#school burned me out pretty bad with reading but I felt embarrassed to recommend anything out of that period

[ask-angel-and-the-other-fandudes]

Hey Angel, do you have any good book recommendations for a quick read over the holiday break? Maybe a favorite of yours, if you have one?

I guess I could recommend "Black Wizards" by Douglas Niles or "Midworld" by Alan Dean Foster, or "The Goblin Reservation" Clifford D. Simak, or "Winds of Gath" by Edwin Charles Tubb, or even "The Lady in the Morgue" by Jonathan Latimer, if fantasy or science fiction isn't your thing! Though I will say that "The Goblin Reservation" is probably my favorite out of the bunch...

[murderslugs]

Slasher Bf/Gf Scenarios/Imagines! || Meeting Them

Jason Voorhees (Friday The 13th)

You were out with friends, and it was getting awfully late. But still, there you were, with a flashlight and a backpack with a first-aid kit, some snacks, and water in it, just in case, walking through the abandoned camping trail with your friends. You guys had grown up in a town not too far away from the little old camp, and you’d heard all the stories that surrounded the place. For years you had just dismissed it, you all had passed it off as a local legend or rumor, but still there was a little spark of curiosity. Of course, this is what led you to where you reside now, exploring the camp in search of something peculiar, maybe a story to tell.

“Maybe we should go home...It’s late and I’m not feeling well..” your friend, Ruby, said wearily. It was true, you could see the illness in her dark, drooping eyelids. “Oh, bullshit! You’re fine, just drink some water and go throw up on a tree or something!” another friend yelled out. You just rolled your eyes. “Shut up! She doesn’t look too good, Otis! I think I should bring her back to the car to sit down.” You said with concern. To the dismay and groaning of the group, they let you and Ruby on your way back down the trail and to the car while they continued down the path. 

As you made your way to the car, Ruby fell close behind in your steps. Your flashlight flickered continually, and then suddenly gave out; leaving you two in the dark, and the pale moon barely illuminating through the trees above you. “Shit,” you muttered to yourself, hitting the battery pack to the light repeatedly. “Stop, quiet,” Ruby whisper-shouted. That’s when you heard the rustling of the branches getting closer. Closer. Closer. “Maybe we shou…” You turn around, to see Ruby gone. 

“Ruby? Ruby?!” You shouted out, to no response. You turned frantically, searching for any sign of her presence. A large man in a ski mask and an old, ruined jacket stood before you, silent. Before you could turn to run or get around him, you felt a sudden pressure on the side of your head, and then you saw black.

Michael Myers (Halloween)

It was Halloween night, and you were home from college for fall break. Your mom insisted that you took your younger sister trick-or-treating, even though you refuted that she was 12 years old, and could handle herself. So, you just took her block to block instead and sat on the corner of the street for her to walk down to the other end and get to all the houses. It was a small town, so there were never really concerns about kidnapping and such. It was just never a problem, you guess. 

“Go, Riley. You’re a big kid, you can go down the street.” You groaned, tired of her constant whining. “But (y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn), It’s dark down there!! There’s not a street light at the end!!” she whined insistently. You sighed heavily and pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Here. You can use the flashlight on my phone, just don’t snoop through my info.” You told her, handing over the old smartphone, and pulling a pumpkin-shaped sucker from her trick-or-treat bag. “You owe me this.” 

You unwrapped the cheap candy and popped it into your mouth, leaning on the house fence as your sister skipped down the sidewalk. The leaves rustled in the trees, and suddenly you heard footsteps behind you, and whipped around to see who it was. It was on the quieter side of town, and it was getting late. This meant that there shouldn’t be many people out, so there shouldn’t be someone behind you. But still, you came face-to-chest with a tall man in a dark blue jump-suit type outfit, and a white mask. You panicked, and thought quickly about how to fight back. Unfortunately, he seemed to be faster than you, and your mouth was covered as you were picked up and carried off into the darkness, legs kicking uselessly. 

Carrie White (Carrie)

You were at the library when you saw a pale girl browsing through the young adult fantasy section. You observed her actions, as she readjusted her dress and collar. She carefully picked a book from the shelf and flipped it to the back to read the description. You saw a flash of the cover, and realized it was one of your favorite series, Chronicles of Narnia. You hesitated but stepped forward in a bit of excitement.

“That’s a good one, I, um, really recommend checking it out.” You told her with a smile, and she looked up, seemingly a bit taken aback. You realized this, and took a step back to give her space. “Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you...I’m (y/n).” You stuck out your hand, and she just looked down at it, book in hand. “Carrie...Sorry, mama never liked me talking to strangers…” “No, no, it’s okay, I underst-” “No, it’s okay...She’s been gone a while now.” She looked down. 

You stood awkwardly, feeling a bit bad now. “You seem kind enough. I’ve got to go, but we can talk again another time. I come here every Sunday, around noon.” Carrie said quietly, smiling softly and turning, taking Narnia with her. You sat to yourself, a bit confused about the interaction. You shook your head and carried on. “Next Sunday it is,” You thought to yourself.

Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

There was a new girl at school, as you had heard. How could you not have when everyone was talking about it? She had moved here recently after some sort of tragedy occured, or so you’d heard. It was rumored that she had to have surgery cause someone tried to kill her, she was all stabbed up and shit and nearly bled out. You can’t imagine how awful that would be, and you kept thinking about how she probably came here for a new start, and wouldn’t want people asking about it, but you knew it would happen anyways.

It was 3rd period, Anatomy, when a girl you’d never seen before walked into the classroom. This, of course, must have been the new girl. She was absolutely glowing, even from afar. Her hair was voluminous, rich, and dark, her skin was clear and shiny, her eyes were sharp and bright. It took your breath away trying to take in the sight. The girl’s heels clicked as she trailed to the back of the classroom, to where you were. She sat beside you, at the lab table. 

You tried not to look at her, after all, you didn’t want to seem weird. You looked at the floor and over to her shoes. A few drips of a thick, crimson substance were on the floor beneath her, seemingly originating from her shoe. You wondered for a moment if she was hurt. Or, could she have hurt someone else..? It scared you a bit to think about the second option. God knows this school didn’t need another bully, or anything worse than it.

You were tranced, stuck in your own looming dark thoughts, when a velvet voice came to your ears. You snapped your glance up from the floor, to see the girl looking at you, specifically. To your dismay, blood rushed to your face out of embarrassment. “I’m Jennifer. Do you have a pen I can use?”

Billy Loomis (Scream)

You were in your brand new house, you had moved out and into the next town over from your parents. You wanted to be further away, but you knew that your mom would be upset, she was always so protective. She even said that she expected you to come visit her on the weekends. The relationship was a bit exhausting sometimes. But now, you were in your own house, and it was great. You could decorate it however you wanted, you could have whoever you wanted over, you could do basically whatever.

Though, for now, you decided to just make some off-brand pizza rolls and blare some music, maybe even dance around a little bit. Season Of The Witch by Donovan was playing on your stereo when suddenly your phone rang. You paused the music, and quickly answered. Normally, you would check the caller ID, but you were in a good mood and it completely slipped your mind. I mean, who cares if it's a scam caller? You can just hang up. To your surprise, it wasn’t a familiar voice, but didn’t seem to be a scam-caller. Maybe a wrong number? 

“Do you like scary movies?” The other line said. You were suspicious, and for a second you considered that maybe it was a survey. It didn’t seem to be a harmful question, so you replied, “Yeah, duh. If you don't, you're pretty lame.” You turned the music back on, but turned the volume down. He asked a few follow-up questions, and you gave your honest answers. You just strolled around the kitchen, occasionally checking the timer on your food so that it doesn’t burn. 

You had your phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder, and you had on oven mitts as you grabbed your pizza rolls from the oven. “What’s your name?” The caller suddenly asked. You paused for a second as you put the cooking sheet on the counter. “Why do you wanna know..” You asked cautiously. “Well, I wanna know the name of the cutie I’m looking at.” He said, and your heart damn near stopped. “Excuse me..?” You hung up and quickly ran to the doors, double-checking the locks and locking the windows and shutting the curtains. You grabbed a knife from the silverware drawer and locked yourself in your room, where you eventually fell asleep in the dark silence.

Thomas Hewitt (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

You had just moved out to the country-side to start anew, planning to start a small farm and just live in peace on the quiet little land. Little did you know, you had neighbors across the field that weren’t exactly the type of neighbors that you could ask for a cup of sugar. You were hanging the new drapes for the windows after having taken the old ones down. They were old, dirty, ragged. Honestly, the old farmhouse was sort of let to rot for a while, and you knew it. It was cheap though, and you were up to the challenge. You decided that you would decorate it, clean it up, and make it like brand new, even with the little money that you had. 

As you were hanging the drapes, you kept looking out into the distance of the rolling fields outside the window, littered with patches of wild flowers in the grass. You fantasized about making gardens, maybe even building a little stable for a horse or two. It was a lovely thought; there was a small village a little while away from the farm that you could ride a horse to if you wanted. 

Though, some distance away in the field, you saw the figure of what looked to be a man wandering in the field. You weren’t too worried, as you had all the locks in place, it was the middle of the day, and he looked peaceful. So, you just forgot about it and went on fixing up your house, unpacking, and getting the rest of the things in place. Although you had been there about a week, you still understandably weren’t completely unpacked. 

A few hours later, you were doing a bit of drawing on the couch and taking some time to relax. That’s when you heard a thud on your door. Just a single thud, that’s all. Still, you had reason to be concerned, as you were sort of in the middle of the country and it was starting to set into the evening. You quietly walked to your bedroom and grabbed a shotgun from the closet that you kept for protection, a tradition in your family. You carried it with you as you checked the door. You looked through the thin peephole, but saw nothing. You opened the door to find a paper stuck to the door by a rusty hatchet, buried deep into the oak. Your heart rate spiked as you tore the note from the door and read it. “Welcome to the neighborhood, pretty person” was spelled in crude handwriting.

[dirtyoatmeall]

Good for you

A/N: Wow sorry I've been gone!! I suddenly got back into reading and suddenly found myself in the middle of multiple series! anywayz, I finally listened to Olivia Rodrigo's new album so here is a songfic for good for u. I ended up going in a completely different direction than I had in mind. It's also long as fuck. I proof scanned it, but it's like 18 pages, as always sorry for the incorrect grammar, I do what I want. Call me Maybe will be getting one soon as well :)

Pairing: ex!Kageyama x reader, foreshadowed Atsumu x reader

Genre: angst? hurt/comfort? Its sad for pretty much most of it.

Word Count: 10.3k (im so sorry)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drinking, implied adult themes, all characters are 21+ !!, detailed breakup. 16+ only por favor

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily. You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks.

Your phone chimed, alerting you of a new text, you reached for it on the side table, pausing the movie you were watching. It was a message from Shoyo and an image: ‘I’m sorry, I figured it’d be better if I told you instead of finding out on Twitter.’ Your brow pinched, what could that mean? You unlocked your phone to open the text.

The pinch deepens as you zoom in on the picture, eyes beginning to prickle with tears. It was a photo- most likely taken by a fan or paparazzi- of Tobio, your boy-, ex-boyfriend. He was with a woman, she seemed slightly familiar, probably a model or something along those lines. Your face heated and shame burned in your chest, the embrace they were in looked so intimate; private, that it seemed wrong to look. You deleted the image and left Shoyo on read for now; you’d reply when you’re in a better headspace.

It had only been a couple of weeks and he had already moved on, meanwhile, you were just starting to not cry at the little reminders of him scattered about your apartment. He hadn’t even come to get his stuff. You sniffle and walk over to the wall to your left; the picture wall- and gently take one of the photos off, smiling faintly at the memory it brings to the surface.

Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world?

The sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow around the room. Groaning, you squint at the brightness before rolling over. Your eyes find blue ones, startling you slightly. He chuckles softly, voice deep and gravelly with sleep; sending heat through your body. “you’re so jumpy in the morning.” he whispered in the otherwise empty apartment.

You roll your eyes and let him pull you into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his fingers traced lazy shapes into your hip. “Shut up, you know it takes me a day or two to adjust after you’ve been gone.”

You meant for the words to be light; not expecting the emotion you heard behind them. He sighs, arm winding tighter around your waist as he kisses the top of your head. You bring your head up to meet his gaze and shift in his arms, frown tugging on your lips. “’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

He sighs again, shaking his head softly. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, I should, for never being home, missing holidays and-“ You put a hand against his lips silencing him, brows drawn tightly together.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for either. I knew what I was getting into when we got together, it didn’t bother me in school and it doesn’t bother me now. I’d much rather you live out your dream than being stuck here with me all the time.” You feel his mouth open to object, but your hand stays firm. “I’m serious Tobio, I mean every word.” He nods against your hand and you release him. You flush slightly at the open emotion in his gaze. He pulls you into a kiss, murmuring against your lips. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you, I promise I’m gonna give you the world.”

And good for you, I guess that you've been workin' on yourself. I guess that therapist I found for you, she really helped

A few days later you meet Shoyo for lunch, a new onigiri place where he apparently knows the owner. He sighs as he sets down his menu, your eyes snapping back your own, pretending like you’ve been mulling it over this whole time. “Alright, go ahead and ask.”

You look up from your menu, feigning innocence. “Hm? Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” He rolls his eyes and raises an eyebrow. You hold his gaze for a few moments before your shoulders sag in defeat. Your eyes fall to the table as you pick at the corner of the laminated menu. He gives you a minute to collect your thoughts before he places his hand atop yours, a sad smile gracing his features.

“(Y/N), it’s normal to want to know how he’s doing.” You chew your lip and mumble, “Well he’s obviously doing good since he already moved on.”

He continues as if you hadn’t spoken. “He started going to that therapist you recommended a day or so after,” he pauses, trying to gauge where your mind is. You’re meeting his gaze, and he can see you got what he was implying so he continued. “He’s been going consistently; says it’s really helped him.” You nod, blocking out his next words; too busy thinking about how you’re going to find a new therapist.

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl

As you eat, you think over his words. You swallow and take a deep breath, trying to instil confidence in yourself. “Are they… good together?” Your voice comes out softer than intended and you inwardly cringe. He smiles faintly and nods. “They are.” You nod in understanding and turn your focus back to your meal.

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me-If you ever cared to ask

You knew it was inevitable, your apartments aren’t that far apart, you just wished it wasn’t so soon.

You were grocery shopping for the week, trying to figure out how many oranges to get before settling on 4 with a sigh, you toss them into your cart, turning around to see blue eyes at the other end.

You inhale sharply, your gazes met and he was too close for you to run away, leaving only one option. You were suddenly glad you met Shoyo for breakfast this morning, you were dressed up a bit, but you weren’t so glad when you became queasy. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, letting it fall shut. You feel your face flush with heat and you duck your head, mumbling a soft “sorry!” and move to continue down the aisle, hoping he’d let you go.

Those hopes were crushed with the hand that gently captured your elbow, halting your escape as he turned you to face him. You were silent for a moment before he realized he was still gripping your elbow, dropping his hand to his side. You crossed your arms around your middle, trying to look- be smaller, small enough to get away. Though the rational side of you knew it wouldn’t happen, that you’ve known each other too long to simply stop. So you raised your gaze, uncurling your arms and bringing your shoulders back to at least look the part of an old friend caught by surprise, smiling as you spoke.

“Oh, Kageyama! I didn’t see you there, how are you?” He cringed ever so slightly at the use of his last name, filling you with a sick sense of pride that weighed uncomfortably in your chest. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a brunette coming up to him, not noticing you as she surveyed the list in her hand.

“Babe, did you find the oranges? Oh, remind me to pick up my birth control at the phar-“ Her eyes widened as she noticed you; cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. Unfazed, Kageyama snorted softly, wrapping an arm around her waist before turning back to you. “This is Yumi, babe, this is (Y-) uh, (L/N).” You smiled and waved, which she mirrored, going to speak but instead was interrupted by you, who had decided to spare all of you of the awkwardness of prolonging the conversation. “It’s nice meeting you Yumi, and it was nice seeing you Kageyama, but I gotta run.”

They nodded and waved in farewell as you continued down the aisle, letting out a deep breath before heading into the next aisle. You needed more alcohol.

Good for you. You're doin' great out there without me, baby. God, I wish that I could do that.

You saw them a few more times during your shopping trip. You had wanted to leave right away, but you had been putting off groceries for too long, and leaving your cabinets and fridge almost barren. Thankfully they were always far enough where if you accidentally made eye contact a smile in passing was warranted enough.

As you contemplated between mini pizzas or a large pizza, you heard a loud giggle from further down the aisle. Your head turned towards the noise instinctively and you saw them at the end, near the ice cream, which you hoped they moved soon because that was next on your list. They were laughing, her arms around his waist as she looked up at him, he had an arm around her, resting on her hip as he met her gaze and you felt your chest tighten and an emotion you definitely did not want to name and wanted to shove down, down far enough to forget it. They looked the part of smitten lovers, and you decided you didn’t need ice cream all that bad and grabbed the mini pizzas before heading to checkout, continuing to ignore the emotion swelling, weighing down your chest and moving up to your throat.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

You took a deep, shuddering breath that broke halfway into a gasping sob. The emotion was suffocating, burning in the back of your throat and pulsing against your skull as you hugged your knees to your chest, the cold press of the tub against your back doing nothing. You tried to take a breath again but your chest was too tight, it was constricting your lungs, pushing hot tears down your cheeks and pulsing harder as with the ringing in your ears.

You could faintly comprehend the door to the bathroom opening, but didn’t look up as someone wrapped their arms around you, pulling you to them; the feel of fabric twisting in your grasp somewhat grounding as they smoothed down your hair, their words muffled under the ringing. You couldn’t think about the tears and who knows what else dampened their shirt, couldn’t think of anything except the emotion weighing so heavy in your chest you were positive it was going to break your ribs, break through you and continue down, down, deep underground.

You have no clue how long you were there with them, not even sure how long before they arrived. They shifted their arms to pick you up, and you let them, not even moving your hands from their place on the shirt, you were sure they were glued there, the tears acting as an adhesive. Sobs still racked your frame as you were set down, tucked under the covers of your bed before the person laid next to you, resuming their soothing touches as the weight in your chest slowly lightened, gradually releasing its grip on your lungs as the ringing quieted, allowing you to hear the slew of soothing words softly coming from the person next to you.

But as the emotion lessened its grip on you, tiredness swiftly replaced it, the pounding at your temples only encouraging the darkness to weigh you down, until it settled over you like a blanket, your fingers laxing enough for them to fall back to your side. Your breathing slowed, the occasional hiccup breaking the silence as you slept.

But you’re so unaffected, I really don’t get it, but I guess good for you

Shoyo let out a deep breath as he gently shut the door to your bedroom behind him, shoulders slumping with exhaustion when he heard the latch click. He dragged a hand down his face, combing his fingers through his hair as he went to your kitchen to finish putting away your groceries, throwing away what was defrosted before collapsing on your couch, pulling out his phone, debating whether or not to text the person likely responsible for your tears. Turns out he didn’t even have to, they had already called him and left a message about an hour ago, a little after Shoyo first got to your apartment. He brought the phone up to his ear as he pressed play.

“Hey, I ran into (Y/N) at the store today, you know I thought you might be right; that our friendship ended with the breakup, but it was like nothing had changed! She even met Yumi though Yumi didn’t notice at first and started talking about her birth control,” a laugh, “I don’t know why you were so worried, she seems perfectly fine. I was thinking about having a little get together in a few weeks, Yumi really wants to meet everyone from Karauno, you both should come! Oh one sec, what? Okay! Sorry, I gotta go, Bye.”

Shoyo slid down the couch slightly, groaning as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Really? He was glad you stocked up on alcohol at the store because after hearing that, he needed a drink.

Well, good for you, I guess you're gettin' everything you want. You bought a new car and your career's really takin' off.

Two weeks later you sat on your couch, eyes focused on the match televised. You tell yourself you’re watching the tournament to see who Shoyo will end up going against; if you can give them any pointers, though a part of you knows it’s a lie.

At the end of the match, the Adlers, no, To- Kageyama, had scored the winning point, securing a spot in the semi-finals. You lifted the remote to change the channel, but you froze as the camera zoomed in on the edge of the court, where you watched Yumi jump into his arms, he threw his head back laughing as he spun her around before kissing her. You could hear the commentators discussing the game after making a cheeky comment but you tuned it out. You watched them walk off the court, snapping out of the trace as soon as the camera cut to the other team. You quickly turned it off. Taking a deep breath in your silent apartment.

You were going through your Instagram feed when you came across a post from Tobio. It was him and Yumi in front of a new car, kissing. You noticed it had multiple pictures, and swiped through, all of them of the couple. The last one was the most recent, earlier today, in fact, you recognized the jersey of the other team in the background. You part of the caption, deciding to scroll past before scrolling back up to read the long paragraph that was pretty much a love letter to Yumi. You bit your lip and liked it, cursing afterwards, you didn’t want him to know you still followed him. You debated unfollowing but decided against it, it’d only look weirder if you had liked a post and weren’t following him. You couldn’t get his expression out of your head, he looked so happy.

It's like we never even happened. Baby, what the fuck is up with that?

Over the next few days you received multiple texts from Kageyama, updates on his family; that they were asking about you, wanting you to visit, an invitation to a small gathering they were having next week, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi and Yachi were in town and he wanted to introduce Yumi to everyone. And several attempts to start a conversation.

