#I won’t lie I had this sitting in my drafts since the second period | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

infinitegalahad · 4 years ago

Text

WIFE

Summary: You and Dick, after years of indefinite separation and depression, have finally reunited. Dick can’t wait to start a family with you. You love Dick, but you soon realize that you cannot bear him a son, a daughter, or a child.

Word Count: 10.9k (i’m being generous)

Warnings: Infertility, period typical sexism, Loneliness, based off of a mitski song what did you expect, here comes the angst train *sad choo choo*

Notes: Female reader. and title (literally) taken from Wife By Mitski, which I rec listening too for the extra painful experience. So I’m back from the dead...ish. I wanna apologize for going AWOL for two-three months, guess Iw anted to focus on other works and I feel like x readers are not my strong suit. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna write them! I can’t promise anything, but I am planning some stories. Not as long or as painful as this is, of course!

I’m not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. Not only because it’s Mitski, but infertility is something that hit’s close to home for me and my family. Was this story just me projecting my generational trauma into this fic? Never! Anyways, hopefully I won’t go AWOL again, atleast not for that long. It’s really hard to find the motivation to write, but I’ll do it. For you guys ;)

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition

When Dick Winters had left for the war five years ago, he had made a promise to you the night before he was drafted. You were nineteen and naive, planned for college and he was twenty-seven, a post-graduate and Business Major. Your father was his professor and one of his best students. You would see Dick every Friday Night. As you would pick at the leftover peas on your plate, he would turn to look at your father to talk about something business-related. His eyes, you could never tell if they were a light shade of blue or green, would meet yours. It would be for a brief second. Those brief seconds would make you drop your fork and your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

You had a small crush on Dick Winter’s.

It took you a few weeks to catch onto his eye color. They were a beautiful mixture of blue and green, reflecting a mint color. The taper candles would always lighten his eyes up. The reason you finally found out this eye color was because each dinner, you’d catch Dick staring at you. You were naturally oblivious to it, keeping your head down as your father talked a business deal. But whenever he mentioned Dick’s name, you would look up, see Dick’s dilated mint pupils looking right into your eyes before he swiftly turned his head to your father, acting like he was listening to every little word he was saying.

Dick had become a family friend. Instead of dinners once a week, he would come by your house more frequently in the summer months. The summer you had met Dick, there was a three-month-long heatwave. From what you understood, Dick had been doing an internship with your father along with extra studies, extracurriculars, and even more. It sounded like a lot for a young man. He was over three times a week, always in your father’s studies or the porch, drinking lemonade as he and your father discussed business. You’d sit on top of the porch, lazily slumped in a chair in your floral dirndl, reading And Both Were Young as you watched Dick Winters, in shorts and a tight white shirt with his strawberry blonde hair a little messy. Every time he spoke, your heart would skip a beat.

“Two jobs?” You cried, skipping ahead of him in your flats that you had slipped on in a rush, the heels hanging out of the back. “And an internship? How do you do it all?”

Dick looked down at your tiner figure, his lips curving into a subtle smile at your question. Whenever he smiled, his cheeks would wrinkle. It was a small detail you caught into about Dick that you adored. “I don’t go to parties a lot. Not worth the time that I’ve got. I work these jobs so I can get through school and support my family.”

“That’s very admirable, Dick. Not a lot of guys my age would even consider that.” You remarked with a compliment. Dick walked beside you, hands behind your back with a straight back. His gaze lingered in you as he scanned your figure. Now that Dick was around more often, you always made sure to wear your best outfits. You wouldn’t have considered yourself very vain, but with Dick, something had changed. You started wearing the pretty pastel dresses your mother approved off, fine pearls, expensive cologne, and even the short rompers that your mother didn’t approve of. When wearing makeup, you felt like a woman more than a girl, which is what you wanted Dick to see you as.

“Thank you, y/n.” The strawberry blonde politely thanked with a curt nod. The two of you had a little routine now. While your mother would make dinner and your father would smoke a cigar in the back with the dogs, you’d take Dick into your backyard and down a little cobblestone trail to a hidden lake. You liked to go there to read to escape, and Dick needed a small break from working in the burning heat. So it was idle. “Do you have plans now that you’ve graduated?”

“Yes. I’m starting classes at Franklin and Marshall since they’ve allowed women. My mother prefers I stay home and learn how to be a lady instead of reading,” You explained with a sigh. The only woman in a class full for men. Times were changing, and nothing was going to stop you from working. “She cares more about her grandchildren then her daughter’s desires.”

“Well, it is your choice? Not your mother or father’s. As long as you were happy, then they should be happy for you. I think you’ll like it,” Dick kindly reassured, “You’re a very nice young lady, y/n. I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

The two of you arrived at the lake. The sun was setting over the sky as it shined on the lake. There was an orange and pink hue in the sky. Dick and you stood besides each other. The strawberry blonde shut his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling a small breeze in the night. The air got colder in the nights, which felt like a refreshing treat after a long day of work and unbearable heat. The sun made his strawberry blonde hair and skin glow like he was some kind of god.

You admired Dick as he stood there, biting your lip and hands playing with the belt fabric on your skirt.

“Dick?” You managed to choke, your voice cracking.

He opened one eye and looked at you, worried. “Is everything okay, y/n?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Dick looked bewildered. It took him a second to process the question. His expression was that of a high school student stumped on an equation in math class. He hadn’t been outside much, maybe the heat was getting to him. “I don’t think I heard that correctly.”

“Can you please kiss me?” You reiterated, biting your lip in vexation. “I haven’t met a man like you, Dick. None of the boys my mother is setting me up with are like. They aren’t as intelligent, hardworking, cordial. When I tell these boys I want to read and live my life, they put me down-call me insane and ill. But you don’t do those things. You just stand there and listen to me. I may not make sense since I am probably just some young immature girl who knows nothing about being a proper lady. You even give me kind words of advice. No other boy would do that. Only a man would do such a thing.” You vented, letting your words spill out like vomit.

Dick wasn’t reacting at all. At Least it wasn’t obvious. He turned his figure towards you, eyes glued as his lips puckered against each other’s. He seemed taken aback by your honesty since you were someone who was reserved, only speaking when necessary. That didn’t mean adding your opinion to one of your father’s at dinner. Dick wasn’t obvious to your “rebellious” nature. Your mother would always scold you for interrupting the men. Your father didn’t mind your info if, and so didn’t Dick. He was interested in your perspective, and would always ask for further intake since it was the gentlemen thing to do.

You looked at him and shook your head, turning to walk back. “Forget it,” You sighed as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his. Dick got a smell of your perfume, a lavender and vanilla, it was definitely expensive. He liked y/n’s armora, especially after a long day of being in a stuffy room full of whiskey and burning cigars. “You probably think I’m just a mad woman-“

Dick thought about his decision for a second. He had to think thinkly. When he made up his mind, he sped walk towards you. “Wait,” He called. He saw you turn around with your silky (y/h/c) (y/h/t) spring right behind you. He scrunched up a fist feeling a lump grow in his throat as he looked a few slow steps towards you.

“You’re not a mad woman. I think you’re wonderful to be around. I always enjoy our conversations and our midnight walks,” Dick commented. He was at a loss of words for the kiss. When you had asked, you sounded like you were begging, but hid it.

It took him a while to realize that the two’s of you had a fair amount in common. You both were soft spoken souls, friendly but quiet. You distanced yourself from large crowds and were usually confident in each other since you both had a trust. You know how eachother worked like nobody else did-a small, intimate detail that only the two of you would watch into.

“You’re also growing into a beautiful young woman each day. Being a lady doesn’t mean being all prim and proper, it means being mature, kind, and respectful to others. That’s what you are.” Dick was only a few steps away. You listened to every word he said, your hands restraining themselves from touching his chest. He could once again smell the cologne and see the moonlight shine on your eyes and hair-the gloss you wore sparkled as well.

“But I couldn’t kiss you. You’re father wouldn’t approve of it.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back. Your hands met his chest. You were so caught up in the heat of it that you didn’t realize that your hands rested on Dick’s Ivory collared shirt. Dick, however, didn’t protest at all.

You gently scrunched the fabric, “He’s not here. Just one. Before my mom tries to marry me off. Just one kiss and I won’t ask for anything else of you, Dick.”

Dick put his bigger hands onto yours as his thumb finessed the small part of your soft, [y/s/c] skin in between your index and thumb. “I…”

You gave him those eyes. They were begging. One kiss from a real man and you would be content.

Dick let out a defeated sigh, “...will. Just one. For you.”

So he did. In the moonlight, Dick Winters held you close and became your first kiss. Your lips were like a sweet treat. It felt miraculous after a long day of work. It was meant to be quick, but he was obsessed with your cushion lips and sweet lip gloss. His hands firmly rested on your lower back as his fingers scrunched with the material. It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was yours, so he made sure to be gentle with you, even though he struggled. The whiff of your perfume, your shirt showing off your abdomen, the silliness of your hair. It was hard just for it to be one kiss.

Dick walked to you, your arm slung in the hole of his elbow. The two of you didn’t speak any words once you arrived back for dinner. It was a typical dinner. Your mother always made Salmon, rice, and peas on Saturdays, which occurred to be Dick’s favourite meal. Your mother raved about boys who could “tame” you, your father spoke of a new business deal in the news, you picked at the leftover peas, and Dick looked at your father with his weary king eyes, attempting to look interested in the conversation.

What kept him away in the dinner as your bare ankle, brushing against his trousers. It was a little bit distracting. Thank god he was a good pretender. It felt so wrong to be doing this, yet so right. You were unlike a lot of women Dick had met. You always caught his attention, watching you each day as you grow into a young, educated woman.

To tame your foot, Dick wrapped his ankle around yours, tenderly holding it down until the meal was over. After dinner was over, Dick wished your family a goodnight.. He gave your mother who adored him a kiss on the cheek, your father a firm handshake, and you apart on the shoulder. His fingers struggled on your bare shoulder for what seemed like forever, brushing against the edge of your neck.

And with that, Dick was gone into the night. You headed to bed and changed, not washing your lips. You had a smile on your face as you twisted and turned. It was a one time occurance, but it felt like your fantasy had come to life.

But before you knew it, it would all be over. Dick would be back on Tuesday, and the two of you would act like nothing had ever happened.

But what Dick and you didn’t know is that it wouldn't be the first time of hushed kisses, lingering fingers, and limbs grazing passionately against each other.

————

The US had entered the war overseas. Most of the boys in your class were putting a pause on their lives to go fight in Africa, The Pacific, or Europe. Anybody who was over the age of eighteen was required to draft, so town was a shit show of crying mothers, lanky boys who could possibly never come home, and military trucks. You wanted to apply to be a combat nurse, but you weren’t of the age requirement.

Dick was going to war.

Ever since the night at the lake, you and Dick kept a closted relationship. He still came over in the Summers. Some days you wouldn’t even see him. But the small moments you had together, whether that be watching the twinkling stars on your walk on the lake hand in hand or cuddled reading books on a rainy day in your isolated greenhouse porch, mattered so much. If you had a bad day, he'd sit there and listen. He wouldn’t judge or give any advice. You didn’t know if he understood your struggles, but it made you happy to know that someone would sit there and listen. For comfort, he would take the book out of your hands and bookmark it, slide off your dangling flats, and pull you into his chest.

Dick’s language of romance wasn’t grand or romantic. Although reticent, his tranquil actions were nothing but idyllic. It was the little things that counted, whether it was fresh perennial’s picked from the field or even a hug. Your relationship didn’t have to be based on gifts and what others thought of you. It was the little things that counted.

The night before he was drafted, Dick invited your family over to his farm. It was at the edge of town and down a long dirt road, leading to a little white house and large red barn. It was picturesque, a cornfield and trees for miles on end. There was no constant chatter, horns blaring, or pressure-it was just quiet.

When your parents and Dick’s parents were distracted in conversation, Dick requested to take a walk with you. As much as you enjoyed talking to the bubbly Anne, you needed a small escape. You followed Dick to the back of his tiny kitchen. Being the gentleman he was, he held the door open and let you walk ahead of him. The only noise that could be heard were the chirps of crickets and the wind gently blowing. You held a hand down on a dress your mother forced you to wear. It was a Jade summer frock, but Dick had complimented you. So it made the frock somewhat bearable.

The two of you walked in his backyard. You had no clue where he was leading you. You turned to Dick to ask. He didn’t respond with words. His fingers edged on your as you unruled your fingers, letting his hand sink into yours. His hands were worked, and you felt awful so you gently caressed the upper skin with your thumb.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as you looked left and right, clinging onto the shawl that hung from your shoulders.

Dick looked down at you. He had a subtle smile on his lips as he looked down at you. All of the anxiety he had felt about being drafted, work, and the war faded away when he looked at you. Dick didn’t need to kiss you to know that you loved him; he could tell from the gentle look of your stunning (y/e/c) eyes. He watched you look into the never ending field ahead of you, the wind blowing loose strands of your updo. You wore a little bit of makeup. It was always subtle. He knew you hated wearing makeup and did you want to do it to look “presentable”. Dick didn’t care what you looked like, whether it be in overalls or a dress, he was infatuated with you.

He should have known from day one that y/n, the mischievous daughter of his Economics professor, had been yearning for him. He attempted to get lost in the papers and speeches of your father in his regal office with the shades closed and the whiff of smoke, earth paper, and Whiskey. Even when he was trapped in the office, you were still on his mind with your elegant perfume and book in hand.

“Here.” He announced, overlooking the cornfield. The colossal, green plants waved in the wind, in front of a hazy smoky dull sunset. You didn’t respond and simply looked into the sunset, slowly watching the shining sun set into the ground. “The cornfields, they remind me of you.”

A smirk curved on your gloss lips as you squeezed his bigger, worked hand with your tinier one. “Is that so?”

“They're wild. No matter the season, they are always growing. They're not the easiest plant to manage, there...unruly.” Dick explained, still a gentle smile on his tringale face.

“Are you comparing me to a bunch of crops?” You teased as your head landed on his shoulder. “Not a lot of women find that very romantic.”

Dick leaned his head on top of yours as he, your thighs brushing against each other.

“I’m going to miss you a lot,” You broke the silence.

Dick didn’t move and had an eerie stoic expression. He tightened his grip on your hand before looking down to let out a soft sigh.

The sun didn’t shine anymore, the corn had stopped moving in the wind, and the stars didn’t sprinkle. You felt your stomach drop as goose bumps appeared on your exposed arms and legs. You froze and looked down at the grass, seeing your feet nestled right next to Dick’s.

The possibility that this could be the last time you saw Dick, held him, read with him, and kissed him haunted you. As a child, you had made it official that love was off the table. But when the giant gentle with red hair and mint eyes waltzed into your kitchen on that fateful night, your world had been turned upside down. Trying to be logical, you could live if Dick died. He was far too old to marry you, and most likely showed no interest. You could've been just a pretty face for him to silently hold before acting like you never shared tender moments in the moonlight. If he died, you would move on, marry someone your mother chose out for you, and start a mundane life of cooking, folding laundry, and having children.

But emotionally, if Dick didn’t come back to Lancaster, something would be missing from your life. Something important.

“I can’t promise anything. You know that, sweetheart.” Dick cautioned you, whispering into your hair. At Least he was being honest-better than sugar coating a sensitive subject. He tried to make you look at him, but you refused. You were being stubborn, pushing away the emotions and trying to think logically. But in all honesty, it was catching up to you know. Tears stung at your eyes as your mouth quivered.

“I know, you don’t have to tell me, ” You sniffled, “I’m not an idiot. I prefer it if you be straightforward with me.” Dick looked at you with his thin eyebrows knit together and narrowed eyes. After sharing such a kind moment, he most likely wouldn't wanna break news that would tear your heart to pieces.

You preferred if he’d just spit out the words and get it over with. Make it easier for both of you to handle.

He moved on his hands to your cheek to wipe the incoming tears, but you refused. You turned your head and swiped the tears with your shaky palm, red lipstick and mascara staining your skin.

You scoffed in frustration, “Just say you want me to break up with me. It’s for the better. I’ll go to school, you go to war. We act like nothing ever happened. For the greater good. It was fun while it lasted..But I...nevermind.” You looked down at the ground, refusing to look at Dick. One glance and the next thing you would know, tears would be streaming down your face as you ran into the night.

Dick turned and followed after you as your footsteps increased with a few mumbled sniffles. “That’s not what I wanted to say-”

A pained sob escaped your mouth as you walked forward, a red face with tears streaming down your cheek. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please, for the better of us. It’s better to use your mind over your heart and not worry about some young, naive girl who had a crush on her father’s best student!”

“Y/n...”

You continued to walk forward and ignore Dick’s pleas, but your stomping slowed down.

“Y/n...”

Dick was creeping up behind your. Your speed walking slowly turned into slow, sluggish steps. Tears streamed down your face as your hands slung at your sides. Dick was now right behind you, watching you as you sniffled. You slowly turned your head to look at him with mascara running down your face.

“Oh, Sweetheart..” Dick softly sighed. Your whole body turned around as you fell into his arms, letting out a loud sob. Small sniffles turned into wails as you cried into his chest, staining the ivory collared shirt. He stroked your hair as he ran reassuring circles on your back. He wanted you to get all of those pestering emotions out. After a few minutes of sobbing and Dick comfortingly holding you close, he broke the silence.

“That’s not why I brought you here,” Dick cooed into your hair as he traced mindless figures into your lower back.

You looked up with your big (e/y/c) orbs, letting out a little sniffle. He had a soft smile on his face as he wiped a stray hair from your face, slowly tucking it behind your hair. “Then...why did you bring me here..?”

“This cornfield holds a special place in my heart. I come here a lot. It’s peaceful, but lonely.” Dick explained as he grabbed your hand, holding your tiny one in his own. He looked down at you, “After working with your father, I’d come home and run here. I’d stop midway to look at the wind and the way it moved the corn. It was so relaxing, so that’s why I brought you here.”

“To not feel lonely?”

“Yes. I felt alone, until I met you.” He admired, “I was surrounded by people, but I still felt alone. But when I spent time with you, I didn’t feel alone at all. It was a highlight to see you, even if it was sitting across from each other at a table or seeing you, laying on the porch. I looked at you and I got happy.”

“Dick, I…” You were speechless. His words wanted your heart, but his message baffled you. “Appreciate your kindness, but what do you mean?”

The gentle strawberry blonde held your hand. He didn’t hold it tight, but used both his hands to hold them up. He slowly backed up and lowered himself on one knee. From the books you had read, you knew what this way. Initiatively, you would’ve said no and ran away. But Dick had courted you with his gentle hold, reassuring words, and sheer presence.

“I couldn’t keep it any longer. I know there’s a chance that this will be the last time you see me for a while or at all. I said I couldn’t promise anything, but I..can’t hide it. I love you, y/n. I don’t care if you want to start school and make your own money, I don’t care if you wear pants, I don’t care what you do. I care about your happiness. I want you to live a long and happy life. You’re the most beautiful and intelligent woman I have ever met. I understand you’re young, and you can turn this down if it’s too much. Dick announced as he pulled a velvet box from the back of his pants, he opened the box to reveal a golden Celtic band. You put a hand on your mouth in joyous disabelif. “I want to be with you, but only if you want to be with me. You’d never be alone...Will you marry me, y/n?”

“Dick, this is…” You chuckled in disbelief. One minute you were crying, now you were laughing. Dick in one hand held a beautiful ring, and the other hand your delicate hand. “Wonderful. But my parents...they…”

“I talked to your father. He said pick out a white dress you want.” Dick replied. “You’re mother cried. I thought she was upset, but she was beyond happy. She told me she knew you had an eye on me since I started coming over for dinner. They approved...but if you don’t want this, I understand. I just couldn’t hold it in, even if I don’t come ba-“

“Yes, Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Your words started low, but then turned to loud cheers. You squealed, nodding enthusiastically. “I will, Dick. I’ll marry you. I don’t care. If something does happen, I'll be happy knowing that I’m yours. Even if you don’t…” the three lettered words struggled to come out your mouth. It was such a rough word. Unable to bring yourself to say it, you chose to leave your pessimistic side for something more optimistic. “I won’t be alone, even if you’re in Europe, The Pacific, wherever. I’ll just know you’re here, in my heart and dreams.”

It turned out that this whole dinner was a setup by your family and the Winters. It just had to be Anne Winters that she found about your relationship with Winters. Being sixteen and sassy, she casually shrugged it off and stated that “Dick was a horrible liar”. It should have been obvious with Dick’s favourite meal, the fact that you were placed right next to time, Anne’s teasing, and your mother pestering for you to look presentable. It all made sense now.

