usually they stay in her front pocket

2

I’m back writing your prompts, yay! My writer’s block is gone for good finaly so here is another one-shot! I really liked writing this one, having Jughead the one losing his perpetual composed self. I hope you will all enjoy it too!

(P.S. I’m not ignoring your older prompts, I was just craving to write this after last episode and Jughead’s pain, which I’ll never get over. Don’t worry, darlings, I’ll write all your prompts during this hiatus to help all of us deal with all those beautiful Bughead feels! <3) 


The glass doors of Riverdale’s General Hospital closed with a light swoosh behind a rushing Betty Cooper, her messy bun bouncing vigorously with every urgent step her white sneakers took. With her white pajama t-shirt still under her maroon grid bomber jacket and a pair of grey yoga pants – the girl minutes away from dozing off to a dreamless slumber just before her phone disrupted the calmness of her room – she anxiously jogged down the quiet corridor, due to the hour, and stopped abruptly in front of the reception, the elder head nurse shooting her an exhausted glare.

“I’m looking for Forsythe Pendleton Jones.” Her voice came out with difficulty, Betty now registering how out of breath she was, probably by the fact that her house was at the other side of town and she had chosen to walk, or most correctly run, all the way to the hospital.

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thetourguidebarbie  asked:

kc canon-ish + sure they're "just friends then" and she wasn't q u i t e ready for him to show her the world (yet), but she was hungry and that girl that she saw get a bit too handsey with klaus at the bar looked delicious okay??

okay, this turned out wayy longer than planned. almost 4k for something that was supposed to be around 1k. eh. bonnie and caroline friendship! post 5x11. no babies. actually includes some plot. smut, so nsfw.

ff. ao3.


Caroline hadn’t planned on coming to New Orleans after she’d left Mystic Falls. Not for a very long time, at the very least. She knew she would eventually. Knew she’d seek him out, but she wanted a few decades, if not more, to roam the world first. She wanted to figure out who she was.

However, she’d barely had time to enjoy all New York had to offer, when Bonnie had appeared, with wild hair and bright eyes, as she’d been roaming around the streets.

The witch had almost startled her, which was… weird, to say the least.

“Bonnie,” she’d exclaimed, before her lips curled upwards, a grin splitting her face. “What are you-”

“Are you busy?” Bonnie had cut in.

“Um…”

“I’m headed to New Orleans,” Bonnie had told her, “and I was hoping that my partner in crime would want to follow me.”

“New Orleans?” She’d raised an eyebrow, her voice raising slightly. “What the hell are you doing there?”

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122

I just realized that I never made a solely college/high school AU for Percabeth. Since I’ve been in college for a little over two years, I thought that my experience might make things a little more accurate! All of these events have happened to me or my best friends personally. Hopefully, this isn’t too similar to Jasper’s “Fated” a couple months back. (Also, the trope isn’t childhood friends to best friends to lover, which is honestly my favourite trope, so I’ll be doing more college AUs in the future to compensate. Watch out!)

Other insp [x] [x] [x]

Enjoy!


The Five Times Percy and Annabeth Almost Met


i. freshman year, 15 years old

Annabeth was tired of all this crap.

She was tired of having to run off to the bathroom before each class to make sure no curl was out of place. Tired of having to plaster a smile onto her face– tired of attempting polite small talk with the strangers around her. She hated having to introduce herself to a roomful of people who were probably going to control her social life in the next four years she was staying in New York.

Gods, she was exhausted.

Nevertheless, she tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, applied a sheen of lip balm to her chapped lips and exhaled. Just one more class and this day would be over. Annabeth clicked her boots and popped her lips, ready to conquer AP Greek History with a smile on her face.

“I’m Annabeth Chase,” she said brightly. “I’m from San Francisco.”

“My, my,” said a burly girl at the back. She had a bandana around her head–Annabeth wasn’t aware those were in fashion again. “That’s a mouthful. Annabelle, is it? Or was it Anneline? Either way, I don’t have time for that fancy schmancy, princess.”

The back of the class erupted into bouts of laughter.

Hm. Must be the obnoxious bullies, then. What they were doing in an AP class, she’d never know.

Annabeth was used to it—her dad was to blame for the obnoxious name and the wild tufts of untameable princess curls. Shrugging it off, she smiled pleasantly at the girl and stared at her straight in the eyes.