You replied to all of them, thanking him for the update, politely declining the invitation; using work as an excuse, and you halfheartedly tried to keep up with the conversations until it got to be too much. It was like nothing happened, like he hadn’t suddenly broken up with you, after almost 7 years together. There were times you wanted to remind him, but decided against it. You didn’t want to be the bitter ex, you wanted to move on, like he had.

And good for you, it's like you never even met me

You think Shoyo had a talk with him.

After it all became too much, the media, the texts, the times he tried to call you, you told Shoyo. He was furious, ignoring your pleas to just leave it be as he left your apartment.

Later that night he came back, less angry and with takeout. When you had asked where he went he just smiled and told you not to worry about it. You watched movies the rest of the night. When you awoke the next morning there were no texts from Kageyama, and nothing on social media. Your nosiness got the best of you and you looked him up, only to furrow your brow as the results came up blank. You checked the other social media you had each other on and couldn’t find him anywhere. You didn’t dare text him, just in case, but it was obvious- he had blocked you, on everything.

There was an emotion curling in your chest, but you couldn’t quite name it. You didn’t know how to feel about it, so you stayed in bed for a few more hours before migrating to the couch. Shoyo didn’t come over that night, and you hated that you were slightly relieved.

Remember when you swore to God I was the only person who ever got you?

You sighed, still slightly out of breath and damp with sweat, snuggling into the body next to you regardless, smile stretching your lips. He tightened his arm around your waist, petting your hair as he shifted onto his side, bringing you closer and tangling your legs together. You wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, softly kissing his throat, right below his adam's apple before resting your face against his collarbone. He shuddered and drew you impossibly closer. “I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I love you (Y/N), so much. I swear sometimes I feel like you’re the only person in the world who understands me. Ugh, that sounded so cliché.” You snorted as he slightly shook with laughter. “I love you too Tobio.” You brought your head up for a tender kiss before the two of you settled into a peaceful slumber.

Well, screw that, and screw you. You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

You awoke the following morning with a hollow ache in your chest, your eyes burned but nothing came. You don’t know if it was good that the tears never came, but the hollowness settled heavily in you, it seemed to be all around you, weighing down the air equally. You were on autopilot the whole day, not fully there.

You blinked at the chime from your phone and raised your brows at the time, and your eyes widened at the name in your notifications. You quickly opened the text and looked at the image 2,3,5 times. It was a selfie, only the top part of Yumi’s face was visible, she must’ve been taking it, having to have it out enough to get Kageyama and all of his family in the frame, everyone smiling brightly. The typing bubble popped up for a few seconds before it disappeared and was replaced by a small message. You read it over and over before biting your lower lip. This is when the tears would normally come, when they’d be expected and yet they didn't. The burn was there, the lump in your throat but nothing else except the hollow pulsed in your chest. You didn’t think that was a good sign.

From Tobio:

We miss you! The kids keep asking when you’re going to come to play again. We love you, and you’re always welcome to visit. -Miwa~

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me if you ever cared to ask

You decided not to tell Shoyo about the picture, after all, it was his sister who sent it. He sent an apology the next day and you quickly dismissed it, asking him to tell her thanks and to tell everyone hello for you and that you hoped they had a great trip.

He unblocked you later that day. You assumed it was because of your text, he probably thought everything was fine now, that little bump in the road passed and things were back to normal again. And you tried, you tried so hard to go back to the person you were before. Fake it ‘till you make it was something you lived by, and you certainly were doing a great job faking it, but the ache in your chest told you that you hadn’t made it yet.

Good for you, You're doin' great out there without me, baby

You always kept up with the volleyball news and media, now for just Shoyo, but it was impossible to not see Adlers updates, and as MSBY’s rival you felt you needed to keep up. They were a force to be reckoned with, win after win; tournament after tournament they were at the top, MSBY one of the few to keep up. You sent him a congratulatory text after his last win, if he didn’t want to leave your friendship then you’ll try your hardest not to either, even if it hurts.

God, I wish that I could do that

Well, that lasted about 2 weeks. It’d been about 2 months since Kageyama broke up with you. You texted occasionally, most of them short conversations. They used to be longer, but you knew that to really get over him, you couldn’t be his best friend like before, you had to distance yourself. Shoyo wanted you to block him, even if just for a few more months, so you can move on quicker, but you disagreed. Your lives were so intertwined it wasn’t possible to not see him or hear about him at least once a week, usually in the form of sports journalism.

You laughed at Tsukishima’s joke, choking on the margarita you were in the middle of drinking, causing the others to laugh at you. Everyone was miraculously in town this week and demanded that you all hang out all week. Yachi stayed at Hinata's apartment since he had a roommate, and Tsukishima and Yamaguchi stayed at yours, though everyone decided to congregate at your apartment, the former two falling asleep on your couch and after the third night in a row, you convinced them to just stay. Hinata packed a bag and slept on your futon, Yachi slept in your bed with you, and the last two shared your guest bedroom.

While they all swore it was a mere coincidence everyone was in town, you had a strong theory that Hinata invited everyone down to stay with you, since in 3 days was what would’ve been your 7 year anniversary with Kageyama. They did their best to keep you distracted, going out to clubs, having movie marathons and game nights that lasted until dawn. You were filled with immense gratitude for that, and you made sure to let them know it. You were glad your little group was able to stick together, even if the shadow of the empty seat at the table grows with each passing day.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

You almost made it. Everyone stayed in today, keeping a careful eye on you all morning, until you got a call from your mother. Your parents lived in the countryside, they didn’t have great reception out there, even if they did they’d keep the single landline they have now. They called every so often, for holidays or updates on health and family members. The last time you talked to them was about 6 months ago. You head into your bedroom before you answer, a little worried about what might be going on, you knew your father’s health was declining, could something have happened? You took a deep breath and accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear. “Hello? Mom?”

It takes a second before she replies, probably trying to get your father to stand next to her. “(Y/N) sweetie, sorry it’s been so long, it’s been busy down here and since your father can’t do a whole lot anymore, it’s been taking longer to keep the farm in shape.” You can hear your father grumble something in the background and you can imagine your mother rolling her eyes.

“Nevermind that! We were calling to congratulate you and Tobio on your anniversary, that’s today right? 7 years, I hope you know how lucky you are dear, these days relationships just aren’t lasting like they used to, but I’ve always known you two would stick through, I still do. Hopefully one of these days I’ll get a call about a ring? Or maybe some grandbabies?” She giggled on the other end, going on to talk about her and your father’s relationship, not paying attention to if you’ve replied or not, and you haven’t, you’re- you’re- you jolt out of whatever trance you were in to find yourself on your bathroom floor, back against the tub, your mother still chattering away in your ear, though you can’t hear her.

She’s right. Today is- would’ve, been 7 years. A flurry of emotions roars to life in your chest and you feel the familiar burning and grip start to take hold. You clear your throat, interrupting her story.

“Uh mom, me and Tobio aren’t together anymore. I’m sorry, I meant to call earlier, but there’s a lot going on. I actually have to go, I promise I’ll call later okay? I might be able to get away from work in a few weeks to visit. Love you.”

You ended the call, guilt joining the mix, you had completely forgotten to tell your mother, her words stirring the pot of emotions and memories in your gut as they rose into your chest, filling your lungs, spilling into your throat into your nasal cavity, behind your eyes and into your skull. You slackened your hold on your phone, and it tumbled onto the tile. You choked against the burning in your throat, pressing your palms into your eyes, trying- uselessly- to stop the slideshow of memories.

He had been your best friend, your longest crush, your first- well, everything. You truly thought you would be spending the rest of your life with him, travelling the world as he plays volleyball, eventually settling down and buying a house somewhere, anywhere. Marriage, a cat, maybe a dog, and kids. You never once thought the father of your future children would be anyone but Kageyama Tobio. Apparently, he thought differently. Against your will, the night he ended everything played back in your vision.

You heard the door close as you finished up dinner, a smile stretching wide on your face as you imagined his reaction. You spent the week learning how to make this dish, an old family recipe from his grandmother that he apparently adored and ate every time he visited home without fail. After years of watching her make it, you’d think you would have a good idea of how but you were naïve to think so. You finish plating the dishes and setting up the table, brows pinched in confusion, he hadn’t come to greet you yet, which he always does. You shrug it off, he might’ve had a tiring practice, hopefully the food makes up for it.

You pad down the hallway, thinking he jumped straight in the shower. You stop in the doorway of your shared bedroom; He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as his elbows dig into his knees. Worry and confusion rose; what was wrong? Was practice that bad? You don’t try to mask your steps towards him, though he flinches all the same when you lay a hand on his shoulder, quickly withdrawing it. You sink to your knees in front of him, gingerly holding his wrists as you speak softly.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad practice? Why don’t you tell me about it over dinner, I got everything at the table.” He sighed deeply, sagging further, like the weight of the world weighed down on him. Your concern grew and you squeezed his wrists in a silent question. He took a deep breath and sat up, you let your hands fall away but he caught them, cradling them in his grasp, pity and guilt swirling in his glassy gaze as it met yours.

You sat up on your knees, why in the world would he look at you like that? “Tobio? What’s wrong, baby you have to tell me so I can help, you gotta let me in.” You were pleading at this point. He so rarely showed this much sadness, you were sick with worry, mind going to the worst-case scenario. He squeezes your hands, bringing them up to his lips. He keeps them there for a moment, his eyes shut, brow drawn tight.

He brings them back down to his lap and lets out another sigh, meeting your gaze again. You can see the conflict on his features bright as day. “(Y/N), I’ve been so lucky to have you in my life, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay back what you’ve given me. I’m truly, truly grateful and you've been one of my longest friends, one of my best friends. Which is why- why-“

He lets out a shuddering breath gaze dropping, tightening his grip around your hands. Your brow is pinched deeply, eyes searching his features for any sign of what could be going on. He takes a breath, trying to calm himself before continuing, and when he meets your gaze you no longer see the guilt, you see a wall you worked so hard to bring down. You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “You are one of the most important people in my life, which is why I have to do this. I can’t keep doing this, prolonging the inevitable only makes it more painful and the last thing I want to do is hurt you. But, (Y/N) I can't keep this up any longer, I thought- I thought it might pass, if I kept going along, pretending like everything is fine, when it’s not.” Your heart drops, no, it can’t be, what does he mean?.

“Everything is fine Tobio, what are you talking about? What are you saying, I-I don’t understand.” The emotion thickens your voice and his face falls as he sees the tears gather in your eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I loved you so, so much. I promise, I loved you more than anything, so much it hurt.” The tears are escaping both your eyes. You want to get out of his grasp but his hands only tighten around yours, like a lifeline. You suppress a sob bubbling up to speak, the world tumbling softly from your quivering lips. “Did?”

A hand touching your shoulder tears you from the memory. You’re aware of the hot tears streaming down your face, of the tight sobs wracking your frame, ripping from your throat against your will. You feel hollow, the ache grows and pulses until it’s all you feel, grief rising to meet it. You blink the tears away, to look around the room, you hadn’t recognized it right away, still disoriented from the memory. You see your friends, concern and in some cases, anger, in their gaze as they hover. You were surprised to find Tsukishima was the one at your side, the one who had pulled you from the memory turned nightmare. Your lip wobbles and he pulls you into his arms, embracing you as you cry into his sweatshirt, much like you had to Hinata weeks ago.

You’re vaguely aware of hushed voices around you, the rumble of Tsukishima’s voice oddly soothes you. You can hear Shoyo behind you, you think you hear him say your mother’s name, was she calling again? The thought slips from your mind as quickly as it came. You sat in your bathroom for who knows how long, crying in Tsukishima’s arms, surrounded by your friends.

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it but I guess good for you

Later that night, when everyone has finally passed out, you slip through your apartment door, pulling your hood up as you head towards the street. You have your phone, keys and pepper spray. You just wanted- no, needed to get out of there, the slight chill in the air rousing you. You take in the surroundings, letting your feet take you wherever they please.

You sigh as you take in the park in front of you. You used to come here a lot, whenever you needed to clear your head. It was a space for you to be truly alone to work out your emotions. Which is exactly what you needed now. You smile faintly as you reminisce, not paying attention as you head to the swings, only to stop in your tracks, still hidden in the shade as you watch on. What the fuck.

The creak of the swings is drowned out by laughter, two people sit on the swings, legs pumping to go higher and higher. Her hair whips in the wind and she closes her eyes, leaning back for a moment. You watch him slow down, eventually stopping and getting up to approach her flying form. Right when she is about to pass him, he moves, grabbing her and the swing, halting them mid-swing. She squeals, which quickly melts into laughter as she lets go of the chains, wrapping her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck. Her smile is a sun in the night, love radiating from the couple as they kiss. You look away and spot an open picnic basket, a bottle of wine poking through on a blanket rumpled from use.

You leave as silently as you came.

Maybe I'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt

The hollow ache starts to burn as you walk back to your apartment. You didn’t expect him to be as affected tonight as you were but you thought he’d- what did you think he’d feel? Mourning? Grief? Sadness? Why would he? He was the one who broke it off, who ‘fell out of love’ or at least that’s what he said when he broke your heart. And to bring her there?

Maybe I'm too emotional Or maybe you never cared at all

You shared that spot with him a year after you moved in together, he knew its significance to you, to your relationship. How long had he been bringing her there? What did he tell her about it? Did he use the words you said to him all those years ago? You wondered if he even remembered what today was. He said he had loved you, but was he truthful? He promised quite a few things during your relationship that were broken when he admitted it, when he confessed ‘what had been eating him up inside.’

Maybe I'm too emotional but your apathy's like a wound in salt

The hollow was slowly filling, bitter, anger, loss, and more flooded the space as you recalled his words that night.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You had never felt more dread than in that moment.

“I loved you so, so much.” You had wished the past tense was a mistake, but you knew it wasn’t.

“I don’t know when it happened, if it was slowly or quickly.” You could tell it was a lie.

“I-I just realized I loved you in a different way than you loved me.” A cute way of saying he no longer loved you.

“I thought that if I just stuck with it, that it might change, that it was just a slump.” Another way to say ‘leading you on because I was too afraid to tell you the truth.’

“I tried, I tried so hard to love you the way you wanted me to.” For how long? How many years did he lead you on, how long did he let you think everything was ok?

“You deserve more than I can offer.” You knew that was true, you did deserve more. You deserved a lot more than this, than an offer.

Maybe I'm too emotional Or maybe you never cared at all

You were crying by the time you got to your apartment building, but it was different. You didn’t feel the aching hollow as strongly as before. You felt anger, bitterness about what he said, you had a million things you wanted to say to him, to make him know what he did. But didn’t he already know? He was there, he saw what his words did, he saw the aftermath, at the very least he heard about it. And yet the night after he was pictured entering a popular high-end club. It was on your Twitter feed that morning, effectively pouring salt and lemon into the hole in your heart. You had thought it then, and you’re thinking it now.

Well, good for you. You look happy and healthy, not me If you ever cared to ask

The next morning, no one brought up last night, and you were thankful for it. You think they could sense the shift, from the aching despair to the brittle anger. So you all lounged on the couch, playing Mario Kart to help you channel it.

You were on the fourth stage of Grief according to Yamaguchi, who brought it up the following day over breakfast. He explained: Denial- which was during the breakup and right after, Depression- which came to fruition after you ran into them at the store, Bargaining- When you tried to go back to how it was before, trying to keep the friendship alive so you’d still have him around, Anger- which was now, when you realize that you wasted years of your life for someone who didn’t even love you and now they want to go back to friends, after they immediately get into a new relationship. The next step would be the final- Acceptance, when you would finally accept he was gone, when you could finally move on.

Good for you

After that night the change became more obvious. You weren’t hiding anymore, you would hold your head high and snap others off if they trod down the wrong path. You felt the hot anger slowly cool over time, as you continued to go out, to clubs, bars, parties Shoyo always invites you to but you always decline. You met his teammates, finally after too long.

He had dinner for you and the team at his apartment that he shares with one of the said teammates. You dressed up a little, enough for Shoyo to whistle when you showed him over facetime as you finished getting ready. You weren’t planning on going anywhere except your apartment after; there was just something about knowing you look good that does wonders to the confidence. You grin widely as he complains about not wanting to deal with his teammates crushing on you. You end the call when you get into your car, you were going to stop by the store to get something and then head over, despite his assurances no one else was bringing anything.

You purse your lips in thought as you surveyed the wine selection in front of you, bending slightly to read the label of one on a lower shelf. You didn’t realize you were taking up the aisle until someone cleared their throat behind you. You paid the little mind, murmuring an apology as you stepped to the side. You felt their presence next to you, and after a minute of them burning a hole through you with their gaze you turned towards them, lips pursed in annoyance rather than thought.

You're doin' great out there without me, baby, like a damn sociopath

The wide eyes of Kageyama Tobio meet yours as you study him for a moment before smiling. “Kageyama! Sorry, I didn’t realize I was taking up the whole aisle, you know me; always so indecisive.”

Your joke seems to snap him out of whatever train of thought he was in. He smiles and chuckles, turning to look at the wine in front of you. “What kind of an occasion is it?” He asks after a beat. “Oh Shoyo is introducing me to his teammates today, wine’s something people bring to dinners right?”

He smiles and nods before pointing out several bottles. “These would be appropriate, and Shoyo likes this brand.'' He plucks one from the shelf before presenting it to you. You smile and thank him, before parroting his question back to him. He turns back to the wine. “Uh, Yumi got a promotion and I’m surprising her with dinner with her coworkers.” You hum in thought before grabbing a wine off the shelf for him. “I think this would be a good one. It's white, so the stain won't be as bad and won’t stain her lips like a red would. It’s a dessert wine so even her younger colleagues should enjoy it. Oh, and tell her congrats for me.” He smiles and thanks you before you part.

You arrive right on time at Shoyo’s, the wine was well received and his teammates were great. They were everything he told you and more, you all got along great, especially you and Atsumu, he was Shoyos roommate and it was great to have another person to make fun of his horrible habits with, much to Shoyo’s dismay.

The dinner flies by, and eventually, you’re the last to leave. You wave to Atsumu before hugging Shoyo. “Thank’s Sho, for everything you’ve done for me these past 6 months. I love you.” He squeezes you tight, kissing the crown of your head before pulling away.“You don’t need to thank me (Y/N), I know you’d do the same. I love you too, drive safe.” You wave as you leave back to your apartment.

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night. Cryin' on the floor of my bathroom

The next 6 months fly by, and you spend more and more time with Shoyo and his team. Bokuto dubs you an honorary Jackal and you celebrate drinking until dawn, as a true Jackal would. You spend time with them individually, the gym with Bokuto, reality TV with Sakusa, movie nights with Shoyo, and all of the above with Atsumu, in addition to annoying his brother Osamu at his restaurant.

It hits you out of the blue. You had felt a little off all day, but you had chalked it up to the takeout you had last night. You glance at the calendar as you walk past, only to backtrack and look again, with wide eyes. Today marked a year since the breakup. It had taken you a long time to move on, but you were finally starting to feel yourself again, so why did your heart ache all of a sudden? Why did the burning rise in your throat, prickling the back of your eyes as you began to breathe faster, feeling the despair rise out of the depths to rip a sob from you lips? You try to stop, taking deep breaths, count five things in the room, but none of it works. It’s not as bad as the other times, but you feel shame crawling up to join, you were finally turning things around, how could you let it all go to waste?

You curl into yourself on the couch, blindly calling Shoyo to ask for his company, maybe he’d know, he helped you get this far, maybe he can make sure you don’t fall too far. You listen to the rings until you hear the click of an answered call, not even letting him speak before crying into the phone, asking him to be with you, help you understand. Half your words are unintelligible as you ramble on, not really listening to the other end until you think you hear him say he’s on his way, but he sounded odd, different. Had you interrupted him? Was he too busy? No, he would’ve told you and sent someone else, probably Yachi since she was the closest.

You quickly tire of trying to hold everything back, and let it wash over you, all the feelings from this past year rise up, poised to drown you, and you allow it, letting it crash down and wash over you. You let the sobs free themselves, somehow knowing it was the right thing. You give yourself to the despair, the anger, the loneliness.

You don’t hear the knocking at the door, or the sound of the door opening, too absorbed untangling the knot of emotions in your heart; until you feel the cushion next to you you sink with the weight of another person, and a hand gently rubs your back soothingly.

You lean into him, letting him pull you to him like many times before. He pulls you into his lap, curling an arm around your waist while the other hand cradles the back of your head, letting you sob into his shirt. You take a deep breath, letting his familiar scent calm you- wait.

You freeze and your stomach drops. It’s not Shoyo. They're bigger, enough to cradle you against their chest. They’re whispering soothing words into your hair, and you hear a familiar accent, leaning back quickly enough to send a wave of dizziness through you and you sway for a moment.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Atsumu asks, moving his hands to your hip and back to steady you. Your wide eyes meet his and he tilts his head slightly in confusion. “(Y/N), hey sweetheart, you okay? Gave me quite the scare there earlier ya know?” You continue to stare at him until he waves a hand in front of your face, breaking whatever spell you were under.

You blink a few times, shaking your head slightly as the corner of his mouth quirked up. You look back at him, brows furrowed, cringing when you hear your voice, hoarse after however long of crying. “’Tsumu? What’re you doing here? Where’s Sho?” He raises an eyebrow at your question, lifting his hand to wipe a tear from your cheek.

“Whaddya mean? You called me cryin’ an’ askin’ me to come here to keep ya company. Speakin’ of, what in the world is wrong? What’s got you so sad sweetcheeks?” Your face heats at the nickname.