But there was one ball in the air-the ceremony. Dick would be leaving for Toccoa the next day, the afternoon. Your parents wanted a big ceremony for the morning. The Winters didn’t care-they just wanted the two of you to be happy considering that Dick was going to be away for a long time or forever.

You and Dick had to come to an agreement. You announced at the end of dessert that you would wait to be married until Dick came back from the war.

Obviously, this caused a bit of uproar. But with Dick leaving tomorrow, they chose not to make a big deal of it. As long as you and Dick were happy, your families could be nothing but be happy for you. Even if it was a short amount of time.

After the storm that settled, you and Dick had left his house. You hopped in his truck and drove to the local chapel Dick had attended with his family every Sunday. In the middle of the night, the two of you eloped. He made sure to pull over and pick out a group of Perennials, all kinds of your favorites. You even stuffed some into your messy updo which had turned into a half updo.

After your quiet ceremony, the two of you drove back to your estate. There, the two of you spent your first, and poetically final, night together in your childhood bedroom; making love, cuddling, and cherishing every moment you shared with each other.

The variety of perennials’s Dick had picked out were placed into a blue and white ginger jar. It was meant to be a memory of Dick. He wouldn’t be there psychically, but spiritually, he would be right there.

Dick was surprised to learn that you weren’t a virgin. He was raised a Mennonite, waiting for marriage. You, being a curious young woman, had experimented. It was once, and an unpleasant experience. Before, you had felt indifferent about sex. It was something that women were meant to desire. You were told to be a virgin and wait for a man to take control of you. Hating those words, you chose to do the opposite. Nobody knew of your little secret, besides Dick-your husband.

Dick was nothing like the boy you had lost your virginity to. Unlike that boy, he was a man. Not because he was masculine and tough, but because he treated you like his equal. He never treated you any differently from your father. Dick had morals and integrity, he was compassionate, quiet but polite, open-minded, and used his brain and heart. That was what you defined a real man as.

Dick treated you like you were made of glass. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. He didn’t care about his feelings, he only cared about yours. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying yourself. You aided him in some areas, but the two of you were on a ride after a rocky start. Dick always asked how you were doing, if you wanted him to stop, go slower, or if you needed to break. He left sloppy kisses all over your body and had his hands wrapped around you like a young child with a bear. Dick didn’t let go of you once.

That night, the two of you held each other close as you chatted for hours on end. That was what you had looked forward to, not the sex. Sex was still a big piece in your marriage, but it wasn’t the most important. You looked forward to the long and mindless conversations the two of you had. Dick held you in his warm arms, toned and muscles from the workout’s he did year round. He would hold you close to his body as the two of you discussed life after the war.

It didn’t matter what the future held. If Dick was gone for one year, ten years, or forever. What mattered was the two of you had each other in your little moment of peace before all hell would break loose.

You and Dick had chatted the whole night away. The next thing you knew, you would go from the bedroom to the train station. It was a moment you dreaded, but it had to be done. Dick once again had a stoic expression. He kissed his mother, your mother, and sister, shook his father's and your father’s hand, and gave you a long sweet kiss on the lips. Dick struggled to pull away, but he knew it was for the best. Before climbing onto the train, he promised to write to you at every opportunity he got and tell you about Europe, the war, and anything he desired to tell you.

The next thing you knew, you were alone again.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your shoes and walked up the stairs. Your mother asked if you were okay, to which you silently nodded your head. Your father had noticed your unusual silence. He had offered to take you shopping, thinking that money would make you happy. All you did was politely decline and retreat to your bedroom.

Your room was stuck in time. The sheets were all over the floor and Dick’s tall figure that had been imprinted on the left side of your bed. The dress your mother forced you to wear laid on the floor, along with your flats and pearls.

The sun shined through the curtains as you crawled onto the side where Dick had laid. You closed your eyes and sunk into his pillow, holding onto the disappearing scent of your husband.

On Top of the books, you had been reading were the perennials; lavender, daylilies, and stonecrops. You looked up from the pillow, your nose buried into the pillow and a blanket loosely covering your legs.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel that so alone anymore.

———

One year turned into two, two turned into three, and three turned into four. You kept the calendar’s from over the years in your room, neatly stored under your bed. You found it funny how time flew by. You could remember the first day of walking in your classroom and the day you walked off the podium with your diploma. The pretty perennials that Dick had given you from what seemed like a decade ago had died. They were withered and derived of the bright colors they once had, hanging on the side of the blue and white ginger jar. The perennials reminded you of yourself. Once you had been a fiery young girl, and now you were an exhausted graduate student who was bound to become a widow.

Around the time you had found work at Lancaster, BBC announced that the war was over in Europe. That should have phased you and made you jump up with glee, but in all reality, it didn’t. The optimistic side you once had was long gone, turning into a pessimistic bitterness. The war was over in Europe, but not in The Pacific. Dick still wouldn’t be coming home, and you learned to accept that.

Sure, he had sent you letters in the beginning. Lots of them. He would talk about his adventures in training, his dreadful drill sergeant, his friend who was a “one of those city folk”, and so many more things. He expressed his boyish pride in being a patriot for his country. His little letters used to make your day. But as the leaves fell from the trees and the years passed, his letters would slow down. The last one you had received in January, written in December. It was short and sweet. The letter rested in your drawer. As the days passed on, a small part of you broke. You had been married for five years, yet you felt like you weren’t even married. No Dick kissing you, holding you in your arms, or comforting you in your darkest moments.

When the flowers had slowly withered, so did your hope.

But that all changed on a warm September day. Your mother had called you from your room, not specifying what was awaiting for you at the door. You grumbled and got up, taking off your glasses as you walked down the stairs, expecting to see another colleague trying to woo you.

You didn’t expect to see a tall man with a soft smile, strawberry hair, and a neat military uniform. Your husband-Dick Winters.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You dropped everything, running right into his arms. You buried your face in his chest as he pulled you in close, his worked hands resting on your lower back and hair. He smelt amazing, and his uniform was soft. You missed his tender touch and soft words. It had been forever since you had seen him. In that moment, nothing mattered. No words needed to be spoken. In all honesty, you never wanted or needed pity from others. You just wanted someone-Dick-to be close. You thought of yourself as a coward, but all you wanted to feel was alright.

“Sweetheart, I missed you. I’m so sorry,” He apologized, stroking your embrace. His voice was stoic, as usual. It really was Dick. He was home and in your arms, at last.

“Don’t. Just stay. Please.” You softly cooed into his chest. No, you couldn’t let go now.

Dick let out a soft chuckle and stayed in the embrace. War was a strange beast. It stripped families of their children and caused mass discussion. Dick thought he wouldn’t come home and see his wife who had married the night before he was drafted. As the years had gone by, Dick began to regret his choice. What if he had left you a widow?

But that was the past. It was gone-nothing to waste tears on. In your extended embrace, the future didn’t matter, it wasn’t worth stressing. Dick and you lived in the present moment and made it beautiful.

-----------

Nothing had changed after Dick had come home. Life was still the same, except you weren’t as alone. Dick was still his stoic self. He was a doting husband. You expected him to struggle when he returned to civilian life. He wasn't used to homemade dinners and a bed much-the flashes of exploding limbs and artillery flashing through his eyes. Both you and Dick were independent. It wasn’t a bad thing. You could spend hours reading as he did a puzzle in another. On some days, the two of you would do activities together. You’d lay your head in his lap as he’d did his puzzle. On other days, Dick would be needier. Originally, he wasn’t vocal about it. It took you a while to catch onto it. He held your hand more in public, pulled you closer as you slept, and whenever he was in a mood-he’d come right to you and just give you a look. You knew the look all too well-and knew how to cure it. Dick would wrap his arms as you snuggled into his chest and talk about anything your minds came to. Sometimes you’d talk, but other times the two of you would close yours and fall asleep. Dick wouldn’t have any nightmares if held you close for comfort.

Without you, Dick didn’t know what he would do. How he could return to the simplicity of life.

Somehow, he returned. And every day he made sure to thank you for making him feel like a human and not a machine-whether that be through a gentle peck, a cuddle, or even a literal “thank you”. He loved you more than anything in the world.

----------

Shortly after Dick returned, the two of you moved out to New Jersey. His “city-boy” friend (his name was Lewis Nixon, but Dick called him Lew) had offered him a job at his parent’s nutrition company. So off the two of you drove from Lancaster to the suburbs of Haddonfield. Haddonfield and Lancester were virtually the same; small country bumpkin towns isolated from the big cities.

You and Dick had bought your first house (which was given by Nixon was a “late honeymoon gift). It was a small colonial house in a tiny suburb, pristine white with red doors. The decorations in the house were limited, a few photos of your and his family with elegant furniture gifted from your parents. It was a little big for your liking. It was a nice gift, but in Nixon’s words, it was for the “incoming armada of redheads”.

Babies. Children. Of your kin.

Dick had mentioned having children. When he was still adjusting, he’d hold you close as he talked about his plans for the future. Buy a farm in Pennsylvania, build his own business, and start a family of his own. He had told you that anywhere you would go, he would go. Anything you wanted, he wanted. He was about thirty two and you were close to turning twenty-five. It was expected at your age to have young children, but with no husband around and a job, it was difficult to settle down. You would gulp and smile, looking down as you held his hand.

Dick didn’t want to pressure you. He knew that were siginactiatly younger. Times were changing, you had a job and life of your own. He never wanted to interfere with it. When you would get insecure about not being the “ideal wife”, he’d reassure you that you were his wife and didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want. Dick wasn’t a man who put fear into others to get what he wanted. He was a patient and gentle soul.

You had tried a few times here and there. As much as you tried to enjoy something that was pleasurable, it was painful. You hid it from Dick, but Dick wasn’t an idiot. Dick wanted you to enjoy it. You could his mint eyes, hungry yet soft, as he laid on top of you, both of your hands restricted as you did the deed.

You weren’t making any noises, looking to the side. Something was wrong, you knew it. But you couldn’t break it to Dick. How would he react?

Dick catched onto his. He pulled himself together and pulled out. You looked at him and gave him a stubble style as he scooted closer to you, his breath heavy and gelled hair a mess.

“Hey,” You smiled awkwardly, clenching at the sheets.

Dick looked at you, a smile curving as his lips as his hand caressed your cheek. “How is my wife doing?”

It was a private nickname. He called you it after the war, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes it was “my little wife”, which could be sweet or driven by lust. The little nickname made your heart skip a beat. You were proud to be his.

“Good. I’m tired,” You yawned as you held his hand close, playing with his big fingers.

Dick looked at your face as he admired your natural beauty, a pearly smile, your hair loose on the pillow, and your figure covered by a thin sheet. His hand moved from your cheek, your nape, and eventually your stomach. He drew slow, soft circles around your tummy.

“My little wife with our baby,” Dick remarked, his fingers dancing across your bare skin. Any girl would’ve fallen head over heels if a man had said that. You should have been happy, you wanted a family.

But how could you tell him?

There was a long silence between the two of you. All you did was look into his mint orbs, stroking his hair out of his face.

“I hope he, or she, looks like you. So they get their mother’s beauty.” Dick looked down at your stomach and planted a kiss.

You gulped, thinking of a response. A pretty white lie. “And there’s dad’s redhead and kindness. If you’re a little guy, I’ll tell you that it’s hard to find a man like your day.”

“And it’s hard to find a woman like your mother. She’s a firecracker,” Dick jabbed as he playfully ruffled his hair.

“Dick…” Your words were low as you held back a sob. You plastered a smile, it hurt to lie. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl. I don’t even know if I have a baby there…”

“Well…” Dick laid his head on your stomach, gently finessing the skin under your breast. “If It was a girl, what would her name be?”

You hated the feeling-naming a baby that wasn’t in your stomach. Dick believed that you were pregnant, or at least he believed you were. In response, you bit your lips-looking like you were deep in thought.

“Margaret,” You announced, “Molly for short. After my grandmother, in her memory.”

Dick tilted his head up and nodded, “For your grandma,” He planted another kiss and rested his head once again, “A boy?”

“Lewis? You like that fellow a lot.”

Dick shook his head, “No. I can’t look at him and our child the same way.”

You let out a chuckle before shaking your head. An image of a little baby flashed between your eyes. Mint eyes, dimples, and soft red hair. You wished it would occur.

“I can’t think of a name. You?”

Dick was silent for a minute as he laid on your stomach, your fingers entangled in his locks.

“Thomas. His name could be Thomas,” Dick proposed.

“Why is that?” You questioned.

Dick let out a sigh before crawling up to you, pulling you into his arms,“He was a C.O, to replace Sobel. I didn’t know him for long since his plane was hit. He’s listed as missing in action...but,” He froze on the words, unable to say it. You looked up at him Dick, who looked to the side with guilt tugging at his heart. You planted a kiss on his chin.

“He was twenty-two years old, just married. He sent a letter out to his wife to tell her that he was coming home. She still believes he’s out there, lost in some forest, finding his way home..” Dick looked down at you. Just like Meehan, he had been freshly married, sending out a letter. While Dick had kept his short and sweet (he didn’t want to promise anything), Meehan was too big for his britches. He didn’t show his fear, confidence in the face of adversity.

“Okay, Thomas it is. I like that name” You expressed.

Dick saw your face glow up, and so did his. He smiled, nodding along. “Thomas and Margaret,” He looked at your stomach once more, running his hand across your flat stomach. “I like that too.”

You nuzzled into his chest as he planted little kisses on the nape of your neck, holding you close for warmth. The two of you remained there, the only noise being your breathing.

Pulling your head back, Dick moved his hands down to your lower back to pull you up, closer to his face. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Dick?” You looked into his mint eyes, the candle in the room glittering in his orbs.

Dick held your cheek as he admired your face, “I love you, my little wife.”

You looked down before looking at your husband, moving slowly up to his face.

“And I love you two, my big husband.”

Maybe time stopped when Dick’s lips had met yours, but the flutter only intensified. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees went numb. You could only focus on how soft Dick felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all of your senses.

It wasn’t clear if you had dreamed this all, but the raw emotion in the way Dick’s fingers curled against yours. Dick kept his eyes open, sneaking a guilt peak every time you took a breath for air, just to make sure you weren’t a product of his imagination.

You weren’t sure if nature rooted for this moment, but it distracted you from everything. You just laid there with Dick, draped each other's arms as you sloppily kissed. Dick pulled you in once again, gently placing his lips onto yours until your knees had once again gone numb, overpowered by his. His other hand rested on your stomach as he murmured Margaret and Thomas, talking about how excellent of a mother you would be to your babies.

By the time you became aware of this, you froze, letting Dick kiss your body. You looked at the ceiling, hands in his hair as he decorated your skin.

It was like a car had run into you, throwing you down to the side-a rude awakening. As much as you denied it, it was creeping up on you.

There was no Thomas. There was no Magaret. There was never going to be a Thomas or Margaret.

Your stomach was flat, nothing moved. There was no life in your stomach ever. No matter how many times you tried, wished, prayed, there was only one conclusion.

There would never be a son or a daughter in your stomach-ever.

From that point on, life was slow. You woke up, gave Dick a kiss goodbye, worked from home, cooked dinner, read with Dick, fell asleep at an ungodly hour, and repeated the mundae routine everyday. With Dick being a general manager, he would work late hours. At some points, the only time you would see him is late at night when he’d crawl into bed giving you a kiss or early in the morning. Still, in his weary and stressed state, he’d always kiss your stomach every night and morning.

With your irregular cycles, constant negative tests, and pelvic pain becoming more evident in your marriage, you decided it was best to see your Doctor. As much as you didn’t want to know the possibility of what could be wrong, at least you would have an idea of what it was and how to make it better.

It turned out you couldn’t make your problem better. The doctor had a sympathetic look in your eyes as he listed off possibilities. You just sat there and looked at your stomach; your cold hands pressing against your stomach.

You were infertile.

There was never a Margaret growing in your stomach, nor was there a Thomas. There was nothing in your stomach.

How the hell were you going to tell your doting husband this?

---------

It was another Friday night in September. The leaves fell from the trees, the radio softly played in the back, it was peaceful in your little white house. Dick still hadn’t come home yet. You attempted to act like everything was normal as you put on a nice dress, pearls, and a fake pearly smile. It was all fine.

Nothing was fine.

You stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the haunting abyss. This feeling of dread and tightness became background noise as if it were traffic on an unseen road. There were times where you could handle it, and times where you could not. This was a day where you couldn’t handle it. Each day passed, and the more you repressed it-it hurt. It hurt even more than it was supposed to.

You were faced with a dead-end, a terrifying one, with thoughts of temptation and contemplation. You felt even lost in your own home and marriage, feeling helpless and scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen. In the partial society you lived in, a woman’s identity revolved around the ability to convenience. As a girl, you laughed it off, saying you’d do what you’d please. But you were no longer a fiery girl, but a broken and bitter woman. Bitter at the world for forcing the idea that women were baby machines. You, as you typically did, pushed it away.

Stuffed it into a closet, but it was now pouring out. All the baggage that you had repressed was right in front of you. You never felt like you belonged in the parthricaral society you lived in with their white picket fences and predictable lifestyles. That didn’t mean you didn’t want a family of your own. You had a husband, a job, a house, everything seemed perfect. But one thing was missing-a baby.

The older you had gotten, the more it affected you. Going to those parties for Dick’s job and seeing all the wives with their babies and fumbling toddlers. You didn’t feel anything towards them at first, but they eventually grew on you. Dick’s first few days home contained long conversations about what your lives would be after the way. You would chat with him for hours about it to distract from the nightmares that flooded his mind, holding his hand.

“A nice little farm near Lancaster, one or two kids, my own business, and the most important thing...you ” Dick would say, his words full of love. “My wonderful little wife, Margaret, Thomas, and me, on our farm. We’ll have each other.”

The kettle boiled in the water, the loud noise screeching in the kitchen. You dropped the knife and heard it clack onto the ground. All you did was stand there with wide eyes and shaky legs, looking down at the ground as your nails dug into the counter.

You couldn’t bear him children-you tried and tried and tried but to no avail. If you were not Dick’s, then what were you?

---------

Dick had taken off his trench coat, sliding his shoes off as he neatly put them right next to yours. He let out a sigh as he loosened his tie. Work had been stressful once again. All he could think about was seeing you and his growing little babies. Of course, he never told anybody. But knowing the thought was between you and him made it special-something so personal and beautiful. He couldn’t wait to see your face and hold you close, talking for hours on end. Anything you said or did made him head over heels, just like it had done to you five years ago. You had been distant and not your usual self, and Dick was worried. He knew of the insecurities you had, feeling like you never had fit into a certain mold.

He had walked into the kitchen and instead of finding you, he found a dropped knife and kettle that was overflowing with boiling water. It looked like you had left in a hurry. He made sure to check all of the doors to see if you had left, in which you had no. In a calm manner, Dick cleaned up the kettle and put the knife back where it was. He wanted to help so you wouldn’t stress.

The pitter-patter of the shower coming from upstairs alerted Dick. He walked up the stairs and down the dark hallway, seeing the bathroom light creak from the bathroom. Creaking the door open, the all to familiar noise hit his ears. The bathroom was foggy as the shower ran. Looking down, Dick saw the water come to his feet, staining his wet socks. Your flats were spread on the ground along with your knit cardigan, soggy from the water. Inside of the shower was you, clothed with your makeup running, hugging your knees as you looked down.

Dick let out a soft sigh as he looked at you, his shoulder slouching down. It was paining him to see you in this state, “Oh honey..”

You didn’t move, only your eyes did. He walked towards you, into the shower. He wore a white suit and dress pants, which were now we're stuck to his skin. He put himself right next to you as the hot water warmed his cold skin. You adjusted yourself to lean on his wet shoulder. Dick said there as you leaned on him for comfort, listening to the white noise of the shower.

“I tried,” You mumbled as your fingers ran circles in his arm.

Dick looked down at you with his strawberry hair sticking to his forehead and drips of water rushing down his face. He frowned, tiping his head to the side.

“I tried and tried, time after time. I tried so hard and I…” You lamented, grasping onto Dick’s arm. It was hard to spit out the words. You had already said the first half of it, you needed to say more. “I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” Dick questioned, his fingers lifting your chin. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your mascara coming down along with it. His thumb wiped away the incoming hot tears. He was too kind to you. His mere presence reassured you. “Don’t cry, my little wife. Let me help you. Whatever it is, whatever you need, I-”

“I can’t have children. Not now, or ever.” The words came out your mouth. It felt like you were spitting fire. It felt strange like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. Even though it was gone, it still lingered. “I went to the doctor last week. I’m infertile, Dick.”