“It’s Annabeth, actually. And I thought we were in AP Greek History?” Her smile turned lethal before facing the teacher. “Professor, I’d like to volunteer personally as this girl’s tutor. I have a feeling that as she is unable to pronounce my name, she will have difficulties pronouncing or even spelling Hecatonchires or even Cychreides, which we both know are hardly the most difficult terms in the books. I’d very much like it for her to remain in the class.“

The professor’s lip twitched under his beard, and the glimmer in his eye suggested that Annabeth’s snark wasn’t worthy of detention. “I agree, Ms. Chase,” he commented, handing her the required reading. His ID was labelled with a CHIRON, and there was a hint of pride when he sent her off. “You may sit down.”

As Annabeth turned around, a skinny boy in a hoodie stood up in a hurry with a blush staining his cheeks. Grabbing his books, he ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip. “Damn. I knew this wasn’t Biology.” The class laughed as he clumsily made his way out the door. “Gotta go.” Before his extremely messy mop of black hair disappeared through the door, she swore she caught a glimpse of his unbelievably green eyes.

Her stomach dropped.

Trying to ignore the strange flutter of her heart, she looked around for an empty seat and found one beside a very pretty girl with feathers in her hair. Annabeth wondered why guys weren’t flocking around her and walked to it instead. Before she could make it, a girl with dark spiky hair and freckles offered her a high-five. Ah, this must be the reason.

“That was savage,” the girl whispered in awe as Annabeth sat down.

Her pretty seatmate glared at the spiky girl and turned to Annabeth with a smile. “What she meant was—that was amazing, Annabeth. It’s great to meet you. I’m Piper and this one here is Thalia.“

Professor Chiron cleared his throat in front of the classroom. “Okay, everyone. Before we get started, how about a round of names?”

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Accidents Happen


Author’s Note: This is a Happy Lowman imagine based on Confessions part 2 by Usher as requested by a lovely Nonny, and imagine number 5 (and the final one) for MM8. This imagine is rated M for adult themes. Hope you enjoy!


Accidents Happen

-XX-

These are my confessions
Just when I thought I said all I could say
My chick on the side said she got one on the way
These are my confessions
Man I’m thrown and I don’t know what to do
I guess I gotta give part 2 of my confessions
If I’m gonna tell it then I gotta tell it all
Damn near cried when I got that phone call
I’m so throwed and I don’t know what to do
But to give you part 2 of my confessions

Now this gon’ be the hardest thing I think I ever had to do
Got me talkin’ to myself askin’ how I’m gon’ tell you
‘bout that chick on part 1 I told ya’ll I was creepin’ with, creepin’ with
Said she’s 3 months pregnant and she’s keepin’ it
The first thing that came to mind was you
Second thing was how do I know if it’s mine and is it true
Third thing was me wishin’ that I never did what I did
How I ain’t ready for no kid and bye bye to our relationship

These are my confessions
Just when I thought I said all I could say
My chick on the side said she got one on the way
These are my confessions
Man I’m thrown and I don’t know what to do
I guess I gotta give part 2 of my confessions
If I’m gonna tell it then I gotta tell it all
Damn near cried when I got that phone call
I’m so throwed and I don’t know what to do
But to give you part 2 of my confessions

-XX-

A ball of anger and worry has steadily been building in the pit of his stomach on the ride home. The run had gone better than any of the could have imagined, so well in fact that Clay gave the go ahead for an overnight stay in one of their favorite stomping grounds, which meant that so long as Heather was there he’d be getting his dick wet sooner rather than later.

Which is exactly what he did; and everything had been going great until Heather, propped on her elbow with the sheet sliding down to her waist showing off full breasts, smiled nervously at him as she let the words slips from her lips.

‘I’m pregnant…’

Those two words completely rocked his world. Disbelief came first quickly followed by anger as he questioned just how the fuck she knows it’s his, and when she said he’s the only guy she’s been with, he believes her. Sure she’s a crow eater but she’s a crow eater with aspirations of becoming someone’s Old Lady; and she’d make a damn good one, just not for him.

He has his Old Lady.

Lydia.

Pulling his bike into the drive way he can’t even begin to think of how he’s going to her about the mess he’s gotten himself into this time.