“Oh, ‘m sorry, I meant to call Sho, he knows; it’s- today is-” He embraces you as a fresh wave of tears springs from your eyes. You can hear the rumble of his chest as he speaks, breath fanning your ear. “It’s all ok, ya don’t haveta cry, I can call chibi if you want him instead of me, it's no prob-“ You shake your head, cutting him off.

“No, s’kay. Thanks for being here ‘Tsumu, sorry I pretty much threw myself into your lap when you sat down.” You rub an eye, feeling awfully close to a toddler. He chuckles and combs your hair back, tilting your chin up so you’re looking him in the eye. “No needta thank me doll, and I won’t object to a pretty thing like you throwing themselves into my lap, though I’d enjoy it more if you weren’t crying. Now, d’ya wanna tell me what made you cry a river in here. Or at least what I can do to help.”

You curl inward slightly, not sure how to explain your wants at this moment, the emotions tangling in your chest too raw to name. You use actions to express your needs as words continue to fail you. You shift in his lap, straddling him instead of the awkward side hug you were doing before. You break eye contact, looking anywhere but him, feeling awkward and exposed. He snorts softly and his hands run up your knees, palm flat against your thighs, up and over your hips to splay against your back, bringing you back to his chest. Your pals lay flat against his sides, sliding along his ribcage and then south, fisting the fabric against his lower back as you rested your cheek on his shoulder. You waited and waited but the tears didn’t come, you could feel the tear tracts cool on your cheeks, trying to put your feelings into words.

A shudder than through his body as he felt you sigh into his neck, arms wrapping tighter around you, pulling you closer, until you were flush against him. The minutes passed by as the two of you stayed wrapped around each other, you breathing the only sound in the apartment. You sighed again, pulling away from him slightly to lean back to look at him. He searched your face, taking in the emotions clouding your eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips soothingly. You gave him a weary smile and took a deep breath, looking down at your hands as you spoke.

“I don’t know if Sho told you about this, but about 6 months before I met you guys I got out of a pretty serious relationship, I mean it was my first relationship and the breakup hit me really hard. The day of the dinner was one of the first times I had truly felt myself again.

“We got together in our first year of high school. We had been friends years before that. God, I had a crush on him for so long, I can’t remember anyone before that.” Your voice is whispy, reminiscing on a better time. “I wasn't a manager that first year, though I was around often enough that I helped where I could. I was at almost every practice, which is how I got acquainted with the other first years. He was still guarded and grumpy then, so I was friends with everyone first, and we all slowly warmed up to each other.

“When he asked me out at the end of the year, after saying goodbye to the third years, it just- it felt so right, like this is supposed to happen. I was a manager our last two years and by graduation the six of us were close. We managed to stay in touch and visit each other whenever possible. Sho had gone to travel, Kei to Sendai for school, Hitoka and Tadashi stayed for school before she went to Tokyo and he stayed in Miyagi. Tobio was picked up by the national team immediately after graduation, to play in Rio. I was accepted into a university in Osaka, and he moved in with me when he got back.” You ignored the way Atsumu’s hands tightened their grip when you said his name.

“It was perfect, we- we were doing fine, or at least I thought we were.” Your voice cracked and you took a shuddering breath before continuing. “He traveled between Tokyo and Osaka a lot and of course for games but it never bothered me, I knew what I was getting into. Eventually, Sho came back, and joined your team, moving into an apartment not far from ours. I was so happy.” You whispered the last sentence, afraid if you said it too loud it’d sound like a lie.

“I hadn’t noticed any changes, he didn’t seem withdrawn or unaffectionate, he was like he always was, until he wasn’t. He came home one night and said he didn’t love me like that anymore, that he couldn’t love me the way I loved him. He- he said he tried to, he said he tried for a long time, in case it was a slump but it wasn’t. And all-all I could think about was the way he said it, like he had been thinking about this for a long time, he looked so tired like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he told me the last who knows how long was a lie.

“He left and stayed at a teammate's house until he could get an apartment. He moved close by, I still don’t know why he didn’t move to Tokyo. Sho came and stayed with me for a few days, until I kicked him out so he could focus on the tournament that was coming up. He kept in touch with Tobio, and would update me when I asked.

“That was a year ago, and I know I should be over him, and I am, or I thought I was until I realized what today was and- and everything, all the emotions I had pushed down came back up, no longer letting me ignore them. All the grief and anger and insecurity kept rising and rising until I thought I was gonna drown. Which is when I called Sho, or at least I thought I did.” The corner of your mouth twitched into a small smile as you met his gaze.

But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it

“I- I think it would’ve been easier if he hurt too, if I saw that it affected him even half as much, because that would mean he had felt something, he had loved me at one point. And I don’t know, maybe he came to terms with it before he ended it, but seeing him with someone else, not even 3 weeks later just rubbed salt too deep into the wound that just seeing them happy together sent me into tears. When I ran into them days after I found out, when I saw with my own eyes how good he was, how happy he was without me; I don’t know how long I cried, but it was suffocating, it had such a tight grip on me I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t even realize Sho was there until he was hugging me.” You watched your tears fall onto your hands, leaving droplets on his pants. You took in a shuddering breath, suddenly meeting his gaze.

“I just- I don’t know what wrong with me, why can’t I let myself be happy?” Your voice cracked, and you brought a hand to your face, embarrassment simmering low in your gut. Atsumu gently pried your hand away from your face, replacing it with his own as he cupped your cheek. He wiped the tears that fell from your lashes with his thumb. He brought you forward to kiss the crown of your head before returning his gaze to you.

“Doll, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you, ya hear? Your heart was broken, it ain’t gonna fix itself in a day. You will be happy, I promise. Whenever we lose someone we love, a piece of us goes with them. He was sucha huge part of your life, I’d be more worried if you weren’t sad. I can’t say when, but one day you’ll notice it hurts less and less until you barely notice it. Until then you have me and everyone else to help you, so don’t hesitate to lean on us when you need to, got it?”

Your bottom lip wobbled and your eyes were glassy with tears yet again, though this time for a different reason. You threw your arms around his neck and crushed him into you as you cried his name. “I didn’t know you were such a softie! I bet no ones gonna believe me when I tell ‘em.” He wrapped his arms around you again, you were so close you could feel his laughter in his chest. “Yeah, and I didn’t know ya were such a cry baby.” You snorted and pulled away, “That’s on you, I am a well-known cry baby.”

You matched his grin, feeling lighter. You pulled yourself off his lap, but he didn’t let you get very far, pulling you into his side, your legs thrown over his thighs as you turned on the TV. You ended up falling asleep on your couch together, your neck cramped and you found out you drool, but it was worth it.

But I guess good for you

The next few months went by relatively quickly. There were a few hiccups, mostly on holidays, but you listened to what Atsumu had told you and you leaned on your friends during those times. Speaking of Atsumu, while you two were close before, after that night you felt even closer. You found yourself at the apartment he shared with Shoyo more and more. You came to every MSBY game you could, usually helping Osamu run his booth.

When you weren’t with him, Atsumu would often find you helping his brother run orders at the restaurant; under the guise of an apology for annoying him so often, but both twins saw how happy you were when you were working. Eventually, Osamu just gave you a position there, because he didn’t want to get caught exploiting free labor, not because he liked you or anything, you were just as annoying as his brother- or so he says.

The blonde hadn’t noticed just how much time the two of you spent together until you went to visit Yachi in Tokyo for a week, and had odd chunks of time with nothing to do. It was confusing, and frankly off-putting how different it was when you weren’t around. Everyone noticed of course, and teased him for it, more the team than Osamu, because he couldn’t deny he missed you too.

Despite your protests that it was just a 2-hour train ride from Tokyo, and maybe another 10-minute ride to the stop near your apartment, Atsumu insisted on picking you up from the station during your call earlier. “ ‘M not taking no for an answer doll, I’m picking ya up.” You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and sighed. “Fine, but I’m venoming you for the gas, no ifs ands or buts about it.” You smiled at the sound of his groan from the other line, good thing you were just as stubborn.

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

You were idly scrolling through your Instagram feed, about 10 minutes away from Osaka when you saw a glimpse of a ring, you scrolled back up and read the caption. ‘I’m the luckiest man in the world’ followed by a picture of what must’ve been Yumi’s hand, and adorned on her left ring finger was a large, and no doubt expensive, engagement ring. 6 months ago it would’ve summoned tears, but now you smile faintly, commenting your congratulations before scrolling past. Atsumu was right, eventually, it started to hurt less and less and now it was barely there.

You stood up when the announcement of your arrival in Osaka rang overhead, tucking your phone away and grabbing your bags to exit the train car. You immediately spotted your chauffeur, thanks mostly to the gaggle of young girls surrounding him as he laughed and signed autographs. You walked slowly, trying to buy time until they left but (un?)fortunately he spotted you. A wide grin stretched his features and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, lifting your hand in a small wave. He turned back to the girls and said something before breaking through, jogging towards you as you met him halfway.

You had an amused look on your face from his theatrics and the wide gazes of the girls he left behind. “Hey.” He said when he stopped in front of you. You snorted, “Hey.” He pouted at your tease, which only made it more funny, before rolling his eyes and taking some of your bags, giving you a pointed look when you tried to object. You huffed and walked next to him towards the exit.

You startled slightly when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you by your hip into his side. You looked up at him but he kept his gaze ahead, though you could see the slight flush to his cheeks and the slight twitch of a grin. You reciprocated, hooking your thumb through the belt loop by his hip as you kept your gaze ahead, his stare bringing a slight heat to your face.

He laughed lightly and you two continued out to his car where he tried to make you sit in the back seat because “ it’s not professional for a chauffeur to let their passenger sit up front.” You laughed before letting your face fall into a mock-serious stare and said “no.” in the best deadpan tone you could conjure up before climbing in.

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him when he didn’t start the car. His hands were on the steering wheel and he was looking ahead in thought. “Atsumu?” He looked at you, smiling softly, still not saying anything. “Uhh you okay? Do I really need to sit in the back for you to be able to drive because-“ He laughed, waving your concerns off. “No, no, I’ll allow it this once. Sorry for spacin’ out, I’m happy yer home.” You looked at him incredulously, “ I was 2 hours away ‘tsumu.” You see a faint flush creep up his neck and he clears his throat, turning back to the wheel and turning on the car. ‘I know, I just missed ya ‘s all.”

You were just able to make out his dejected mumble, quietly huffing in amusement as you glanced down briefly before turning to look forward, biting back the smile at his flinch when you grabbed his hand, bringing it to your lap as you intertwined your fingers. “I missed you too, ya big softie.” Smiling, he squeezes your palm before focusing on the road, and you feel something stir, a bud sprouting from the once hollow place in your chest. It hasn’t bloomed yet, but you have a feeling it will soon.

[drawlfoy]

The Wonders of Ohio P.6

masterlist (catch up on parts 1-5 here!!)

request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: my original idea :))

summary: y/n’s senior year was going to be great, but her British exchange student is a little weird. this is NOT a non-magic AU. draco’s still a wizard in this fsjifkszfjkd

warnings: language, fainting, bad driving, mentions of drinking and drug use

a/n: eeee this is such a fun bit to write. thank you all so much for being there for me. this is definitely one of my favorite fics i’ve written since it gives me so much creative liberty and the fact that i get feedback and readers for it...just warms my heart. if you’re reading this: thank you so, so much for sticking around. i might come around with more oneshots soon. anyways i hope you enjoy the initial descent into the real real plot. also fluff will be coming soon i promise but i wasn’t lying when i said this was slowburn

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 3.4k

song recs:

a pearl -- mitski

movement -- hozier

revival -- deerhunter

Draco was crying.

Or, at least, someone was. The gasps coming from just a wall away were apparent, but Y/N could hear a voice that didn’t quite sound like Draco--which had to be a trick of the mind, because there could be no one in there but him.

She rapped on the door against her better judgement to be met with a flurry of movement--fabric rustling,  and a soft pop that echoed through the air.

“Draco? Are you alright in there?”

Y/N found herself wishing that he wouldn’t open the door. After the Homecoming ask, the last thing she wanted was to see his stupid pretty face again, but she was a good host sister. Emphasis on sister.

To her shock, the door swung open. Just a few inches, just enough for her to see the pile of black shredded paper in the middle of his room and a drained looking Draco glaring back at her.

“Can I help you?” His once pristine white shirt was gray in some places, like he had rubbed ashes on it. 

“I just thought--did you burn something?”

“No. What is it?”

She looked at him a bit closer. His eyes didn’t look red rimmed with the dead giveaway of a crying session, but they looked close. The furrow in his brow was from worry instead of his usual sternness and he kept nervously pulling down at his left sleeve. 

Draco wasn’t crying, but he was about to.

“I…” There was something deeply unsettling about seeing Draco so uncollected and fidgety--almost like seeing a fish out of water or an American conservative with an adequate understanding of class struggles.The air was charged with something yet again, so much so that Y/N could feel the hair on her arms stand up. She decided to avoid damaging his masculinity any further. “Nothing. It just smelled a little like smoke. I wanted to make sure you weren’t burning a candle or anything. You know how my mom is about that.”

He continued to stare at her.

“Would you like me to leave you alone?”

“Please.” 

Well, that was embarrassing thought Y/N as she made her way back down the hall and to her backpack. I get rejected twice in one day. Smooth.

The days following were profoundly more uncomfortable. Breakfasts became uncomfortably akin to the Silent Game and Draco stopped coming out for tea in the evenings. The drives to and from school were decorated only by occasional bits of small talks or grumbles of exams. In short, Y/N knew that she had overstepped a boundary and Draco was pulling back.

School had finally become crazy. Y/N’s life became so entrenched with letters of recommendation and 200 word supplements that the Draco shaped hole in her life was bearable. After all, she was fine before he came, and she was fine now. She’d been silly, allowing herself to fantasize about a kid with some serious trauma and family issues that clearly had personal things that handle before he thought about getting all cozy with someone who was not in the slightest compatible with him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

oOo

If someone turned a glass of whole milk into a human, that person would be Chad. He was the poster child of an “American” boy--tall, warm blonde hair, slightly tanned skin, and cornflower blue eyes. 

But his personality? Not so much. 

“My beloved husband!” Y/N called out as she saw him speaking to her mother in the foyer while Draco glowered in the corner. She bounded down the stairs in record time, leaping into his arms as her strappy heels swung from her hands. He smelled of cotton and laundry detergent. 

“Hey nerd,” he said, swinging her around in a circle before setting her down. “Did you finish the Econ homework? I was hoping I could take a picture before I leave…”

Y/N drew back to smack him on the shoulder. “You disgust me.”

“You abuse me.”

“And I’ll do it again,” said Y/N. She had forgotten how funny he was. 

“Oh, you two,” Mrs. Y/L/N cut in, stepping between the two and pressing the boutonnière into Y/N’s hands. “Always bickering like a married couple.”

Lizzy snorted from the top of the stairs where she was struggling to stuff a light jacket into her purse. “Hot take.”

“Hold still,” commanded Y/N, holding the pin and attempting to attach it to his lapel. “I’m literally going to accidentally stab you. Cut it out.”

He made a face down at her. “Do it. You won’t.”

“Oh? I won’t?”

“Y/N,” Mrs. Y/L/N’s exasperated voice warned.

“I’ll refrain, but only because the rug we’re standing on was my Grandmother’s,” Y/N said to him, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Consider yourself lucky that you’re not on the tile.”

“I’ve never been more thankful that my late grandmother-in-law had such impeccable taste.” 

“Suck up.”

“Oh, because you’re such a rebel.”

“It’s called motivation!”

“Honey, I want a divor-”

“For Christ’s sake, stop flirting or I’m going to puke,” a cool voice cut in. The group turned to see Sylvia standing in the doorway, clad in a flowing black dress that just barely ghosted over the top of the floor. 

“You look radiant, darling,” Mrs. Y/L/N said.

“And we weren’t flirting,” said Y/N.

Sylvia sent her a little wink before walking to sit down on the couch across from Draco, who was currently perched cross legged and looking profoundly uncomfortable. 

Sylvia, Lizzy, and their dates all opted to take Lizzy’s car to the city while Chad, Y/N, and Draco took Chad’s. The plan was to drop Draco off at the school with ample time to prepare him for the uniquely traumatic experience that was ASB sanctioned after school events, and to the plan they stuck.

“Yeah, go ahead and treat me like your chauffeur, “ scoffed Chad as Y/N slid into the backseat next to Draco. The sports car was surprisingly narrow with hardly any space between them. If she wanted to, she could easily rest her thigh against his.

“It’s called being polite, dear,” said Y/N, flicking the back of his head before turning to face Draco. “You’re really gonna commit to this? Major props, but, like...you really don’t have to go to this if you don’t want to. You can even stay home. I know how to sneak you back in.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m here for the American experience, right?”

“Hate to break it to you, but there is no uniform American experience. It’s all personalized, and I don’t know if you want yours to be seasoned with 14 year olds T-posing in a circle to...I don’t even know. Chad, what kind of music do they play at those places?”

“Fuck if I know. I don’t go to them either.”

“It’s fine. I told Heather I’d be there.”

“Ooookay, whatever you say,” Y/N said. 

They rode in silence for a few more beats. The wind outside was uncharacteristically strong for an early October day, and it looked like a storm was brewing. In their rush to get to the dance on time, they had neglected to take precaution against the wind and ran outside to Chad’s car without a second thought. Draco’s suit, while posh and put together, had clearly bore the brunt of this choice. His tie had become slightly rumpled and his hair mussed, a look that was all types of wrong on him.

“Draco?” she asked. He snapped to attention. “Your tie is all undone. Can I…?” Y/N motioned to his neck.

Wide-eyed and frozen, he met her with, “er...sure.” 

Y/N leaned forward, trying to think past how her thighs were just barely touching his. Her corsage (a tasteful red, thank you very much) bumped against his chest, flattening a bit. She wasn’t very familiar with ties--she’d never had to be in her past experiences--but whatever his was made of, it was expensive. The fabric felt silky and impossibly smooth in her hand as she carefully untied it.

Chad took a sharp turn into the school drop off lot, prompting Y/N to nearly topple into Draco’s chest. His arms shot out to steady her and retracted so quickly that she was left wondering if she imagined the whole ordeal. 

“So it’s true,” said Chad from the front. “Nerds do have bad upper body strength.”

“Shut up,” she responded. Her cheeks felt unbearably hot as she tried her best to focus on tightening Draco’s tie and ignore the fact that she was close enough to smell his cologne--a soft pine, she observed--and feel the shadow of his breath on her face. His hands were clasped together lap, tight enough to turn the knuckles white. 

It was an odd feeling, getting butterflies in her stomach while she was touching a boy that wasn’t her date as Chad careened towards a parking spot and pulled in so violently that Y/N almost went sprawling into Draco again. She looked up at him, getting ready to crack a joke about the absurdity of the situation or the questionable driving; instead, she found herself staring up into his eyes. 

His normally pale eyes looked darker than usual--his pupils were insanely dilated--but that was because it was dark in the car. Obviously. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see his chest rising and falling with an urgency that she hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you want me to uh..fix your...your hair, too?” Y/N said, mentally cringing at how she stumbled over the sentence. To be fair, his hair was ruffled and out of place. It wasn’t like she was making an excuse to touch it or anything.

To that, Draco jerked away from her, his back brushing up against the opposite car door. “No. No, it’s ok. I’ll fix it myself.”

Y/N was sure that her face was tomato red.

“Alright buckaroo,” Chad said from the front, his nonchalant demeanor never more appreciated. “Your hot date is here. Get out of my car. We have a busy day of antiquing ahead.”

Any semblance of casualness left Draco’s body as his eyes widened. “Antiquing?”

“Yeah, remember the place I took you to right after you came here?” asked Y/N.

“Er...don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Excuse me?” She sat up straight so quickly that she felt her hair come slightly undone at the nape of her neck. “That’s rich, coming from the kid going to a school dance as a senior.” 

“It’s probably not going to even be open. It’ll be late by the time dinner’s over,” he said. 

“Since when do you care? Honestly, quit acting weird,” Y/N responded, scootching away from him as he made no effort to get out of the car. 

“I’m not--it’s--erm, nevermind, forget about it.” He cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and brushed off his lapels. “Heather must be waiting for me. Goodbye.”

After a little struggle, Draco managed to best the slightly confusing door handle of Chad’s car and was out the door. Y/N slid across the seat and out with him, shutting the door and grabbing the handle for the passenger side. 

“Y/N?” Draco’s voice called before she had the chance to fully get in and tell Chad to book it. 

“What’s up?”

He took a few steps forward, pausing just a couple feet away from her. His eyes were cast to the rain puddle ridden cement. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I should be telling you that, king,” Y/N quipped. “Your first real American dance. If you go to any after parties, make sure to watch your drink. Don’t take any substances from strangers--or, anyone, really--”

“Y/N, he’s not a chick.” Chad, his hands still perched on the steering wheel, turned to peer out at her. “He’ll be fine. I think they have beer in Britain.”

“Well, whatever. Have Heather text me if I need to pick you up anywhere. And don’t get in any cars with someone who’s been drinking!”

“Y/N!”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming.” She slid into the car, turning one last time to say bye. Draco was already gone. “Only if I drive.”

oOo

“So Heather and Draco, huh?” 

