you’re education is completed today.” Betty raised her eyebrows playfully, “yes Mom.”

Veronica shoved her lightly, “get back to work young lady.” And with that the two girls sat chuckling to themselves and attempted to revise pointless information.

☾

As soon as her classes were finished, Betty practically floated out of the superficial school. She hoped to get to pops before her boyfriend, a daily thing they’d like to do- whoever gets there last pays. Sometimes he’d be sat there with a smug smile plastered onto his face which would be partially covered by his laptop screen. At first Betty would be disappointed, but only for a fraction of a second because she’d be so happy to see him after several long hours of “education”. And most of the time Jughead wished he was last, so he wouldn’t have to wait longer to see her beautiful complexion. Sometimes they just split it, no matter who got there first.

“Hey Betty!” She was broken out of her thoughts by the red-headed boy known as the one and only Archie Andrews, jogging over the street to meet her form. Her next door neighbour and one of her best friends. The two had been closer previously, before she’d confessed her romantic feeling towards him and he’d rejected her, stating she was too “perfect” for him. She hated that word. There were no hard feelings, though, because everything happens for a reason, and it led her to Jughead.

“You headed home? I can walk with you.” Archie pondered. Betty smiled discreetly before slightly shaking her head.

“I was gonna go meet up with Juggie at Pop’s.” The Andrews kid looked disappointed, even though he tried hiding it. So Betty, being Betty, invited him to join them, and it was worth it seeing his face light up.

Now don’t get it twisted, Archie greatly cared for Betty, and the excitement his face showed at that moment proved it. But they didn’t have real feeling towards each other, romantically. The feelings Betty thought she had were just a serious crush, but, now she had Jughead. And she was deeply, deeply in love with Jughead.

And as for Archie, he knew he’d somehow be involved with Veronica at some point during that very first time she walked into Pop’s whilst he and the blonde Cooper girl sat in that booth. They were currently dating, and had lost their flowers to each other. They’re relationship was strong, almost as much as Betty and Jughead’s.

A thick layer of subtle heat covered the town as Archie and Betty strolled down to Pop’s. The weather in Riverdale was mostly bipolar; some days it would be cloudy, rainy and depressing, other days, warm, bright and cheerful. Today seemed like a cheerful day.

“So have you finished your studies yet?” Betty questioned the boy next to her. He looked down as his form towered over hers.

“We’ve got ages left to do that stuff.” The blonde raised her eyebrows.

“Months. We have months Arch. With all the work we have to memorise and organise and do all the -ises with, that’s honestly not ages.” Archie looked a bit panicked, but then masked it with chill vibes.

“It’s plenty of time. And anyway, I only really need to ace football, the rest I can just get C’s in.” He argued.

They finally got to Pop’s in the middle of Betty making valid points as to why Archie should study. It was slightly hypocritical since she’d been doing the exact opposite of that whilst she was sat with Veronica earlier on in the day. But that wasn’t B’s fault. She was… distracted.

Distracted by the thought of the exact boy who was already at the pair’s typical booth. He sat buried within the screen of his silver laptop. Sloppily, his fingers danced along the keyboard as the brain within his skull kept bursting with ideas. Betty loved watching him type, to her it was mesmerising to watch him doing his passion.

Noticing their arrival, he flashed them a grin. The two slid into the booth, Betty next to her boyfriend, and Archie across from them.

“Hey Jug,” Betty quickly kissed his cheek, neither of them being much into PDA.

“How was the cliché hellhole?” Jughead’s personality was blunt and sarcastic, he had many great qualities, but when he spoke those specific two mostly dripped from his mouth. Betty liked it though, it made her giggle.

“Same as usual. Boring. Dragged a lot.” Betty looked over at Archie, silently telling him to respond too.

“Mine was fine to be honest. Coach taught us these cool new techniques to use for the game on Friday. Now my hand’s healed, it’s loads easier to play.”

Jughead frowned slightly, ignoring the three milkshakes and portion of fries being placed on the surface in front of him.

“You didn’t mention there was a game on Friday?” He question Betty, confused. The blonde didn’t seem phased.

“Yeah there is but I didn’t think you’d want to go.” She replied, “you never liked going to them whilst you were at Riverdale, but it’s okay.”

Jughead objected, “no, I want to go.” He said, unexpectedly. It caused Betty to be surprised at the sudden out-of-character statement. “You’re a cheerleader, and, you know, we’re together. So I wanna be there… for you.” He smiled shyly.

Betty stared into the blue eyes of her boyfriend. She imagined herself getting lost in them, drowning in the deep periwinkle crests of them. And she thought to herself, what a beautiful way to die.