-XX-

Sittin here stuck on stupid, tryna figure out
When, what, and how I'mma let this come out of my mouth
Said it ain’t gon’ be easy
But I need to stop thinkin’, contemplatin’
Be a man and get it over with (over with)
I’m ridin’ in my whip
Racin’ to her place
Talkin’ to myself
Preparin’ to tell her to her face
She open up the door and didn’t want to come near me
I said “one second baby please hear me”

These are my confessions
Just when I thought I said all I could say
My chick on the side said she got one on the way
These are my confessions
Man I’m thrown and I don’t know what to do
I guess I gotta give part 2 of my confessions
If I’m gonna tell it then I gotta tell it all
Damn near cried when I got that phone call
I’m so throwed and I don’t know what to do
But to give you part 2 of my confessions

-XX-

She can’t move. Everything inside of her tells her to get up, to do something, to fill the space and silence that threatens to drown her; but she can’t move. The words ring in her ears, words that woke her from a sound sleep and played on a heart breaking loop since.

‘I’m having your Old Man’s baby…I’m having your Old Man’s baby…I’m having your Old Man’s baby….’

Her eyes close when she hears Happy’s bike pull into the drive and with her heart lodged in her throat she listens for his footsteps, and when the front door opens and closes she tries to prepare herself, but how do you prepare yourself to have your heart broken?

The sound of his boots usually lit her up inside, but every step that draws closer fills her with dread, and when her eyes meet his, it takes everything inside of her to not break down and cry.

“Lydia…” he steps towards her but she shakes her head furiously at him.

“Don’t,” despite the way her voice shakes the seriousness comes through and he stays where he is hands stuffed in his pockets. She studies him, and wonders how the face of the man she’s spent so much time loving could seem so strange to her. “How. How could you do this to me? To us?”

“Lyd, please…” he reaches for her and when his hand brushes her shoulder she jumps up, shoving him back a full step.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snaps, her body vibrating with anger as she stares at him. “I don’t, I don’t understand. I have been with you every fucking step of the way. I moved to Tacoma with you, I moved back from Tacoma with you, I’ve helped you take care of your Mom…”

“I know…”

“Is this my punishment?” she asks tears rolling down her face, “is this what I get because I can’t give you kids?”

“What? No! Lydia, I swear I never meant for this to happen…”

“Oh so fucking someone else happened by accident?” she demands, “my God Happy, what did you think was going to happen?”

“She said she was on the pill,” he yells back and all she can do is laugh.

“And you were stupid enough to fucking fall for that?” she asks brushing her fingers over her cheeks. “How, how does this even happen? You and that crow eater slut threw a grenade into my life and now, now I have to go, because despite the fact that my life is in shambles I promised your Mom that I would take her to the doctor today. If you have any semblance of a brain in that thick head of yours I would suggest you pack a bag, I think it’s best for all involved if you stay at the clubhouse for a while.”

“Lydia, be reasonable,” he says as she starts to head for the door and she freezes turning to look at him.

“You got another woman pregnant and you’re really going to stand there and tell me to be reasonable?” she asks through clenched teeth. “You’re lucky to still be breathing Lowman, and if you want to go on breathing you’ll pack that bag and be gone by the time I get home.”

-XX-

This by far is the hardest thing I think I’ve ever had to do
To tell you, the woman I love
That I’m having a baby by a woman that I barely even know
I hope you can accept the fact that I’m man enough to tell you this
And hopefully you’ll give me another chance
This ain’t about my career
This ain’t about my life
It’s about us
Please

-XX-

“You fucked up good this time,” Bobby’s voice is full of humor and with a growl Happy turns to look at the older man who stares at him, a broad grin creasing his face.

“You heard…”

“We all did. Gemma’s been reaming all of our asses over this,” Bobby says settling next to him on the bed.

“Shit,” Happy mutters dropping his head into his hands.

“So you got your piece on the side pregnant,” Bobby laughs clapping a hand onto his shoulder, “accidents happen.”

“Lydia’s devastated,” Happy says looking over at his brother. “I don’t think she’ll forgive me for this one.”

“Sure she will. Lydia’s built to be your Old Lady. She’ll be pissed for a while, as she has a right to be, but she’ll come around after a while,” Bobby tries for reassuring but all Happy can do is shake his head.

“I don’t think so Bobby,” he says, running a hand over his face. “Lydia can’t have kids…”

“Serious?”

“Yeah, serious.”

“Shit,” Bobby lets out a breath and after a few beats of silence he clears his throat. “Sounds like you need a drink.”