Y/N scowled at Lizzy as she speared a piece of her salad particularly viciously. “I don’t know if it’s like that. I think he’s just being polite, or whatever. I think British people are just like that.”

“Why are we even talking about that boy?” Chad asked. “He’s got that whole Timothée Chalamet dying Victorian toddler aesthetic if Timothée was blonde and had a perpetual stick up his ass.”

“In a hot way, though,” said Lizzy, her eyebrows wiggling. Jonathan scowled at her side. “Oh, don’t be so jealous. As if I’d ever go for a kid who doesn’t even know what Snapchat is.”

“I don’t understand what Heather sees in him,” Chad continued, his fettuccine plate long forgotten. “He’s got the personality of a wet rag, and she’s so bubbly and...I don’t even know. Do you guys get what I mean?”

“Draco’s got personality,” said Y/N. 

“Not like Heather.”

“It’s not his fault he’s reserved. He’s actually really funny.”

“And that’s what I like to call rose-tinted glasses,” Chad said, gently poking her cheek. 

“Hey! I’m the one who lives with him.”

“Whatever. Let’s just call for the bill. I’m not hungry anymore.” Chad folded up his napkin, placing it on top of the tablecloth and ignoring Y/N’s protest as he got out his wallet and placed a credit card on the table. “It’s on me, guys. You know how my parents are. They’re just happy that we’re all getting together again instead of holing up in our rooms.”

“Thank god junior year is over,” Sylvia added. “That’s really kind of you. At least let me get the tip?”

As the group bickered over the payment options and flagged down the waiter, Y/N noticed her phone lighting up with a notification.

Heather, 6.48pm: Hey girly! Sorry to bug you on your night but Draco wanted to check in and ask where you guys are/what you’re planning on doing tonight.

“Who’s that?” Chad asked, looking down at the little paragraph in the gray message bubble.

“Just Heather. Draco wants to know what we’re doing. Probably because he’s realizing how sucky dances really are and is about to beg us to come pick him up.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Poor kid.”

Y/N typed out a quick “we just finished dinner and are heading to the antique place now. lmk if i need to pick him up earlier” and tucked her phone away in her purse. As much as she resented it, she couldn’t help but wish that Draco wanted to join them instead.

“Are you guys ready to beat it and hit up that antique place?” Marvin, Sylvia’s date, asked. She rolled her eyes and sent him a lazy smile.

“You sound like a dad.” 

“Off like a herd of turtles, baby,” Y/N offered, gathering her things as they made their way out the restaurant door. “Not gonna lie, this place doesn’t show up on Google Maps or anything. I think I know how to get there but none of you guys are allowed to make fun of me if I take too many wrong turns.”

“No promises,” said Chad, winking down at her and giving her shoulder a little squeeze. 

 As they walked, it became profoundly obvious that Chad and Y/N were the only two who weren’t officially an item. Lizzy and Jonathon were walking hand in hand while Sylvia and Marvin whispered in each others’ ears when they had to wait for crosswalk signals. While she had great chemistry with Chad, nothing ever felt real with him. It always felt like an act.

Perhaps the tension between them was because of that one time they kissed and never talked about it again in freshman year after a particularly nerve wracking competitive math round before she quit--something that she wasn’t exactly going to shout off the rooftops for the masses to hear. Or maybe because he pushed her away right after and said it was a mistake. 

Whatever it was, Y/N and Chad were decidedly not romantically involved. She had been shocked when he’d even bothered asking her for the night. Granted, they were always pals and it shouldn’t have been awkward, but drawing the comparisons between her and the other girls was making the evening very uncomfy. Y/N couldn’t help but pray that Chad was going to be the one to break the ice.

“Where the fuck is this place?” he finally said, much to Y/N’s glee. His grace and manners were absolutely unparalleled. “It’s cold and I’m sure it’s going to start raining again.”

“It should be just a few more blocks and then to the right,” she responded. “Sorry. It’s cool as fuck, though. I promise it’s worth it.”

“This is just her ploy to lure us all away from civilization to off us,” Sylvia said, turning around from a few feet in front of them to raise her eyebrows at Y/N. “Eliminate the competition before college apps even begin. I’m impressed, honestly.”

“Now you’ve gone and ruined it all,” she fired back. “Thanks, Vy.”

She was relieved to see that the antique store couldn’t be missed, even if she tried. The sign, a worn and friendly gold, was illuminated by large lights. The words “My Grandfather’s Attic” had never looked more welcoming as Sylvia gripped the door and ushered them inside.

The moment Y/N stepped inside, something felt...different, kind of like the hair-raising feeling she got when she was around Draco. The electricity in the air she felt with him could easily be explained away by the fact that he was, for lack of a better term, the most stunning person she’d ever seen, but perhaps she was slowly getting over him. Perhaps…

She turned to see Chad, his honey blonde hair spilling over his forehead as he focused on a basket of vintage buttons that seemed to glimmer in the light. The furrow in his brow--the same one that she’d been so familiar with after seeing him solve countless math problems--appeared as he examined the basket, turning a red button around in his fingers, soft and and sprinkled with writing calluses. 

Maybe it had been Chad all along. Maybe Draco was just a detour. 

Before she did anything she regretted, Y/N turned and made her way back into the store. The set up was the same as she remembered--interesting and foreign objects hanging from the walls, ceilings, and congregating in baskets and overflowing shelves. She didn’t even realize that she had migrated over to the opposite side of the room until she felt the solid, cool wood of the black box from her dreams pressed into her hand as she turned it over and traced the strange white sign that was etched into the front. 

“Y/N!” 

The sound snapped her out of her trance to see...Heather and Draco? He was jogging towards her despite the fact that he was wearing a full suit. Y/N made an absent note to make fun of him later. 

“Why are you--”

“Put that down!” He stopped a few paces away, his eyes darting around the store at a frantic pace. “We need to leave.”

“Why? Honestly, if you wanted me to pick you up, all you had to do was…” She had to take a breath to steady herself. Her body felt like it was filled with static. “All you had to do was ask.”

“That’s not...ok, just put it down,” he commanded. “Please. Just put the box down. We need to go home.”

“No! This is my last homecoming. I’m sorry your experience wasn’t great, but I don’t...I don’t, uh, appreciate…” The lightheadedness hit, so suddenly that she almost fell. 

“Fuck, are you okay?” Draco was right in front of her in an instant, his eyes scanning her face.

“I feel...” She took a shaky breath. “I feel...starry?”

The last thing she remembered was Draco trying to tug the box out of her grip, his other hand warm on her shoulder.

And then everything went black.

final a/n: so draco got a howler and some wack stuff happened, huh? tell me what you think. 

[boygirlbowie]

A Different Kind of Guilt

Summary: Kaia's dead and Claire's not dealing as well as she wants everyone to think. After a hunt gone wrong brings up more emotions and guilt than she can handle, she decides to drink them away. Dean, who's done that more times than he can count, finds her, and they have a talk.

Basically just an excuse for me to write h/c where Dean is Claire’s dad. :) I love their dynamic!

Word Count: 2961

Warnings: violence, angst, suicide ref (not about any important character), implied (?) attempted sexual assault of a minor (it’s so light, it’s barely there. Claire just punches out a creep)

(read on ao3)

Claire had been doing ok. The beer in her hand now—her second of the past couple hours—was no indication of how she had been, in the not too distant past. Really, she had been ok.

After Kaia had— after everything that happened with Kaia, she’d decided to stick around Jody’s for a while. She didn’t go back to school, and Jody didn’t try to make her, trying to be sensitive, but she’d been careful on hunts, and let Jody back her up sometimes. She had friends now, in Patience and Alex, and something like a mom in Jody and Donna.

Her relationship with Castiel was even normal now, as normal as your relationship with an angel possessing your father’s corpse could be; they talked at least once a week, so they both knew the other was safe, and sometimes he sent her music recommendations. She wasn’t really into Beyonce, or Taylor Swift, but she never said anything. Sometimes she even sent him a song or two back, and if her taste was a little too punk for him, he never said anything either.

Anyways— she’d been doing ok. Until this case, this stupid fucking case. A ghost had been killing kids with seemingly no pattern at a high school. It took three dead kids before Claire had put it together: they had all come forward about a boy who had been sexually assaulting girls on campus. He committed suicide, but apparently stuck around to take his revenge on the girls he blamed for it. It was a stupidly obvious pattern; she shouldn’t have realized it sooner— would have, if she hadn’t been exhausted from the last hunt (ok, so maybe she hadn’t been being as careful as she said, but it wasn’t like it had mattered. She could work just fine on four hours of sleep. Until she couldn’t). She got the last girl who had reported him to the school, Rachel Bishop, and drove out to his grave to burn the body. She told the girl she would be safe.

I’ll protect you.

Like that ever works. Claire scoffed, downing the last of the beer from her glass. She needed something harder. She didn’t usually drink, but the bar was dark and seedy and the bartender hadn’t even asked her for an ID. And she needed a drink, ok? She needed to be a little bit numb. A bit more. She waved the bartender down again.

“A whiskey? Neat,” she shouted over the growling indiscernible noise from the speakers that was probably supposed to be music. She had enough money to black this night out.

The man behind the bar barely looked at her as he poured whiskey into the same glass that had held the beer. She gave him a thin smile and took a big sip. It burned in her throat, full and sharp on the way down and she grimaced. The smile became a bit more genuine. She deserved to feel a bit of pain, deserved it for the promise she made to Rachel, and broke.

Just like the one she made to Kaia, another lie.

She had squeezed gasoline over the whole body, dropped in a thick match, and set the corpse up in flames. It should have been done there, and she thought it was, but she assumed they were clear too soon, and as she turned back to Rachel, the girl was flung across the cemetery, her head cracking against a headstone. She slid to the ground, a bloody smear trailing from the back of her head on the engraved marble. Her hand, which had been clutching a flashlight, went limp, and all Claire could do was stare in horror. All she could see was Kaia’s hand, going limp, her own slipping from it.

And then the ghost had appeared in front of her, and then she had seen the family headstone. A little box, secured to the base of it with initials carved into it, and one of them was his. She cocked the shotgun and fired into the boy, and then turned and fired into the box. Again, a third time, and it cracked open, plastic baggies with little rings spilling out. She struck a match and set the rings on fire.

The ghost burned away in a flash of fire, and Claire stood still. She swayed a bit, hands shaking on the shotgun. A family ring as a tether, not just the body. Fuck. She had forced herself to Rachel’s side, even though she knew there was no way she could have survived that head wound. And she was right: no pulse.

After that, the night was a blur. She knew she’d been supposed to meet up with Jody the next morning if the hunt was still on, and call if she solved it before then, but all she could think to do was leave. Her bag was quick to pack back at the motel. She’d thrown it in the back seat and hit the gas hard on the way out of town. She just had to get out of the town, as far away.

Sometime around dawn, the adrenaline all drained from her body, and a night of hunting and driving caught up to her, and she pulled off the highway, turned off the car, and fell asleep with her jacket pulled up over her shoulders, propped up sitting against the window. When she woke up, it took all of two minutes for the memories of the night before and the guilt to crawl back. And now, somehow, she’d ended up here.

Finishing the glass of whiskey, she went to call for another, when suddenly a man slid into the seat next to her, leaning onto the bar heavily. He was tall, but skinny, maybe fourty, forty-five, and she thought she could easily take him if she had to. Hunting was training her  to do that; size someone up in seconds, determine what level threat they were. This man, not too high.

“You look like you’re having a bad night. Can I buy you a drink?”

She gave him a look, her best fuck off face, but he just grinned and leaned a bit closer. His breath stank. Actually, grinning gave the impression of happiness, a broad, toothy smile. Whatever this man was doing could be more accurately described as leering. Fine.

“Another?” she shouted at the bartender. “It’s on him.”

The bartender filled up her glass, and the greasy man’s beside her.

“So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing at a place like this?” the man asked.

She didn’t respond, just tilting the glass up, tipping the liquor down her throat. He watched her swallow with slitted eyes.

“I asked you a question, girly.”

He leaned closer, snaking an arm around her shoulders, dangling fingers reaching down, down— and she grabbed his hand, crushing it. She twisted his arm and slammed it into the bar. “Learn consent, asshole.”

The man yelped, jerking his hand back, and cradling it against his chest. “I was just being nice!”

“You nice to everyone, or just the teenage girls?”

His eyes darkened. “There’s nothing wrong with liking ‘em young.”

 Maybe it was being drunk, or maybe she just wanted an excuse to fight, but either way, he’d just given her one. He barely had time to finish talking before her fist was slamming into his jaw. He brought a clumsy swing of his own up, but she ducked, and kicked him in the balls. He screamed and staggered back, clutching between his legs.

People were starting to look now; even in a place like this, a full out brawl wasn’t everyday. He wasn’t fighting back, not really, but he’d already done more than enough. She caught his jaw again, then his brow, and then he was falling back into a table, tripping and landing on his back, and she was going down beside him, crouching and swinging, again, and again. His hands were limp on the ground and his lip was cracked and something in his face broke, and his face was bloody and it was her face and she was beating herself.

It wasn’t until a hand caught her shoulder, and physically hauled her off of him that she realized someone had been calling her name.

“Claire- Claire— stop, Claire!”

She swung around, fists ready to start on the next target, to see Dean, his hands raised, staring at her with what looked like, through the blur of alcohol and tears— goddammit, when did she start crying— worry. She took a step back, swaying a bit, and squinted at him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiled grimly. “You didn’t show for breakfast with Jody and you haven’t been answering your phone, so she went to check out the town anyway, and found another dead girl and no sign of you. She put out a hunter apb.”

Right. Breakfast with Jody. That’s why her phone had been ringing. (She’d put it on silent after the first hour or so of calls.) “How did you know where I was?”

“Marshall there’s a hunter who owes me a favor from a couple years back. Gave me a call back about a blonde girl in leather showing up at a dive bar.” He gestured to a burly man at a table nearby.

Marshall waved. “I applaud your work with Tom there. If there was ever a man who deserved to get beat down…” 

Dean looked at Claire. “Do I need to know?”

She crossed her arms, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Not about the man— Tom— he’d deserved it, but about the drinking, about skipping breakfast with Jody, about turning her phone off, about the way she knew she was swaying right now.

“I’m gonna take that as a no.” He looked her up and down and grimaced. “You look like hell. C’mon, I’m gonna drive you back to Jody’s.”

She let him wind and arm around her back, supporting her as they walked out. Maybe she didn’t really need it, but the heavy pressure felt like a hug, and her throat constricted at the sensation in a good way, so she didn’t say anything. They walked quietly for a while, and she sensed he was saying nothing to let her speak. They rounded the corner of the block, and she finally spoke.

“I didn’t know what it felt like before.”

“What?”

“The guilt. The way you feel, I didn’t get it, not really. I mean, I’d let people down, but never like this before.”

“The ghost hunt? Jody said you’ve been working yourself to the bones, you should cut yourself some slack.”

“Yeah, well ‘messing up’ doesn’t equal four dead girls in other people’s jobs. Besides, it’s not just that. It’s…” Kaia. “To promise someone they’ll be safe, and then have them die— die because of me? It’s a different kind of guilt, you know?”

Dean looked down at her, his mouth a hard line.

“Yeah, I know,” he said softly.

“I mean I’ve always felt… guilty, I guess, about my mom leaving. I mean, let’s face it, she would never have gotten that low if I could have been better.” Claire broke off and gritted her teeth. It was a snarl, almost at herself. Stupid. She would never say stuff like this if she was sober; maybe drinking had its disadvantages too.

“C’mon. That’s not— your mom made her own choices. You were just a kid.”

“No—no!” They’d reached the Impala now, and they came to a stop. She pulled away from Dean, who let her go, but kept his hands hovering nearby in case she fell.

“It was my fault, it was me. I do that. I hurt people. People near me just… die. Dad could have gotten out back then when Cas was in my body but he didn’t, and now he’s dead. That’s on me. And then mom left, and then she got kidnapped, and I was mad at her instead of looking for her, and she was tortured, all those years, because of me. And then… and then Kaia.”

“Claire—”

“I told her I would protect her!” Claire shouted. At some point she’d started crying, the eyeliner smudged into the dark circles under her eyes. “I said she would be safe, and she wouldn’t have gone back into that world if it weren’t for me. So that— that’s on me too. She’s dead, and it’s because of me!”

“And then Rebecca, and. And I told her I would protect her too, Dean.” She was almost pleading. Tell me, tell me I did the wrong thing. Yell at me. Hate me for it as much as I hate myself. “Same as I told Kaia, should’ve known better, and then that ghost killed her, because I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“Kaia’s death is not your fault. And Rebecca— sometimes things get fucked up on hunts. Just cause you missed a detail, that don’t make you a bad person.”

“No, but it makes me a bad hunter. And if I’m not good at hunting, what am I good at? What am I good for?”

“Claire, you’re not just a hunter. You’re, you’re a student, and a friend, and a daughter, to Jody, and to Cas, and… to me.”

“Yeah and a lot of good I’ve done for any of you. All I do is drag everyone into my little pile of crap. You’d be happier without any of this—” she gestured to her body with a shaky hand— “to deal with.”

“That’s crap.”

She laughed sharply, cutting him off. “Yeah, right. Just admit it! I don’t mind. I can handle it, I’m a big girl, promise. I fuck up everything and everyone I touch, and maybe I’m not a bad person, but I’m certainly not a good one either.”

“Listen, I don’t care if you’re a good person. Maybe you, you screw up sometimes. Everyone does sometimes, and if we’re honest, comparing screw ups, I think I got you beat, but a good margin.”

Claire crossed her arms and sniffed, forcing back the tears that kept rising up to her eyes. Stupid alcohol.

“Thing is, if we counted up every bad thing we did and laid them all out, none of us would look too pretty. But you do a lot of good, and I don’t just mean saving lives. Sometimes I go into the kitchen of the bunker in the morning, and Cas is listening to a song you sent him, and he’s smiling like someone just gave him a puppy or something. You mean a lot to a lot of people. I include myself in that.  We don’t want you to stick around cause you’re good at ganking monsters, or cause you’re some morally pure beacon of sunshine, we want you around cause you’re you. And that’s it.”

And dammit. Dammit, but the tears were coming back up again. The burning guilt and need to have someone scream at her, punch her, had diminished somewhat, and the alcohol felt heavy in her stomach now, dragging on her like it wanted her to fall over right there. She smudged tears from her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“Ok?” Dean asked, ducking his head to catch her eyes.

She lifted them, looked into his eyes, and saw honesty reflected back at her. He meant every word he’d said, and he wanted to make sure she knew. She also saw pain, and guilt, and… maybe that one was love. She nodded.

“Ok.”

“Great.”

She turned towards the Impala and he held up a hand. “No, actually, one more thing.”

Claire turned back to him.

“You can’t do this when things get bad.”

“What?”

“This—” he gestured to the bar, and her bloody fists. “I know it seems like it’s gonna help, trust me, I know, and if anyone has a right to drink, it’s us, but drinking isn’t the way you deal with all the crap from this job.”

“I don’t do it all the time,” Claire started, rolling her eyes.

“Hey— Claire, I’m serious. Look, do what Sam does. Go for a run, get yourself a self-help book, or something.”

“What, like you do that when things get bad? I’ll be fine.” She spoke flippantly; deflecting. 

“The last person you want to imitate when it comes to stuff like this, is me.”

She scoffed.

“No, listen. I’m not joking with this, ok? Listen to me. Drinking is good for about as long as you’re actively doing it. You get a couple hours, a day off from feeling. And the next day you wake up with a helluva headache, and a pile of new crap to deal with that you did the night before, when you were drunk. And speaking from experience, it sucks in the long term too. You start drinking too young, and it fucks you up for life.”

Claire nodded, reluctantly. “Fine. No more black-out nights.”

“Get a dependency on protein shakes, or bullet journaling, or set your hands at a punching bag.” He paused. “Or, you know, you can call me, if you wanna talk about something.”

She smiled. Thank you. “Softie.”

Dean grinned. “Shut up.”

“Sure you don’t want to Dr. Phil a bit more?”

“Get in the car, kid.”

She giggled, or snorted— the giggle she would definitely put down to alcohol if asked about it the next day, and slid into shotgun.

She hadn’t been doing well. Really hadn’t been fully ok since elementary school, definitely not since Kaia died. But she had a family again, now, and they cared about her because of who she was fuck ups and all. Maybe, maybe she could be ok. Maybe, someday, she could get there.

--

Hello adored reader, I hope you enjoyed this fic!!

This is my first spn fic. As self-proclaimed Claire superfan it is my obligation to create Claire content. <3

If you have any thoughts feel free to send me an ask, anon or not. Constructive criticism welcomed, just be kind. If you like it, please like and reblog. Likes don’t get creators very far on tumblr.

i’m really excited about this i hope yall like it too :)

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash​

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Note: special thanks to @teahyungangel​ for beta reading this! your support with 4 O’Clock and Stand By Me is such an inspiration!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines. 

Chapter 1: The Girl with the Gappy Smile

Sehun’s POV She was weird from the very beginning, but I guess I always liked her. 

She was always sitting there at that table by the vending machine outside of the dance studio. As a trainee, I passed by her every day on the way to and from practice. The first time I caught her looking up at me from her little book, I pretended not to notice. I didn’t say anything. After buying my chips, I dashed back to practice because— really— what could I have said to this kid? 

I could have asked who she was and what she was doing there. I did, eventually, after weeks passed and she hadn’t budged from her place at the table. 