Jughead returned the gesture as his eyes darted around her features. He wanted to remove her tight hair band and see her silky hair flow freely so he could intertwine his hands in the soft meadow that was her hair, and be absorbed by her rosé-coloured lips. He imagined those lips kissing him until all the oxygen was used up. And he thought to himself, what a beautiful way to die.

The two were dragged out of there thoughts when the Andrews boy cleared his throat. It was as if they were two entranced seahorses being un rightly trapped in a net, and Archie was the fisherman pulling them out of the mesmerising ocean and onto the hard, cold surface of his boat.

“So, anyway,” he began as the two broke eye contact from each other. Jughead rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed of Archie popping their bubble, but Betty, being the sweet girl she was, smiled apologetically. “The routine the vixens are doing is pretty good.”

“Funny that you say that Arch, because believe it or not, Cheryl actually let me choreograph some of it.” Betty stated proudly.

“Riverdale’s very own ‘HBIC’ let you choreograph her pride and joy?” Jughead raised his eyebrows, not accusingly, but curiously. The last time the Blossom girl had done something out of character, the core four had found her attempting to take her own life.

“Yep,” Betty smiled, “basically, she was yelling at us and going off on one because apparently we weren’t doing her choreo correctly, she said some really horrible things to some of the girls. She started bringing up Veronica’s dad and his… current predicament. So I just… exploded on her, I guess,” the two boys listened to each word Betty spoke, intrigued by the story. Archie’s jaw clenched tightly when Betty mentioned Cheryl offending Veronica, but kept it shut so the soft-lipped girl could continue.

“I just got so angry and I told her…” Betty trailed off and Jughead raised his eyebrows as so say “go on”.

Betty took a deep breath, “I told her that her choreography was crap anyway, that’s why no one could be bothered to do it.”

Jughead burst out laughing and Archie sniggered. “It’s not funny, she could have kicked me off the squad!” Betty explained, but then giggled too.

“Anyway, she challenged me to make better choreography than her, and if I could then she’d replace hers with it. And well, everyone voted for mine.” She smirked smugly, but humbly at the same time.

“I can’t wait to see it.” Jughead grinned.

“Well done Betty,” Archie smiled, “so which parts were yours?”

“Oh you know, the shimmy bit, the bit at the front, the pom pom section… everything except the end position. I’m just so grateful that-” Betty was cut off by a ping noise. She pulled out her phone and read something, but it was put back into her schoolbag before Jughead could even read what it was.

“Who was that?” Archie questioned.

“I have to go.” Betty stated hurriedly, before getting up, ignoring Archie’s question. As she she got up from the seat, Jughead’s arm felt cold and bare, no longer feeling the smooth material of her jacket.

“Why? What’s wrong,” Jughead looked up quizzically at his girl. Her face was covered with fear and anxiety.

“It’s Polly, she’s in hospital, my mum just texted me. Something’s wrong with the babies.”

[blainematters]

For your reading pleasure, a selection of awful fucking quotes from CC’s latest *~masterpiece~*. That’s right, I read all 407 pages so you don’t have to! Unless you too are a complete masochist, in which case go nuts.

This is image heavy, fair warning. Some names have been slightly altered to protect the crazies who would read this and cry.

Audiences found the show’s campiness to be rather charming, its unique underdog spirit resonated with them, and a global phenomenon was born. Nice description of Glee there. Very original. Good work.

Pitying looks were cast upon the unfortunate souls without seats, as if they were third-class passengers on the Titanic. The death of 1500 people in the worst maritime disaster in history is not a funny or clever simile.

Luckily for him, these days Cash had a little help to take the edge off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three large pills and two marijuana gummy bears. This is how the main character treats his anxiety. He takes this combo with whiskey. This apparently makes him ‘completely numb’. 

He thought it was funny how there was hydrocodone, weed, and alcohol flowing through his veins at a work event but he wasn’t the biggest douchebag onstage. Except he really, really is. Funnily enough people on drugs aren’t the best judge of character.

If he responded with something they didn’t like, his social media would be bombarded with pictures, videos, and GIFs of decapitated animals, human feces, and militants destroying priceless artifacts.

“Olá, fucktards,” Davi said—his use of American slang was a work in progress. What. This character is brazilian, and he swears constantly. Those are his only character traits.

“That’s incredible, Huda,” Mo said. “If only diplomacy worked as efficiently as a fandom, there would never be war again.” I’m fucking dying.

“Young lady,” the psychologist said. “I have studied the human mind for more than four decades. I understand the appeal of joining the transgender community, but I promise you, the transgender movement is nothing short of a trend for nonconformists. In fact, it is still considered a mental illness by the World Health Organization.” Sorry, what appeal? What even is this nonsense? Why does it go on for five pages? Why the need to unnecessarily torture the trans character with this when it makes no difference to his storyline? Why?