::

Sitting outside of the house, he watches for any sign of Lydia moving inside. He’s never been so close and yet felt so far away from her. He wants to see her, to hold her, hell he’d settle for being cursed out by her again, but instead he’s forced to watch her from afar hoping that the day will come that she’ll find a way to forgive him.

After all, it’s as Bobby said, accidents happen, and she can’t stay mad forever, can she?

-XX-

These are my confessions
Just when I thought I said all I could say
My chick on the side said she got one on the way
These are my confessions
Man I’m thrown and I dont know what to do
I guess I gotta give part 2 of my confessions
If I’m gonna tell it then I gotta tell it all
Damn near cried when I got that phone call
I’m so throwed and I don’t know what to do
But to give you part 2 of my confessions

-XX-

5

Part1: http://inspiring-blog.tumblr.com/post/93131191047/all-of-this-completely-fictional-meaning-all-of

Part2: http://inspiring-blog.tumblr.com/post/94870359717/part1

Part3: http://inspiring-blog.tumblr.com/post/95526910397/inspiring-blog-part1

Song: no song

The note was tossed at his head in a childish manner, falling hastily to floor and catching his attention. Most times he wouldn’t bother paying attention unless it landed on his desk but all day people gave him looks for the first time in awhile, the occasional harassment and light teasing being nonexistent for far too long; up until now. People passed without a look for weeks now. Though he never had much attention from anyone, the usual push and shove no longer came.

He knew he was seen as vulnerable, the target in this case and he was. He was in fact the easiest target to hit at this point, everyone knowing every final detail to his life; more so that’s what they thought. But no one would know the true horrors the kid faced, never getting the chance with their spectacular lives and a simple demand and the snap of a finger and they’re handed a silver spoon. The life he lived, a snap of your fingers would give you nothing but a smack to the back of the head and a demand to stop wishing for nothing but jokes. Dreams were wasteful of time and any worry in his house. You live now, you do now, and you don’t think about tomorrow but then again he had dreams and aspirations. But they were running short of being a close call but a dream is a dream and he was waiting for a miracle.

He whips around, head twisting and eyes moving across the floor in search of the wad of dream crushing words written sloppily on the paper. His hands shoots out like a claw machine, snatching the paper smoothly and unnoticeably. His eyes scan the room, not a pair of eyes catching his or his paper filled hand, making him wonder who could have thrown the unlawful wad at his head. He sighs in distain, quite upset that he couldn’t hold himself like most people could. This target that marked his body, this circle in the middle of him begging, calling out for everyone to throw their dirty words and papers in a try of getting the middle and hitting the most valued to him. But he was building this strong barrier, hoping to block out all the attempts of aims at his heart in hopes to break him to the last bit, hoping he might take his life.

For as long as he remembered, most people would pass him like he was nonexistent, not there in anyway and even though he loved those days, getting a little attention, though it’s bad, he felt like a teenager for once and that’s all he wanted. He wanted normality in his life and if it meant he had to deal with a little push and a shove every now and then, then be it. With the odd life he lived, any ounce of normality in his life was wanted, needed, desired and no one would understand that. The world would keep rotating, everyone’s lives would move along, and time would not stop but with his needs, his wants, his desires, his world would not rotate, his life would not go on, and his time would slow down in need for a little bit of commonness in his life like everyone else.

But his life would always be short of anything common, normal, or okay, because with the cruel people in his life, they would always remind him of how horrible he and his mother were. They would not hold back on the fact of having something against him even though it had nothing to do with him, he knew they only wanted a reason to fuck with him.

He moves back to look at the wad, planning to not even worry about it but the nagging at his mind tells him otherwise. His fingers twitch impatiently, opening the paper as fast as he could without distracting anyone around him. His eyes scan the paper, eyebrows twisting in confusion.

‘And at midnight, you run’.

His head shoots up, searching once more, wondering who would’ve wrote that to him. He could only guess that they suggest he watch his back, not taking that everything’s okay, everything’s fine.

He heaves a sigh and crumples the paper back up, tossing it in his old book bag. He couldn’t keep his mind off the paper though, getting in trouble for not paying attention in class. Throughout the whole day he watched everyone. Which he usually kept to himself and paid no mind to those around him, but he felt threatened, unsafe and that was worthy enough for him to pay some mind to the cruel things around him. But in return, no one watched him, no one paid him any attention, not even a glance and this made the poor boy even more paranoid than usually.