“I’m Lei.” Her smile was too big for her face, and it made her look much younger than her solemn studying expression. Before I saw her, I didn’t know that kids could have laugh lines. She spoke through the gap in her front teeth, “I’m Super Junior’s kid!”

Because I was still new to the agency, I didn’t know then that Super Junior was managed by the idol who never debuted. I didn’t understand that I was talking to a controversial kid who would grow up to be something like royalty at S.M. 

To tell you the truth, I almost didn’t expect her to understand me; I had never really talked to a foreigner before. Eventually, I would learn that she was American, and that’s why she spoke with a funny accent. That’s why she spoke to me without considering our age difference like every other person in Korea. 

At first, it was startling— talking to somebody so different— but it didn’t offend me or anything. Because I finished practice for the day, and I had nothing better to do, I sat across from her and dropped my backpack at my feet. 

If she was Super Junior’s kid, I thought, it was pretty irresponsible for them to leave her alone so often. “Do you just sit here by yourself all day?” I felt my eyebrows pinching together in concern. Maybe that’s why I liked her. She was the first person I ever looked after. “Don’t you go to school or something?”

“I’m not by myself,” she responded brightly. Just as I was about to ask if she had an imaginary friend or something, she pulled from the seat next to her a doll with dark hair, brown eyes, and warm-toned skin. From a glance, I knew it was expensive— one of those porcelain dolls that adults collect. It looked like her, just without the gap between the teeth because it’s red-painted lips were pressed into a closed-mouth smile. “Marisol is studying Mandarin with me.”

It’s normal for little kids to cling to their toys and live in their imaginations, I guess. I don’t know if they usually understand the difference between dreams and reality, but I'm almost certain Lei didn't. She spoke as if her doll were a real girl sitting and reading with her. Remembering this is kind of weird because I now understand that Lei never had friends her age because she didn’t go to a real school. At the time, I guess, that doll was as close as she could get to a real friend. 

I say that I understand, but I guess I don’t. It’s more like I can imagine. Nothing about Lei ever made sense to me at first, so I could only blink at her because I didn’t know what to say. She didn’t act like other kids (not that I knew anybody else her age) so I didn’t know whether to talk to her as a kid or as an equal. It was weird. Uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” she nodded suddenly as if answering a question I hadn’t asked. “You’re the handsomest.”

“What?” I raised my eyebrows at her. My mouth fell open. Were all kids so direct?

She closed her book and told me, “I’ve seen a lot of people come through here—” she must have meant the S.M. building— “and most of them are pretty cute, but there has never been anyone as handsome as you.”

It was weird. I was only about fourteen years old, and I kind of had this embarrassing habit of stuttering around girls, so I avoided them. so nobody had ever said anything like that to me before. So it was weird because it was my first time receiving a compliment like that, and it was weird because she was a kid, and it was weird because she spoke matter-of-factly— without a blush, a bashful smile, any hesitation, and any expectation that I would return her praise. 

“How old are you?” I asked, but maybe it didn’t really matter. She was obviously younger than me, so it’s not like her answer would have made me feel less uncomfortable. 

“Technically,” she said, pronouncing every syllable carefully, “I’m nine years old, but I’ll be ten in April.”

‘When in April?’ I almost asked, thinking that it would have been kind of funny to share a birthday. I shook the question from my mind once I decided that somebody had to teach this innocent little kid not to be so forward with boys. “Isn’t nine a little young to call boys handsome?”

At that, her face burned red, and I felt kind of bad. “No,” she argued instead of quietly accepting the criticism. “Heechul said that if you think something about somebody, you should tell them. I think you’re the handsomest, and that’s why I told you.” To her, it was as simple as that. 

It was embarrassing to be around somebody so honest. I hoped that she would grow out of that habit of saying things so bluntly; it made me squirm. “Heechul gave you dangerous advice,” I told her mostly because I didn’t want to hear everything she thought about me. This concern was secondary: “You can’t tell everyone everything you think. That can get you hurt.”

She blinked at me, uncomprehending. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Why couldn’t she just accept that I was right? I didn’t want her to understand; I just wanted her to obey. “Don’t tell every boy you meet that they’re the handsomest.”

“I don’t!” She scowled at me. “You’re the only person I’ve ever said that to!” I guess I could have thanked her and let the compliment slide once, but I was too stubborn to abandon the principle of the argument. “You can’t just flirt with boys like that— especially boys who are older than you.”

“I’m not flirting. I’m only saying what I think.”

“Well,” I bossed, “stop it.”

Glaring, she asked, “Why?”

And I squirmed because I didn’t know how to answer. ‘Why?’ is the worst question because no answer is ever good enough; ‘Why?’  happened to be Lei’s favorite question. I didn’t really want to tell her about the kind of people who would take advantage of her pure admiration. I didn’t want her to keep looking at me like that, and I didn’t want to keep wasting my breath telling her what to do. 

Deciding with the roll of my eyes that if I couldn’t keep her from saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, I would have to stand by to protect her, I huffed, “It’s just not proper.”

Frowning, she positioned the doll between us on the table, I guess, to act as a sort of barrier. She flung open the cover of her book and, maybe to hide what little bit of her face I could still see, she raised the book to be her shield. Apparently, she didn’t want to look at me anymore. 

I shouldn’t have cared. It would have been easy to stand up and walk out the door were it not for the sudden sinking weight in my stomach. There’s nothing worse than upsetting a kid— especially one who hadn’t meant any harm. Even before I turned into a stupid teenager, I didn’t know how to apologize, so I just sat there, drumming my fingers on the table and wishing that she would say something or smile that gappy smile again so I wouldn’t have to say sorry. 

I might have sat there all night had two members of Super Junior not shown up to return the stars to her eyes. “Donghae! Yesung!” She dropped the book flat onto the table to reach for their embrace. 

“Here’s lunch!” Yesung grinned as he placed a McDonald’s bag before her. “And here’s your strawberry milkshake!” Donghae set before her a cup that was far too large for a child. 

They were pretty doting, I guess, ruffling her hair and asking about her day, which she spent studying. This must have been a part of her daily routine that I had never seen before. When she smiled at them— the people she claimed as her family— she didn’t look so lonely, but there was something about Lei— there was something about that everyday image of her sitting alone with her doll and learning from some book— that made me wish someone could be with her always. 

It wasn’t my place to tell anyone how to take care of her. At fourteen years old, I was practically a kid myself even if I didn’t want to believe it. Still, I thought that Lei deserved to be playing outside in the sun. She deserved to meet people with the same gappy smile. She deserved to have the joys of a normal nine-year-old even if she was extraordinary. I don’t know why I cared so much, but I did. Yesung noticed me staring at their scene first. He eyed me curiously— almost suspiciously— before Donghae noticed me and asked Lei with a smile, “Did you make a friend today?”

Without looking at me, her face turned red. “No,” she mumbled, the corners of her mouth twitching downward. So quietly that I shouldn’t have been able to hear, she said, “I don’t think Sehun likes me very much.”

I shifted in my seat, reacting partially to the shock that she knew my name although I hadn’t given it to her, but reacting mostly to Yesung’s and Donghae’s stares sharpened to pierce through me. Obviously, because I was a trainee, being the target of glares from senior artists was a nightmare, but I didn’t speak up merely to lessen their grudge against me. I spoke up because it was kind of heartbreaking— the way she hid her face in the crook of her elbow after she crossed her arms on the table. 

It was never a mystery: Lei had a crush on me for whatever reason. While I didn’t know what to do with her nine-year-old feelings, I knew that I didn’t want to crush them. I wasn’t the most sensitive guy on earth or anything, but I didn’t want to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her.  

Pain is inevitable when you care too much about what somebody says, so I crossed my fingers and prayed that she would grow out of listening to me. Resolving to use my power over her emotions for good— just once— I said, “I do like you.” 

It was true. There’s no point in acknowledging that we didn’t like each other the same way. I don’t think any two people ever feel the same way at the same time, so that idea of ‘mutual feelings’ never appealed to me. I don’t know why people make such a big fuss about feelings when they rarely have any rhyme or reason. Don’t think I’m intentionally insensitive; I just don’t get it. 

“Really?” Lei looked up at me skeptically. 

Was there any way to satisfy this kid? Had I said the wrong thing again? I hated situations like that. The longer she looked at me to say what she wanted to hear, the longer I would disappoint her. I couldn’t tell her to look away, though. She wouldn’t have obeyed me anyway. 

Still aware of Yesung’s and Donghae’s eyes fixed on me, I nodded. “Yeah. We’re friends, so stop—” I had an epiphany: if she wouldn’t look away from me, I could look away from her. I did. “Stop looking at me like that.”

I didn’t have to look at her to see the return of her bright smile. It was blinding. Somehow, I could feel it. Maybe this is selfish, but I remember just feeling glad that I could breathe again.

[marriael]

1 Year Blogiversary

So. Hello people. Since 100 followers is still far away for me this was just me taking a chance to appreciate mutual, let me have this. 

All of these could be started with we've never talked/we haven't talked much so. Ehe. That one’s on me folks.

This is just a big, dumb, sappy post that I wouldn't recommend reading tbh.

Thank you to everyone who follows me, no matter for how long. It must get exhausting to see my dumb ass so often.

@wydyuto You were my first follower! When you first followed me it gave me so much confidence to keep going and making moodboards. Thank you so much! 

@igot7-penta-seo You've been dming me all these posts and I feel bad since I never send anything back. One day I will, I promise! It feels so long ago but I just remember reading all your pentagon stuff when I was getting into them and loving your writing and them even more. 

@mrchoiholic Alright since I’m dumb and don’t know when we became mutuals I’m putting you here. I remember my first interaction with you (technically) was I requested a Hoshi fic and then reblogged it because the title was incredible. Then I was Tea anon for a while, which was a good time. You’ve always given me caring older sister vibes even if you’re my ‘mom’. 

@cxvert-edits Oh my goodness hello! So I deleted my insta app. Since you’re mostly on there and I’m mostly on here we don’t really see each other much :(.It took me far too long to realize but I kind of sounded like an ass in our my last dm’s on here so. Very sorry about that, I didn’t really realize how my words sounded at the time. Honestly you were among my first inspirations for moodboards. 

@ladyluck852 Hey bub! I haven’t seen you around much but I hope you’re doing well. You’ve seen a lot of my blog and I hope you’re here for a lot longer. 

@mixtapejoon It seems like you started @/chulobangtan again so I think you’ll see this. I love reading all your stuff and since it seems like you enjoy writing so much I really hope you get the chance to again. With all the crap that went on with that guy and your school I hope you’re doing better now. 

@peachy-bangchan I feel like I don't talk to or about you enough which is an issue I must remedy immediately. I didn't know how popular you were when you followed me so I didn't properly lose my shit. You've really been here for a long time and never once have you stopped supporting me. Thank you, I appreciate that more than I could ever put into words.

@luvhannie Moodboard queen Anna! You’ve given me so much inspiration for moodboards. Motivation, too. I remember when you said you liked my moodboard, I felt amazing for like a week. 

@queerjunhui I just remember being so intimidated by you (still am lol) because you were friends with so many cool people. I think I sent you an anon once as Emotional anon? Maybe that was a dream or something. I started a conversation with you once and I’m pretty sure that was before we became mutuals, interesting. 

@middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich Your URL will always be a mood lol. A lot of your more recent stuff has been Monsta X and non-kpop related but you still follow all my weird bullshit.

@stray-kids-stuff My first official stay mutual! You’re such a darling and I’m glad I found your blog and that discord. I hope you’re doing at least a little better now. 

@han-jxsungs  I clowned myself as ao3 anon that was fun lmao. OMG I just looked and ROSE HELLO MY DARLING ANGEL. If you didn’t get my last ask, just now it was super sappy and gross. I’m glad you’re back but if it gets too much again, don’t hesitate to leave. 

@gryffindor925 lmao hey Aaykta what’s up. I don’t think you use tumblr because wow you must be tired of all this kpop shit. I forget you follow me most of the time. If you ever thought I was curbing my tags to seem less weird at some point it was because I see her in real life and thought that me freaking out about this stuff was super weird. I actually had a dream last night I found your secret kpop blog. 

@finn-shitposts I honestly didn’t connect this blog and your art one until after you were revealed because I’m dumb. You seriously made the most amazing thing. Pun + Jilix, gah that was seriously amazing, and when I think about it I smile. 

@pikachulein Even though I had several very popular blogs follow me before you were the first one I seriously like, panicked about. I have an official offer for you. Feel free to decline because time zones are crap but french learning buddies? 

@ult-bee So we met in a discord server but I feel like I left it? I honestly couldn’t tell you what server it was though. Sorry, boo. Love you though <3

@dreamsevens You made the cutest Junhao drawing ever. You were such a sweet lil anonnie, too. We haven’t really interacted but I see you, boo. 

@jihan You’re both such lil sweeties! Honestly just a wholesome jihan blog, would recommend. Loved being an anon even if it was just a little while. 

@nerdynerdynerdy Iyoniiiiiiiii! You’re just the sweetest lil babe and I feel like I need to protect you. 

@visualgiggles I don’t know how I didn’t see you before we were platonically shipped, but I didn’t. I’m really glad that happened though, and that I had my brief anon stint. 

@3rachad Clowned the hell out of myself and revealed as CB anon (who I still am because I’m cowardly and dumb). Love the new hair cut bb.

@0hyja Ya seem super cool but also. You called Park Jisung rat boy and I don't know if I can truly forgive you for that  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ jkjkjk. I just feel like you don’t like me. One day I’ll get over that and send some asks or something. 

@nanjaemin I always forget you’re younger than me because you talk exactly the same as the other people on here. You baby. Love you darling, don’t let those give you shit.

@ethereal-lix I so often go to send you ask games and then forget entirely. I will make a better effort to interact with you! 

@soulclub My first aroha mutual! I really like seeing all your edits and thank you for co-creating the idea of Aroha Village! I’m trying to write a kind of tour thing for it but it’s not great so. This is embarrassing but you and Bex kind of meld together. I don’t know what it is but the best reason I have is my terrible memory.

@cherry-seungmin My stay host(?)! Wow going to your blog is such an explosion of happiness and Seungmin I love that. It felt like ages ago we were freaking out about Miroh teasers but it was actually March.

@ultkyu You were my lil stay anon! I feel bad that I haven’t made anything for 99kdh. It might take me a little longer yet but I will do it.

@uwujpgs Heeeeeey Bex. I don’t really know what to say :(. Actually. This is embarrassing but sometimes you and Rae just meld together. I don’t know why and then when I get you mixed up I feel bad. But yeah. Stay safe and know I’m figuratively sending you nice candles.

@jinniesmeow I’ll be honest I thought you didn’t like me at first. It sounds dumb but after I joined skzrequests you didn’t follow me so I was just like ‘:} ok.’ I want to honestly apologize because I was kind of ignoring you in the kakao chat. I don't have a reason/excuse for that. An official question for you as well. Feel free to decline because time zones suck but be my unofficial french teacher?

@staytion-nine Pitchfork anon! I have no idea where the anon name came from. I was pretty surprised when I saw the post about you getting a tumblr. Overall you’re just a little dol and I hope to know you better.

@kimwoojin-s I thought I was going to cry when you followed me istg. I’ll talk in the TGS chat. One day, eventually. Take care of yourself and try not to burn out lovely.

@bbywooyoungie  We have interacted exactly 0 times (i’ll send an ask soon, promise). Scrolling down your blog I now notice we have mutual mutuals. I don’t understand how I didn’t see that before, but ok brain sure. 

@re-biirthday Anyone who organizes an anon event is automatically a sweetheart in my book, so there you are. I really liked that sketch you posted today and I hope you’re doing well sweets. 

@xiaocity I saw you in others ask boxes for a loooooooong time but only followed you recently for some reason. Yeah, you just seem super dope and I’m glad we have something in common. Even if it is finding our bias intimidating lol.

@luvjisungs I’ve only seen you around recently but you are an absolute darling. Thank you so much for helping me out that night, I really needed it.

[samsterham]

The Fuckening, Entry # 1

Despite the novel covid-19 being around for a pretty hot minute now, I have only been self-quarantined about 6 days. There have been several confirmed cases in my county, and today the county had it’s first death.

If it’s not apparent by the title, I’ve decided to officially from here on out refer to this entire debacle as The Fuckening. I will swear. A lot. 

I figure it might be somehow lucrative to record my experiences throughout the pandemic, at least as it is pertinent to my country & area. Aside from broader, more public events, it might be interesting to someday look back on my day to day & how we dealt & felt & what we did. I should have been keeping a diary of my life anyway & had intended to despite never making it a priority. Now is as good a time as any.

Anyhow, I anticipate this being a rather disjointed project, variable in moods, topics, formats, etc. & rife with grammatical errors. I haven’t decided how revealing of my identity & location I would like to be, I suppose that’s something I’ll decide as I go. All I’ll reveal for the moment is I live in the U.S. in Pennsylvania.

Recapping what I can right now:

I’m in about day 6 of self-quarantine. All schools have cancelled regular classes and have gone exclusively online, as has happened pretty much everywhere else. My community college also followed suit along with probably every college & university at this point. I’ve had a little over a week off for faculty & staff to prepare for the shift. Class resumes this upcoming wednesday online for the rest of the semester. Curious to how they’re going to structure & grade our biology lab credits. 

Bars & restaurants have been state-mandated to shut down except for take-out. Now the liquor stores have shut down as well. Somehow the beer distributor down the street is still open however...

Me & K (boyfriend) haven’t gone nuts with preparations, but we did have 1 significant shopping trip before the state officially began recommending social distancing. We got enough non-perishables for several weeks. We’ve made a couple mini trips for things like milk & fresh veggies. 

I also have a few immunocompromised friends who I’ve gone shopping for. I expect to continue doing so as needed. One such friend has a bitch of a rare disease which is frankly on the verge of killing her if she sneezes or coughs too hard. There is so, so much more to it than that, than I dare go into here for privacy reasons but I have spent the last month as one of her actual medical advocates. She is partly the reason I would like to focus my education and eventual clinical research on rare diseases such as hers. Anyhow, despite it being flat out unsafe, she was discharged from the hospital yesterday as my city prepares to get slammed with covid-19 cases.

Both my cats got a stomach bug just 2 days into self-quarantine. It began with Crowley puking, then what looked like bloody emesis & trip to the emergency vet. Sent home with stomach meds & instructions for supportive care before jumping into more than basic testing. He was fine within 36 hours, just in time for Aziraphale to become a little vom-bomb. This lasted for 3 days, with many debates as to when we should finally get her poor little fuzz butt medical attention. She thankfully healed on her own, just as I was about to break down & take her to the vet.

Not to make light of the fact that they were sick, but Zira’s throw-up noise is THE FUNNIEST sound I’ve ever heard in my life. It begins with that usual choppy but also deep guttural *hork hork hork* followed by a very abrupt & very loud  scream “rrRAAHH!” as things made their way up & out. I couldn’t help but kinda lose my shit as I pet her & cleaned up the mess. I’m probably going to hell for this.

Me & K have enjoyed spending more time together during quarantine. We have only had 3 friends over since, all being of our regular weekly crew of Sarah, Greg, & Amanda, & all of who are otherwise self-quarantined. Sarah & Amanda came over last Saturday, Sarah made “Quarantinis,” a goddamn delicious cocktail of vodka, lemon, honey, & crystalized ginger. Us girls & K got quaran-trashed, ate dinner together, played Cards Against Humanity, & watched Waking Ned Devine.

We have been making the FUCK outta some food. This is easily the healthiest we’ve eaten in a long time. Thank God we both can cook.

The weather has been fairly forgiving & the two of us have made efforts to get outside as much as possible while it’s nice. K works from home with some good flexibility & I was fired about a month before corona shit hit the fan. We’re enjoying the local parklette & the humongous cemetery in walking distance from us. 

Yesterday was mostly blustery & rainy, save for a 2 hour break in the weather where it was sunny and around 70 degrees. We trekked through said cemetery. As we were on our way out, we rounded the bend of one of the long paths, along the side of a large grassy hill. From that initial perspective of the hill, there was a large pile of indiscernible objects about halfway up the hill. As we came around, we noticed the pile was next to a grave very freshly covered in dirt. Upon closer inspection it became apparent that the “pile” was actually a man wrapped in blankets, with one arm stretched over the dirt of the grave. On the road at the bottom of the hill was what I assumed to be his car. I don’t know who he was, I don’t know who he lost, but they’re burned into my memory forever. It was one of those sights that breaks your entire heart. I cried a little & held K’s hand a little tighter as we made our way toward the gate. K kissed the top of my head & gave me a loving squeeze.

 I didn’t get fired over anything serious; my chronic migraines plus a personal failure to obtain intermittent FMLA in a timely manner resulted in termination. My bosses didn’t want to let me go, but you can only fight HR of a corporate health system so much. Oh well. I wasn’t happy there anymore anyway. After 3 years I was bored, having trained up as much as possible without my degree. Some toxic personalities made their way onto our floor staff in the last year which made some shifts absolute hell despite my efforts to avoid them & remain utterly professional. Aside from running out of money, I’ve been incredibly relaxed since being let go. I’ve even lost 4 pounds in the last month. My hair is currently a weird ginger-pink, the result of a failed self bleach job, but it’s not entirely embarrassing so I’m going to let it recover before I try it again & go teal.