Dick just sat with a frown on his face. You couldn’t tell what was going through his head. His free arm had wrapped around your shoulder was slowly falling as he let go of your chin, making an “oh” noise.

You looked at him and let out a sob as your face fell into your hands. “I didn’t wanna tell you. I know you’ve wanted children, every man wants that for their wife. You want a son who looks like you, and a wife who can provide that for you. I can’t. I wanted it too, but I watched my dream break. I’m supposed to give you a baby like a normal wife should...” Through the sniffling and sobs, you refused to look at Dick. He seemed disappointed, but you could never tell what he was feeling. “If you want a wife who can give you a child, then, by all means, do so. I’m worthless.”

You could feel it. Your relationship was over. Maybe it was for the better. Dick could start his family, and you could work a job in Philadelphia. They did have an opening in Philadelphia. It was better to have nobody-so you couldn’t get hurt and hurt others around you.

“No,”

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you turned to Dick. You scooted back, not able to tell if he was upset at you. “No?”

“No. You’re not worthless, y/n.” Dick attested, “What would make you think such a thing?”

“We’ve always wanted a family down the line. You would kiss my stomach every night, talking to the...” You looked down at your flat stomach, your hand gently squeezing the skin. It broke your heart even more just feeling what Dick assumed was Margaret and Thomas. “Just didn’t want you to get mad at me. I know you're upset with me.”

“Don’t give me that malarkey,” He growled, crawled closer to you as he grabbed your cheeks with your foreheads nuzzling towards each other. You could feel the warmth on the top of your forehead, “I’m not upset. You didn’t have to hide this from me. I should’ve known, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

Dick tenderly grabbed your shoulders and leaned you back on the white subway wall. He was gentle as he wiped the sticky hair from your face for a clearer view. He had a soft smile as he caressed your cheek with you leaning into it.

“But if I can’t give you children, what good use am I?”

“The reason I married you wasn’t that I wanted a family. At that moment, in that cornfield, I wanted you to be my wife. If I didn’t tell you, I don’t know if I would’ve died content with my life,” Dick complimented with a kiss to your wet hand. “You're not just a pawn used for children-my little wife. Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t even consider the thought. It’d be hard to find someone like you, y/n. Nobody as hardworking, beautiful, and fiery”

A chuckle escaped your lips, “Like a cornfield?”

“Like a cornfield,” He assured. “I don’t care about children, the past, the future, anything. I married you because I was in love with the beautiful, growing woman five years ago, and I still am. All I care about is my little wife, y/n-you. I love you.”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, “I..love you too, Dick.”

Silent communication was your and Dick’s form of romance. You didn’t need big gestures and materialistic gifts to feel comforted, sometimes you just needed someone right next to you, or in your arms. The silence was nice and the warmth was needed. Dick’s warmth felt like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. You wished that you could extend the night just so you could stay in his comforting embrace, relived in his hold. In his hold, you believed that there is nothing to fear, that there is all sunshine and love. Dick was the cure you needed, a lone star in an otherwise empty sky, he was the morningstar that you prayed wouldn’t disappear.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Dick said as he got up. “I’ll even run you a bath. Does that sound good, my little wife?”

Your fingers held the tip of his hands. Your (y/c/e)‘s met with his mint ones that shined in the pristine light. He gently helped you up with a hand resting on your waist.

Resting a hand on his chin, you looked down and shook your head. “I want to make dinner with you. I feel clean.”

“Are you sure?” Dick questioned, pulling you closer to his body. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Well I’m not tired. I haven’t felt like we’ve talked lately. You’ve been gone and I’ve been distant.” You confessed. The brutally honest was needed now. You tipped your head to look at Dick. “I wouldn’t mind a helping hand.”

“Fine, if you insist,” He placed his hand on your upper back and swept you off your fear. You let out a little chuckle as you snaked an arm around his shoulder for stability, “You said you needed a helping hand.”

Once you and Dick changed out of your wet clothes and into your matching silk robes (gifted by Lew, the man even had your initials engraved into the pocket), the two of you headed down to the kitchen to cook. The radio played in the back and the kettle silently brewed as you sautéed the chicken and Dick set the small table in the tiny dining space.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You looked behind you as you washed your hands of the greasy oils and spices.

“Did you grow up with dogs?”

You nodded as you dried your hands, “Two-a Westie and Cairn terrier. Your point?”

Dick came over the counter as he leaned on it with a smirk. It wasn’t condescending, but it looked like an idea had popped in his head. You loved it when he smirked or smiled; the dimples on his cheeks would show.

“I know you get lonely when I’m not around. Lew knows a lot of good breeders in the area. How do two dogs sound?”

You were lonely. Loneliness was a feeling you knew all too well. It haunted you as a child and adult. Except when you were a child, you thought it would disappear. But in truth, it did not.

“Two dogs sound nice, Dick,” You confessed. The kettle began to make a shrieking noise. Walking over, you grabbed two cups and poured hot water into them. The water from clear to a darkish brown. You let the bags settle for a few minutes before taking the two cups over and handing one to your strawberry blonde husband.

“There breed? Are we sure Lew won’t try and steal them?”

“Well, Lew wouldn’t steal them. He and Grace already have enough animals to take care of,” Dick put his two big hands around the mug. “Two terriers, a boy, and girl. Just like the ones you grew up with.”

“Ok,” You smiled, raising your eyebrows. “And their names?”

Dick took a sip of his tea before smacking his thin lips. “I was thinking of Margaret and Thomas. Do you like that?”

You finally knew the answer to why Dick was asking about getting dogs. Not that you were in protest. Dogs were like children-just easier to take care of.

“Yeah, I like that a lot.”

Dick put a hand over yours, giving it a reassuring squeezed. He smiled at you, and you smiled back.

Within the week, Lew had come over with the cutest puppies you had ever seen. He had also brought over all of the necessary supplies for two puppies, and even two sweaters with their names. One was a feisty and quiet Westie named Thomas and the other was a sweetheart with a sour side named Margaret. You and Dick loved them more than anything in the world. They were fed Filet Mignon from the table, slept in between you and Dick, and always for what they wanted. Even Dick gave into their puppy eyes whenever they got into trouble. The reason he wanted dogs in the first place was for his little wife; y/n-you. Not only did he want to make you feel a little less lonely in your little colonial house, but protected. Dick wasn’t always there to look out for you, even though he knew you could handle yourself just fine. Still, it was the thought that counted. Knowing that you would have two little balls of energy to keep you entertained made Dick content, and so did you.

Lewis Nixon was right all along. He never saw you and Dick having children. In his wise words, dogs were “far superior” than children. Dogs didn’t cry as much, they weren’t as needy, and they didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night. Mostly.

You would see the way the dogs would interact with Dick, and how Dick would interact with them. He’d treat them like children. From rocking Margaret in his arms to having long conversations with Thomas about why he shouldn’t bite you his mother while you peacefully sleep, it made your heart skip a beat, seeing Dick be so gentle with the two puppies.

Every night before you would head to bed, Dick would always remind you that his dream had finally come true; buying the little patch of land in Lancaster for the farm was within reach. He’d give you a kiss and pull you close as the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

You broke away from the terrifying cliff that you had looked down, heading towards your morning star, Dick, with hope that it wouldn’t disappear.

#dick winters x reader #richard winters x reader #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #richard winters imagine #my writing #oh gosh this is painful #also listen to wife by mitski #y'know if u wanna even cry harder #all aborad the angst train #*sad choo choo*

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grisdidthis · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER ONE: FIRST SIGHT

AKA, blessed fucknuggets, why do these fools feel the need to put themselves through high school, my sources tell me that the US school system isn’t all that to begin with, what gives?

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

(Warning: this got long. Looooong. Hence, cut, so that I don’t murder your dash like Edward doesn’t murder Bella in this chapter.)

Welcome to the first entry of a live-read that no one asked for, in which I’ll go through the first chapter of Midnight Sun, i.e. a retelling of the first Twilight book from Edward Cullen’s POV. Not to be confused with Grey, a retelling of the first volume of a Twilight fanfic with the serial numbers filed off, or the Life and Death edition, a retelling of the first Twilight book in which Bella Swan is genderbent into a dude called Beau, who utters the immortal line “I knew I must look like a gorilla on a greyhound.” Which still tickles my humerus to this day.

I’ve waited for this novel to drop so long that at some point I’d stopped waiting. If by some freaky turn of chance you stumbled on this without knowing about the hoopla surrounding the publication, here’s a Wikipedia link. The gist is that the first few chapters of the WIP got leaked, the author got upset, the book got shelved until ??? and no further information about it was forthcoming until a while ago, when out of the blue arrive the news that it’s getting released in August.

My first thought was “Oh, yay, something actually NICE is happening this year!”

My second thought was “Please let it be good, so that I can laugh outrageously at [name redacted] for mocking my enjoyment of this series!” And. Look. I know what’s said about Twilight with regards to its literary merit and Stephenie Meyer’s abilities as a writer. A lot of it is admittedly accurate. However, the metrics by which I measure the value of a book are a) did it entertain me? and b) did I gain anything by having read it? And yeah, those are personal and subjective items, but objectivity is a lie, Jesus enjoys using toasters to take selfies, and if ten years ago I hadn’t been looking for a place to post my 50k+ epic Renesmee-centric fanfic, I wouldn’t have met the people who are currently my best friends.

Which is to say: I’m too attached to this series to give a fig what color the prose is. Deal.

And yet. Me hoping that Midnight Sun would be good, in a way that people who don’t have my level of emotional investment might acknowledge, wasn’t… that farfetched? Because the last book Meyer released before this one, The Chemist? Is an improvement on all her previous work. A huge improvement! It’s competently written! The characters read like they were intended to be flawed, messy people.

The main romance isn’t the kind of fucked up that Bella and Edward’s is, where you can pen treatises on why they’re omg so unhealthy. It’s the kind of fucked up where five seconds after meeting her love interest, the protagonist drugs him unconscious, kidnaps him, sticks a urinary catheter up his ding dong, straps him to a table and tortures him for information until the guy’s ex-CIA identical twin drops a plane on the barn they’re in and crashes through the ceiling all “HANDS OFF MY BABY BROTHER YOU DISCOUNT MATA HARI!”

Then they all make friends and go on a road trip together because a shady government organization is after them.

That’s not a fucked-up relationship that you write an essay analyzing the fucked-up-ness of. It’s something you stare at, stunned and, if you’re me, torn between thinking “Holy shit, this is so my brand of heroine!!!” and “How much crack was Auntie Steph on when she wrote this?” And it’s beautiful. I want ten more like it. So my hopes for Midnight Sun are tempered by the knowledge that, being a retelling of an established narrative, it can’t go all-out with the batshit. But I’m still optimistic that some part of it will give me that warm “Awww, you’ve come a long way from where we first met, author! Good on you!” feeling.

Now let’s (finally!) get started on the chapter proper.

…oh wait there’s an author’s note.

…uhm. Yeah. My dreams. About those. *fixed stare at faraway bonfire* Actually, let’s not talk about those and just move on to Edward Not Liking High School, thank you. Yeah. That’s good.

Edward Cullen doesn’t like high school. Edward doesn’t like that people think. Edward doesn’t like that the human student body is beside itself with the arrival of some new chick. Edward thinks his adopted siblings are super basic. (Rosalie = shallow, Emmett = simple, Jasper = psycho two seconds away from jumping off his chair and going on a rampage.) We don’t get to hear his utterly unbiased assessment of Alice, because she butts in and starts a one-sided telepathic convo about how Jasper is two seconds away from jumping off his chair and going on a rampage. You know. Normal sibling stuff.

WHY DO YOU PUT YOURSELF THROUGH THIS HASSLE, WHY!

(Let me take this opportunity to share my pet crack theory that Carlisle Cullen is secretly the most twisted, evil vampire in all of vampiredom, and that the sending the young ones to high school bit is something he does solely because he gets his evil fix by feasting on the emotional toil it inflicts on them. Also why he’s a doctor; he can ignore the call of blood, because being surrounded by the pain of patients and their loved ones already keeps him fed. I mean. He was chilling with the Volturi way back when, and Aro gives off a handsy vibe. No way he didn’t get his mind read in every which way, and if that happened - if he were reaaaalllyyyyy that nice, why would he still ping them as a threat of any kind?)

(This has holes in it, I know. And clashes with my other pet crack theory, which posits that the whole immortal child/Let’s Catch Them All: Cullen Edition was in fact the fallout of a Very Bad Italian Breakup, with Aro being the pissy ex who wants sole custody of the kids.)

Whatever. It still makes more sense than them going through “the inert state between active periods” when. My dudes! College is right there. Some places you can even sit out 90% of lectures and still get your diploma if you don’t feel like faking one, so Jasper would be all set! And you can pick different subjects! Diversify! Why must it always be med school rehashes, there are other worthy professions! And whole fields that are useless for getting-a-job purposes, but still interesting and enriching for those who have the luxury to pursue them. Let Emmett do Viking Studies, for fuck’s sake!

This amuses me much more than it rightfully should. I’m a child.

The Cullen clan tries to pep talk Jasper into not getting his murder on. Jasper is like OMG WILL YOU GUYS LAY OFF, while Edward is busy doing his judgy Edward thing and thinking to himself that Jasper should accept his limitations, that it’s a bad idea to have him at school at all, blah blah bleh, and you know what, I’m with you there, Ed.

Although we all know that this is just setup for the irony that will ensue as soon as Bella the Delicious klutzes her way into his line of smell.

Oh yah! Enter Bella. Edward can’t hear her thoughts. Jessica Stanley is a b-word. Edward wonders whether not being able to butt into the new girl’s head may be a red flag for vampire Alzheimer. Biology class next! The teacher is a man “of no more than average intellect” and, lord. It’s lucky that Edward is the mind reader in the family, because imagine if it were one of the others and they had to put up with listening to him bitch about the world at large, nonstop, at all hours of the day. And night, since these guys don’t sleep. Angela Webber is the only soul in the whole school whose thoughts have the Edward Cullen seal of approval. I feel sorry for her. I also feel this weird sense of hey, this all seems familiar in senses other than being a retelling, have I been here before?

Wait.

WAAAIIIIIITEEEEE.

*googles for the old version*

*runs first chapters through copyleaks*

*kubrick stare* MEYER, YOU LAZY SO AND SO, HOW COULD YOU!

*slams head on desk*

Well. At least I know what I’m in for. HONESTLY! It’s been. It’s been THIS MANY YEARS since the leaked version appeared, and that was a first draft, how in the… she’s way better than this, now! Was this novel produced in a terminal state of $#%CARING#NOT?&FOUND?! Is half of it just going to be the same old thing with a thin veneer of polish? I’m.

*sigh* You know what, I’m okay. We’re just going to call this first part a re-read. It’s been ten years, so I remember not a whole lot of the specifics, so at least I won’t be bored. BUT COME CHAPTER 13 I EXPECT TO BE SWEPT OFF MY FEET, DO YOU HEAR ME?!

Biology. Bella walks in right past a fan and gives Edward a throbbing throat boner. How awkward. Then she goes and sits right next to him and saucily tosses her hair around like he’s not actively plotting her murder and that of the rest of the class. The cheek of the thing!

Fortunately, Bella’s tasty ass is momentarily saved by a stiff breeze.

…I think we may have found the solution to Jasper’s control issues. The Cullens just need to start carrying air freshener around and spray the murder out of him every time he starts looking peckish. It would look weird if anyone else did it, but since they’re all pretty and rich, it’s more likely that the trend will catch on and cause Febreze sales to skyrocket.

Anyway. We’re not done victim-blaming Bella for…

…at least another couple of pages, but at least Edward gets his head out of his ass long enough to recall that hey, vampire! Oxygen is optional! But he still spends another lot of words grumbling about what a hassle it is to be forced to hold his breath in order to dampen his murderous urges. This is why you are a virgin, Edward. No, I don’t mean the planning the assassination a classmate’s assassination, plenty of serial killers still manage to get laid heaps, consensually, even! It’s the fact that you’re this much of a buzzkill that’s the issue.

Live, laugh, love, you dumbass disco ball!

Yep, he’s still on about how he’s going to kill her, totes kill her, he feral dangerous vampire, rawr. The miracle of adequate indoor airflow only got him to railroad a quartet of brain cells into thinking up smarter ways of snuffing Bella out. Now he wants to lure her to the forest. No, he’s going to kill her at home! He hates her! No, he hates himself and is projecting!

So he flees to his car, plays some calming music, breathes in and out and thinks about his family and how disappointed they’d be in him if he were to help himself to a Swan shake. Well, I’m nobody to shit talk anyone’s self-soothing routine. I’d probably throw in a truck of food + a bath, but he’s had 100+ years to figure out what coping mechanisms work for him, so let’s just let him do his-

Edward.

EDWARD.

…do you actually think this is an appropriate time to start a ginger-off with some random desk lady? Yes, we know you’re the One True Redhead To Rule Them All. (Though Kvothe from Name of the Wind may beg to differ, and I don’t know who would win that fight.) I mean, really? You pull this crap when you just barely talked yourself out of a murder? And then you call her eyes flat! What!

One of my favorite comic book series, Y the Last Man, features a scene where two characters discuss what it is that truly binds people together. One of them presents the argument that stronger bonds are formed not by shared love, but by shared hates. By which they mean not a kiss-kiss-slap-slap, enemies-to-lovers relationship dynamic, but like… you, being someone who really hates coleslaw, having a partner who likewise hates coleslaw, with whom you can indulge in tireless verbal roastings of coleslaw and who will never get tired of your complaining, because the fire of their loathing burns every bit as hot as yours.

I’ve always felt that this concept resonated with me deeply. And if you apply it to Bella and Edward, by its standards, they have the real deal. Go through the namesake chapter in Twilight-the-book, and you find Bella thinking similarly judgy thoughts, being irked by the same shit that no one normal would bat an eye to, going “Ugh!” and “Gah!” at everything that makes Edward wince internally. So their love will be eternal for sure. Perhaps not in an epic way. They’ll live boringly ever after, until they’re ancient and onion-skinned and lurking at passerby humans through the geraniums on their windowsill, exchanging “Holy crow, I can’t believe she bought a hydrogen engine car just to show off!” / “Awful! She should know that thinning the deer population so that they produce less flatulence is the most sound way of controlling toxic emissions!” And then probably gazing at one another like idiots for an ice age or two.

Edward wants to be moved out of Biology class. Goes back and forth with the desk lady, who obviously wants to tap that, because of course she does. Every hot-blooded woman within spitting distance must crave his alluring icicle, even as he mentally eviscerates every minuscule detail of their appearance.

Except Bella, because she’s soft, translucent, deep-eyed and edible. And, I mean. You can complain all you want about “you’re different from anyone else I’ve ever met, you’re SPECIAL, better, more beautiful, more everything!” being a dead horse of a trope so old and beaten that by all rights it should have turned to smelly glue, but. That pony is still kicking. And by kicking, I mean selling. And it sells because being made to feel special, even if it’s happening by proxy while you’re immersed into the thoughts of a fictional character, is nice. Readers enjoying that experience and seeking out fiction that provides it shouldn’t be considered so… mock-worthy as I’ve seen it be, in discussion of works that feature the trope prominently.

Which doesn’t mean that it wouldn’t be nicer if Edward’s narration were focused solely on elevating Bella, instead of also viciously kicking down everyone in the vicinity. Man, we get the message, okay? You don’t need to act like you’ve swallowed a Simon Cowell before coming in for school.

I swear, it’s almost a relief when Bella interrupts, heralding the triumphant return of the throat boner. Edward’s thoughts about the people around him are actually LESS gratuitously bitchy when he’s contemplating how to best murder them.

At least this time he is able to extract himself from the situation and flee speedily. (Which… in Biology, what exactly was preventing him from asking for a bathroom break? Or just saying he was feeling poorly and getting the fuck out of there?)

He meets the sibs. Only Alice has any clue of what is going on because visions, and she doesn’t explain anything to the others, who just stand there baffled while Edward decides to get his shiny ass in his shiny Volvo and run off to Alaska. Probably because it would ruin the serious mood of the scene if she told them and Jasper started doing happy cartwheels at the prospect of no longer being the only fuckup in the family.

END CHAPTER. Same time tomorrow, hopefully, and I’ll TRY to be less longwinded. Try.

#TWILIGHT #MIDNIGHT SUN #EDWARD CULLEN #GRISREADSMS #MIDNIGHT SUN SPOILERS

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pynkhues · 6 years ago

Note

Say Dean did give her the necklace. Out of all the horrendous things he’s done to her, why would she decide to wear it tho?