He moved along all day with his head in the gutter, his mind somewhere else, far away from school and the work he needed to heavily focus on but he just couldn’t get the damn note off his mind. ‘And at midnight, you run’. It was like some horror high school movie where you get a dumb note of suggestion to watch your back and end up being killed by some psychotic lonesome that couldn’t hold back his urge to kill those that put him through pain but this time it was the psychotic getting the note, the unknown being the killer and that triggered the boy in some odd way. But it was haunting him in all the wrong ways though and he was quite afraid of what was to be feared from the odds.

He pushed on, keeping in mind it was Friday and he nothing more to worry about besides what fire he must face from his mother once he arrived home. By the last period of the day, the note oddly slipped his mind as he had nothing else to remind him of it.

He pushed out the heavy school doors, the hot rays of sun beating down on his already quite tan face. To say he hated the warmth would be an understatement. He wanted cool weather and long nights, he wanted jeans to finally be acceptable and the sweet smell of the air to fill his nose with the reminder and sweet whispers that it’s going to be okay. He wished for the cool air to whisk pass him in a sweet, delicate, delight of white lies and tall tales instead of the way the humidity squeezed his lungs in a threat of nauseous sentiment and ugly truths of bitterness that swept through his nose and clenched his throat.

He wanted nothing more than someone to share the sweet secrets with but he came up short of likings like the such for others. He was alone like the stray pebble you kick when you’re walking by yourself. But he was stray, he was alone and it hurt to say the least.

'Why’ ran through his mind many times. Why was he treated so horribly bad by everyone he crossed ways with? Why must he go on when nothing benefitted him? Why?

He stuffed his hands in his pocket, kicking around gravel as he walked through someone’s driveway, his feet soon connecting to the pavement of the sidewalk. His hair fell in front of his eyes, his heart thudding to his eardrums and back.

He usually roamed aimlessly around town to stay away from home, his mom, and about anything else. He never took the time to know when his mom worked and he knew by nightfall she was passed out on a high and overdose of alcohol, the bottle resting soundly by her on the table. He would rummage through the fridge in search of something to make the drying sizzle in his throat to die down to a simmering, dull notice. Food was not a main priority for him anymore and if he never had the growing notice of the bubbles in his throat, he’d skip food altogether.

He finally rounded down an alley that lead to downtown. He loved walking passed empty tables and up done umbrellas. He may seem dull to a point but he had his interested and they were quite unique in their own way. He would watch old couples interact with each other, admiring the long lasting love they shared, unlike the heartbreaking, downgrading, nasty relationships he’s seen lately. People always wondered how such a great man loved such a horrible women. But then again, no one sees it in time, and as everyone says opposites attract, right?

Wrong.

His mother and father were always neck to neck but his father was a passion filled man with so much love to share, that the simple thought of leaving the malicious women slipped his mind as soon as it entered. He was so well rounded and a great person, the boy had no issue of looking up to the man and having his own passions as the such.

But being alone, he had no one to share it with, his love running dry to the last drop of nothingness in a world so out of his reach. He couldn’t help but fall short of having any love for another when he had no love in return.

He smiled to the old couple on his way down the sidewalk, a sweet one being in return. His mind ran wild with thoughts as he searched for the grand clock that always rested downtown. Much to his surprise, he already spent a few hours walking.

5:53 

If only school went by that fast.

He sighed, thinking of places he could go instead of heading home, his book bag weighing heavily down on his back. He was becoming tired of walking, looking for some place he could just sit down and cool off. He soon walked by the local coffee shop, taking an interest in the hidden building. A lot of the buildings were tall and touching each other, occasionally an alley appearing between two buildings. The coffee shop was the shortest of them all, a small apartment complex above it.

He breathed in the soft smell of coffee, feeling at home. Though, for years the boy has homeless, and he may of had a physical house, but that was far from any kind of home with the night terrors every night and an abusive, drunk, delusion of a mother. Downtown was home, it had his heart for the longest as it came and accepted his all. Most of his time went to spending his surroundings downtown and he seen no problem in that.

He greets the waiter, taking a seat in the small booth. He took out his school work from the broken down bag, a pencil, and started working on it even though he had no idea of how to do it. And this is how his mind came back to the dumb note he was given today. Who would make such a pointless note that seemed to have no threat?