I never got around to watching Breaking Bad when it was popular, but last night I finally saw the first episode. K has seen it before, it’s one of his favorite tv shows & he’s ecstatic to watch it together. One episode legit got me hooked already. I know the premise of the show & I can’t wait to see how it pans out.

The political fuckery around this has been.... ugh. I wanted to say “staggeringly defunct” but what else is there to be expected from this current administration? I have designed most of my tumblr to be apolitical but that will change with these specific entries. I’m politically outspoken on Facebook & Twitter & I wanted one or two platforms that could just be fun and neutral. My current politics are very leftist, a head-spinning 180 degree turn from my upbringing & early voting habits. The last four years have sent me purposefully, intentionally & determinedly headlong into the progressive movement, feminism, and hunger for democratic socialism. The only conservative thing left about me is my stubborn remaining infatuation with firearms & gratitude for the 2A. Counterintuitively I’m very pro-sensible gun control, but having the discussion with either side of the issue mostly leaves me wanting to knock heads together. 

I digress, the administration’s response to the pandemic has been unsurprisingly subpar, yet somehow not as awful as I expected. Trump went from “not a big deal” & “liberal media hoax” to “oh shit, I actually better get my shit together for this” real quick. I don’t know if it’s because it’s an election year or if there’s actually a shred of competency that’s been hiding under the comb-over but I’ll take what we can get from him, including that $1000 check. Getting unemployment has been a bitch. None of this however, changes the fact that Republicans have known about the crisis since December & instead of preparing the public, decided insider trading was a better idea. This doesn’t change the fact that the DOJ is trying to invoke indefinite detention as a “crisis response” and the only thing standing in the way are House Democrats. And it doesn’t change the fact that our hospital system is overloaded & underfunded, and the Republican controlled government would still rather bail out large corporations as we plunge into an inevitable recession. 

I’ve spent too much energy fighting ignorant shit sticks on the internet over all this, including people I know in real life. I gotta keep remembering that all I can do is my best, that you can’t change the world but you can make a dent. On that note, I finally introduced K to Danny DeVito’s cinematic masterpiece Death To Smoochy.

Today I finished reading Darker Than Amber by John D. MacDonald. Quick, fun read, definitely a product of it's time.

That’s all I have in me for today. My neck hurts. Sleep sweet and WASH YOUR FILTHY PAWS. 

[purplesurveys]

476

If someone's laughing, do you instantly think they're laughing at you? Egh no, not really. I’ve had people laugh at me but I do know about it; I’ve never felt paranoid like this. What is the strangest thing you've been asked? My mom’s masseuse asked me if I was pregnant after taking a good look at me and deciding I looked familiar. It felt weird and eerie until I told my parents about it the next day and they said “Oh yeah, she’s the one with the third eye.” Didn’t feel as strange after that, but at the time when she looked me dead in the eye and asked me that question it was definitely so weird lmao. What’s the weirdest thing about life that people just accept as normal? Sometimes I wonder how people from the far past got to decide how certain animals were safe to eat even though they a) clearly scream danger, b) have such a complex way of being consumed (like crabs), or c) ARE STRAIGHT UP POISONOUS (like the pufferfish in Japan). But hey, we’re all eating them right now.

What was your favorite game as a child? I liked local games. We had langit-lupa (heaven and earth), piko (hopscotch), ice-ice water (freeze tag), Chinese garter, 10-20, and patintero. What’s the stupidest thing you've ever heard? Anything that comes out of conservative Catholics’ mouths.

What's the most random thing you've done out of boredom? It would have to be that time that I got really depressed last December and I spent all my Christmas savings meant for friends and family on a bunch of coloring books and my own set of coloring pencils. All for myself. It’s a little morbid, but whaever.  What show did your parents not let you watch as a kid? My parents were pretty liberal and weren’t too strict about shows. My mom absolutely hated Mr. Bean though because she was convinced he was the reason my brother didn’t start talking until he was like 6. She would change the channel if it was on, but she didn’t outright ban us or anything. What is your personal catchphrase? I don’t have one. What is the most pleasurable feeling that doesn't involve anything sexual? Biting into your favorite food after a whole day of not eating. What was your 'Oops, wrong person' moment? I don’t think I have one. I’d die of embarrassment. What do you find attractive that isn't considered 'normal' attraction? I really can’t bring myself to be into the muscular/buff look and don’t mind if someone is on the bigger side, is skinny, or is generelly not a gym person. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve done drunk? Fell asleep in the pool. What's your proudest moment in the bathroom? ?????? What’s something you own that gets you lots of compliments? Technically not mine, but Gabie would lend me a windbreaker-type of jacket that was very colorful. It was green, yellow, pink, basically a very bright and gay jacket. I got complimented on it EVERY SINGLE TIME I wore it by nearly every single person who passed by me in school – and I wish I was kidding lmao. She got it in Baguio for 50 pesos ($1), it’s insane. I think it was lost by another person she lent it to. A damn shame. If money was no object, where would you want to live? Canada. Who is your favourite mythological character? In the brief moment I was into mythology, I really liked the way Rick Riordan wrote Apollo to be in his Percy Jackson series. Big ol’goofball. What's something that's happened which couldn't happen at a worse time? [continued from this afternoon] > Had the sign for my gas start blinking while I was stuck in standstill traffic > Get into a car accident while finally making a turn to the gas station > Get pulled over by an officer for changing a lane and nearly hitting a car, because unbeknownst to me, the accident had closed my right side mirror, making me not see my entire right side and I almost hit the car to my right All happened within ten minutes. I was a freshman in high school and couldn’t be more terrified. Police let me go when I started having a panic attack. What is the best pickup line you've ever heard? I don’t like pickup lines. What did aging ruin for you? Dreams. What is the most hilarious thing you’ve ever heard? Idk, I’ve found a lot of things hilarious. What is the darkest thing you have seen on the internet? It would be either Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared or Too Many Cooks. What's something you really enjoy, but can't have? A regularly luxurious life. What Wikipedia article have you recently read? OMG hahaha so there were times in internship where nothing was tasked to me FOR HOURS and I would get super bored. Then I remember hearing from somewhere that Wikipedia has a whole article that’s just a list of unusual deaths that’s happened from modern history until the present, and I gobbled that shit up until I was given a responsibility. I found out more listicles they apparently had – list of last words, list of people who disappeared mysteriously, etc; read all of those too. What's a book you were made to read in school that you really liked? My #1 would have to be Without Seeing the Dawn by Steven Javellana. It’s the most honest narration of the Philippines’ Japanese occupation I’ve ever read. It’s painful to read, but it’s the beauty of it. What objective did you fail to complete this week? I told myself I was gonna start externals work for my org, but I’ve just been so burned out in the last month that I haven’t gotten around to starting yet. I definitely have to this week, though so it’s not like I’ll completely fail it. What could have gotten worse for you but it didn't? Tbh the desire to end my life? I threw in the towel by the time I was 12, but I’m still here so I guess life is doing something right.

What subject should be taught at schools, but isn't? Adulting. Like being taught about taxes, social security, insurance, documents they ask when you apply for a job, etc. I’m 21 and I know nothing about these. I didn’t even know what insurance meant until I was 20. What is the best thing about having a Significant Other? The idea of having a go-to person for everything is very comforting for me. What makes you unusually uncomfortable? Distorted sound effects. It’s probably not unusual though. What is an upcoming purchase you're excited about? It’s no longer future tense because I was finally able to find Pop-Tarts at the nearby mall! I couldn’t find it ANYWHERE in the last couple of years and I’ve been craving it for the same period of time. Then Gab convinced me to try the supermarket at the mall we went to today and we found a box of Chocolate Fudge gloriously sitting on one of the shelves. It was way more expensive than I remember it being, but I waited for so long that I just grabbed it and didn’t care about my budget anymore. What is the worst game you've ever played? The Hannah Montana game for the Wii that I had was so bad it was good. What’s the oddest thing you like to do? I don’t think I have particularly odd habits. What's the funniest news story you've seen in the past few weeks? There’s a satirical article I came across a week ago that was about how dinosaurs got extinct because they ate pineapples on pizza. It was made even more hilarious by the fact that it included a graphic of dinosaurs and there were slices of pizza with pineapples on them photoshopped into the graphic. Definitely pissed off a number of pineapple enthusiasts that day lmaaaaao. What do you really really want right now? I’m so excited to eat my Pop-Tarts but I think I should save them for tomorrow. What do you hide from people? Suicidal thoughts, because I never wanna bother anyone. What was the first sign you knew you had a crush on someone? When I actively avoided her because it hurt to see her. HAHAHAH yuck drama What's the best lemonade you've made from the lemons life gave you? Lasting long enough to create a family in the form of my orgmates. Who was your cartoon crush while growing up? Sam from Totally Spies. What's the best way to deal with religious door knockers? We don’t have that culture here but I most likely would just never open the door. What’s the most hypocritical thing you’ve ever seen or heard? A large chunk of Catholics. Who’s the most interesting person you’ve ever met? When I was still interning at my PR firm, I shadowed my supervisor in an interview that one of our clients had for that day. Our client’s representative is the biggest badass I’ve met. He’s from South Africa and was born and raised at a time when apartheid was still around. He’s white, so he was brainwashed in school to think that they were superior and for a time, he really thought his race was. Then he got to work under Nelson Mandela’s party when he was much older and that was the only time he realized how backwards that mindset was. Anyway he had Mandela’s spies stalk his ass every single day because of his background and he ultimately got shot twice. There’s loads more stories to tell but I don’t want to give him away. 

When I was watching him get interviewed he proved to have a lot of knowledge on history and current events too so that’s another plus. He was just super cool and it was a breath of fresh air to talk to a foreigner that was more aware of social situations than the average Filipino. What just doesn't impress you? Carly Rae Jepsen. What’s the worst possible way to introduce yourself? There’s no worst way; just don’t try too hard because the bullshit can be detected so easily. What makes you wish that you were born in the past or the future? How easy it was to make a living and score a job decades ago. What tragic event was coincidentally beneficial to you? My breakup. What's something people are proud of, but it doesn't impress you? ‘Miracles.’ What's the worst possible moment to go and play on a bouncy castle? Doing it with a bunch of sweaty, rowdy kids. Who is the greatest ever comedian? Not really into comedians so my recommendations might suck for some. What’s your irrational fear? Commercials at night. What's your oldest memory? Playing in a Winnie the Pooh tent when I was 3. What can you not wake up without? Checking the time. What did you think was cool when you were younger that you now think isn’t? Wristbands. What are your favourite or most memorable lines from any movie/show? “How do you like them apples?” from Good Will Hunting. What's something people love to hate? The Kardashians. What’s something that is underrated but extremely useful? Being polite.

[taeshabibi]

28 Days - Part 9

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Romance

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mentions of Depression and Suicide.

Summary: You and Jeon Jungkook despise each other and were sworn enemies. But what if Jungkook took his own life? Would you be willing to make a deal with the Devil to relive the past 28 days and prevent Jungkook’s early end?

Read: Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3: Part 4: Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Part 9

Jungkook sits down on his bed and motions his hand for me to sit beside him. I stay frozen in my stance.

"Try again Playboy, I ain't never gon be on your bed," I snap. Jungkook looks at me strangely and bursts out laughing.

     "You have got to relax. I hope you realize you aren't my type at all. And why would I try anything, when you have a boyfriend?” Oh yeah, I forgot Taehyung and I were fake dating.

    "Bro Code are the rules. I'm just here to help. Am I not allowed to be a decent human being?"

    "C'mon Jungkook, when have we been decent human beings to each other?"

     "You make a fairly good point. I just feel so guilty about what happened today. I can't believe Ji Hee could be cruel to you..." he looks down in shame. “And I feel like it's all my fault. God I just want to die." He exhales a deep breath. Instinctively, I Dashi Run Run Run and sit beside him on the bed.

     "No no no! Don't say that. It wasn't in your intentions for Ji Hee to hurt me!" I patted his shoulder to assure him.

     "Yeah, but I'm a bystander sometimes, and it screws all the people around me over..." He then unexpectedly smiles.

     "I thought you said you'd never ever sit down on the bed, next to me, a Playboy?"

    I get up and tried to make up an excuse. "Uh, uh well you said you wanted to die..." I smack my head with my hand. "OH wait that's more of your dark humor?"

"Duh." He clicks his tongue and says "badum tss". "I still don't get it." I shrug my shoulders.

"You don't get a lot of things, y/n. So how about we get started on fixing your face so it doesn't get worse?"

"True..but first..." I get a chair from his desk and place it near the table of supplies which was next to his bed. "I'm using this seat, I'm not sitting on your bed."

"That's pretty pointless, considering you already sat on my bed and the chair you placed is right beside the bed.. but Do You.” He picks up the antibacterial ointment and twists the top off. He motions for me to get closer so he could put it on. Pulling back from him, I say, "I can do it myself, Jungkook, I'm not a baby."

"Are you sure you can? This ointment is fast healing, but it hurts like hell when you put it on."

Snorting, I grab the medicine from his hand. "It can't be that bad." Using my phone's camera as a mirror so I can see my face, I put a blob of ointment on my finger and place it on a cut above my upper lip. "HOLY SHITAKI MUSHROOMS! WHY IS MY FACE BURNING LIKE IT GOT STUNG BY A RADIOACTIVE WASP?" I scream and drop the antibiotic. I pull Jungkook by the collar of his shirt and our faces were so close that our noses were touching.   "WHY DIDN'T YOU WARN ME?" I whined.

    "Yes, this is clearly my fault. I apologize. Wish I gave you a heads up beforehand," he rolled his eyes. "Yes it is your fault. How the heck am I supposed to put this on?" I pondered.

   "I could put it on you, and you could endure the pain-"

    "That's an INGENIOUS IDEA! Why didn't you suggest something like that before?" I yelped.

     Jungkook tousles his hand through his locks and chuckles. "I guess I finally met someone who's even more crazier than me.”  I sit down on the chair so we're across from each other. He squeezes the ointment out of the container and hovers his hand above my upper lip.

"Are you ready?”

     "Hell no, but let's just get this over with." He gently spreads the medicine on my upper lip. I wince, but the whole time, he's looking right into my eyes. Even though it's painful, it isn't as bad as before. His golden brown eyes gazing into my own distracts me from the pain. It's like he's my own personal adrenaline.

"Not that bad right?" he softly murmurs as he places more ointment on my cheek. His fingers are so gentle. He lingers his hand there for a few seconds after spreading the ointment. I felt that he was doing that on purpose but I don't say so.

     Jungkook does the same to my other cheek and chin. Our faces were inches apart and we continuously look into each other's eyes. This wasn't my first time that someone else put cream on my face. My parents and school nurse have done the same. But it felt so intimate when Jungkook does it. Why was my heart beating so fast?

     "Your hair is in front of your forehead, where you have a wound. Is it okay if I move it?" Jungkook asks for permission. I nod and he slowly pushes my hair from my forehead. But the weird part he doesn't stop. He ruffles my hair, with his fingers repetively. It felt oddly calming. He suddenly discontinues and I'm lowkey disappointed.

     "Oh sorry. It's just... your hair is so soft," he apologizes and pulls his hand away. His face turns red like a tomato.

    "Really? Thanks! I use a special shampoo and conditioner that my mom's hair stylist recommended to me. I can tell you the name of it if you want-"

     Jungkook shakes his head. "Nah I'm good." He finally places the last of the ointment on my forehead and neck.

    "Well thanks so much. I guess I'll get going now." I tried to get up but my stomach was hurting so much. But I couldn't fully stand up. Sitting back down, I grunted.

"Y/n are you okay?"

"I'm gonna be honest...no. My stomach is in ridiculous pain. It's getting worse with each second," I look down in embarrassment.

"You don't have to be so ashamed of yourself. Honestly, the fact that you're not even crying or fainted..I'm impressed," he says as he props his chin in his hand.

I perk my head up. "Really?"

"Yeah. You have a lot of pain tolerance in comparison to most guys I know. You're really strong," Jungkook admits.

I grin. "Thanks so much! So what are we gonna do about my stomach pain?"

"I guess we're gonna have to put some rubbing alcohol on it...which means you're gonna have to take your shirt off."

I back away from him. "Oh hell nah."

"Y/n it's really not that big of a deal..."

"It is a big deal to me," I cross my arms. I've never taken my shirt off in front of a guy before. Never even had my first kiss. Yeah, that may be pathetic to most people, but I only want to be intimate with a guy I cared for. And it's not like I didn't have the opportunity to get a boyfriend.  Even though I'm not the most attractive person, a few boys have flirted with me before. I didn't have feelings for them so I refused their advances. And now I have to take off my shirt in front of a boy I despised a few days ago?

"Y/n I won't do anything to you..Oh, I know why you don't want to!" Jungkook chuckles and smiles to himself, knowingly. Oh dear Lord, he knows I'm a virgin.

"You'd feel like you're cheating on Taehyung."

"Hahaha yeah. I care for my boyfriend a lot, you know." I tried my best to sound like I was telling the truth.

"I get it, but you can't put the rubbing alcohol on yourself. And if we don't treat those wounds properly, you can get blood poisoning." He shrugs his shoulders like he tells this to people everyday.

"Blood poisoning?" I screech, with my eyes widening.

"Yeah. Look, you taking your top off won't have any effect on me. If it makes you feel any better, I've seen tons of girls shirtless before, so I'm immune." He covers his mouth and realizes what he just said.

"Damn, Jungkook. Really didn't need that extra not ordinary information," I scrunch my face and look away, disgusted.

     Jungkook begins panicking. "That's not what I meant! The circumstances required it. You see-" I️ put my hand up in front of his face.

    "I'd rather not hear about the situations that led you with being with shirtless girls."

     "I'm sorry y/n for making you uncomfortable.."

     "It's okay, you're human. You shouldn't be ashamed of yourself, Jungkook."

"I know I sound like a major player. I don't want you to think of any lower of me than you already do-"

"I don't think of you any lower," I say with complete honesty. His sex life is his own business.

He sighed in relief. "If it makes you feel any better, I can take my shirt off too. So you're not alone.” He raises the edge of the bottom of his shirt and I immediately shut my eyes.

    "I'd rather you not, you Playboy!" I yell.

Jungkook giggles at my gullibility. "Okay, how about you lift your shirt halfway up? So it's still below your chest and we can take care of the wounds on your stomach. Sounds good?" Hmm, that actually was a decent plan. I wouldn't have to take off my entire shirt and he can take care of the main gashes. The cuts on my chest seemed minor anyways.

"Okay." I️ stand in front of him and slowly lift up my shirt above my abdomen. It was a bit difficult to, because my sweaty sweater stuck to the wounds. He looks down at my body and grimaces.

"It's not that bad right?" I ask hopefully.

"No y/n it's really bad. Your entire stomach is black, blue and red. What did they do to you?!"

"They kicked me with their high stilettos. Oh yeah, one of those annoying jocks also hit me. It was only for about fifteen minutes." I shrugged.

     Jungkook looks like he's about to pass out. "You haven't had any breathing problems or lost of consciousness since then, have you?"

"Nope just exterior pain," I say, trying to not make it sound like a big deal. He calls someone on his phone and they discuss my physical state. The conversation ends and he puts it back in his pocket.

"I just talked to Jin Hyung. You know he's studying to become a doctor right?" I nod. Everyone in our school knew he's  a medical prodigee. He would have skipped grades and graduated college by now, but he stayed in high school to get the normal teenage experience. Apparently, he volunteers at clinics and has saved numerous lives in the emergency room.

"Anyways, I told him your symptoms and he says you don't display signs of internal bleeding. But if you don't improve in a few days and you feel your health deteriorating, you have to let me or Jin know. Okay?" I nod again. I mean what else can I do? Go to the hospital and get my butt whooped by my mom?    She'll make me move to a different school if she sees my condition. I wouldn't be able to continue on with my mission. I had to trust Jungkook whether I liked it or not. Later, I'll check google when I get home to see if I'm dying or not.

"Alright let's clean your tummy now." He obtains a few cotton pads and puts rubbing alcohol on it. This is gonna be just fun. He tenderly presses the cotton pad on my abdomen and I squirm.

"Y/n you gotta be still, or I can't help you." He places his hand on my bare back to hold me still. I was about to sass him, but he just smirks at me.

    "Just go with it." I gulped nervously and he cleans my entire stomach, while his hand held onto my back. It felt strange, but oddly assuring at the same time. This was just like when we were having direct eye contact when he was cleaning my face. He distracted me from my pain. He moves his hand away and pulls down my shirt. "You're done."

"Uhh thanks," I stretch my arms. Is there anything I can say now?

     "By the way, our absence in is covered in class. I got the attendance teacher to cover for us."

     My eyes widen in shock. "You were able to convince Mr. Stein?" Mr. Stein was one of the scariest attendance teachers to ever exist. If a kid skips class, he haunts them by calling his parents immediately and standing outside of their classes waiting for an explanation. If the student doesn't have a believable excuse, he yells at them and sends them into detention for a week. Our school was very strict and barely anyone could get away with unexcused absences.

"Yeah, lets just say I can be very persuasive." He winks at me.

    "Huh? Honestly I don't even want to know." I'm assuming it has to do with the money his family has. But how can he manipulate the system and not feel guilty?

     "I try to attend all my classes in school, but sometimes I gotta help with my dad's job, so I skip. Stein covers for me always, which is nice," he says casually.

    "What's your dad's occupation?"

    His cheery smile becomes a cold stare. "You'd be better off not knowing." Jungkook was scaring me again.