Mo had suffered from OID (overactive imagination disorder) since childhood. The condition wasn’t officially recognized by the United States Department of Health (because Mo had made it up) but the disorder was just as taxing and consuming as any. From the entire community of people with mental illness: Fuck you CC. Fuck you for this awful, awful thing. Kindly go fuck yourself for pretending you have any understanding of what a mental illness is like to live with. Ugh.

A very good-looking man in his early twenties. He wore thick sunglasses, a black leather jacket, dark jeans, and designer boots. Yes, this is how ‘Cash’ is described. He’s also been previously described as a total mess who hasn’t showered in days, so I’m not totally convinced it’s accurate.

“I’m T0pher C0llins. It is such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carter.” T0pher C0llins? Are you fucking shitting me?

“I walked into my bedroom and saw Peaches had taken a huge dump in the middle of my bed, so I had to clean it up and put my comforter in the washer.” This is said by the only girl in the group, in front of ‘Cash’, who she idolises. Because girls are just stupid fucking blabbermouths right?

“-it’s getting asked advice on how to break into the industry from the guy taking a dump in the stall next to you” Oh look, another thing that has never, ever happened.

“You gotta say that shit so no one labels you as a future has-been—that’ll kill a career. Even if it’s obvious you’ll never do anything but the show you’re on, you can’t admit it.” The first honest and realistic thing in this book, and it only took till chapter seven!

“Every time I get any recognition he writes me into a coma or puts me through something horrendous as punishment. After I was on the cover of TV Guide, he put a dangerous stunt into a script and it broke my ankle. After I won a People’s Choice Award, he put my character in a coma for twelve episodes. The list goes on.” I wonder how Ryan Murphy will react when he hears about this character who is so clearly him?

“Nothing is stranger than fanfiction,” Cash said, like a sailor recalling his encounter with a horrible sea creature. THIS ENTIRE BOOK IS REAL LIFE FANFICTION YOU HYPOCRITICAL ASSHOLE.

“He’s a little jaded, I’ll give you that—but after all the joy he’s given us over the years, the least we can do is let him be a human being. ” Yes, let the straight white cis male tell you all how to think, feel, and act. Your hero isn’t a douche, he’s misunderstood. Let him treat you like shit because who else gets that experience?

The world’s biggest rubber-band ball bounced into the horizon like a deer recently freed from captivity. Chapter nine: ‘Cash’ destroys a national landmark for shits and giggles.

The actor excitedly passed out tickets to Topher, Joey, Sam, and the Sacagawea statue—mistaking it for Mo. He’s also a racist. Are we surprised?

Why is he dancing like an epileptic on roller skates? Aaaaand a joke about epilepsy. I’m sure Hannah loves it.

“What did you do? How did you get over it?” Joey said. “One day I woke up and decided I had had enough.” ‘Cash’ cures his crippling agoraphobia by just going outside. Again, fuck you CC. That is not how mental illness works. Do two seconds of research for fucks sake.

“The night we were all watching the season six finale of Wiz Kids at Joey’s house, I was actually supposed to be watching Billy while my mom was at a Bunco party. I gave him some cold medicine so he would sleep and ran home to check on him every commercial break.” Drug your disabled siblings, your friends will think you’re cool and laugh about instead of telling you  that you’re an awful fucking person. Which you are.

“Then one day, as I was posting a GIF of a decapitated giraffe on her profile, I learned WizKidLiz01 was a little girl with Down syndrome.” Also on the list of things that make you an awful fucking person… plagiarism or no, don’t do this shit.

“So what’s your real name?” Topher asked. “Now, that you’re not going to believe,” Cash said. “It’s Tom Hanks.”

“They were the most eccentric group of stoners Cash had ever seen and he couldn’t take his eyes off them, like they were the subjects of a fascinating nature documentary.” One character is literally screaming her head off with paranoia and scratching invisible bugs in her skin, but hey, watching teenagers on a drug trip is so interesting!

“I think you’re giving him too much credit,” Cash said. “He’ll be long gone by then.” Oh yeah, ‘Cash’ is extremely preoccupied with death. He frequently says shit like this alluding to it. No-one notices.

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to tell the fangirls about the treatment we’ve received today and unleash them upon your establishment like a plague of locusts! They’ll harass you, humiliate you, and chase your wrinkled, old, racist ass into hiding for the rest of your miserable existence! Do I make myself clear?” Um… what? Why would you even?