He shook his head at the thought of it actually having some point to it and sighed, trying yet another attempt on the homework.

“Hello, I’m Ashely and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I take your order?” The boy was surprised by the joyful voice, head snapping up to the brunette with striking blue eyes who he’d never forget; or forgive.

“I’m good,” he quietly stutters, jerking his head back down to his homework but this time he could barely read the words, the girl on his mind. He was a teenage boy who, in fact, had needs and desires and to say the girl was pretty was an understatement. But she was popular, in the ‘in’ crowd, and would never give him a chance.

“It’s on the house,” she came back around, this time holding a nice steaming cup of coffee. She only hoped he liked coffee and accept her offer as she had intuitions at this point in time.

“Um, thank you,” he watches as she puts down the coffee and sits right next to him, quite close to his comfort might I add.

“What’re you working on? Maybe I can help,” she looks up at him, smiling a heartbreaking, melting, sweet smile that made his heart flutter.

“Uh, math but I’m not too sure what to do,” he looks down with a blush, hoping she doesn’t think he’s some dumb loser who couldn’t do anything.

“It was pretty hard but this is all you have to do,” she takes his pencil and paper, writing down the equation and explaining it to him.

“Ashely, it’s not social hour. You have work that needs to be done,” a man yelped at her, only giving an eye roll to the old man.

“Sorry, father,” she yelled back and looks at the blushing boy. “I get off at nine, maybe you can wait around and we can hangout later,” she smiles, waiting for a yes.

“Sure,” he trails off, not believing she really wanted him around her. He was never asked to hangout, he was never talked to. At this point, teachers have even given up on getting him to talk and participate in class. He found no need to make himself known or to be demand to speak if he didn’t feel the need. Sure he wanted friends and maybe a little attention to the point of feeling normal but he would get neither in the sloppy, ole town.

By the time he finished all his school work, there was a few minutes till nine, Ashely walking around and cleaning as he watched, chin rested on his folded arms.

“I’m almost done and I’ll be out,” she smiled at him, watching as he blushed and she started questioning, wondering why she even agreed to ruin such a sweet boy. Her smiled dampened at the thought, labeling herself nasty names and she knew she’d never forgive herself. She knew he was an amazing kid but something in her wanted nothing more to fit in like he wanted, like he desired. This was her test and if she failed to pass, she could already label herself as dead.

“Come,” she whispered, still in a trance of her thoughts. “I know an amazing record shop down the street and I’d love to show you,” she walks out the door, locking up after the boy. “Music of all genres,” she smiled up to the tall boy that towered her. Her smile always surprised him from the way it was so uncertain, unconfident, and unknowing to everything. Most girls smirked with confidence that radiated farther than the odd stench of a trash can, and it seemed worse.

But years later, that soft, unknowing smile would reappear and it’d tug his heart, knowing it wasn’t the same girl but maybe she had the same intentions.

You did not have the same intentions, though, and it was clear to see the boy rotted with anger and pitted with hate from the nasty things the girl did. Even though she tried saving him, she brought him upon the dangers.

“What about this?” She giggled, knowing he was not into that kind of music.

“The Pussycat Dolls? Really, Ash?” He was opening up to the girl, giggling and laughing with her as she teased him.

“I’m sorry. You just seem like the type,” her hand stuffed over her mouth to hide the soft squeal of laughter. “I don’t wanna go another day,” she sang to the boy, throwing her hands up in exasperated movements. “So I’m telling you exactly what is on my mind,” she giggled at the embarrassed boy.

“Ashely,” his eyes widen and his cheeks tint red. He may of been embarrassed by her loud singing, but he felt happy for once and it felt great to laugh.

“Eh?” She wiggled her eyebrow at the boy, holding up a sexual cover of a girl.

“Put that back,” he laughed, moving on lightly. “This,” he picked up an album.

“Blink-182? Sure,” she nods her head, hair following her movement. “And,” she held up Green Day, smirking at the way his eyebrow raised.

“Who would’ve known you had such good music taste.”

“Is that suppose to be an insult,” she gasped in fake hurt, making the boy trip over his words and apologize. “I’m kidding,” she slaps her hand on his cheek, pinching and squishing it.

“It’s almost closing time,” there was a yell, not even surprising the two rowdy teenagers in the back.

“Alright, Benny,” her voice carried through the almost empty building. She’s visited many times, her attracting personality gathering her to the tasteful music of a man. They had common interested and connected immediately. She always came around to see what new tracks he received, wanting to be the first to look.