    I sigh. "It's alright, I'll just leave then. But officer I got one question for you... WHAT ARE THOSE?" I point to his Iron Man socks he was wearing indoors.

     Jungkook glares at me, completely unamused. I️ cough awkwardly. "Okay I have a second question then." Jungkook raises his eyebrow. "Depending on what it is, I'll answer it."

"Why did you save me today? You were teasing me all week knowing that I wrote the lie on the board. We've pranked each other since we were kids. What was different about today that made you my savior instead of a villain?"

Jungkook pursed his lips together before finally answering. "I just dislike it when people abuse their power and harm others. It's different when I do it to you."

     "Different how?" I scoffed.

     "First thing, I don't ever have my friends involved in my mischief. It's all from my own resources.”   I open my mouth to argue, but he's right. His shenanigans just involved him. “Second, I don't think I've ever physically hurt you. Have I?"

     I have war flashbacks. No he really hasn't. Emotionally traumatized me? He hasn't done that either. He pissed me off a lot, but he's never crossed the line so far. And I've been equally terrible to him too. "I guess not."

     "But what Ji Hee did...it's unacceptable. Having a bunch of minions gang up on a single girl because of an ingenious prank?" Jungkook frowned.

     "Wait you thought my prank was ingenious? You liked it?"

     "Hell yeah! I wouldn't say it's one of your best, but not gonna lie, I was impressed. Also, Ji Hee's face after realizing the prize wasn't real was so funny. Ahh I haven't been that entertained like that for awhile," he reminisces and then smiles. "But wait how did you know it was me?"

     "I immediately recognized your bubbly handwriting. Surprised no one else did. See, you gotta be able to change up your writing. Major flaw in your pranking technique." I nod, soaking up his advice.

"I just hate people like Ji Hee who attack defenseless people. I mean if she wanted to hit you, she should have at least done a One VS One to be fair. But to be honest, she wouldn't win."

"C'mon Jungkook you know I wouldn't be able to stand a chance. She's on the school's dance team for Pete's sake." I roll my eyes.

"Yeah your body ain't got that muscle, but you have a fighter's spirit. If you actually tried, you could beat anyone," he says with sincerity.I shake my head. "Well I wouldn't be able to beat you. I mean you're a walking brick of muscle," I look down and gesture to his athletic physique.

"Excuse me, y/n did you just check me out?" Jungkook steps closer to me and cocks his eyebrow. "Uh, no, I was looking at your outfit. I love plain black shirts!"

"Sure. Anyways, back to Ji Hee. Yeah you lied. She could cry a river about it. But the fact that she had all these people holding your body, torturing you and you could do nothing to defend yourself. That's not cool." I nod. Someone who gets me.

"And the bruises and cuts...if I didn't come sooner, some parts of your body could have been permanently damaged. She probably knew. But didn't care because she was blinded by her hatred." I nod again. I didn't have anything to say. I didn't know that Jungkook had such a wise, old soul.

"I'm gonna let you on a little secret," Jungkook whispers. He looks around the room as if there were security cameras watching us. I️ inch towards him, eager to know what he was hiding. He gestures over to me, like no one else in the universe could ever know.

"I️ may enjoy destroying your life, but when anyone else attempts to, it hurts me."

[marias-studyblr]

Hey, i'm not sure why i'm telling you this but im really upset and just need to vent. Today my history teacher pinpointed me infront of the whole class (twice) and, long story short, was very persistent with receiving an answer of some sort which i had no idea about. Everybody was staring at me, some were laughing, i felt my face burning honestly all i wanted to do was to run out of the class. As someone with social anxiety i avoid any form of class speaking anyway, but now i cant stop [1]

[2] replaying the events from earlier today and i just feel shit about myself. Im embarrassed that everyone else probably thinks i lack a lot of intelligence and basic knowledge. It’s hard to think when im asked a specific question infront of everyone,it makes me so nervous and my mind goes blank. To everyone this may seem like i’m overreacting but honestly im so upset and im not sure if its normal to feel this way. I dont know how to get over this feeling it’s horrible. I’m so done with school tbh

Hey! You deserve this rant, please whenever you need, I’m here for you!

So it might not seem like it because I’m pretty open in here, but I do exactly what you described. I was seeing myself in your words.

It used to be way worse in the last years of middle school, and in the first years of high school, it got to the point I didn’t really think for myself and all my interactions were based on what the other person wanted to hear or what I thought they would think of me.

Of course it always backfired, because it’s impossible to please everyone at all times, which left me even more unhappy about myself and lead me to more and more mental and physical problems (nothing too serious!). 

I would constantly overthink about particular situations where I was put on the spot at school and cringed over and over again.

It lead to tricky situations, a rough couple of years while I transitioned through that. A lot of hiding in bathroom stalls. And cringy stuff that only I remember by now.

I took way too seriously what other people talked about me, which gave them power. And those people understood it somehow and used it in the wrong way, which made me feel even worse.

I don’t know why. I have a couple of suspicions from my childhood but nothing that completely justifies why I didn’t know how to stand up for myself like most people did.

Looking back I can see how I was innocent and didn’t really understand how everyone, everyone, the students, the teachers, they also had problems and insecurities in their lives. I thought everyone was always better than me when actually we were all the same even with our differences and I had nothing to worry about.

I’m much better now. I’ve learned how to recognize my self-worth, hold myself as an individual. I’m not afraid to look people in the eye, and most importantly live my life for me and not for others.

But I’m not completely secure though. Just the other day I was thinking about this, trying to figure it out. Nowadays, I think my problems come from the huge respect I have for other people. I do this crazy thing: whenever I’m held responsible to someone I get super committed to doing it in the most perfect way possible because I don’t want to disappoint that person, even if it’s a total stranger. And whenever I feel like I’ve disappointed someone, I feel so bad because I just wanted to do it nicely for them. And I know that’s not a bad thing to do, but it comes to such extremes with me, because I overthink it so much.

For example, last friday I realized I forgot to send an email to the librarian to renew my book before 7pm, and I remembered at 10pm. I sent the email but through the night and the whole weekend I felt horrible about it.

It’s not like the social anxiety that I had before, but it’s still some kind of awkwardness that I don’t want to depend on.

So after this detour, let me get to the point. xD

I think we can both agree that we have to be able to stand up for ourselves and to appear stable even in the most embarrassing of situations, both for self-respect, because you don’t owe anything to anyone, you are allowed to make mistakes and be treated fairly, but also because it’s a good thing to have for your future life, you’ll always need to speak under pressure and you need to stop putting yourself through this anxiety everytime you are.

I also understand this is not something you can simply stop doing because it’s irrational. As soon as the moment starts, you get dragged into it and without noticing it your face looks like a tomato emoji.

However, that doesn’t mean you can’t slowly start making a change in your behavior, including practicing the way you present yourself, your posture, the way you talk, controlling nervous tics, answering while making eye contact with teachers and other people without stuttering.

Body language may seem non-important to you at first glance but it’s ALL that matters in social interactions, and this is what helped me overcome that feeling of pure cringe and embarrassment. I just kept practicing and I still do now. I encourage you to start paying attention to how confident people sit and how you sit, how they talk and how you talk. Truly start studying these things, and this is how I improved, it has made my life so much happier, and the biggest difference in my life quality. Truly.

Now, by NO means I’m saying this is going to solve everything overnight. I’ve improved my anxiety progressively and cringe situations still happen to me, but I find them less damaging over time. To finish up, I’m going to tell you an example of a situation of me practicing:

I’m in class, minding my own business. I pay attention to my posture. I sit with my back straight, hands relaxed, body still. I’m not covering my face or bending down. I pay attention to the class. The teacher asks me a question, I can feel my heart rate immediately going up. I focus first on my breathing (inhale and exhale profoundly) and maintaining my posture and quickly go through those physical checks. Even if I’m blushing, I keep eye contact with the teacher and my voice strong all the way through.

This is harder than it seems if you have social anxiety, but this practice really helped me and got me through so much. I still have a lot to overcome but I’ve gotten so many victories already and I want you to have the same, I know you can.

Here are 2 phenomenal Ted Talks that really helped me learn what I just told you about and I encourage you to watch them from beginning to end:

The surprising secret to speaking with confidence - Caroline Goyder

Your body language may shape who you are - Amy Cuddy

So I know this is already pretty long but I still have some stuff that might help you so I want to give it a try.

Confidence comes from within, so self-reflection is always needed. In order to not go too deep on that right now, because that’s a whole other question in itself, I’m going to give you the one piece of practical advice I always give which is recommending Yoga with Adriene, either doing her yoga videos or her meditation ones, or her challenges. Just to keep that positivity flowing in your veins is so important. And if you don’t have a source in your life, I feel like Adriene could be it.

Goals are really important in being confident too, so keeping a bullet journal, or a journal, a vision board, where you write your feelings, your interests, your dreams, might get you through the bad days and give you confidence when you need it the most. I feel like some days thinking about how grateful I am for my family, my home, myself, etc. really gets me through tough feelings I might be experiencing. 

Always share out loud what you are experiencing with your loved ones, with people you trust. Whenever I have feelings bottling up I force myself to spill them to my loved ones because I know no matter how much it embarrasses me to admit them, it always makes me feel better after they comfort me and make me see something differently, and suddenly the incident sounds a little more beatable.

Last thing I want to touch, and I promise, I promise this is the last thing, is those people in your class making you feel inferior. Don’t you shed a tear for them and I mean it. You are the classy one. You are the strong one. You get to keep your head high and be kind to yourself. If someone isn’t compassionate to you, you don’t owe them anything and you have the right to shut them out of your life. You don’t need to keep thinking about them or talk about them. You just don’t do them. You don’t pay attention to what they’re saying about you… they don’t know you. They. Don’t. Know. You. They don’t matter. That doesn’t mean you get to be rude to them, it just means they’re irrelevant. So. With that being said, I hope you understand you are a beam of light, a fucking rock star and you can get through this, you can overcome this school year, and the next one and the next one.

Find the people in your life who matter, who make you feel good. That’s all that matters. Here’s something interesting I read: “Feel bad for people who have the energy to bring others down. Don’t hate them back, feel for them. They are clearly in pain if that’s where they want to spend their energy.” Like I said they’re irrelevant, but you don’t have to be mean back, don’t get inside their game. Be the classy one and always, always, always focus on yourself, live your life.

I honestly want to keep talking for hours. I hope this was enough for you to kick-start a new way of seeing yourself and starting to become happy with who you are. There are so many obstacles in life but positivity is possible, you just have to keep looking for the things in your life that matter, that make you feel good and don’t give up.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to answer this for you and I hope the advice reaches you. ♡ ♡ ♡ lots of love!

[onceuponamirror]

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 4

summary: It wasn’t an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister’s college graduation. That’s it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale

ship: betty x jughead

words: 16k

chapters: 4/?

[read from the beginning] [read the latest]

Can the child within my heart rise above?

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Jughead stares at her, and then crosses the room to place his bag in the chair he’d been occupying. He seems to hesitate. “Should I…do I need anything?”

Betty presses her lips together, trying not to smile at how oddly confused he looks. “No. Might want to take off your jacket, though. I’ll grab you a jumpsuit. This work is dirty.”

She quickly turns around, cheeks blooming at the way that had come out. He doesn’t seem to notice, because he’s busying himself with shedding his jean jacket, but she hadn’t meant it to sound so coy.

He follows her to the supply closet, where she sifts through the available uniforms. She normally keeps her work suit in her office, so she’s forgotten her father’s uniform was still there, stuffed in the back. Hesitating as her eyes fall on his embroidered name, she sighs and skips forward a few hangers.

Joaquin isn’t coming in today, so hopefully he won’t mind sharing his. Betty hands him the jumpsuit and he wordlessly slips into it.

“The truck is on spot three, if you wanna pop the hood. I’m just gonna change again,” she says, nodding to the other side of the garage. She hates wearing her clothes under her suit because she always overheats, but maybe she’d grabbed a new pink shirt because she’d felt slightly embarrassed about the state of her appearance when she’d first met him.

Betty moves to the corner blind spot to change out of sight. As she pulls her top over her head, she remembers her promise to investigate the relationship status of whichever Veronica had dubbed the cute one, but she’s still not totally sure who that’s supposed to be. Archie is good-looking too, if albeit reminded her a bit uncomfortably of her ex-boyfriend in personality.

Veronica seemed to have zeroed in on the redhead, though Betty silently decides there’s something cuter about the perennial pout of Jughead, even if she can’t tell if he’s something of a jerk, or just someone in a bad position.

But if she asks Veronica if Jughead is the one she’s interested in, her friend will just assume Betty thinks he’s cute (she does) and she’ll never hear the end of it (ever). Veronica has been borderline obsessed with getting Betty “back out there” since breaking things off with Trev, but it’s been barely four months and she doesn’t understand the rush.

More than once, she’s wondered if it’s Veronica’s looming guilt for leaving her in Riverdale at the end of the summer, as if Betty wasn’t the one who encouraged her to apply for law school.

Even if she does feel the imminence of her absence, eying it like some dark cloud thundering off over a far mountain, she still has Kevin and Joaquin, her sister, and even her mother or Cheryl on a good day. But by Veronica’s calculations, Betty would think she’s about to become some spinster recluse.

Then again, Betty has been at the garage since five to avoid her mother, so maybe she’s not too far off. Betty decides she’ll just cover her bases and find out about both guys for Ronnie. If she even can. She’s never been entirely good with subtlety, but she’ll have to find a way to sneak the question in.

When she steps out of her office, fully changed, Jughead is standing to the side of his truck, eying her rolling work cart. She bounces up to him and pulls the cart around to the hood.

“So this is all we need to get started, for now. Sorry, this is a little cluttered! I wasn’t expecting anyone. Here, can you move the book? Just put it anywhere with a clean surface.” She realizes that doesn’t give him a lot of options, but he hesitantly takes the thick book and quickly drops it on a storage shelf.

“Bit of light reading?” He jokes, walking back to her. His nose wriggles slightly.

“Sure, if you call 500 pages of paperback dedicated to murder light,” Betty smirks, jerking her head towards the engine in a gesture that asks him to join her. He comes to stand next to her, though noticeably keeps his distance and she instantly feels silly for her putting on the new shirt earlier. He peers over her shoulder into the engine.

“So what am I looking at? Besides the obvious,” he adds, eyes narrowed as they dart over the machinery.

She points to the dark spot burned in on the left side. “See that there? That’s where your compressor fried. That’s why your car started smoking; the engine overheated when it failed. The first thing I’m gonna do is pull that out.”

Jughead nods once, eyes moving rapidly around the spot she’s hovering over. She gesticulates to the main engine. “And this is the head gasket. It basically locks everything in place. Without it—”

“I’m dead in the water,” he summarizes correctly. “So why do I need a new one?”

“Head gaskets are tricky, because they’re not always symptomatic. The whole point is that they’re sealed. So you have to look beyond what’s right in front of you. It takes a bit of detective work, but between you and me, that’s my favorite part. See your cylinder block?” She points to it.

“That’s why you think I need it replaced? That rust on the underside?” Betty gives an mm-hm. The rust is almost fully hidden, and not everyone would see it right away. “So it’s leaking,” Jughead guesses.

“You’re a fast learner,” she says truthfully, impressed. His eyes dart down and to the side as he shrugs.

“It’s the long-earned habit of a slacker,” he replies dismissively. “So you weren’t kidding about an engine being more than the sum of its parts. Wouldn’t have thought Aristotle would be this relevant to 20th century machinery. Huh. And you said something about a valve?”

“Right. It’s called that for a reason. The whole engine works like a heart.”

“That’s apt,” he says softly.

Betty glances over her shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. Something indiscernible but vaguely intense moves across his face. She takes a breath of air to steady the buzzing across her chest and looks back at the engine. “So that one, on the right? You can see where it’s thinning.”

Jughead leans in over the car, moving closer to her. “Yep,” he says, as she grabs a rag to wipe off as much of the carbon remnants from the compressor as she can. It’ll be a lot easier to remove if she can see what she’s doing.

“So, what’s in Chicago?” She asks, deciding to push an opening to investigate. She resolutely keeps her eyes on the engine, lest she burst into the same flames that claimed the compressor.

“The women in our lives,” Jughead says off-handedly. When she looks up, surprised, he adds, “Archie’s mom and my sister. Respectively.”

He grins down at her, and she realizes it might be the first time she’s actually seen him smile. She finds it suits him, especially for a guy who seems to wear a scowl like it’s a personal edict. “Why do you ask?”

She turns her gaze back down to her work and tries to keep her voice innocent. “I can’t make conversation?”

He pauses. “Yeah, sorry, of course. I’m kind of bad at…small talk. Uh, my little sister is graduating from Northwestern, hence the firm deadline. Archie just tagged along for the ride since his mom is in Chicago too. And we’ve been talking about a road trip on and off since high school, so we figured we might as well give it a shake. Although it ended up being a pretty pathetic attempt, obviously.”

She chuckles. It’s not exactly the firm answer she’d hoped to get for Veronica, but the derisive tone in Jughead’s voice when he’d talked about the women in their lives seemed to imply an equal shot. “You and Archie have known each other a while then?”

“Since we were nothing but mindless wee babes. We grew up in the same town, a bit outside of Boston.”

She glances over, feeling amused. “All those remarks about Riverdale and you’re from a suburb?”

Jughead turns bright red. “I didn’t mean it like that. Yesterday, I was just…you might’ve noticed I’m already not the cheeriest guy around. My beloved truck breaking down not 5 days into a road trip I hadn’t even planned for didn’t do wonders for my mood. Somehow.”

“I know, I could tell. You’re forgiven,” she says, with mock seriousness even though she means it. Privately, Betty decides that even if she weren’t her pitifully lenient self, she’d still let it go after seeing that anxious look in his eye.

“Thank you, I can now sleep easily once more,” he says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling again. Then he rubs at his neck. “So, do you like that book you’re reading?”

She blinks, surprised by the question and the suddenly informal pitch in his voice. “Yeah,” she says. “It’s been sitting on my shelf for a while, and I finally got to it last week.”

“That’s not much of an answer. What do you really think of it?” He asks, squinting at her.

Betty raises an eyebrow, but he’s got a hard look in his eye and she might as well be honest. “It is good. It’s lonely, but good.”

He wrinkles his brow. “What do you mean, lonely?”

She sighs, trying to think of a way to summarize her thoughts. “There’s a lot of open space in the writing. Like the main character is always waiting for something that doesn’t come. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

Jughead scratches at his temple. “No, it…does. That’s a very editorial thing to say.”

It’s Betty’s turn to look away. Considering that’s more or less what she went to school for, she takes it as a compliment.

“So you’d recommend it, then?” Jughead presses. He quickly adds, “I’m looking for something to kill the three weeks with. Was gonna try to find a book store.”

“Sure. I like that it’s not a vendetta. I like true crime books, but they’re always about some guy whose wife was murdered in front of him. Sometimes that works, but I decided I’m kind of done with the fridged female character. But I’m only halfway through, and it’s a little lacking in diversity.”

He shifts against the hood, frowning. “Meaning?”

Betty shrugs and switches back to the engine, tools now in hand. She starts unloosening the screws of the burnt compressor. “I like that it’s really about this guy’s relationship with his family, especially his father, but there just isn’t much presence of women in the book.”

Jughead is silent next to her, but she can feel his eyes on her, so she twists back. “What?”

His tongue digs into his cheek thoughtfully and shakes his head. “You just didn’t strike me as a true crime kind of girl.”

She leans next to him against the truck. “What did I strike you as?” She asks, feeling unusually bold.

Here in Riverdale, she’s the same old Betty Cooper that she’s always been. Everyone knows her here, knows her to be kind and giving and good. Simple and plain. But Jughead is a stranger, he’ll be gone soon, and she wants to know what he sees.

His lips lift slightly, but his face betrays nothing. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

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.

.

He leaves not long after that, with some vague excuse about work (though she’s forgotten to ask what it is exactly that he does)—but then, much to her surprise, Jughead comes back the next day. In fact, he’s already there waiting when she pulls up the drive.

“Nice car,” he greets, with an impressed kind of look.

“It’s just advertising,” she laughs, shutting the door to her blue Chevy Bel Air. “If I didn’t drive something like this, people would think I wouldn’t know how to handle an old engine.”

“Fair point,” Jughead says. His eyes run over it, and then her. “Well, you’ve convinced me.”

She tries not to flush under his curious gaze, but seizes the opportunity to shield her face by grabbing her bag from the open window. When she turns back, he’s shifting on his feet. “Sorry to come back unannounced,” he says, clearing his throat. “I wasn’t sure how much of me you’d signed up for. I mean, whether or not I could shadow your work again today. I didn’t want to presume, and I thought about texting you first, but—”

“Jughead, really, it’s okay,” she insists, even though it’s a bit adorable watching him ramble. She gets out her keys and fiddles with the garage padlocks, smiling over at him. “I think it’s good that you want to learn. This truck isn’t getting younger, and maintenance is important on a car like this.”

And yesterday she found him to be good company, despite the recurring frown, so she genuinely doesn’t mind. Jughead looks relieved, and scurries over to help her push up the rolling overnight gates.

He hangs around a few feet behind her at first, but after she hands him an engine manual to study, a switch seems to flip between them. Or, she realizes, he just relaxes. Somewhere between Jughead’s scowl smoothing out and her cracking her father’s worst car joke—

(“I try to think of a good car pun, but I’m always too exhausted.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Because of the exhaust pipe.”

“Yeah, I got that. Terrible.”)