“Of course the brakes worked, I was just fucking with you,” Cash said. ‘Cash’ continues to be the absolute worst by making someone think she’s going to die. Of course, she somehow she also doesn’t know that James Dean died in a car accident. Sigh.

“But I think we’d know it if he was mentally unbalanced or an addict of some kind.” YOU ARE EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD AND YOU ARE A COMPLETE IDIOT. YOU LITERALLY JUST DESCRIBED ‘CASH’.

“You lose the right to humanity when you become famous. It’s just the way it is, but I’m not going to whine about it.” Except in this entire book.

“I’m transgender!” Sam declared. “I know what it’s like to have everyone treat you like something you’re not because people have been doing it to me my whole life. I’ve never met someone who could relate—but it’s like everything you just said! We’re both trapped! We’re both prisoners of unfair expectations!” These! things! are! not! comparable! Mostly because ‘Cash’ could leave that life any time, Sam won’t ever stop having to deal with being trans. Shut the fuck up CC. Sam then spends waaaay too much time explaining gender and sexual identity to ‘Cash’ because he’s a complete moron.

Darla spoke with the energy and enthusiasm of a camp counselor on crystal meth. How is this joke in any way appropriate when the main character is clearly a raging drug addict? He’s literally constantly tweaking.

The others stared at Cash in disbelief. It was like a demon living inside of him had taken the reins. Watch as these people we’re supposed to believe all got into prestigious colleges like Colombia and MIT completely fail to recognise the signs of an addict going through withdrawal.

They had never in their lives felt more exposed, more violated, or more gutted. It was as if someone had ripped off all their clothes and chucked their hearts into the depths of the Grand Canyon. ‘Cash’ is so self-obsessed and full of self-pity he decides to out two people in the group and tell another she’s wasting her life just to make them all feel as awful as he does. What a delightful person huh?

“Joey, I have always wanted a gay best friend. I’m not mad because you hid your orientation from me; I’m just upset because of all the Will & Grace opportunities we’ve missed out on.” ARE YOU SHITTING ME?

He was staring at Topher with a weak smile and his eyes were opened just barely enough to see. He clearly knew who Topher was, but Topher couldn’t place him.

“I have glioblastoma,” Cash said. “That’s a fancy stage name for brain cancer.”

I was fine and could easily hide this until a few days ago, but now I’m so weak and frail you don’t even recognise me. Usually Glioblastoma on the brain stem causes symptoms like seizures, confusion, paralysis, vomiting, dizziness, and loss of basic functions, but I’m a special snowflake and get to stay able-bodied and cognisant until the end!

“In April I started getting these really bad migraines,” Cash explained. “A doctor came to the set and recommended I get a scan. We were behind in production so the producers wouldn’t give me time off to get it done.” It’s all Hollywood’s fault he’s dying! Not his for not getting any fucking treatment. And actors can and do take days off for health reasons, that shit is totally allowed.

“Holy shit,” Topher said. “These are all mine.… You’ve saved every letter I ever wrote to you.…” That’s not totally fucking creepy at all, ‘Cash’.

“He’s not a bad person—he’s got brain cancer! That’s why he’s been behaving the way he has!” That makes everything okay! Except not really. Cancer doesn’t give you a free pass to be an asshole. You aren’t making the most of what life you have left, you’re just being a shithead.

“The actor had had so little control over his life, but his death was exactly how he wanted it to be.” Yes, he dies five days later. No-one wondered about his odd behaviour or suspected he might be sick until they visited him in a hospice. These people must be so stupid they can barely function for this to make sense. He’s been dying for months and nobody at all noticed? Bullshit.

“Oh gosh, I’m so nervous to hear how it went! I practically feel like I came out as transgender, too!” NO MORE.

“Not to be a downer, but did anyone watch the footage from Cash’s funeral today?” Mo asked. “Why did they wait a whole month to have it?” Topher asked. “Because it was sponsored by Canon and their new camera comes out this week,” Mo said.

I don’t think companies generally sponsor funerals? Let’s just hope it wasn’t an open casket, that shit would be nasty after a month.

“Fuck off, I’m banging Marilyn Monroe.” No, god no. Please no. Just end this thing now please.

The aspiring writer felt like she and her friends were living a ridiculous happy ending straight from the final page of one of her outlandish stories. Uh…

And a bonus from the author’s note:

However, for the purpose of good storytelling, the characters’ opinions and choices are sometimes flawed. Please do not view their actions as generalizations or examples to follow, but as the mistakes and triumphs of individuals. All of my characters were awful and/or treated like shit by everyone else, but that’s for the sake of the story. It’s not my fault if you act this way and everyone hates you! (And still love me please god I’m so alone...)