“Let’s take a walk,” her hand grabbed his arm, dragging him out while yelling a goodbye to Benny. His book bag slowly slipped down his back, his hand hiking it up higher on his broad shoulder.

“It’s almost midnight,” he said, looking around to see it pretty empty. He never really stood out this late but he’d follow through anything Ashley put him in, enjoying the sweet lived comfort.

“It’s okay,” she reassured but knowing deep down it wasn’t, it was far from ok.

“If you insist,” he laughs, long legs striding down the sidewalk and making the girls little feet struggle to catch up. She hated being short and how her legs had to go twice as fast.

Panic washed over her as she seen the clock slowly move to strike midnight, knowing she unconditionally brought the plan through. “Ashton… run,” she whispered, pushing the boy in the opposite direction they were going, watching as the clock struck midnight. “You need to run. Now,” she screamed at him as people slowly emerged from the two alleyways across from each other. The road wasn’t wide, not having much room to run but straight. Not many people would be able to see what was happening, it not being a main road but being too big to be an alley.

He watched as they mechanically walked out, masks covering their face. A gas mask hid the face of one, who seemed to lead the small group. His eyes widen as he walks back into the hard bricks of a wall. The ones that scared him the most were the ones with clown masks following obediently behind.

“Did you know about this, Ashley?” He twists his head to the girl that was quietly crying. “You knew about this and you brought me here?” His eyes move to the grand clock across the street, seeing as it was midnight. “And at midnight, you run,” he whispered, head moving back to see they now formed a half circle around him.

“And at midnight, you run,” they all whispered, enclosing the boy in. All that could be heard were the screams and cries from the boy, pleading for the forgiveness the group did not deserve. The girl plead them to stop and that it was not worth breaking someone down to the last bit of nothing. But they kept going, no matter how much there was pleading, even after he laid limp without a word or noise leaving his bloody mouth. They were cruel and they would make that clear.


You sat on the side of the tunnel wall, watching as Ashton moved around in wonder. You standup, following to him. Even though he couldn’t see you, he knew you were near and he stops moving, turning around to face you.

“What?” He growled, staring harshly down at you, height towering your body. You step back in fear, it shining bright through your eyes and for a second he felt remorse for scaring you, but his harsh feelings soon came back.

“I.. I was just coming to see if you were okay,” you whisper, staring at your feet instead of at his angry eyes. You reminded him of Ashley; from your kind smile and great personality. But it made this fire-y hate burn to the core of his being and sprout with hurt that something so sweet could be so horrible. He learned and he was taking his cations.

“I’m fine,” he growled turning back around and sighing. Deep down he knew you’d never intentionally hurt him like Ashley but everyone was the same and in the end, nothing good would happen. So, now was the time for him to step back and think before doing.

You watched as his hands attacked the back of his shirt, pulling it off and his bare back to you. In the dull light of the tunnel you could catch sight of a long, welt like scar down his back, making you wonder who would’ve done something so fowl to someone. You walk to him, not thinking completely. Your hand softly touched the scar, running your fingers delicately down it in wonder. His body jerks from your movement, though he doesn’t turn around or move away. Your thumb touches the bumped surface and down the whole thing, feeling how some parts were thicker than the others.

“Why?” You whisper behind him, moving closer to his body. “Who would’ve done this to you, Ashton?” You watch as his head falls, his arms at his side. “Ashton,” your face moves closer to to the scar, inspecting the nasty looks of it. “I’m sorry,” maybe you weren’t there and maybe you’d never know what happened but you could at least give him the comfort and love he needed. “I’m so sorry people are so horrible. You don’t deserve this,” your lips connect to it, surprising Ashton and making his head rise. His anger slowly subsided, making him think that maybe you weren’t as bad as he thought, that maybe you were far from the usual. “And… and always know I will try my hardest to show that not everyone is like this. I promise you, Ashton,” you stand on your tip toes, getting as close to his ear as possible and whispering the sweet promises that he always looked for in the soft smell of the leaves and the soft cries of the wind. “I promise,” you barely get out, kissing his ear softly and moving away from him completely. He loved the warmth that radiated from you, the way your words wrapped around his mind, suffocating any thoughts that ran through his troubled head. He felt that this promise was all he needed and that maybe, just maybe, you were, in fact, far from the usual.