—Betty decides that Jughead is not only good company, but he’s also a surprisingly calming presence. She’s not sure if it’s his dry humor or his blunt honesty, but all he has to do is roll his eyes her way and stretch his long legs out against something as he makes some clever quip and she’s laughing again in a way she hasn’t laughed all year.

She’d gotten so used to the hours ticking by unaccompanied in this garage that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to work alongside someone—even if Jughead isn’t actually much help. He doesn’t quite have the natural talent for mechanics, though still an observant, diligent student. He occasionally asks questions while leafing through the manual or leaning over her shoulder, but mostly seems content to watch her work.

After an afternoon of switching between his engine and the other cars she’s responsible for, she decides it’s time for a break. She stretches her arms high over her head. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee, do you want some?” She asks, rolling her neck.

“A woman after my heart,” Jughead says, glancing at her over the top of the manual. Only his eyes are visible, but that’s enough to find herself blushing. Then, with a flash, it just reminds her that she forgot to update Veronica on what she’d gleaned yesterday.

“I’ll be right back,” she says.

“And I’ll be right here,” he replies, attention returning to the manual. He gets up and wanders over the truck, head turning between engine and book as he studies the two.

When she gets to her office, she settles into her desk to catch up on her work emails. She shoots off a request for the compressor she needs to her friend Adam—who runs a much bigger garage up in Hudson and is usually the one she turns to when she’s in a bit of a mechanic bind—and then responds to a thank you email from a satisfied customer. There are more things to sort through, but she owes Veronica a response first.

V, not 100% sure, but I think both boys are single, she texts.

Veronica’s reply comes almost instantly.

C’est magnifique, isn’t it? One for me and one for you!

Betty looks up from her phone and across the garage, where she can see Jughead sticking his head over the engine and muttering to himself. She turns back to her phone keyboard. Wait, what? Did you already know?

Of course. Archie tracked me down yesterday and asked me out. Of course, we’re going to have to drive down to New Paltz for any kind of decent dinner. Candlelight should be present at all first dates.

So it was Archie that Veronica was interested in. She tries to ignore the quickening of her heart. Then there’s a pause, the little ellipsis appearing ominously as Veronica begins to type.

Wait, how do YOU know?

** Well, you left me with very vague instructions, V! **

?? Did you think Archie’s friend was the cute one??

It’s impossible for a text to gasp, but Veronica somehow manages it. Betty supposes there’s some kind of satisfaction in predicting exactly how this conversation would go but there’s not much.

** I just asked him when he was at the garage yesterday because I wasn’t sure who you were interested in! that’s it! **

He was hanging out at the garage with you?

** V, I’m fixing his truck, it’s not unreasonable for him to be here. **

Is he there again today?

Shit. She shouldn’t have used the present tense. Betty definitely doesn’t want to tell her that. But Veronica doesn’t wait long for her not to answer, sending over a flurry of angel and heart emojis.

B!!

This is going just as badly as she’d expected it would, so she quickly puts her phone on silent and sets it face down on the desk. Exhaling, she decides to busy herself with making coffee. While it bubbles and percolates, she muses with what’s just transpired.

She’s not sure why she feels so defensive; probably because she wants her next relationship to be developed on her own terms and not pushed into it because her well-meaning but boundary-stricken friends are overly invested in her life.

Still—it wouldn’t be so crazy for her to like Jughead, would it?

Granted, she doesn’t know him very well, but she’s already admitted to herself that she finds him attractive. And he’s since apologized for his occasionally rude behavior, which was her main put off. And she’d been ready to break up with Trev long before actually summoning the courage, so it’s not like she’s not over him. If anything, she feels bad at how much she is over him.

Really, there are only two problems with allowing a crush on Jughead to bloom. One, she finds him hard to read, and with the amount of literal space he keeps putting between them, she guesses he really is just here to learn about his truck. Two, he’s leaving. In three weeks. And she’ll never see him again after that.

And that is the bottom line. What if she ends up really liking him and all she’s left with is an empty garage and feeling more trapped here than ever? The risk just doesn’t seem worth it for a guy who, right after meeting her, said: “let’s get this over with."

She’s never been able to separate sex and feelings, so the last thing she needs is to put emotional stake in some rolling stone. So she decides right then and there that she won’t let her mind consider it any further.

As she’s making that vow to herself, she spots Kevin moving silently across the garage, clearly mindful of where he steps. Jughead is bent over the truck, his nose pressed against the manual she gave him and unaware of the sneaking figure creeping up behind him.

Betty comes out of her office to watch it unfold more closely. She’s unsure what Kevin is doing, but then he wraps his arms tightly around Jughead’s torso and says, “Surprise!”

Jughead freezes. “No shit,” he says, after a long pause. Kevin scrambles back.

“Oh. You’re not Joaquin.”

“Definitely not,” Jughead replies, turning around. His eyebrows are so high on his forehead they’re practically in his hairline.

“Joaquin isn’t working today, Kev,” Betty says sheepishly, coming around towards them. Jughead looks over at her. “He had to go up to Catskill to see his mom.”

“Oh, damn. I forgot. He did say that,” Kevin sighs, scratching awkwardly behind his ear. “Sorry about that. I was just trying to surprise him with lunch. Trying to extend the honeymoon period and all that.” He lifts up a brown paper bag and shoves it at Jughead. “Here, you can have it. It’s the least I can do.”

“I was gonna say you’d have to buy me dinner first,” Jughead mutters, accepting the bag and peeking inside it. “But this’ll do.”

Kevin grins at Betty. “You didn’t tell me you hired a new guy. About time.” But he doesn’t give her a moment to reply, immediately offering Jughead his hand. “One day we’ll laugh about this. I’m Kevin.”

Jughead takes it, but exchanges a look with Betty, who jumps in. “Kev, this is Jughead. His truck broke down in Riverdale during a road trip. He just wanted to learn about fixing his engine, so that’s why he’s here.”

Still shaking Jughead’s hand, despite his mounting discomfort, Kevin stares at Betty with the kind of expression she’s learned to hate on him: one of mischievous curiosity. He looks back at Jughead and seems to realize he’s been forcing him to shake his hand for about half a minute.

He releases Jughead from his grip. “You don’t say. How long are you in town for?”

Jughead glances at Betty, who nods. “She said three weeks.”

Kevin cocks his neck, gears clearly working. “And what are you doing here again?”

But a ringing from across the garage saves either from answering. Betty raises a pausing finger in the air. “Uh—hold on. That’s my office phone,” she says, already cutting across the room. She catches it just before it goes out. “Cooper Garage, Betty speaking.”

“Hey, Betts, it’s Adam. Got your email—I do have the compressor part you need, but I’m out of town till next week. Will that work?”

She lets out a thankful breath. “That’ll be great, Adam. Lemme know when you’re back and I’ll pop up to Hudson. You’re a lifesaver!”

He chuckles across the line. “You’ll have to owe me,” he says, which is what he says every time. They make a bit more polite chatter (Adam always manages to make her look like a comparable introvert, somehow) and then Betty finds her goodbyes.

Kevin corners her as she’s coming out of her office. “So, were you planning on telling me about tall, dark, and broody?”

“There’s nothing to tell, Kev. Just because that’s your type doesn’t mean it’s mine,” Betty says, although she’s already decided that’s not strictly true. Still, she resists the strong urge to tell him to keep his voice down. “And he can’t wait to get out of here, trust me.”

“If you say so,” Kevin says, crossing his arms. “But for the record, he’s been staring over here the whole time we’ve been talking.”

They both turn and look over at Jughead, and his head immediately jerks upwards to the ceiling, like he’s found something very interesting up in the high beams. He sulks off, shoving his hands forcefully in his pockets.

Kevin grins back at her smugly. “Stop,” she sighs.

“I didn’t do anything,” he replies innocently.

“I can hear you thinking,” Betty mumbles. “Besides, he might’ve been looking at you.”

Kevin seems to consider this. “That’s fair. I did practically just grab his ass. And I am something of a Kennedy, so I wouldn’t really blame him.”

She raises a hand in the air as if to say “see?” but the smile drops from his face, his lips pinching together. “I’m not trying to push Veronica’s agenda on you, to be clear. I’m just all a-flush with new romance and I can’t help but want that for my best girl too.”

Betty smiles softly. “I know that. And I appreciate that. But if I’ve learned anything, my next relationship needs to have…meaning. I can’t get that from a guy with one foot out the door. And besides, honestly, I don’t think he’s interested. And I’m not—I’m just fixing his engine. So please, just—”

But Kevin doesn’t look satisfied. “I’m not just talking about dating though, Betty. I want you to be happy. I never see you anymore unless I come here and… If it were me, and I’d just gotten out of a two year relationship that dramatically, and I was spending all my time at work and my dad had just—”

“Stop,” she repeats it again, but this time with force, closing her eyes briefly. “Kevin, please. I’m fine. I’ve just been busier with everything since Joaquin started classes. Which is fine, Mr. Boyfriend, I’m not complaining, I’m really happy he wants his degree, but it just means I need to put in more hours for now.”

Kevin doesn’t look convinced and she hates the concern in his eyes. “But what happens when he and I go to Europe? What are you gonna do when it’s just you alone in this garage for two months?”

“I’ll hire someone,” she huffs, tightening her ponytail. “When he leaves.”

He puts up his hands. “Whatever you say. It’s your business. Literally. But can we at least make some plans to see each other outside of this grease trap? I mean, you should appreciate the depths of which I care for you and Joaquin to show up here in my best khakis.”

She smiles, finally relaxing. “Yes, definitely. How about tomorrow at Pop’s?” Kevin nods approvingly, and just then, Jughead wanders back over towards them. She turns to him, happy for a break from the ghost of the Spanish Inquisition inhabiting her friend. “Hey, Jughead! Good news! I heard back from my guy in Hudson and he has the part for me. I can go get it next week.”

“Oh, he’s definitely got a part for you,” Kevin mutters under his breath, much to Betty’s annoyance. She shoots him a warning glare, unsure how many times she has to insist Adam doesn’t think of her that way. Then again, most of her defenses had come about in the era of Trev, and she’s not sure how’ll they hold up with her single. She’s secretly suspected it’s not a completely unfounded theory.

Jughead glances between them. “Great,” he says finally. His voice is back to its usual flat tenor.

Kevin gives him one long, parting look before bidding them both farewell, saying he has to get back to the mayor’s office. They’re planning a 4th of July parade that has been one misstep after another and he is very needed, apparently.

Afterwards, she brings the coffee pot out to her work station and they settle in on folding chairs. Jughead guzzles down two cups of black coffee without seemingly taking a breath in between and amiably asks her about good examples of books that don’t fridge their female characters (a topic on which she has nothing but thoughts).

Later, once Betty can no longer excuse a longer break, she and Jughead fall back into their routines (her working, him hanging around observing). It’s quiet but comfortable, and she lets him pick the next music, even after he jokes that he’s a loyal metalhead.

Instead, he puts on The Beach Boys (he gives, “it’s the road trip playlist that never was,” as his excuse), and when Wouldn’t It Be Nice comes on, she thinks simply that maybe it would.

He excuses himself to the restroom halfway through the song, but she’s spared from analyzing that as the red garage phone rings across the room.

“Cooper Garage, this is Betty,” she says into the receiver. Polly’s voice breaks across the line.

“Hi Betty! Sorry to bother you at work, but I was wondering if you minded picking up the kids from day camp in an hour? You know I hate putting this on you, but I thought I could get off earlier today but something came up last minute here. And Jason is so picky about nannies and we just haven’t found a new one we like. And you’re so great with them.”

Betty pulls the phone away from her mouth in order to take in a long breath. Jughead walks back into the room as she’s straightening up. “Of course, Pol,” she says, forcing a bright voice. “No problem. I came in early today, so I can close up by then.”

“You’re the best,” Polly says, with evident relief. “Do you wanna have dinner tonight? You can hang out with the kids till we’re home and then I’ll order us some well-deserved take out of your choice.”

It’s a roundabout way of asking her to also babysit, which frustrates her. She’d appreciate Polly just being direct about it at this point, since it’s been two months since Jason fired the last nanny and essentially hired her, minus the pay.

But since she’d come home last night to her mother very pointedly saying Trev had dropped off another box of Betty’s things (if one could call a couple of socks and books that) and tried to wait around for her, she’ll take the excuses to stay out that she can get.

“That sounds great. I’ll see you tonight,” Betty says, and then hangs up with a bit more force than she’d like Jughead to see. She pivots back to him. “I’m gonna have to close up. Do you want me to drop you somewhere on my way out?”

His gaze is eagled and she doesn’t like it. “Uh, sure. That would be great. Everything…okay?”

She waves a hand and starts putting tools away. “Absolutely. Everything’s fine. Just babysitting duty again.”

Jughead hums. “You just don’t seem too thrilled.”

Betty cocks her neck up at him, momentarily thrown off guard. She narrows her eyes. “I love my family,” she says sharply. “I’m happy to help out.”

He shrugs indifferently, but there’s still something working behind his eyes. “Okay, sorry. That wasn’t my place.”

“It’s fine,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m just gonna finish packing up these tools and then get changed. Do you want to wait in my office?”

It’s an unspoken dismissal, and Jughead nods, scratching behind his neck. Once he’s gone, she lets out a shaky breath, trying to convince herself she’s unsure why she suddenly feels so frustrated. In reality, she knows it’s because she’s spent 25 years perfecting perfection and it’s unnerving that a guy she barely knows can spot her discomfort right away.

But she is fine. It is fine. She does genuinely love her family, but she also wants to appreciate having them. Life is fickle and she’s learned the hard way that no amount of rigorous planning can hold up against fate. So if that means she needs to hand her time over to her sister once in a while, she will.

After a few minutes, she’s ready to go. He emerges from her office looking pensive and frowning once more.

She locks up. Jughead follows.

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[oceanicplanets]

It took me a long time to realize that included me. When I was younger, I could go hungry at a restaurant because I was scared to give the cashier my order, and then a few hours later, I would be on stage at my weekly drama class, strutting my stuff with my performing arts pals. My hand would often be the first to shoot up in the classroom, but I once burst into tears when I had to read an essay of mine aloud. I baffled my parents and my friends—the drama kids couldn’t figure out why I turned into a wallflower offstage, and everyone else in my life didn’t know what to make of me when I wasn’tacting shy.To put it simply, I was TERRIFIED of negative attention. I’d rather freeze up and not do anything at all than say the wrong thing and be criticized for it. At the same time, I was hungry for praise, and I structured my life around getting a lot of it. I was good in school, so I spoke up in class and took every extracurricular that I had room for. Teachers loved me and I won academic awards left and right. Drama allowed me to express myself without having to come up with my own words, and as long as I worked really hard to please the director, I couldn’t go wrong—at least not until I left school. My community-theater dreams were shattered by three failed auditions, and afterwards I stuck to classes and clubs, where I was always guaranteed parts.This anxiety didn’t end in the classroom. I’m a naturally shy person, and I used to want all my interactions to go perfectly, so I practically wrote them out in advance, always terrified that the other person would go off-script and force me to think on my feet. If I was ordering food, for example, I’d expect the waitress to ask what I wanted, I’d tell her, then she would leave. If she unexpectedly asked me what toppings or sides I wanted with my burger, I was rattled and took WAY too long to decide. Or, worse, she might be chatty and ask a completely unrelated question about my day, and now my whole narrative was off and I wouldn’t know how to answer. Do I just say “good” or do I give a full rundown, and then how do I segue back to my order, and oh no, I’m taking too long to answer and I look like an idiot, WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN TO ME? Basically, even the prospect of feeling awkward counted as negative attention, which made me more awkward, because now I was this creepy quiet girl who would turn into stone when asked to do ordinary things like order a hamburger.I can’t tell you how many times my parents cajoled me into doing something I didn’t want to do, like cash a check at the bank, and then I’d make a tiny little mistake, like writing down my routing number instead of my account number, and I’d stutter a little bit but pretend to laugh it off even though I was dying inside, because I’d made a stupid mistake and now that teller was thinking that I was a dumb teenager who didn’t know how banking works. I’d get outside and yell at my parents “DID YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENED? You made me do this and it all went wrong and don’t you feel terrible?” And they’d just shake their heads wondering where they went wrong raising me.In those cases, my social anxiety was extreme and noticeable, but I think the more damaging stress I dealt with is something that many, many people experience: I was working so hard to be perfect that I took any sort of reprimand or critique or social misstep as a judgment on my character.As you can imagine, school was a minefield. When I was six or seven, I once got caught climbing a tree on the playground, and I’ll never forget how sick I felt after my teacher yelled at me to get down. It was like I’d done something very, very wrong and it could never be rectified. I couldn’t understand why all my friends, who’d also gotten scolded, were able to happily play somewhere else—it took me all day to get over it.In high school, I wanted to get good marks on all my assignments, because being an honors student earned me the praise I desired, but also because when I didn’t live up to my high standards, I’d be crushed. Math was my weak point, and the few Cs that made it onto my report cards stood out as black marks that would forever paint me as a failure. Even constructive criticism could shake me up, like the note I once got on a creative writing assignment to come up with a “punchier ending.” The teacher loved the piece, but the ending was mediocre and now that I was aware of it, I felt terrible for turning in that piece of crap.That same sick feeling I got as a kid after climbing that tree was triggered any time I did something wrong, like accidently hurt someone’s feelings or make a mistake at work. A gentle reprimand—“you did this incorrectly, please fix it, and don’t do it again”—sounded to me like someone screaming at me. I once forgot to return a book I’d borrowed from school before summer break, and I’m not exaggerating at all when I say it took me about EIGHT YEARS to be able to hear the name Nancy Drew without feeling shame. I was certain that the teacher who lost it harbored a grudge against me, so I hid the book in my room and spent the next decade or so fighting random spikes of anxiety whenever I thought about it.After high school, criticism becomes even more common, while praise is harder to come by. College professors don’t get excited just because you understand the coursework, and your manager at the big box store you’re working at on weekends probably won’t even notice you unless you screw up. It was a big change, and it forced me to make an important adjustment: I had to start looking to myself for encouragement. Was this essay/poster/poem something I could be proud of? Did I do the best I could? Did I have fun doing it? I started doing photography as a hobby, just so I could look at all my pretty pictures, and spent ridiculous amounts of time on projects that had no purpose except for the fun of creating them, like the time I started making wall art out of old sticky notes. And this was surprisingly easy—it turned out that pride in yourself for hard work feels just as good as praise from another person.Learning to deal with criticism, on the other hand, was much harder. My constant fear of failure was starting to interfere with my schoolwork, because I’d procrastinate to stave off the possibility of not excelling, and then I’d turn in less-than-stellar work anyway, because I didn’t give myself enough time to complete it. So my freshman year of college, I made the big decision to see a school counselor. And, man, I wish I’d done it a lot earlier.One of the very first things my counselor did was ship me off to a doctor for anti-anxiety medication. Once I was on the right cocktail of pills, I felt like a new person. Suddenly, talking was a little less scary, and the shame of failure was much more fleeting. (Not everyone who has anxiety needs drugs to cope, but if you feel it’s interfering with everyday life, I do recommend at least talking to your doctor.) I also started therapy, and my counselor really helped change my outlook on the world. In some cases, I just needed practice. She’d give me assignments to do things I found terrifying, like asking for a job application at a local fast-food restaurant, and I slowly gained more confidence in my ability to handle these kinds of interactions. Most of my fears of rejection were in my head—no one ever told me, “Wow, you really effed up that conversation!”I also talked about other things that were bothering me, and I got some clarity. Everyday schoolwork just wasn’t important enough for me to feel so stressed about it, and furthermore, it was OK to fail. I took this message in, and when I started to crash and burn in college biology, I didn’t force myself to stick it out. I accepted that biology and I were just never going to get along, and I dropped the course. Just a year before, I would have berated myself for weeks this for doing this, but now I only felt relief.A year or two after I graduated high school, I had a conversation with my old algebra teacher. I said something about being bad at math, and he told me that I was never bad at math—my other classes just came so easily to me that I didn’t know what it was like to struggle to learn something. He pointed out that many of my classmates celebrated when they got a C. My perspective had been so skewed that I assumed I had really embarrassed myself by not being the best, and that others thought less of me as a result.I realize now no one is thinking as hard about me as I am. That teacher on the playground was just worried that I’d fall, and she probably forgot about the incident five minutes later, while I’m still thinking about it 15 years later. My creative writing teacher just wanted to help me improve my story. Waitresses and bank tellers have dealt with literally thousands of small mistakes and awkward moments over the years.Earlier today, I made a rather large mistake at my day job, resulting in my having to send a correction email to several thousand people. It was really, really embarrassing. But instead of retreating in panic and begging my boss not to fire me, I calmly apologized and then wrote a self-deprecating Facebook post so that EVERYONE had an opportunity to laugh at me. It felt a lot better than mentally beating myself up.On the flip side, with the understanding that my failures were not permanent came the knowledge that most of my accomplishments have been similarly fleeting. My academic awards have done absolutely nothing for me apart from a few moments of pride and fodder for scholarship applications. Most of the compliments I got from my drama teacher are just fuzzy memories today.I’m not saying that any of this was worthless. Being a good student served me well, but not because my teachers loved me—rather because it gave me skills and opportunities to move on in life. It’s important to work hard and nurture ambition, but for the right reasons—not to escape criticism, but because it makes you happy. It’s better to learn from your mistakes than not to make them at all. ♦