Description: Being a Blossom and dating the school’s super sleuth doesn’t exactly have a happy ending.
Warnings: some swears, maybe. and mentions of death bc jason blossom u know.
Word Count: 2240
A/N: okay this turned out better than I thought. figuring out a title for this was v hard but thanks The Veronicas for having v fitting songs. It’s left open for a part two but that’s up to you guys. Just lemme know <3
Being a Blossom wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to
begin with thanks to all the rumours and speculation around your family that
had been passed down over the years but the moment Jason Blossom had died, it
became the hardest thing in the world. People would constantly stop you
whenever they saw you, whether it was in the streets or at school just to give
you their condolences. People were constantly staring at you watching and
waiting for you to breakdown and the thing you hated the most were the people
that would constantly be asking if you were okay.
Okay? How could you be okay when your brother had died? Not
only died, he’d been murdered and nobody knew who it was. Every single person
in town was a suspect even you. Your parents were on a mission to find out who
did it but in the progress of that they seemed to be forgetting or didn’t care
about how you and your sister Cheryl were feeling. Not once had either of them
made sure you were okay or gave you a hug. Just a simple hug from your mum or
dad would’ve helped, it really would’ve. But, no. You and Cheryl just had each
other and that was okay.
To most people, Cheryl was a stuck-up bitch who didn’t care
what anyone thought about her. That was
a façade, though. The real Cheryl, the Cheryl you’d grown up with was a kind,
sweet, troubled girl that just wanted love. She just wanted someone to be there
for her but she was stubborn and had built up walls so much that letting people
in was hard. The only person she trusted was you and vice versa. You had each
other and that’s what mattered. When you were at school though, that was a
whole different world. Cheryl was the popular cheerleader who had her big group
of friends while you were the ‘boring’ Blossom. That’s what you’d branded
yourself as. Jason and Cheryl had been the popular ones that were head of the
school food chain and you were the plain jane Blossom. You’d much rather just
write and spend time by yourself than be surrounded by people who only used you
for the popularity. That wasn’t to say you didn’t have friends or people didn’t
care about you. That wasn’t the case at all. You had a few friends and Jason’s
friends always made sure you were looked after now your brother was gone but
you didn’t have anything solid. More than anything you wished you had a best
That was when Jughead Jones came into play. He was the
mysterious, super-sleuth that was trying to solve your brother’s murder. It
didn’t bother you too much that he was. Besides, it wasn’t like you could stop
him anyway. You and Jughead had always been friendly to each other – more acquaintances
than anything but one day when you were feeling especially down and sad, that
Per request HERE, re: One of Nevada’s men hurting Crybaby. Referencing back to THIS tale.
Okay this is actually pretty dark considering what I usually write so that’s a warning, and there’s violence as in Nevada pummels someone to a bloody pulp, but that’s pretty predictable considering the request.
Nevada had been out of town for about a week now, had planned on it being another before he’d get back.
They knew. Caroline knew they knew.
She got dumped out of their dingy car by her apartment, the one they all knew Nevada paid for, late at night after the nice old ladies turned off their hearing aids and the dogs had all been brought in for the night. Delicately, sniffling still, she trotted up the stone steps and slid her key into the door.
They hadn’t even robbed her. Just tore her down.
Once making it through the heavy double doors and hearing the lock click behind her; poor Caroline cried, moreso than her little Crybaby heart had ever done before. Oh, she wept, so broken there was no strength to muster sound. Silently, she slid up the staircase, hands wringing nervously through the material of her cotton kimono. With shaking fingers, she managed to force the key into the knob.
As soon as she was in, she slammed that door shut. The lock; the slip chain; the dead bolt.
“Psh.” Halvik makes a dismissive sound. “Look at that. A waste.”
Laurent would stab himself rather than admit it, but he’s always been a tad intimidated by Halvik. She’s been a contentedly mid-level producer for as long as Laurent has been alive, and while never actually pushing back against his authority, she always gives the impression that she’s humouring him because she finds him amusing.
Laurent follows her gaze to where Damen, Kallias and Erasmus are talking, ankle-deep in the surf.
“A waste?” he says.
“Of good genetic material.” Halvik heaves a sigh. “That boy shouldn’t be throwing himself away on more boys. Look at my girl Kashel. Wouldn’t they have attractive children?”
Laurent glances up into Halvik’s eyes, which are solemn beneath thick and perfectly groomed brows. He is at least seventy percent sure he’s being teased, and that if he says anything cutting about heterosexuals she will laugh at him.
He looks at Kashel, then back at Damen. Kashel is black-haired and curvy, with a wide smile; Laurent supposes that she’s pretty, if you’re into that kind of thing.
“Yes,” he says instead, because it’s not like Halvik is wrong.
Halvik laughs anyway, claps him on the shoulder, and wanders off, probably to tweak Kashel’s sarong skirt into a more precarious angle on her hips.
Aria St. James is a busy woman with a thriving restaurant. She thought she had everything she needed until a few famous faces visit her dining room. A tall, dark and handsome actor decides Aria’s just what he’s been looking for.
209. Minerva McGonagall had a huge sweet tooth, and more often than not you would find her eating sweets or cakes. In her office, her drawers were full of sweets and her bin was full with wrappers. She almost always offered visitors something sweet to nibble on, and if you weren’t offered you knew you were in trouble. For Minerva, sweets was something she associated with home and safety. She would remember being a little girl and eating chewy toffee, big lollies and soft chocolate, and get this warm and fuzzy feeling. By giving other people sweets, she hoped she could share some happiness in troubled times.