Well, assuming that he is the one to give her the new necklace, which Istrongly suspect he is (although I’ve been wrong before!), I think there are afew reasons she’d wear it. And hey! I’ve had five or six asks since 2.08about Beth and Dean’s relationship, history and age gap, which I had a fewdrafts of, so I’m so sorry! I’m going to highjack your ask to combine/answerthem all! Hope that’s okay.

Putting all myheadcanons and theories aside (at least for the first half of this post haha),let’s just talk about what canon has established about Beth and Dean and theirrelationship over the last 18 episodes.

This is like, verylong (seriously 2,800 words), haha, so I’m putting it under a cut to save all your feeds.

The Marks’ Family ValuesWhile 2.08 clarified a few things about the way Beth, Ruby and Annie wereraised, there’s still a lot that we don’t really know, so let’s look at what wedo know:

1. Beth as a youngteenager crashed her mother’s car out the front of Ruby’s house with her kidsister in the passenger seat because there was no food in the house, and theirmother wasn’t getting out of bed. The implication, from Annie’sdialogue “She just really likes it there” is that this is not a new thing.(2.08)

2. Annie was areckless kid and had a broken arm during a time it’s implied she and Beth were neglected.(2.08)

3. “You knowwhat my mama used to say? You get what you get and you don’t get upset.” – Beth(2.01)

4. Beth played pianofor six years after her parents dropped $$s on it, despite changing her mindand wanting to play violin, which on its own I think can be written off as generalchildish indecisiveness, buuuut I think means a little more than that in thecontext of everything else. (1.05)

5. Beth worked heronly legitimate job in highschool at the Dairy Queen. (1.03)

5. Annie used to gethigh and was sexually active in highschool, and had gossip/rumours spread abouther. Their mother came into the school to address it and, it’s implied, madethe situation a lot worse, causing Annie not want to do the same to Sadie with Sadie’sbullies. (1.04)

6. Then Annie gotpregnant in highschool. (mentioned multiple times)

7. Beth has alwaysbeen the one that Annie has called to bail her out of trouble (mentioned a fewtimes).

9. Beth had postpartumdepression with at least one of her children. (2.05)

The Boland Timeline

While we haven’t gottenconfirmed ages of the characters, we do know that Dean is, at the very least, ayear older than Beth, although I think it’s more likely around three yearsgiven the way it’s framed in the episode. SO.

1. Beth meets Dean atschool when she’s either a freshman, sophomore or junior. He’s a senior. It’sat a point in time where we know her mother is bedridden and Beth spends a lotof time looking after Annie (she even took Annie to Ruby’s father’s funeral,which I think says a lot as to how much Beth – and by proxy Ruby – were lookingafter Annie). (2.08)

2. Beth and Dean havebeen married for 20 years during S1, so that puts them likely at gettingmarried when Beth is somewhere between the age of 20-22. (mentioned multipletimes)

3. Somewhere in thistime period, Dean takes over Boland Motors from his father (one of the photosin the screensaver Dean’s looking at in 2.04 looks like it’s from a grandre-opening, and Beth’s holding a baby boy, so it looks like this could bearound the time Kenny or Danny is born) and Beth becomes a stay-at-home motherand a housewife. Dean also has full control of their finances, and Beth is onan allowance that he also controls.

4. Kenny has hiseleventh birthday in S1, so Beth would’ve been in her late twenties when shehad him.

5. We don’t know theage gap between the rest of the kids (and in fact, those age gaps have obviouslychanged between S1 and S2 lol) but it looks like Jane is now the youngest, notEmma, and that Beth and Dean hadn’t had sex in the two years before gettingpregnant with Jane, and then that they hadn’t had sex since she was born until2.06, which seems to be about five or six years. (2.05 / 1.05)

6. Beth had postpartumdepression after at least Emma (it was the specific given reason as to why theyhadn’t had sex in the two years before getting pregnant with Jane), although Ithink the implication is that it was with more of the kids than just her.

7. Somewhere in allof this, Dean had multiple affairs. He says four, but the implication fromAmber is that it’s more than that, and then I think Beth basically confirmsthat when she says “Dean’s slept with half of Detroit” later in the episode.Plus Dean being a pathological liar isn’t exactly a secret. (2.05)

8. Beth finds out hesleeps with Amber in 1.01 and that he’s mortgaged their house three times andthat their savings are gone. She kicks him out, takes control of theirfinances, and robs Fine & Frugal.

9. Dean tries to winher back a few times - first by appealing to her pragmatism (and I’ll beexpanding on this shortly) - by talking about how they’ll both be worse offfinancially if they separate - before telling her that she’s the love of hislife, then by showing up unannounced to mow the backyard (a traditionally malehousehold job), then by using Kenny’s birthday wish that they were backtogether to try and guilt her (another point I’ll be expanding on shortly!)

10. Cut to Kenny’sbirthday party. He implies Beth’s having an affair with Rio (lols for so manyreasons), they fight, Beth insinuates that she’ll be filing for divorce soon(”You’re still my wife” “Yeah, I’ve gotta get on that.”) and Dean drops TheCancer Lie. Beth is obviously upset, and lets him move back in, but he’ssleeping in Kenny’s room. (1.04)

11. Dean doubles down on the cancer lie by bribing a doctor to tell Bethhe has prostate cancer, but he also covers for her when Turnerfinds the Boland Motors car the girls stole from the lot. He then confronts herabout it in a very paternalistic way (”Why don’t you get a job?” “Sit down!”“These people prey on good, innocent people” “I’m sorry I yelled at you, buteverything’s going to be fine. I’ll take care of you.”). Beth plays along inthe moment, but Dean changes the locks without telling her (and also doesn’thelp her bring the grocery bags in which is sooo telling), reveals he’sswitched hours with a guy at work to be around to ‘protect’ her, and Bethfinally stands up for herself “You have no idea what I’ve done or even who Iam”. (1.06)

12. Dean asks her ifshe’s doing it for the kids. She says yes, and he says it’s all he needs toknow. It genuinely seems to comfort her in the moment. It’s one of their fewnice scenes and I think shows what they were like when they were at their verybest. (1.07)

13. Rio shuts down,Beth is back on an allowance. She tries to get a loan, but their credit hasn’trebounded enough and they still have too much debt. Dean solves the problem bymoving the botox via the doctor he bribed. Dean won’t tell Beth how he did it,but she’s grateful enough to end up coming clean about what she does for Rio.They have their second nice moment. “You don’t deserve anything I did toyou.” + “I think you’re incredible.” (1.08)

14. Dean obviouslyfeels like he and Beth are getting back on track, and is annoyed that Annie’sliving with them temporarily. He builds Beth a craft table with hiddencompartments to hide her fake cash! (1.09)

15. Dean tries toorganise something for their anniversary, which Beth doesn’t agree to rightaway, but does later in the episode when he tries to help her after realisingshit’s going down in the crime world. Dean gets into a car accident whilechecking out another woman, Beth finds out he lied about the cancer (like thatgrenade was never going to blow, Deansy), he came home, Rio shoots him to getback at Beth, but not before revealing a certain degree of intimacy and trustbetween the two of them, which Dean clocks instantly. (1.10 / 2.01)

Then Season 2happens, haha.

So let’s talk about Beth & Dean

I’ve said it a fewtimes before, but when it comes to Beth, we’re ultimately watching somebody whohas been disempowered and disenfranchised for a really, really long time tryingto reclaim a sense of identity and control over her life. Even before 2.08, wewere looking at that through the sense of her marriage to Dean where she had noreal independence. Her entire life was dictated by decisions that he made forthem, personally, professional and financially, and a lot of the first half of Season1 was devoted to her realising exactly how many of those decisions had been bad ones. As the series went on, she reallydid start to gain a sense of financial independence (which is incredibly important)as well as a sense of her own identity and agency, only for that to becompletely crippled again across that four episode arc - 1.09 through to 2.02 –firstly by thinking Rio had played her for a fool (the empty truck), then Rio firingher, then realising that Dean hadplayed her for a fool again (thecancer lie), and then her plot to put Rio away falling apart, Dean being shot,and her realising that she was newly indebted to both of them.

I think what 2.08contextualised was that Beth has never really been allowed to explore who sheis, because there’s always been somebody she’s had to look after. She’s alwayshad dependents and she has lived a life of constant compromise, making her incrediblypragmatic and sacrificing of her own needs and wants. The episode establishedthat Beth spent most if not all of her adolescence caring for Annie and theirmother, married young, and then spent her entire young adult life looking afterDean and their four children.

Likely the appeal ofDean was that he was older, gave her attention in a way that seemed to ‘see’ herat a time where her needs were neglected at home, and likely popular – he’s goofyand fun, as the show’s establishedmultiple times, which I think would be more likeable at that teenage age, and Ithink he probably appealed to Beth as a way out of a troubling home situation.At the end of the day, the show has established pretty firmly that Beth is, whenit comes to her and her own, a survivor. And when I say survivor, I don’t meanthe badass, action heroine sort of survivor - I mean the desperate, do-what-she-has-tosort of survivor. She has an uncanny ability to lie and perform to get herselfout of situations, and also a tendency to sacrifice her own happiness for thoseshe loves. I think when it came to Dean, for a very long time, Beth sacrificedpower and control for a security and safety that she hadn’t had growing up,first for herself (and likely in part for Annie too), and then for her fourchildren.

And I think Dean, priorto the start of the series, had never truly been challenged on any of thecontrol that he wrought over their lives. He’s your classic embodiment of whitemale privilege, and I think he has all the baggage that comes with that,including a firm belief in gender roles, a heady sense of entitlement, and asubconscious expectation that things will usually work in his favour. The factthat he started dating Beth when she was so young, that he inherited BolandMotors from his father, and the fact that he blames Beth’s postpartum depressionfor his affairs too I think drasticallyemphasises that. We talk a lot about the power play between Beth and Rio, butBeth and Dean, since 1.01, have been in a power play of their own – Beth in herdesire to break out of their traditional roles, to ‘steer the ship’, and toreally put her family in a more secure position in life (something she realisedDean was incapable of doing), and Dean in his desire to keep them in their traditional roles, to ‘steer the ship’, and tokeep the status quo (I mean, hell, the fact that he was checking out anotherwoman on his way to his anniversary dinner with Beth in 1.10 says a lot about exactly how little he wants things tochange).

In what is typical ofpeople who are nurturers/carers or have been forced into nurturer/carerpositions in their life, Beth also seems to feel guilt to a disproportionatedegree, and in a way that often seems to cancel out any other emotion,including her anger. This is established pretty early in season one in smallways - her snipping with Annie then immediately back pedalling when sherealises Annie might lose custody of Sadie, with not being able to throw Kennythe birthday party he wants, with her telling Dean about what she does for Rioafter Dean offloads the botox, and then reiterated in big ways this season -nursing Dean after he’s been shot, crawling into bed with Kenny after he gotcaught binge eating at school, going above and beyond to get the dubby backafter Jane feels neglected, I’d even argue that the whole situation with MaryPat has partially been fuelled by guilt for putting Mary Pat in that situationin the first place when she’s a widow with four young children.

And I think Dean knows this! He has guilted her so much across the course of this show, often in a way to deflectfrom his own shortcomings or to ultimately playher. He gaslights her all the time,and she often doesn’t even realise it, which demonstrates, to me at least, howoften he’s done it over the course of their 20+ year relationship. The wholething about the cancer lie in the first place was to back her into a corner,which he succeeded in doing. He guilted her about being at Boland Motors andaway from the kids. When Jane went missing, he immediately blamed her and guilted her for her involvement with Rio(instead of………you know……….looking for his daughter), in 2.08, he guilted Beth for checking on her moneybefore untying him after he’d tried to organise a hit on her partner and gottenher robbed blind in the process.

And when the guilt and the manipulation stopped working, he did thething he knew she couldn’t ignore (and that would hurt her the most) which istake the children. Beth is, like I said earlier, a survivor and a sacrificer whenit comes to her and her own. There’s no way she won’t give up everything togive those children what she didn’t have – a mother who she could rely on. I thinkDean’s ultimatum won’t just be about them either. I could be wrong, but I thinkhe’s going to tell her that they have to try again as a couple, and I thinkthat’s what that necklace is going to be about (seriously though, if he givesit to her as a part of the ultimatum, everything about it symbolically is acollar), and she’ll put it on for her children, and I think it’s all honestlygoing to push her over the edge in a really big way before the season’s over.

I’ve mentioned this in other posts, but I think Beth fully was intendingto leave Dean before the cancer lie, but then she needed to care for him(again, a manipulation I think Dean knew would work because of Beth’s historycaring for her mother and Annie), and then the shooting (same reason, plus theadded bonus of her having caused it). Since then, I think she has almostcompletely emotionally divorced him – having sex with Rio, taking over BM,checking on the money first, not letting him back into her bed – is all verytelling of this, and I think she had likely had her pragmatic hat on and waswaiting until she could feasibly balance all the pieces in her life on her ownbefore filing for divorce. Of course, that’s now blown up with Dean holding thechildren essentially hostage.

And look, do I thinkDean loves Beth? I do actually, in his own way. Do I think Beth loves Dean? Ithink she did, but like she said to Ruby – Dean’s not a soulmate for her, oreven a partner. Beth and Dean should’ve maybe briefly dated in highschool andthen broken up, but they’re both in too deep now, and I don’t think anythingshort of a bullet or an arrest is going to easily disentangle them.

#beth x dean #NBC Good Girls #speculation #gg 2.08 #gg 2.09 #welcome to my ama #character backgrounds #timelines #beth boland #dean boland #staying's worse than leaving #gg season 2

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ghostlywritten · 7 years ago

Text

Uncertainty IV.

Sorry, it took so long. I was actually done with the chapter and just editing when it got deleted from my drafts and I had to start again. I made it longer to make up for it. Enjoy!

I also realised that Jeff Atkins must have known about the Clubhouse since he was on the baseball team, so I’m questioning whether there is actually any decent human being in this world.

Words: 6k+

I II III

Warning: Language. Mentions of abuse, nothing graphic, just mentions.

“So, Bryce is testifying today?” you spoke up as you sat down at the kitchen table with Clay and Justin, the former having decided to drop by today for breakfast.

“Yep,” Justin simply replied, munching on his pancakes, “What about it?”

You and Clay exchanged a glance before you continued, “Well, you sure you wanna come? He’s probably going to sprout a bunch of lies and they might make you lose your temper-”

“Really? You are talking to me about temper?” Your ‘best friend’ raised his eyebrows, pointing at his phone, “After that voicemail you left?”

Clay chuckled, “Justin Folfuck. I remember that.”

You grinned, “Come on. That was a good one.”

Justin snorted. “It was bullshit.”

“It was possibly the best nickname ever for you,” Clay objected, making the other boy glare at him.

“I think we can come up with even better ones,” you mused as you placed your chin on your hands, “Justin Fuckley maybe?”

“Or Justin FolofFuck,” Clay suggested.

“Or Justin Fo-”

“Ok enough abusing my last name for today!” Justin cut you off and you all laughed a little, your hearts the slightest bit lighter than before.

“We gonna meet up with Jessica first to show her the polaroids,” Clay said after a minute of silence and the semi-peacefulness that had settled on your mind disappeared. Right, they still had stuff to do. “And then we’re going to talk to Chloe about them.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in thought, “I dunno. I don’t think she would feel quite comfortable if you approached her with this.” You picked this up, taking a deep breath upon looking at the picture. It had lain there on the kitchen table since you guys woke up, haunting you and making sure you never forgot how fucked up this school was.

“Why?”

“Because you are boys,” you said slowly, raising your eyebrows.

“Right. I don’t get it, but right,” Clay nodded with a look that clearly showed he didn’t.

“I mean, you tried convincing Jessica to testify before and how did that end?”

“...So you and Jessica will go to her?”

“Best be that way,” Justin said and you nodded in agreement. You weren’t sure how exactly to approach Chloe with this, but Jessica and you would have to find a way.

One hour later you were sat at Monet’s next to a horrified Jessica staring at the pictures as you failed to find the appetite to sip on your hot chocolate.

“If she doesn’t know this happened to her, she’s going to be destroyed,” Jessica whispered, choking up and you rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her. She didn’t show any signs that it was working. “You can’t expect her to be alright with letting the whole world know about this. They need to take Bryce down without her.”

“I don’t think they can,” you said softly, “Bryce is just going to lie and there is no proof against him. Except for this...and you.”

Clay took out another picture of a girl sitting on the sofa of the infamous Clubhouse. “Nina is part of it, too.”

“Oh my god.”

“This is proof, Jessica. Proof, who Bryce is. Who they all are.” You winced slightly but tried to pretend you didn’t care about who else he was accusing in his implication. Justin’s hand grasping yours around your cup told you that you weren’t really successful. “It’s proof that you are not alone.”

“And that makes it easier?!” Jessica stood up, enraged. “Like we’re a fucking club?” She swiped up the pictures in her hand, leaving. “Jesus, you guys!”

“Wait! That might be evidence,” Clay protested, meekly.

“Well, it doesn’t belong to you,” Jessica said, glaring at you three and walking out. You sighed. ‘Now that went well,’ you thought, looking up the two in front you.

They were staring at you, expectantly. “Wh-what?”

“You said you would go talk to Chloe with Jessica,” Clay reminded you.

“Yeah, well. That plan is over, Jessica clearly doesn’t want to talk about it with her.”

“Then, convince her! You’re a girl!”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t raped,” you said, shutting them up. “I can’t talk to Chloe alone and I can’t try to persuade Jessica, either because I don’t know what they’re going through. I can only help when Jessica wants to.”

“Please, Y/N. Try to convince her somehow,” Clay almost begged and you wondered why he was so much more invested in this than anyone else, even Justin, whose ex-girlfriend got raped, “You know this is the only way to take down Bryce. If you don’t, this shit will continue at school even after we graduate and who knows how many other girls will get rape-”

“Alright. Alright,” you stopped his rant and stood up, taking your hand out of Justin’s grip. “I will try, okay?” They sighed in relief. “But I can’t guarantee anything.”

“That’s okay. Meet you at the courthouse?” Justin suggested and you nodded, quickly running after Jessica.

“Jessica!” you knocked at the window of the passenger seat and she jumped in fright.

“Jesus, Y/N,” she said as soon as she rolled down the window.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly, “I was...wondering if you could give me a ride to school. The guys want to go see the trial and I’m not really in the mood to see that fucker’s face.”

“Yeah, sure. Get in.” You thanked her quietly, opening the door and sitting down. She turned up the engine and BTS’ Blood, Sweat & Tears started blasting from her aux.

“No...freaking...way. You’re a Kpop fan?!” you exclaimed as Jessica turned it down, sheepishly.

“Yeah, it’s weird. I know.”

“What’s weird about it? I love Kpop!”

“You do? I thought I would never find someone who does,” Jessica laughed, turning the volume back up. The rest of the ride to school was spent yelling out the lyrics off-key, which you probably pronounced completely wrong but you didn’t give a shit.

“Wow, it’s so fun if someone else actually sings along with you,” Jessica breathed, still shaking slightly with laughter as she parked her car in front of the school.

“Right? I never managed to get Scott into this-” you cut yourself off, your smile dying.

“I’m sorry. I heard you guys broke up,” Jessica said, gently.

“Yeah. It just- I couldn’t handle it anymore with all the shit about Bryce.”

“I get that...but what exactly does your ex have to do with it? If I can ask?” Already the second person, who had asked you this. “I mean...did he ever...do what- Is that why you’re with Clay and-”

“God, no!” you immediately said. The amount of implications of rape was getting way too much around this school. “He never ever touched me against my will. That’s not it.”

“What if you don’t remember...” she almost whispered and you stared at her, wide-eyed. “What if he- or someone else of those bastards - drugged you. Like they did with the other girls.” You hadn’t noticed she was clutching the pictures of Nina and Chloe in her hand until she looked down at them, sheer pain contorting her expressions.

“I-I,” I never really thought about that. “As far as I know, nothing happened. No. As much as I detest Scott being friends with that dick, I don’t think he would ever do something- or let someone do this-,” you swallowed, thickly. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and bit your lip.

“No, the reason I’m with Clay and Justin all the time is that I think you should-”

“Go against Bryce in court?” she cut you off, chuckling bitterly. “You don’t get it. You don’t know how it feels to be up there, getting your words completely twisted and make you out to be your own villain. It- I...I don’t want to go through that again. They won’t believe me. A drunk slut,” she bit her lip, slumping against her seat, defeated. Silence, and then-

“...I believe you,” you said, softly. She wiped her tears away and you scrambled to get a tissue out for her. “And Clay believes you. And your parents believe you. And I think Alex too, though I don’t really know him. And Chloe will believe you...when she sees the pictures. Jessica,” you called out her name as she started shaking her head, “You need justice. You need to make him pay for what he did to you. I know it’s not my place to say anything because I can’t imagine how hard it is for you, but...if I were you, I wouldn’t want him to just walk the halls of this school without any consequences when he continues being a rapist.”

She sniffed, taking the tissue from you. “I...I’m sorry, I can’t. I- it just hurts too much, I-”

“...It’s okay,” you said, slightly disappointed but you couldn’t blame her, “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want-”

“We should talk to Chloe and Nina about this,” Jessica said, holding up the polaroids.

“Are you sure?” you asked, surprised. She nodded, drying her tears determinedly. “I’m not strong enough, but maybe they are.”

You took her hand, squeezing it slightly. “Let’s go.”

Approaching a girl with the devastating news wasn’t exactly your special field so you were glad that Jessica took the lead and talked to Chloe. At the beginning, you guys couldn’t find her during first and second period until you figured she would be at court for Bryce along with the rest of the jocks. Excluding Zach Dempsey, including Scott.

But you got a text from Justin during third, stating that Chloe had walked out of court, surprising you and Jessica. After that it was easy to find her in one of the lounges, skimming through a magazine.

As heartbroken as she was about the news she was willing to do something about it and Jessica was quick to tell Hannah Baker’s mother as Chloe called her own.

“This went...pretty well,” you commented as you guys parted from Chloe and walked down the hall slowly, “You did really good. I didn’t have to say anything, basically.” Jessica smiled, weakly. “I guess it’s easier to hear it from someone, who went through the same shit. Even if she didn’t believe me at first.”

You nodded in understanding before pointing at the cafeteria. “Should we grab something to eat before you talk to Nina with me sitting for silent, moral support?” You chuckled and Jessica looked at you uneasily, “Look. I know, Nina is very private about this. She would probably flip if she knew someone else knows about what happened to her-”

“You gonna go alone?”

“I think, it’s best if I talk to her alone, yeah.”

“Okay. Text me if you need help or something,” you said, quickly exchanging phone numbers before you went your separate ways. There wasn’t much of lunchtime left but you figured you would still try to get something when someone got in your way.

“Hey tutor, who got me an A in English,” Cyrus greeted you with a wide smirk, holding up the essay he had worked on with you.

“Cyrus, that’s amazing!” you gasped with a smile, high-fiving him. “Well done!”

“Nah, I won’t take all the credit. It happened because of your massive help.”

“I didn’t really do m-”

“Shut up and accept my gratitude,” he snapped, flicking your forehead.

“Oookay and ouch,” you mumbled, rubbing the sore spot and he grinned.

“Atta girl. Now, listen,” he said, clapping his hands as you looked through his essay. “If you need any help with anything, I’m your man.” You chuckled. “Like maybe beating a certain ex of yours, you know...” Your laughter died down quickly.

“So, you’ve heard,” you remarked, your smile turning sad.

“I don’t think there is anyone, who hasn’t heard,” he replied, shrugging.

“Yeah...no beating him up though, thank you,” you said sternly and he pouted slightly. “Maan, I was looking forward to having a valid reason to mess with some varsity jackets.”

You laughed, “Since when do you need a valid reason for that?”

“...Good point. But my boys and I are not enough in numbers to really beat the shit outta them.”

“I guess not...”

“But we are enough to beat the shit out of one of them...”

“I’ll repeat myself. No.beating.him.up.”

“Alright, alright,” he clapped your shoulder with seriousness, “Just know, my biceps are ready whenever.” You laughed and nodded, bidding him goodbye as the bell rang for the next period.

“Hey, you said you would meet us at court,” Justin’s voice rang through your ear as you held your phone up against your ear with your shoulder.

“Yeah, I planned to. But Jessica is taking ages talking to Nina and I have no ride since you guys have my car,” you explained whilst putting your books in your bag.

“Right, shit. I’ll pick you up,” Justin said and you could hear the engine starting in the background.

“Where are you guys now?”

“Still parked at the courthouse, it just finished for today.”

“Do I wanna know how it went?”

“Not really,” Justin mumbled, “Bryce was full of shit like we expected and the jury fed off of it.”

“Damn,” you cursed under your breath, “I need a drink.” Justin chuckled, “I think we all do.”

“Unfortunately my mom only possesses red wine at home and really nothing else.”

“That’s fine.”

“Is Clay coming, too?”

“Eh, no. I don’t think he’s really in the mood. Clay?”

“What did Chloe say?” Clay demanded to know abruptly in the background. He probably took the phone from Justin because next, you could hear him clearly, “Did you get through her?”

“Yeah. She’s going to meet with the Baker’s lawyer. I think she will testify,” you informed him, closing your locker.

“Good. Good,” Clay muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. All good. I’ll give you Justin,” with that you were unceremoniously handed back to your ‘best friend’.

“See? Told you he’s not in the mood.”

“Fine. Take him home and then pick me up?”

“Yeah. See you in twenty-something.”

You ended the call and proceeded to walk down the hallway towards the exit when a voice called out to you. “Y/N!”

Turning around you saw Mr. Porter halfway out of the school’s office.

“Yes?”

“Do you have time for a little chat?” he asked and you grew nervous. Did you do something?

“E-ehm, sure. What is it?” you replied, shifting.

“Nothing bad. I just wanna check up on you.” Confused, you passed him and went into his little office, seating yourself in front of his desk. He placed himself across from you with the attempt of a welcoming smile. “How are you doing?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Fine?”

“That sounds more like a question than an answer.”

“I mean, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“I told you. I wished to check up on you.”

“Are you checking up on everyone in this school? I imagine you would be busy,” you remarked and he chuckled lightly.

“No. I do wish I could talk to every single one to the extent they deserve but I don’t have much time. So I’m singling out the ones I feel need my attention the most.”

“And...why do you think I need your attention? I’m fine,” you protested slightly, “There are others you should be paying attention to. With the trial and everything.”

“I am. You are not who I have flagged as the most worrisome. I have talked to the others, also Justin whom you’ve kindly sent to me the other day.” You smiled, pumping the air mentally in success.

“How did that go?”

“Now, I’m not allowed to talk about other students. And Y/N, this is about you,” he said, turning the topic back on you lightly. “Unless you want me to refer you to a female counselor if you’re uncomfortable talking to me.”

“Why would I be uncomfortable?”

He sighed quietly. “Y/N, I know about your relationship with one of the baseball team.” You sucked in a breath, getting a hunch on what this was about.

“I was...we broke up,” you said and he nodded.

“Can I ask about the reason?” You stared in utmost surprise at his blunt question. “Can you? Like are you even allowed to ask this?”

“Personal relationships between students are usually not my field, I admit that. But if I have the feeling that a certain relationship could be of some kind of danger for one of them, I need to be made aware of it.”

“...What exactly do you want to say?”

“Y/N, I...have failed once in providing the help a girl needed when she came to me.” You swallowed. He was talking about Hannah. “And I know I’ve lost the trust of all the students here, but...,” he paused, trying to compose himself as he cleared his throat. You could tell Hannah’s death was burdening him. “But I don’t wish to do the same mistake, again. And I know, the students won’t approach me so I have to approach them.” You stayed quiet.

“Now, Y/N. You’ve been in a relationship with someone, who is a close friend of a certain Bryce Walker.” You stared up at him, wide-eyed. “I’m assuming because of their relationship you were close to him as well. Or at least, often in his vicinity.”

“I- Yes.”

“Is there a possibility that you and Bryce have been...intimate against your will?”

“What?!”

“Or with anyone else of his friends. Or maybe your boyfri-”

“No. Nothing of that sort happened!” you quickly responded and he stopped, nodding slightly.

“And you are certain of this?”

“Yes!”

“Alright. Have you ever been in a situation where you could have been heavily intoxicated...or even drugged?” he continued to prod gently.

“What? Like a party?”

“For example.”

“Yes. But I- I never drank too much to pass out or anything. Scott made sure of that.”

“Scott. Scott Reed from the baseball team,” Mr. Porter noted, “Your boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend.”

“Right. And you trust him? Or trusted him?”

“Yes. I do trust him.” You failed to notice that you weren’t talking in the past tense. “He would never let something like this happen. Or do it himself.”

Mr. Porter looked at you, analysing your determined expression. “You seem pretty sure about this? Can I ask why?”

“Look,” you leaned forward, “Scott is not like the others. He just wants to play baseball and that’s it. It’s not...it’s not his fault he’s surrounded by dicks,” you said, slowly coming to the realisation as you spoke it out. It wasn’t his fault. He could have done something, but he was one against the rest of the jocks. And maybe Jeff Atkins. Who never did anything about it, either. You didn’t know what to feel anymore. Should you blame him for sitting back and watch girls get raped or should you not? Could you even ask of him to go against a whole team? You didn’t know.

“If you are sure about this,” Mr. Porter said, interrupting your thoughts, “Then I believe you. But if there’s ever anything that happened or happens to you, please - I’m pleading with you - come to me or a female counselor or any other authority you can trust. Don’t keep it in. Whoever you go to will hopefully not do the same mistake that I did,” he ended. You saw the sincerity glistening in his eyes or maybe they were glistening from unshed tears.

You gulped and nodded. “I will.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay,” you echoed as quietly before you gathered your things quickly and stood up. “Thanks, Mr. Porter. For reaching out.” He smiled slightly, nodding.

Walking out you barely noticed your feet heading towards the exit of the school as your thoughts ran through your mind in full speed. You took deep breaths to calm yourself as you pushed the double doors open, hoping Justin had already arrived so you could get your drink sooner than later.

As you surveyed the parking lot in search of your ‘best friend’ you noticed a black Range Rover rolling in with more jocks in it than the car could possibly fit. And they were hollering as if they had won a game. You looked on with a frown when the car halted not far away from you and the passenger door opened. Scott got out, clapping a few waiting hands as half-hearted high-fives.

“See you tomorrow, Scotty!” Bryce hollered. He was in an awfully good mood. You hated him.

“Yeah, bye,” Scott said, waving them off and taking out his car keys as he walked to his own machine. Which was parked across from you.

It was too late for you to pretend you hadn’t watched him because as soon as the Range Rover backed away he looked up and made eye contact. He halted in his tracks, almost dropping his keys. You bit your lip, which had turned too dry for your liking as you took in his features. He was still the same beautiful, tanned boy you knew as Scott Reed, yet his skin seemed almost gray and his striking bright eyes were dull as they scanned your face like you did his.

“Y/N,” he muttered, unsure of whether he should take a step closer or not.

“Scott.” You wished you could have sounded stronger but your voice was as weak as his. He briefly closed his eyes as if he was savouring the sound of his name coming from you.

“Are you...are you okay?” he asked, hesitatingly. He dared to step a little closer.

“I’m fine...you?” you asked back. He looked relieved when you didn’t move back and took it as a sign to try and get closer.

“I’m-I’m...my body’s healthy,” he said clumsily and you resisted the urge to smile when you raised your eyebrows. “Okay?”

“I mean, I’m functioning, but...” He looked down, gulping and the ghost of your smile vanished. “I miss you, Y/N,” he said, glancing at you longingly. Your eyes shifted from his, not being able to handle the strong emotions in them. “Y/N, I can’t- I...can we please get back together?”

“Scott, I-”

“Or at least let me see you. Let me talk to you,” he continued desperately and you suddenly realised how close he had gotten. You could feel the warmth emitting from him, smell his comforting scent. You also noticed he wasn’t wearing his varsity jacket like he did every day at school. “I can’t stand the silence. Yell at me, be mad at me, anything. But not this...emptiness,” his voice broke off at the end and you had to physically restrain yourself from wrapping your arms around his neck and never let him go. Was it really his fault?

“Y/N,” he softly grazed your cheek with his fingertips and you closed your eyes, relishing in his touch, “Please say something. Anything.”

You pulled my underwear down and used your body to trap me there. You gripped my wrists and pushed yourself inside of me. It felt like a knife cutting me open.

A car came to a screeching halt right in front of you. You snapped out of your trance-like state. “Y/N,” Justin called out, eyeing you two and especially glaring at the boy next to you. He looked ready to jump out of the car and beat him up. Scott tensed, glaring right back at him. “Come on. Get in,” your ‘best friend’ simply demanded and you could only nod.

“Y/N, baby.” Your steps towards your car faltered at his pained voice.

“I’m sorry, Scott.”

“Any news from Jessica about Chloe?” Clay asked as soon as you stepped out of the car with Justin the next day.

“Not yet,” you replied, closing the door and swinging your bag over shoulder, “They’re still in the meeting, I guess.” Clay nodded, breathing deeply.

“Good morning, by the way,” he said in the aftermath, remembering his manners. You chuckled and greeted him back before turning to the latino next to him.

“Hey Tony,” you greeted him lightly, knowing him from a few classes. He nodded with a smile.

“Ready for Math?” he asked to make a conversation.

“Oh hell no,” you groaned as you remembered it was your first class. Well, you guessed it was one of your least worries right now.

“It’s not that bad,” Clay threw in albeit absent-mindedly and you knew his head was filled with the trial and one Hannah Baker.

“Of course you would say that. You’re the best in that class,” Justin snorted as you guys stepped in.

“And we’re the worst,” you said, gesturing towards Justin and yourself. “My locker is the other way. I will see you guys in class?”

They nodded and went down the hallway as you took a left to go to your locker. And you wished you hadn’t. Before you even reached your first period you got hit with the news of the fight that had broken out.

“What the hell is wrong with them?” you whisper-shouted to Sheri, who told you. She shrugged with a sigh. “Apparently Justin saw Bryce and flipped his shit.”

“I knew he would lose his temper.” You pinched the bridge of your nose when your phone dinged at the same time Sheri’s did. You took out your device, noticing an update on the trial’s blog.

“Oh my god,” Sheri whispered just as you read it, “Chloe is testifying against Bryce Walker?”

“Yeah, Jessica managed to convince her,” you said more to yourself than her, feeling the slightest spark of hope ignite inside you, “This could be a huge benefit for the Baker’s.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“You know where the boys are now?” you asked her, pocketing your phone. “We should go be at the trial.”

“I think they are in detention with Coach Patricks,” she responded and you left to get them. Though their detention might stand in the way of getting to court in time.

On your way to the class, you got a message from Jessica asking when you would come to court and you texted her back quickly. Pacing in front of the door, you wondered whether Coach was asleep already or not. You didn’t have to make a decision as the secretary of the school came waltzing down the now empty hallways with some guy. She gave you a look. “I believe you have classes now,” she stated and you nodded, pretending to walk away before you took a u-turn as soon as they walked into the class.

“Mr. Walker, please come with us,” you heard her say.

Risking a peek inside you saw more guys than you had expected to be involved in the fight, even Cyrus and his men. You chuckled quietly to yourself, ‘Finally got to beat up some varsity jackets.’ Your mirth died down soon though when you noticed your ex-boyfriend in the middle of the crowd already looking straight at you. His clothes looked disheveled and he had yet again left his varsity jacket behind, leaving him only in a white, tight-fitting shirt. His eyes looked empty.

To your relief, he didn’t seem hurt at all so you quickly stopped scanning his features and glanced at Clay and Justin instead. They gave you a questioning look and you waved your phone at them, indicating them to check their own. Clay frowned, pointing at Coach. You noticed they had to hand off their devices when Bryce picked off his own.

He walked towards the door, which is exactly where you were and you narrowed your eyes at him as he assessed you with a calculating look.

“Mr. L/N, off to class,” the secretary ordered again and you nodded at her absently before you turned back to Clay.

“Chloe is testifying,” you tried to whisper as you could and his eyes widened along with a few others, who had heard in the silent room.

You sat in the courtroom with Justin and the others next to you. Chloe was up on the stand, fidgeting nervously as she was sworn to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. She was looking at Jessica for reassurance, who smiled at her albeit falsely. You couldn’t blame her; not having the polaroid box anymore was a huge loss and you had no further proof except the ones with Chloe and Nina.

“Wonder how Bryce feels with his own girlfriend testifying against him,” Justin mumbled, looking past you towards the other aisle. You glanced that way too, immediately spotting Scott in the crowd of jocks, the only one staring blankly ahead between them. You noticed he had shown very little emotion here and in school lately.

“Hopefully feels like karma biting his ass,” you mumbled back, “What’s his deal with the glasses anyway?”

“He had them on yesterday too at his turn,” Justin replied, “Alex says it’s a trick to make him look more empathetic.”

“Try more ugly,” you scoffed and you both chuckled until Clay shot you glare, causing you to quiet down.

“It’s in the woods,” Chloe informed, “behind the fields. It’s this secret place that you have to be invited to...unless you are on the baseball team.” You looked at Scott with a pained expression. So he knew ever since he started playing years ago.

“And who invited you?” Dennis interrogated with Chloe answering accordingly, “Bryce.” She described what happened in the Clubhouse and what they were doing when she was asked about the photos.

“So you don’t remember having sex with Bryce Walker?” the lawyer asked straight on. This was the key part. The part to take down Bryce and the school. You held your breath in anticipation as you were sure everyone else did when...

“No, I do.”

...

What?

“I remember.”

You shot a look at Justin, who looked as confused before turning to Bryce. He was fucking smirking. Leaning back against the seat, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Chloe lied. And the polaroids were gone. You practically lost.

“Jessica said yes to me testifying,” Justin informed you as soon as you pulled up at Monet’s to pick him up.

“Really? How did you manage that?” you gasped in surprise and he shrugged, buckling himself. “I can be super persuasive, what can I say?”

You raised an eyebrow at him before laughing, “Don’t get cocky now. Though this is great!”

“Right? We might still win...against Bryce,” he said slowly, listening to something on his phone as you pulled out.

“What is it?”

“It’s...Clay. He’s asking me to meet him at the bottom of Vaughan’s Hill. With his car.”

You frowned. “Why there? Isn’t that where Bryce lives around?”

“Yeah. What the fuck is he doing?”

“Let’s find out.” You made a turn to the right, changing directions.

“Wait, he was asking for his own car.”

“Well, he’s getting mine. It’s better than his Prius anyway,” you chuckled, Justin joining you. Upon arriving at Vaughan’s Hill you spotted Clay just right outside, seemingly having a breakdown.

“What the fuck?” Justin mumbled and you stopped the car right in front of Bryce’s porch, making yourself known to Clay.

“Clay, what are you doing?” Justin asked as soon as he got out with you tagging along. Before you could say anything yourself, you were suddenly grabbed by your ‘best friend’ and pulled behind him when he yelled out, “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Get out of my way, Justin,” Clay said, looking like he was losing his mind and your heart stopped when you noticed the gun in his hand.

“Clay,” you gasped out but he didn’t seem to have heard you, instead he tried to get closer to Bryce’s house, not looking at any of you.

“Come on, Clay, this is fucking crazy,” Justin tried to stop him, making sure to keep you behind his back at the same time.

“No one’s going to get justice for her. Move!” Clay yelled. Your hand clutched at Justin’s shirt when he suddenly pointed the gun at him.

“Clay, stop it!” you yelled out, stepping out from behind Justin to block his way as well. You couldn’t let him ruin his life nor could you let him shoot your best friend.

“I can’t count on anyone else anymore. I have to do this myself,” Clay tried to explain, struggling with something in his mind.

“You don’t have to. Jessica wants me to testify,” Justin said, trying to appease him, “We can get him tomorrow.”

“I have to do this now...for Hannah.”

“Clay, I know you loved her, but she’s gone. And taking out Bryce won’t bring her back.”

“How do I make her stop? She won’t stop,” Clay said desperately, not looking at Justin or even at you but some spot beside you. The same spot he had been glancing at continuously when he wasn’t talking to you.

“Stop who?”

“He’s seeing her,” you breathed out and Justin looked at you confused, “He’s seeing Hannah.”

“What are you talking about?” Justin said, trying to pull you back behind him but you resisted, going to the spot where you noticed Clay staring. You tried to catch his eye but it was like he was looking right through you, suddenly pointing the gun at himself.

“Clay, don’t do this,” you pleaded, slowly walking closer to him. Your heart raced and your palms started sweating when you saw his finger on the trigger. You didn’t know what you would do if he pulled it. “Give me the gun,” you said with an unsteady voice.

“She won’t stop,” Clay whispered again and again like a mantra when you heard a door opening behind you.

“What the fuck?” Bryce’s voice reached your ears.

You silently drove your car through the streets, your unsteady breathing the only noise in the little space. Stopping in front of Clay’s house, you mulled over what to say to the two quiet boys, who were with you. Quite frankly you were happy they were both alive. And that you didn’t have to see someone die right in front you even if it was someone like Bryce Walker.

“Well, here we are,” you mumbled numbly. Justin nodded, glancing at the boy in the backseat.

“You really gonna testify tomorrow?” CLay suddenly asked, turning his stare from his hands to your best friend. Justin nodded again silently. Clay looked back down, wetting his lips before he suddenly got out, not being able to handle the tension in the car anymore.

You breathed out as quietly as you could but Justin still noticed. He placed a hand on yours, making you look at him. “You okay?”

“I guess. You?”

“I guess,” he repeated and you were almost too tried to roll your eyes at him. Almost. He laughed a bit and you squeezed his hand. He looked down at your joined hands, intertwining them. “We do get through a lot of shit, don’t we?” he mumbled. You thought about the times he came over when Seth was being a dick or the time he was there for you when your dad was killed by some mobster that was never found.

“Yeah, we do,” you muttered back before taking your hand out from his to pull your car out, “Let’s get home.”

“You know, maybe I should stay with Clay,” Justin suggested, looking at the house his friend had disappeared in, “He’s freaking unstable right now. I should...watch over him or something.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, stopping the car. You resisted the urge to tell him that you needed someone too right now. “Take care of him.” He nodded, getting out.

“Justin,” you called him back and he turned to you, questioningly, “Where is the gun?” He looked down at his pants before back at you and you threw him a disgusted look. “I have to hide it somewhere, don’t I? Can’t waltz in there with a gun in hand.”

“Yeah, maybe you should leave it here. I could put it along with my mom’s collection,” you suggested, “No one will question it.” He nodded, pulling the gun out from his pants and handing it to you. You pulled a face and motioned towards the glove locker, “Put it there. I ain’t touching it.” He laughed before following suit.

Waving a last goodbye you drove out of sight, the tears immediately flowing out. Could you blame yourself? Tonight was too intense and you didn’t think you could handle any more of this. At this time, you needed Scott more than ever. You wiped your tears away to get rid of your blurred sight. ‘Tomorrow is the last day of court,’ you thought to yourself, ‘And then it will be over.’ Hopefully.

Pulling up at your driveway, you shut down your car. The light of the porch immediately went on by your movement and you noticed a figure sitting on the stairs that led up to your house, sitting there as if he knew you needed him. Your breath got caught in your throat as his features got illuminated by the light, making him look out of this world. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to jump out of the car and run into his arms and you could almost picture yourself doing it. But society was standing in your way like tall, unmoving brick wall.

So instead you got out of your car slowly, aware of his gaze following your every movement as he sat there with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together.

“What are you doing here?” you asked tiredly, taking out your keys as you walked up to him.

“I came to see you,” he said softly and you briefly closed your eyes to savour the feeling of hearing his voice.

You pulled yourself together quickly, looking him dead in the eye. “Well, you saw me. Now, leave.”

“You’ve been crying,” he suddenly said, standing up as his forehead creased in worry, “What happened?”

“N-Nothing.” You hated how your voice wavered, “Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit. Did someone do something to you?” he asked, taking a step forward.

“No. I’m just sick of humans, of rapists, of this school, of everything,” you almost shouted and his eyes softened, “And there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupted him, slapping his hands away that tried to reach for you, “We are not together anymore, why don’t you get it?” His lower lip quivered as he tried to come up with a sentence, but you brushed past him, walking up the stairs to your house, “Now, please leave me alone.”

It was quiet as you tried to get your key into the lock with your shaking hands until-

“Do you want me to testify?” You stopped dead in your tracks. Turning to look at him, shocked.

“What?”

“Do you want me to testify?” he repeated, his green eyes staring straight into yours. “For the Bakers.”

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austonm--atthews · 6 years ago

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my only one//auston matthews

masterlist

chapter 19 june 25, 2016 i feel a strong pair of arms wrap around me, squeezing me tightly. “good morning, beautiful.” auston whispers, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “good morning, cutie.” i roll over and wrap my arms around him. “how’d you sleep?” he asks. “i slept well. how’d you sleep?” “i slept great with you here.” he pulls me closer to him. “aw, you’re too sweet.” i bury my head in his chest and squeeze him tight. “only to you, my love.” he presses a light kiss to the top of my head. “aw, stop it.” i laugh. “noooo, never.” he laughs. “i know i already told you yesterday, but i’m so so proud of you. not only are you number one in my heart, but you’re number one in the draft.” i smile cheekily. “as cheesy as that is, i’m gonna ignore that and take the compliment.” he smiles. “i’m seriously proud of you, aus. i can’t tell you how proud i am.” i bring my hand up to brush the side of his face.

“aw, thanks baby. i can’t tell you how much that means to me. i’m so happy that you’re proud of me.” he brings his hand up to brush the side of my face. “how could i not be proud of you?” i smile. “you’re right on that one.” he smiles. “i love you.” i slowly close the gap between us, kissing him slowly but passionately. “i love you too.” he pulls me back in for another kiss, his hands on the side of my face. “so, what are we doing today, cutie?” i look at him after we pull away. “i was thinking we could walk around the city, go on a date, then walk around more and come back to the room.” he smiles as he explains his plans for the day. “aw, that sounds like a great idea, babe. we should get ready so we can go.” i smile back. “yeah, you’re right.” he gets up, holding out his hand to help me up. “you’re so sweet.” i smile as i get up. “only to you, my love.” he kisses my hand, then going to get changed as do i. i put on one of my hockey shirts and black jean shorts. he puts on a white shirt and blue jean shorts. “you ready to go, babe?” he asks me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “yeah, you?” i look up at him. “yeah, i’m all ready.” he smiles as he looks at me. i take his hand and we leave the hotel, walking out into the street. “you look really cute today.” i smile up at him as we walk. “thanks, baby. you look absolutely beautiful, my love.” he wraps his arm around my shoulders. “aw, thanks baby.” i wrap my arm around his back. “anything for my girl.” he smiles down at me. “i guess i’m gonna have to become a leafs fan now, huh?” i look up at him, laughing. “i guess you’re right, babe.” he chuckles. “ugh, the things i do for you.” i shake my head jokingly. “yeah, because you love me.” he smirks. “unfortunately.” i sigh jokingly. “hey! don’t be mean!” he fakes offence. “too late.” i laugh. “ugh, you’re so mean to me.” he shakes his head, laughing. “but i love youuuu.” i drag out the u. “i love youuuu too.” he copies me. “this place looks cute, why don’t we eat here, babe?” i point to a little cafe on the street corner. “i don’t see why not.” he smiles. we walk into the cafe, going up to the counter to order our food. i pull out my wallet to pay, but he stops me. “no, babe, i’ll pay.” he smiles. “are you sure?” i ask. “yes, baby.” he smiles again, making my heart melt. “ugh, fine.” i reluctantly let him pay. we find a table and sit down. “so, you excited to live in the city?” i ask him, taking his hand from across the table. “i’m so excited. i’ve always wanted to live in the city. i’m so glad i won’t be alone. i’m so thankful to have you with me. i honestly don’t know what i would do without you. you’re my world, my everything. you’re my girl, my baby, my first love, and hopefully my last. i love you so much i can’t even tell you how much i love you.” he takes my other hand in his, smiling wide as he looks into my eyes. “i promise you i’ll love you as long as i’m living. i could never love anyone else but you. you’re my boy, my one and only. you’re my entire universe, my first and last love. i can only hope you know half of how much i love you.” i look into his eyes, a smile crossing my face. “don’t worry, my love, i know how much you love me. i love you just the same, if not more.” he brings my hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it. “aw, stop it. you’re too sweet.” i smile. “only to you, sweetheart.” he smiles back. i’m about to say something back when our food comes and we eat. we leave the cafe and head back out onto the streets of buffalo. we walk to a nearby park and lay down in the grass. “i really don’t deserve you, baby. you’re too sweet, and you’re so cute. what did i do to deserve someone like you?” i smile. “what are you talking about, darling? you’re the best fiancée a guy could ask for. you completely trusted me when i went away and you didn’t break up with me when it got tough. you’re truly my dream girl. from the second i met you, i never looked at another girl. i know that sounds so cliche, but it’s true. i knew i wanted to keep you in my life forever. there was something about you that made me want you in my life. i didn’t know at the time that it meant marriage, but now i know. i never looked at any other girls after i met you. you were the only one i could think about. you were always on my mind, and you still are. even when i’m away from you, you’re always on my mind. i promise you i’ll love you as long as i’m alive. just the thought of loving anyone else but you is unappealing. i could never leave you or do anything to hurt you. i would hate myself if i hurt you. you only deserve to be loved. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” he wraps an arm around my shoulders, making eye contact with me and smiling. “god, i-i don’t even know what to say. i guess i deserve you.” i laugh, moving closer to him and resting my head on his chest. “of course you do, my love. you deserve the world.” he pulls me closer, pressing a light kiss to my temple. “aw, you do too. if i could give you the world i would.” i smile at him, grabbing his other hand and holding it in mine. “you already have, baby. you’re my world.” he says cheekily, smiling back at me. “aw, you’re too sweet.” i smile as a blush creeps up on my face. “ha! you blushed!” he teases. “well yeah! you just said i’m your world! you blush all the time!” i defend. “true, you got me there.” he sighs. “it’s cute though. i’m glad i still have an affect on you.” i tease him. “you always have and you always will. you know how to calm me down. you know how to make my heart race a mile a minute. you know how to make me forget everything and just live in the moment with you. all of my worries disappear when i’m with you.” he smiles again. “you really mean that?” i look at him in complete awe. “of course i do, love. i don’t lie to you.” he smiles yet again, making my heart melt. “that’s true.” i laugh lightly. “i’m just so happy i met you. i’m so thankful i have you in my life. there’s no other girl i would want to move with me to a different city in a different country. there’s no other girl i would want to propose to. there’s no other girl i would want to see walking down the aisle. you’re the only girl for me.” he looks into my eyes, smiling. “aw, i love you.” i look into his eyes, smiling. “i love you too, sweetheart.” he kisses my temple softly. “i can’t see myself with anyone else but you. i can’t see myself lying in someone else’s arms. i can’t see myself holding anyone else’s hand. i honestly haven’t given anyone a second glance since i met you. i didn’t have any crushes growing up because you were the only one i had eyes for. you still are.” i lean into him more, smiling against his chest. “you really mean that?” he asks. “of course i do. i wouldn’t lie to you.” i smile at him. “i’m just shocked you feel that way. even though i’ve heard it millions of times, i’m still not used to it. my heart still thumps when you tell me you love me. you take my breath away when i look at you. you’re so so beautiful. i hope you see it too.” he brings my hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to it. “you tell me i’m beautiful all the time it’s hard to not believe it. you make me feel like i’m the only girl in the world, like i’m the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. i feel at home with you even if i’m miles from home. i don’t have to hide anything from you because you know everything about me. i love being with you.” i smile against his chest. “i love being with you too, baby. when those girls kept flirting with me overseas, i didn’t even give them a second glance because i was thinking about you and how hurt you would be if i did anything like that. all i could think about was you crying. it broke my heart just to think about it. i really don’t know how people can cheat on someone. i promise you i’ll never do that to you. i’ll never fall out of love with you. even if we did have a big fight, i would never leave.” he speaks softly, running his fingers through my hair. “that really makes me happy you feel that way. i get anxious sometimes that you’re gonna find someone better and leave me. i mean, there’s already girls that like you and the season hasn’t even started yet. it makes me nervous that they’ll come along and steal you from me. i don’t know what i would do without you. i really don’t.” i sigh. “baby, none of those girls are going to come along and steal me from you. i love you with all my heart. i could never love another girl like i love you, let alone love another girl period. you’re my soulmate. i know it in my heart that you’re the one for me. i know right by your side is where i’m supposed to be. it’s where i belong. i feel complete with you. i would be lost without you. i could never leave you for any of those girls.” he whispers sweetly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “i can’t even tell you how much i love you. i love you so much it drives me insane. i would do literally anything for you, aus. i love you with my whole heart. you’re my baby. no one could ever replace you.” i cuddle into him a little more, holding him tight. “you’re my baby too. no one could ever replace you.” he holds me closer, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “you’re too sweet.” i laugh lightly. “only to you, my love.” he grabs my face in his hands, kissing me. “aw, that was so cute. i love you.” i smile as i look into his eyes. “i love you too, baby.” he smiles as he looks into my eyes. “have i ever told you how cute you are?” a smile creeps across my face as i talk. “yeah, many times.” he chuckles. “well, you’re cute. you’re so so cute. you’re adorable. you make my heart melt when i look at you. when you smile at me my heart goes crazy. i should be thanking your parents. they’re the ones that made you this cute.” i laugh. “you’re not wrong.” he laughs with me. “i just can’t believe how cute you are. i’ve never seen someone so cute.” i smile at him. “nah, you’re cuter.” he shrugs it off. “i’m guessing we’re never going to agree on this?” i laugh. “i guess so.” he chuckles. “we should really go once the sun sets. i don’t want your mom to worry about us.” i suggest. “yeah, you’re right. i didn’t even think about that.” he laughs. “she’s gonna think we died or something.” i laugh. “true, i’d hate for her to be worried.” he agrees. “me too.” i agree with him. both of us were quiet for a minute, watching the sun go down. “so, how do you like buffalo?” he asks me. “i like it a lot actually. i didn’t think there was much here, but it’s a nice city. even if there wasn’t much here, being with you would’ve made up for it.” i answer, smiling at him. “aw, stop it. you’re too sweet.” he laughs. “only to you, my love.” i hold him tighter. “you’re too good to me.” he holds me tighter. “because i love youuuu.” i press a soft kiss to his cheek. “i love youuuuu too.” he places his hand on my cheek, slowly pulling me closer to him and kissing me softly. “we should probably go. it’s kinda dark out.” i laugh lightly. “yeah, you’re right.” he gets up, holding his hand out for me to take. “i had a great time with you, baby.” i lean against his arm, smiling. “i had a great time with you too. i love spending time with my girl.” he puts his arm around my waist, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “i love spending time with my boy.” i slightly lean into his side, putting my arm around him. we walk back to the hotel, making it up to the room. we change into our pjs and crawl into bed together. he immediately pulls me into his chest, causing me to put my arms around him. “i can’t wait to move in with you. i can’t tell you how happy i am that i’ll be with you all season. it’ll feel like home just because you’ll be there with me. i’m so excited to come home to you every day.” he pauses. “aw, baby, that’s so sweet.” i hold him tighter. “i’m not even done yet, baby.” he smiles. “oh, continue.” i laugh. “i know i won’t be able to be stressed out because you’ll be there. when i see you, all of my stress melts away. all i can think about is how much i love you. i love you so so much. you seriously have my heart. you’ve had my heart since we met.” he tells me with a huge smile on his face. “sorry, i never planned on giving it back. to be fair, you have mine too.” i smile. “you can keep it, as long as you don’t break it.” he smirks. “no no, i could never break your heart. you’re too soft and sweet for that.” i wrap my arms around him tightly, nuzzling my head in his neck. “it’s okay, baby, i trust you.” he brings his hand up to hold the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. “i hope you won’t break my heart either.” i smile, looking into his bright brown eyes. “no, i could never. you don’t deserve to get your heart broken. you’re too good to me.” he holds me tight. “aw, you’re too sweet.” i squeeze him tight. “i love you i love you i love you.” he says as he squeezes me as tight as he can. “i love you too, aus.” i squeeze him as tight as i can. “we should probably go to bed. we have an early flight tomorrow.” he groans. “yeah, you’re right.” i sigh. “goodnight, my love. i love you with all my heart.” he smiles. “goodnight, aus. i love you with all my heart too.” i lean up and give him a quick kiss, then resting my head on his chest.

#auston matthews imagine #auston matthews #auston matthews imagines #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs #my only one #hockey fanfiction #nhl #nhl imagines

63 notes · View notes

haiky-u-lously · 7 years ago

Text

Just a little lie won’t kill ya. (2/6)

Warnings: Language...I think that’s it?

a/n: I do have a specific image in mind for what Alexander and Brock look like in this and if people want to know I can put that together. But seeing as the first chapter only got 6 notes (period) and three of them were from this blog itself, is kind of depressing. Oh, well. Carry on I guess. This is a bit longer than the first, but I’d claim they will all range on the high end-as do most of my things. Okay well, feedback/comments/concerns/ideas are all welcome.

Enjoy! --Admin Red

Chapter 1: Meeting

Chapter 2: The Names

____________________________

You woke to a very bad headache. Thinking, guess I didn’t drink enough water when I got home last night.

Thoughts drifting back to the night before, you found yourself smiling in contentment. Hanging out with everyone had been a valuable experience to have. And, having it occur so early into the year could only help as you maneuvered through your classes.

Making your way to your bathroom to prep for the day was easier said than done. In all your drunken wisdom you had flung off your clothes and shoes and the items laid in the way of the unlit path.

But, you survived and despite the initial shock that came from the bathroom light, managed to complete your morning routine without issue.

Luckily, you had just finished getting dressed when your roommate made her appearance.

“(F/N)!!” She screamed again, at just a slightly lower volume than the day prior.

You made a face but were happily surprised that the girl did not just phase through the doorway. “It’s all good, Kit.”

“Oh thank god.” She released, once again ignoring the boundaries of using the door. But, HEY! Progress. “Is that how it is for you all the time?” She asked, making her own visage a particular way turning to eyeball the door.

Laughing, you placed a hand on her small shoulder, “Well, yes. But normal people still use a door.”

She shuddered at the thought and the two of you found yourself laughing uncontrollably.

“Oh!” She jumped. “I almost forgot. Everyone from yesterday wants to get breakfast together, you good with that?”

You nodded in affirmation, “Sure, why not. I can always go for some food.”

_______________________

At breakfast you made note of a few things.

First, Tony had sat himself right next to you. Essentially taking your end-of-the-table seat. Okay, fine. You didn’t so much ‘notice’ this as much as had it happen to you. But, semantics.

Then you noticed that Steve Rogers and Brooklyn sat across from Tony and you respectively.

Sitting next to Brooklyn was Alexander, and Brock sat next to him. Both lost in a whispered conversation between themselves.

Rogue sat at the end most opposite Tony and looked like she was very uncomfortable in the position. You stood to go over and offer to switch with her.

“Hey, Rogue.” When Bobby did just that. Leaning over her frame, the Ice King whispered in her ear. She nodded a bit solemnly before making to shift positions.

After Bobby took her place, Rogue moved to sit across from him. Taking a place next to the beautifully accented Wanda. You just couldn’t get over it, really.

Between you and Wanda was Kitty. You saw her make a face when Bobby switched seats with Rogue but refused to believe she’d start up any high school aged drama when you all were so much older than that.

You found it extremely interesting that no one was sitting next to their ‘partners’ from the day prior. Also finding it sort of strange that there was still this divide between the mutants and the humans.

However, your train of thought was short lived as a speedster determined he’d mess with your table this bright and beautiful morning.

The streaking of silver a blue was nearly impossible to miss, but you could not make out the actual figure of the shape causing it.

That is until a bright red, near transparent wall appeared to trap the runner in their tracks.

“Oh! Come’n Wan’s.” The silver haired male cried out. Punching the wall to no avail. “Ya’ can’it take the fun out’ta the morning.”

Hearing him speak more, you realized the male’s accent matched the girl he was addressing. You saw the change in the girl’s attitude and figured this was a personal matter to be dealt with between them.

Grabbing your breakfast items, you said your goodbyes, “Well. It’s been a blast, guys. But, I am gunna go get started on these papers for the Professor.” Nodding once more, you took your leave.

_____________________

You had found a nice quiet place to work. Finishing your food, you decided the best course of action for the day was to just finish everything as soon as possible, turn it in and then enjoy the rest of your birthday.

It was just a hair’s breath away, but you caught yourself from laughing out loud and disturbing the peaceful environment around you. It was so serene, you didn’t want to move a single grass stalk.

Pulling out your laptop and writing out everything that had happened was the easy part. What took you almost an hour to do, was make the story seem like a paper written by the college intellectual you were. You had just finished skimming over the completed document when a pair of voices reached your ears.

“We can’t just walk up to her like this.”

“Well, why not? It’s not like we’re strangers or anything. And, we have a purpose for doing so. Right?”

You noticed right away that the individuals were Brock and Alexander. So, you put your laptop down, and stood to greet them. “Hello, boys.”

“SHI--!” Brock jerked, “I mean, hi (Y/N).”

Something felt a little off to you, but you threw it to him being nervous or something. “What’s up, Brock?” You smiled encouragingly.

“Oh,” He glanced at Alexander, who just shook his head.

Smiling, he took the lead in answering your question. “Brock forgot the name of the place you took him to yesterday. And, what he ordered.” Softly laughing, he continued, “And, what you did after the shooting range.”

The shock on your face was prominent.

“Truthfully he also forgot the shooting range, but since I saw him there for that, and we were altogether for the end we can fill in those blanks by ourselves.” Alexander added with another grin.

“Wait.” Holding your hands up, you looked at the pair of men in disbelief. “Do you not remember yesterday at all?”

Glancing at Alexander again, Brock just shrugged his shoulders.

“Fuck!” Exclaiming louder than necessary, you picked up your device and balanced it on one knee. “Okay so here. This isn’t my actual paper, but I made a sort of timeline with some of my own highlights before I wrote everything properly. I’ll email it to you, so you can do what you need to. How did you drink so much? Never mind. Don’t answer that. I need plausible deniability. Holy shitake mushrooms. I feel so sorry for agreeing to that boat ride now.”

You kept rambling as you pulled up the document and drafted the email out, completely oblivious to the rolling of eyes that Brock sent Alexander at your comments.

“Okay, there.” You sighed, closing the electronic device and returning to a position with both feet on the ground. “You should have it in your mailbox.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).” Alexander smiled to you, “You’ve been a great help.”

You blushed at the dripping sincerity of his voice and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh, um, no problem.”

The pair left, but it took a while for you to get back on track with your own work.

After finally finishing your second essay, and checking the time, you noted it was time for lunch. However, due to your breakfast, and just wanting to finish with the Professor’s assignments, you decided to skip lunch.

Making your way towards the main part of campus, you ran into Tony walking with a blonde woman.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled before wrapping you into a tight hug.

The breath pushed out of you was more of a gasp of surprise at the sudden contact than anything else. “Hi, Tony.” You somehow released. The tightness in your tone telling him he was squeezing to tight.

Upon release, you took a few big gulps of air.

“Sorry, sorry.” He breezed easily. “Oh! Pepper! This, this is (Y/N). The mutant I told you about.” He pointed directly at you with an accusatory finger, “I still don’t know what your power is.”

You shrugged around him, and gave an inviting grin to the blonde woman, Pepper. “Hello, Pepper. Lovely to meet you. Tony shared so many wonderful stories of you last night.”

Not missing the beat red that appeared all over her body, you stifled a laugh. It was too funny watching Tony walk up to her with all this confidence just to have his foot smashed underneath her own, and then see him wince and hope around like a seven-year-old.

“Better have been all good things. I practically run this idiot’s life.” She chastised.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore and laughed whole-heartedly. “Of course, of course. I think he actually said those exact words at one point.”

Tony smiled at you, thankfully. Pepper’s demeanor softened, and she kissed the scruffy man’s cheek. “Well, you can’t be to careful with this billionaire.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “So you really are James Bond!”

The three of you kept messing around a bit as you made your way towards the Professor’s office.

“You are turning in your papers already?” Pepper asked innocently.

Nodding, you smiled at the girl. “Finished them as quickly as possible so that I could enjoy some free time.” Actually, I just want to see what and where my fucking-names are since I was too stupid to check this morning.

“I wish Tony had that same thought process. But noooo, he wanted to work on his project right after breakfast.” Thrusting her finger into his shoulder, you could tell it was all in good fun.

“Hey. In my defense,” The man retaliated in mock-surrender, “You can’t diminish genius when it strikes.”

Putting on your strongest blank face, you teased him. “You’re right, Tony. Let us know if you ever see a genius have an idea strike.”

Pepper was in hysterics at you comment. Tony had a mock-hurt expression on his face. And, you were just trying to keep the straight face act up.

“Oh, I like her, Tony.” Placing a small hand on your shoulder the blonde smiled at you. “We have to meet up again. You are just too fun.”

Wrapping your arm around her waist you smirked cheekily at the billionaire across from you. “Sorry, Tony. Looks like she’s mine now. Go find your own bad-ass.”

“As much as I would love to see that and trust me I would pay good money to see that,” He smiled and pulled Pepper back into his side, “She’s staying with me until she says otherwise.”

“Nice catch there.” Pepper added. “Bye, (Y/N)!” She waved, pulling them away from you.

Waving back simply, you moved on to your intended goal.

_________________________

“What do you mean he can’t stay?” You heard coming through the doorframe.

Pausing in your motions, you unintelligently decided to eavesdrop.

“Well, seeing as what this program entails, and all of Steven’s health issues, we just believe it would be better for him to—” The professor was cut off by something crashing.

The sudden sound made you jump, but you were even more invested now that you knew who was speaking.

Steve Rogers, the Professor, and Brooklyn. All three of them had to be in that room right now. You hadn’t heard Steve’s voice yet. But you knew the professor wouldn’t talk about this particular type of topic without the individual being present.

“Mr.—” He started just to be cut off.

“No! Don’t even try telling me to calm down.” Brooklyn yelled. You imagined a strained face. Mixed emotions between hurt, betrayal, rage, and…loneliness. “You are talking about taking my best friend away.” The snarl sounded with nothing but anger, but you could sense his other feelings just building it up.

“Buck.” Steve’s quiet voice brought him back down. “Stand down.”

And the taller male listened. He must have found his seat because the Professor released a deep sigh. “I realize how you are feeling right now but understand that we are just trying to look out for him.”

“That’s my job.” Brooklyn said.

The swinging of the door startled you, and seeing the short haired brunette stalk out was the least expected reaction you would have had.

You were too busy watching him stomp away to hear what was exchanged between Steve and the Professor afterwards. But when Steve’s voice sounded right next to you, it appeared like that was all the information you’d get on the subject.

“Hello, Steve.” You tried to smile at him.

Nodding in acknowledgment, the small blonde continued past you.

“Miss (Y/N). I presume you have a good reason for eavesdropping just now?” You winced as discretely as possible at being caught and turned around to face judgement.

“Hiiiii Professor. You look great.” You drawled out.

The look he gave you basically said, ‘are you serious right now?’

Shutting the door behind you, you made your way into the room.

__________________________

By the time you were released it was nearly three o’clock. But you had more answers than you initially thought you’d receive.

“(Y/N), since I know you already heard, I will explain it again.” The Professor admonished. “Steve is a bright young man, determined, but he lied on his physio forms. He is truly sick. The pressure that the next two years would have on him is unthinkable. Hank doesn’t think he’d survive.” Placing his head in his hands, you could tell that the old man was trying to manage all the possible different outcomes. “I haven’t got everyone into the swing of things yet because I was trying to figure out what to do.”

You sighed and let your head bob up and down, telling him that you could see where he came from. “But Professor. There are scientist working to change things like that. Doctor Erskine, right? He is developing that…” You glanced around the room. “That thing he is working on.”

Chuckling at your mannerisms, the Professor wheeled closer to you. “Yes, but it’s still an experiment. And, who am I to send a child for something like that?”

“I’m sure he’d volunteer, given the chance.” You expressed.

The Professor just nodded silently, moving back to the other side of the table. “Moving on to more…personal business. Guess today is the day, is it not?”

You were thoroughly surprised at how easily the Professor shared the information, and slightly wondered about his reasons behind it.

A tight spark on your shoulder had you recalling that you still did not know what your names were.

Excited, and nervous, you found yourself once again trekking around campus. This time, to your apartment to check out your new marks.

__________________________

“SHIT!” You screamed out. In a perfect circle on both your right and left shoulder blades were two names. One of which you already knew.

Hearing your exclamation, Kitty phased into your room, calling for you until you answered from behind the bathroom door.

Thanking everything in the world that she left at least this barrio between you. “I’m fine, Kitty. It’s all good.”

“That didn’t seem like nothing, (Y/N). And,” She said, actually knocking on the door, “You haven’t called me ‘Kitty’ since our first emails to each other.”

Shaking your head, you gave credit where it was due. She’d caught you, might as well fess up then.

Covering the front half of your body, you opened the door and showed her your back. “See anything interesting?”

“Fuck! (Y/N)!” She yelled excitedly, “You got your names?! That is so exciting!!” She immediately halted in her jumping, “Wait! That means!” She gasped and slapped your shoulder.

“Ouch!” You cried, clutching the now sore skin underneath your hand. Attempting to massage the pain away.

She pouted at you but didn’t apologize. “It’s your birthday and you didn’t tell anyone?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you tried to make your way, so you could put on something nicer than a tee-shirt.

But, Kitty wasn’t going to let you off that easily, apparently. “Why?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Look, Kit. Birthdays and I don’t mix to well. I like just relaxing when I can, and I’ve had friends in the past that try to do something for me, and it never works out the way they, or I for that matter, want them to. So, I let it be.” This attempt you were successful in bypassing your roommate. “Besides. It’s my 23rd and the only new thing about me are the names tattooed on my skin. Which let me tell you,” You huffed out, anger bubbling inside you. “Is. ScReWeD. UP. EVEN. WITH. THAT!” At the last cursed word, you slammed the drawer you’d been shifting through shut. Fed up with it all you through down the garments in you hands and clutched around your waist. “I knew I’d screw this up. Just knew Fate would have another fuck you in store for me.”

The near tears wretched your voice and suddenly you found yourself in your roommate’s embrace. But you didn’t cry. Just held her a little closer for a second before getting back to your original goal.

“So, yea. It’s my birthday.” You said as if nothing had just occurred.

Kitty blinked a few times, trying to figure out what just happened before letting it go as to not cause you any strife. “Anything you want to do for it?”

Finishing the act of pulling on the backless top, your scrunched your nose. “Not really. I mean I really want to try this place down the road that I hear makes excellent bruschetta, but it’s so far off my price range, I’ll be surprised if I get a chance to visit it before I’m retired.”

“Oh, I see. Um” She racked her brain for something. “Oh! What if we just have a movie night? I can invite anyone you want, or even make myself scarce. You said you like relaxing on your birthday, right? What better way to do that?”

Smiling at her, you nodded. “Sure. A movie night sounds fun. But are you sure? I mean, we did agree early on that we’d both give prior notice to people coming over.”

“Posh!” She grinned. “Just leave it to me.”

“Kit.” You said accusingly, “I don’t want a party.”

“mhmm”

“Kit.”

…

“Kit!”

…

“Kitty!”

But she was gone, who could even tell if she heard you.

________________________

Alexander Pierce and Brock Rumlow had just turned in their individual assignments and were headed away from the Professor when Brock felt his head lurching forward from a sudden impact.

“Dude?!”

“You are a fucking idiotic piece of trash, Rumlow.” Pierce teethed. “It’s her goddamn birthday, and you didn’t think ‘oh well it might be pertinent that I share this piece’ of VAL-FUCKING-ABLE INFORMATION!”

Brock shook his head in disbelief, “The story was that I forgot everything from the day prior, how did you expect me to say I remembered something like that? Hm? Exactly.”

“So, fucking stupid. That was the story to her! To her! Not to me.” Taking a few steps further ahead, the dirty blonde continued his verbal assault. “How Hydra could hire someone so stupid is beyond me.”

_________________________

You heard someone loudly pounding at the door to the apartment, while at the same time the buzzer from the intercom started going off. Glaring at a smiling Kitty in the kitchen, you went to open the door.

“Get in bitches, we’re going to eat.” Tony smirked. The droopy flower sticking from between his teeth making you laugh at his antics.

“First, I am so glad,” you whipped out your phone and snapped a picture, “that I caught that to look back on always. Second, I think you messed up that quote.” You thought aloud, utilizing your own smirk. “And, thirdly, hang on. This buzzer has got to be stopped and obviously MY ROOMMATE is UNHELPFUL in this department!”

“Not sorry!” You heard in return.

Looking at the intercom’s camera you felt a smile on your face. “Hello Alexander, Brock. What are you too up to?”

“Hi (Y/N).” Alexander smiled into the camera.

Brock did a little wave in greeting, “Sorry about earlier. Some things came back, and I cannot believe I forgot it was your birthday. Do you have plans? What am I saying, of course you have plans. Sorry, we just came to say happy birthday.”

“Oh.” You were shocked, completely having forgotten telling him at all. “Well actually—”

You’d started just for Tony freaking Stark to cut in. “We are going out to eat. All of us. My treat. Bring a friend. Or two. I just bought the place so, who cares.” Placing his chin on your shoulder he gave you a pair of the biggest puppy dogs eyes you’d seen in a while. “Come on (Y/N). You need to join us. Kit-Kat here is all for it.”

And, not to your surprise, suddenly Kitty was standing next to you. Flushing at the nickname she hadn’t been called in a minute. “Well, what are we waiting for?” She asked.

Glaring in her direction, you decided that dinner wouldn’t hurt. You’d skipped lunch after all. “Fine. Fine. But, I’m warning you!” Giving them both a particular look, “Nothing crazy.”

They hummed in response, and you couldn’t help but sigh in resignation. You buzzed back down to Alexander and Brock, letting them know that you were going to eat, and they were welcome to join.

_______________________

Pulling up to the restaurant you shook Kitty’s entire body. “I literally just told you I wanted to come here.”

She giggled lightly behind her hand and claimed she remembered.

Walking up to the door, you did it again.

“Yes, (Y/N). I know!” She said. “I called Tony and asked if he could sing something. Didn’t know he buy the joint.”

You gawked between the pair. “No way. Seriously?”

Tony just smirked at you before opening the doors. “Welcome!”

Stepping in, you were ready to be met with a hostess. You were not prepared for the sudden shout of ‘Surprise!’ that reached your ears.

By some fortunate roll of the dice, Wanda and silver-hair had been the closest to you, sensed the immediate shifting in your figure, and the pair were able to both relocate you to somewhere private and put you in a make-shift bubble.

Steadying your breath, you waved for Wanda to release the red mist around you. Thanking them with a simple nod as you calmed down on the roof.

“Kitty did say you’d be frightened. Guess t’is good we planned ahead.” The male smirked triumphantly.

Wanda elbowed him before approaching carefully. “(Y/N), are y’okay?”

Standing straight you gave her a tight smile. “I’m good, Wanda. Thank you. I’m just not happy with Kit for this. But it’s fine.” You waved. “Fine, it’s fine. I’ll get her back.”

“Oh, yes. May I help?” Silver-hair asked, suddenly beside you like he’d been there all along.

You gave him a side-ways glance and idea formed quickly. “Sure, buddy. (Y/N).” You introduced with a hand stuck out for him to take.

The wide grin directed at you should have been blinding. “Pietro. Wanda’s brother.”

“Well, Wanda’s brother. We will have to meet later to discuss details. For now, I am going to enjoy the fact that Tony is paying for all this tonight and so get me some food. So, if you’ll be so kind as to return be to the fi----------rs----t floor.” By the time you finished speaking, you were trying to steady yourself back where you started.

___________________________

It took some time, but Tony and Kitty had kept apologizing to you until you final screamed that you accepted it.

You were really happy that Steve made an appearance. Even more ecstatic to learn that your new friend was in fact asked to participate in Doctor Erskine’s program, and that he could be returning as early as the halfway point of the term. Since the Professor’s college didn’t follow a normal school year, it was broken up by breaks: half way through the terms, the years, and in between the years themselves.

Everyone else had made it as well. Brooklyn was smiling happily. Probably excited to have another night out with his friend. Steve had told you he didn’t tell the brunette. Didn’t want to get his brother’s hopes up in case something went wrong. Wanda and Pietro seemed to get along well with Kitty, Rogue and Bobby. And you couldn’t help but notice that Kitty kept maneuvering around Bobby while trying to stay away from Rogue. It bothered you a little that your roommate seemed to have such an issue with someone you felt you could be really close with.

Tony was with Pepper and some other people in nice business-type suits. Brock was nearby, talking with some others animatedly.

“It seems peaceful like this.” You heard Alexander’s voice before you turned to see him.

Nodding your smile grew, “Yea. As angry as I am at Kit for not respecting my wishes, I think this dinner thing could turn out alright.”

Alexander grinned at you but didn’t say anything else.

Biting your lip, you struggled as to whether you should ask him the question on your mind.

“It’s okay to ask, just know some questions I’d have to kill you if I answered.” He hoarsely whispered. Arching an eyebrow at him caused him to laugh. “Kidding, kidding. It looked like you wanted to say something, so I was trying to break the ice.”

You nodded along and played with your hands nervously in front of you. “Alexander—”

“Alex” He interrupted. “Please, just Alex.”

“Alex,” you complied, “Do you. What I mean to ask, is who is…fuck, um, you see I have…umm”

“My name on your back?” He smiled.

Eyes wide, you looked deep into his own. Questioning how he knew before you could say anything.

To which the dirty blonde laughed and poked your bare-back. Reminding you of the shirt you donned. “Not that hard to guess when I can see it plain as day.”

You dry chuckled as you tried to think what to say next. It’s not like you had planned on seeing him this soon.

“I’m guessing you didn’t know this morning?” Now his eyebrow was raised at you. You shook your head in the negative. “Right. Well. I guess you’d want to know where your name is on me, or if it even is. Correct?” At your inability to comment in either fashion, he continued, “Well. I had two separate names on my skin, but my…family…decided they didn’t matter and burned over them.” He slightly pulled up his shirt to show you his lower back, and you saw the deep burn scars on both sides of his body. “I was also still unconscious. So, I never even saw the names.” He let go of the shirt, letting it fall back into place and you stood to see him shrug. “But, I did feel something when we met.”

The smile he sent you was outstanding. You thought that it was possible there was just a mistake in the printing. Maybe Alex really was just supposed to be your love-mate after all.

That recollection was just as short lived as many of the others you’d been having throughout the day.

“(Y/N)!” Bobby called to you, the biggest grin on his face. “I have a surprise that I think you’ll actually like.” The comment was sent towards Kitty, and it had an immediate effect.

You scoffed at his antics, “Yea yea. I’ll be right there.” He nodded and waited a bit off. You sent another smile to Alex, squeezed his hand, went to Bobby’s side and wrapped your arm around his. “Alright, Ice King. Take me away.”

He laughed heartily at your snide but continued to lead you towards the doors.

Once through the doorway, he released you with a bow. “My princess.”

“Hardy-har-har, Bob.” You growled. “Hardy-har-har.”

He kept laughing as he returned to the inside of the restaurant.

“Really?” You asked his retreating shadow. “Leaving me out here to die? Alone? On my birthday? Come’on Bobby! At least be original.” You were laughing though. Fully aware that you friend would never put you in harms way, knowingly, and alone like this. There were extenuating circumstances that time!

The heated breath on the back of your neck sent warm chills through your body. “Does meeting your soulmate count towards being original.”

You spun around at the familiarity of the voice. And found yourself locking eyes with the short haired brunette you had eavesdropped on earlier that day. “Brooklyn.” You smiled, knowing that it wasn’t really him name, but knowing that it had to be him with the other name on your back.

“Actually, most people call me Bucky.” He smirked. “Except those that are super into logistics and go by my actual name, James.”

Smiling more you added, “Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you ma’am” He backed up and bowed over his arm, sending you into a fit of giggles. “I was so happy to see my name on your back doll. You have no idea.”

Before you could say or do anything else, someone cleared their throat behind you. Turning around again, you saw Alexander there. With a hurt look on his face.

Suddenly all the prior happiness you’d thought you’d been feeling came crumbling around you. “Yepp! Just like I thought.” You screamed into the sky, causing both men to look at you with worry. “Can’t have even one thing go right, can we Fate? Not one, stupid fucking thing.”

Then you stalked off. Completely ignoring both men who called for you from behind. Later you’d be more than appreciative to Pietro for hearing your outburst and stopping either man from following your form.

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themelodramatic-blog1 · 7 years ago

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Confessions of an IB Graduate

I’ve been complaining about being in the International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme (IB) since I started it. It was two years of functioning on the least possible hours of sleep, last minute everything, and a whole lot of pessimism. But now that I’ve finished the IB and have had the chance to spend three weeks binge watching everything in my Netflix ‘recommended’ box, I’ve had a self reflection of some sorts; IB really was more than all the tears, despite what my past self led me to believe. Because of this, I’ve compiled a list of lessons I’ve learned from secondary school/high school/I don’t know why we have so many names for the same level of education.

1. Who cares if you’re a try-hard.

I was that kid who overloaded herself with extra-curriculars. Competitive track and field? Check. Public speaking? Check. Martial arts? Check. Music? Check. TEDx organiser? Check. Model UN? Check. (Honestly, the list goes on too long. I’m tired even writing this. How did I do all of that?) I was also very passionate about the subjects I took in school. I LOVE history. I read extra because I was genuinely interested in the class, and my hand shot up every time I was allowed to ask a question. Because of all of this, I was called an overachiever and a try-hard.

Being called an ‘overachiever’ is not necessarily negative. By definition, it basically means to perform better than expected. However, I’ve learned that people have the tendency to use adjectives like this to put down strong, passionate individuals who are driven to achieve their goals. Yeah, it’s a bit disheartening when you’re put down for doing something you love. At the end of the day, all of those things people say won’t matter. Not only will your resume look incredible, but you’ll also be fulfilled by all the experiences you’ve gained. You won’t have any regrets about trying something you were interested in even if it doesn’t work out, because you took the effort to step out of your comfort zone and try something new. Through these activities, you’ll also meet a ton of people who share the same interests you do. When I look back on the time I organized a TEDxYouth event at my school, I remember how my best friend (who co-organized the event with me) and I went from table to table at lunch with a rehearsed skit to get people to buy tickets. Who cares if Abigail from third period thinks you’re extra? You are extra, and that will get you a lot further in life than hating on other people for being motivated.

2. Be confident in all of your choices.

People always best way to live your life is with unapologetic confidence. We look at Rihanna wearing bright purple highlighters and think yes, I want to be that, so there’s no reason we shouldn’t implement that mindset into everything we do. You are most definitely going to make terrible decisions in high school. There will be a time when you should absolutely not eat three servings of chicken nuggets at once, but that doesn’t mean you won’t do it. Should you watch another episode of FRIENDS after 3 hours straight of Netflix? Probably not. You will most definitely make good decisions too. You’ll realize that skipping Economics to sit with your sad friend in the bathroom and be there for her is important.

No matter what, have confidence in your own choices. You will not only own them, but also learn from them with a better mindset. You’ll care less about judgemental eyes around you, and more about what you felt after making that decision. One time, I went to school in leggings and my dad’s oversized sweater because I was tired. Everyone said I looked terrible but it was the most comfortable day of my life so who’s really winning?

3. Procrastination is inevitable. Be smart about it.

One second you’re starting a new book in English, and the next second you have two presentations, a 4000 word paper, three essays, and a test in a week. You’ll probably have that much to do because you left everything to the last minute, and you left everything to the last minute because the thought of doing your work overwhelms you. That’s okay.

It is perfectly fine to step away from your work once in a while, even with deadlines fast approaching. You can’t do your best work if you’re too overwhelmed. Take time to put it in a metaphorical box and stuff that box under your bed. Let yourself take a breather and destress before getting back to the hectic world that is school. But, if you’re going to do that, make sure you have a game plan for when you get back.

I learned really quickly in the IB that there is a lot to do, and the only way to get them done is one at a time. Start with the most important thing, and work your way down in order of priority. Trying to do everything at once simply won’t be possible because your body can only physically do so many things at once. Get assignments done first (especially if they’re graded), and study later. Doing an assignment will help you revise content anyway, and your mind will not be at rest if your to-do list is full of 1,000 word papers. My solution was to take a day (if I had that time luxury) to put everything aside, and come back to it with a list of what to do. If you’re going to procrastinate, at least give future you a little bit of time, and strategy.

4. Ask for help.

You don’t know everything, even if you think you know yourself better than anyone else. There was a point where I had a lot going on personally, and I kept piling more work on myself because I thought it would make things better. It led to bad mental health situations, and that just made my circumstance worse. Reach out to anyone: a friend, a sibling, a parent, a teacher, a cousin, a counselor. Sometimes all you really need is to tell someone you aren’t handling things perfectly. Someone out there will be able to help you, and that will make you feel a whole lot better.

5. Start your college applications ASAYPC: as soon as you possibly can.

The college application process is a nightmare. You will spend countless hours on top of your school workload to craft the perfect applications to the colleges of your dreams. You will become sick of the SATs and ACTs. You will march over to your counselor’s office multiple times a week. You will worry about your essays and if they capture the essence of what a college wants. The only way to make this process better is to start early.

Find out what YOU want in a college. People say where you do your undergraduate degree doesn’t matter, but that’s a lie. You certainly don’t need a school with a big name, but you do need to find a school that fits what you want to achieve from a college education. I applied to schools like NYU because of prestige, but I realized a while after that it wasn’t what I wanted in a school. It’s an amazing school, but I wanted a traditional campus setting and smaller class size. Little things like that will make a huge difference when it comes to choosing where you’ll end up. Do you want a state school or private school? A liberal arts college? A city or a quieter area? How does location affect your opportunities? Everyone is different, and colleges will be able to tell if you’re a fit for their school. Take the time to learn about different schools before investing your time in long applications.

Take your standardized tests early so you have time to retake them if you’re unhappy with your score. If you are happy with your score right away, taking the tests early will let you check a box off your list, and that leaves room for a lot more.

Write your essays as soon as prompts come out so you have time to edit your work.

Have everyone read your essays. Even authors have editors. Sometimes you’ll miss out on errors, and other times your first draft won’t capture your personality the way you want it to. Having a fresh pair of eyes will help.

Do your research. Look into both the Common Application and Coalition Application. The Coalition Application allows you to delete official documents and recommendations, which the Common Application doesn’t allow. It will help a lot should any mistakes be made, and you won’t have to individually contact colleges if you accidentally put the wrong documents on your application.

6. Grades aren’t everything.

Don’t push yourself to the point of self destruction over a grade. What matters is that you’re working hard and trying your best. So what if you get a B or a C? If you’re worried about how it will look on an application, don’t. There’s a lot more to the review process than solely looking at grades, especially if you’re taking rigorous courses (taking IB/AP/Honors courses and getting a lower grade is better than taking easy courses where you aren’t challenging yourself at all and getting a 97%). Of course, try your best to make As, but keep in mind that you are more than your stats.

7. Have fun.

Do something stupid. Don’t miss spirit week. Go to the lame dances and sneak out for an after party with your galpals. Text that person you want to text. When high school ends, you won’t see 90% of these people anyway, so enjoy the moments while it lasts. You’re going to need something to reminisce on, and I can guarantee you it will not be your Biology IA. I literally don’t even remember what mine was.

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At the end of the day, there’s nothing more important than learning about yourself and being true to what you want. I’ll be moving halfway across the world this summer, away from my family and friends, to study in Washington D.C. I’m incredibly thankful to have been accepted into my dream school, Georgetown University, but I know that there is absolutely no way I would’ve come close if it weren’t for all the experiences I’ve had in school. I now own being called a dramatic try hard because despite all the stressful nights and tired days, I had fun trying new things and growing into my own skin. I am proud of my accomplishments, and the fact that I try hard. Past me has nothing on present me, and future me is going to hopefully be even better. I guess IB was ok after all...ish.

Congratulations, class of 2018!

#graduate #class of 2018 #IB #IBDP #goodbye #highschool #we #out

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trdwriting · 8 years ago

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Office Hijinx

Summary: What happens when a trickster spider, a chess piece with a misleading Russian accent, a pathological liar, a pirate, a femme-fatale James Bond, a hyperactive Minicon and an assassin end up in a room together somehow? How much ridiculous antics can one author fit into a fic? Tune in to find out.

Portals: FF.net | AO3

A/N: This fic is the result of a challenge submitted by @soundjack426, in which I was to write about a collection of characters from different Transformers universes sitting in a room together. The catch to all this: I know next to nothing about Transformers. So, consider this your warning. There might be a whole bunch of OOC-ness or misunderstandings about the Transformers universe. I did research where I felt it was necessary, but I am nowhere near an expert. With that, enjoy!

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“Why are we here?”

The room was silent after Tarantulas’s question, save for the distant hum of six Transformer bodies operating in the small room. Quickshadow decided to answer. “I don’t know. That is one of life’s greatest mysteries…Are we the result of some cosmic accident? Or is Primus really here watching over us with his neural processes? I haven’t decided myself….”

“No, idiot. I mean, why are we here?” Tarantulas whined. “In this dinky office! Think about it: none of us remember how we got in here. Heck, this looks more like some odd human enterprise than anything Cybertronian.”

The office space was, indeed, very human in design. It had off-white walls, a mahogany desk surrounded by black office chairs, all Transformer-sized. In one corner was a cooler filled with undrinkable water and cups too impossibly small for any Transformer worth his sodium chloride to hold in their metal hands. A PowerPoint slideshow flickered over the lowered screen, a bunch of random statistic charts proclaiming useless correlations that were most likely coincidental. Peppered on the plain walls were copies of two posters: one of Optimus Prime pointing at the viewer surrounded by the words “I Want You To Join the Autobots.” An exact copy of the sign was pasted sloppily next to it, only with Megatron declaring that the viewer should join the Decepticons.

Upon a close inspection, some of the signs had questions written on them in tiny lettering: “Where can I go to enlist?” or “How come it’s Decepticons and not Megacons? Having “deception” kind of gives your goal away.” or the most important question “Why won’t Pile Driver call me back?”

“Who would even make stupid posters like this?” Tarantulas eyed the drawing of Megatron through a squint. One of his spider legs tapped at the wall as he ruminated his own question over in his head. “No one’s gonna join these ‘Decepticon’ losers with such a dorky recruitment campaign.”

Rook peered over Tarantulas’s shoulder. “It is most likely a practical joke?” Rook’s thick accent was just clear enough to decipher the guess. Tarantulas couldn’t be bothered to wonder where this guy came from.

“Well, if it’s a joke, they need to step up their game.”

“I think they look awesome.” A fighter plane-he had introduced himself as Starscream- piped up. He took a seat in one of the office chairs, surprised at how the flimsy material supported his weight, “I bet they’ve reached many Transformers.”

Tarantulas’s optics narrowed even more. “Guess that makes you a dork.” He approached some filing cabinets that lined the wall, opening random drawers and peeking into the files. ‘Starscream’ mumbled something under his breath, fiddling with one of the pens sprawled on the table.

“There isn’t a wireless signal or any sign of Cybertronian life. My sensors aren’t detecting any heat sigs either.” Quickshadow’s vaguely British voice pointed out. “It is quite likely we are isolated here. And the doors won’t open.

Catapult gave a subtle shake of the head. Even though her black and yellow body stuck out against the walls, she still managed to evaporate into the background.

“Ugh! Can we all just stop whining and start doing something? There has to be a way out. I can’t be with you nerds forever.” Tarantulas had files splayed around him, flipping through their contents. “There has to be some clue here. There has to be.” His spider limbs twitched periodically.

“Wait, what if-“ The coils on Jumpstart’s back zapped to life. “WHY GIVE UP QUICKLY WHEN FIGHTING FOR A TERRITORY?” No one knew how to answer. Jumpstart put his palm over his chest plate, patting it as if hoping to clear whatever malfunction he was having with his vocal processor.

And then Cannonball, as per his namesake, crashed into the conversation. “Well, me laddies and lassies, we must find some way out of this mess. I ain’t leaving my poor crew out in the open ocean, if’n I can help it.”

In that moment, Rook was thankful he was not the only one with a thick accent.

“We’ll probably starve before anything else happens.” Catapult mumbled under her breath, Quickshadow was the only one who caught what she had said.

“I have emergency oil supplies in case we need them. Though, we’ll have to ration them.”

“The cooler should have oil, not water.” Rook stared at the water container, as if, by staring, he could will it to transform into oil. “Perhaps we replace it?”

“I’m telling you, aliens did this. Little green monsters with skin and no T-spark!”

“Yeah, if that’s the truth, then you are Starscream in the flesh.” Tarantulas retorted.

“But I am Starscream!” The Transformer insisted. He clenched his fists.

Quickshadow produced a picture of the actual Starscream for comparison. “He is a fake. If my analysis is correct, he’s actually called Ramjet.” ‘Starscream’ deflated, his mouth in a pout.

“So you’re a liar, huh?” Cannonball asked.

Ramjet opened his mouth, but hesitated.

“It’s a simple question…” Rook tilted his head.

“Well…not for someone like him.” Quickshadow leaned against the water cooler. “You see, Ramjet’s instinct is to lie and say that he is not a liar, but by lying to us, he is actually telling the truth. Obviously, he can’t really say yes, because he would be telling the truth, but since we would expect him to lie, that would make us assume that he is not a liar which is a lie, therefore conforming to the truth.”

All the Transformers stared at Quickshadow like she had been speaking a garbled language. Ramjet looked like smoke would start leaking from his mouth.

Of course, Tarantulas was the first to inject into the silence. “Okay, now that we’ve all officially fried our circuits, I need to tell you all that I think I have a way to get out of here. Not that I will tell you all the details, because why would I ever want you all to escape with me. You are all losers and I doubt I will ever see any of you again. Thus, I figured I would rub my genius all in your dumb faces so you can feel even more sorry about your stupid li-AHHHHHH!”

Suddenly Tarantulas dove under the mahogany table, his body rattling.

Jumpstart jittered again, electricity crackling in the stuffy office air. “Are you oka- *BZRTT* MINUTES ARE JUST LONG SECONDS!”

Tarantulas, using his spider legs, indicated to the PowerPoint presentation. A large picture of an owl, perched in a lush jungle, dominated the screen.

“Aye. Indeed. An owl. I have heard of these majestic-“

‘MAJESTIC! You call that menace majestic?” Tarantulas’s vocals were squeaky. “Look at the way those eyes are staring at me! Ugh!”

“…..It’s just a picture, you know.” Catapult’s lips fought against a smirk.

“Who cares? It’s still horrifying! I hate them I hate them I hate them!”

The PowerPoint flipped slides to another boring scatterplot. Tarantulas came out from under the desk. “….Point is, you all should be jealous and I hope that you perish in this place.”

“For all of your boasts, you still don’t look like you really have a clue what to do.” Quickshadow crossed her arms, studying Tarantulas.

“Oh, really? Well, I’m sorry that I’m not some secret agent with tacky gadgets. I bet your tools are crappy. You probably couldn’t hack your way of out an oil Thermos!”

Quickshadow turned his back to Tarantulas, no intent on indulging Tarantulas’s antics. Tarantulas, in turn, flipped through the files again.

The room became silent, save for the ever-present hum and the idle shuffle of pages. Tarantulas would complain at how the Cybertronian didn’t make sense, as if the words had first been run through the most basic language translator, the kind that lacked the nuance of language.

Rook took to emptying the water cooler, attempting to drain the water from it without spilling it all over himself. Cannonball wandered over, maybe drawn to the water because it reminded him of the ocean. ‘Why are ye so afraid of the water, Mr. Rook? It is a friendly thing like this. Though….the ocean is a different story.” He gazed wistfully in the general direction of one of the recruitment flyers. “The ocean is a thing of its own. It has patterns, can be navigated, but she is fierce. Aye, if you try ta go wherever you please, the ocean ain’t gonna like that. It’ll turn ya round before you really realize it….”

Rook found a sink in the corner and began to drain the water into it. He wasn’t really paying attention to Cannonball, but he appreciated the company.

After some time, Tarantulas had drafted up a plan to escape, using his scientific knowledge. At the same time, Quickshadow had done the same, only using her spy gear and analysis. Of course, they were arguing.

“An explosion like that’s not just insane. It’s reckless. You could hurt everyone in this room, including yourself. Not to mention the volatile chemicals themselves.”

“Your plan is stupid, too! I mean, trying to cut a hole into the wall? These things are probably reinforced and all that!”

“Sure, but I’d rather our plan just fail than literally backfire!” She sighed, looking more at the blueprints Taratulas had mocked up. “Besides, where are you going to get something like hydrochloric acid! Or C4 for that matter!”

Tarantulas huffed. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Ramjet chuckled to himself, giving Tarantulas a little wink.

Quickshadow left the conversation. “Whatever, this bomb isn’t going to work and I’ll just try my way instead. Either way, we’re all getting out.” She walked over to one of the walls preparing a plasma beam tool from her arsenal.

Tarantulas stepped in front of her to block her way. “You can’t just ignore me! I am trying to build something over here that is much better than whatever you’re doing!”

“Do you want me to cut through you, too? Because I’d have no problem doing that. In fact, I’m sure Catapult would love to have a target right about now.” Quickshadow waited, optics still on Tarantulas.

“….Catapult?” Quickshadow looked to where the sport car had been before. Not there. She kept looking until she noticed one of the doors was slightly ajar.

“Wait…That was locked before. How did-? Did Catapult-?” Quickshadow put away her plasma beam.

“The door opened on its own, obviously.” Ramjet said dryly. “I mean, there is absolutely no other way that door could be open right now.”

“Shut your trap before I ram whatever jet you have up your afterburner!” Tarantulas snapped at him. A lair was one thing. A sarcastic liar was two strikes too many.

“So then….Catapult left through the door?” Rook suggested.

“She’s not here right now, so….yeah. I guess.” Quickshadow growled. “But how did she do it? You can’t just magically unlock a do-“

“SHE USED A LOCKPICK!”

All eyes were on Jumpstart, the room oppressive with the crackling of static electricity. He sighed deeply. “How else do you think she escaped? Opening a door is not that hard!”

“…But, I thought…I thought it would be harder.” If she could sweat, Quickshadow would be doing that right now.

Jumpstart snorted, the coils in his back alive with static “How? It’s just a door. It’s not even a reinforced door!”

No one had anything to say, except for Ramjet who just mumbled. “I knew it!”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to leave this crappy office space and head back to Earth!” With that, he opened the door and strutted out, sticking his tongue out before shutting the door behind him.

“….I thought his vocal processor was shot.” Rook asked.

“That scurvy dog will remain a mystery…” Cannonball mused. “Such a shame. I was going to offer Mr. Start one of my pleasure programs. He seemed interested.”

Rook took a step away from Cannonball.

“Oh, come on! Don’t act like ya never thought about it before!” Cannonball said, folding his arms.

Quickshadow looked like she wanted to crush something in her fists. “Whatever. Let’s…Let’s just leave.” Her voice trembled, barely containing her frustration. She approached the door and moved to open it.

It wouldn’t budge. She tugged at the handle, yanking and yanking. She collapsed on the ground, her head tipped to the ceiling, fists shaking to some unseen Primus. “DAMN YOU, JUMPSTART!”

Ramjet came up to Tarantulas while this was happening, tapping his shoulder.

“So…did you still want that C4?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thanks again for reading this fanfic. It was a lot of fun to make stuff up and be silly in my work, instead of being serious. Not something I have done in a while. In the past, I might have pointed out references, but I think you guys can have some fun finding my inspirations for things on your own. Once again, I hope the Transformers fandom isn’t too angry with me. In some ways, this piece is more my thoughts on Transformers than anything else.

Character Footnotes:

Rook (G1): I gave him a Russian accent as per request by soundjack. Rook was probably the most open character to me. His bio seemed more about his role on a team than anything else. I wished the whole “stuck in the room” premise gave him more to do. I decided ultimately, that is persona would be based on a rook, straight-forward that is.

Tarantulas (Beast Wars): I had a ton of fun with this guy. Not only is he a mad scientist, but he’s also based on a spider, which are creatures I have studied (not tarantulas specifically). In most world myths, spiders are seen as tricksters, so I made him rude and jokey. His rivalry with Quickshadow reflect both of their “holier-than-thou” tendancies. I imagine that if they were in the same universe, they would be trying to one-up each other constantly.

Catapult: Since this character was for a video game that never came out, her personality didn’t exist beyond “sneaky assassin”, so I tried to make her a little haughty, like she is always in control of what’s going on. She probably has a lot of confidence.

Quickshadow: I found this character the easiest to write. Her desire to do things on her own and be in charge allowed for her to clash with a couple personalities in this scenario, especially Tarantulas’s

Cannonball: To be honest, a pirate guy was a bit tough in this setting. There weren’t a lot of joke I could make, but I did make the one about “pleasure programs” (and yes, this Transformer apparently sells those. No joke.)

Jumpstart: Probably the character I struggled with the most. I really wasn’t sure what to do with this guy because nothing else about his personality existed outside of his vocal quirk. I got around it by viewing his circuitry problems like hiccups. I originally wanted him to transform into vehicle mode when he left the room, but I learned that he doesn’t even have an alt form. At least I got to let him have a dramatic exit, anyway.

Corrections (Things that I got wrong while I was writing that @soundjack426 told me about before I finally posted this thing):

- Tarantulas has an iconic laugh that I forgot to include, but after having written this, I didn’t really see any good place to put it. But I’m aware it’s a thing.

-Starscream’s appearance is variable depending on the universe, so people wouldn’t have mistakes Ramjet for Starscream based on appearance alone. I had to mention that he had introduced himself as Starscream in order to deceive them.

- Apparently, Transformers are able to understand any language due to their programming. I originally wanted to hint that all the files were in human languages, which would have made it hard for Tarantulas read them, but because there is no language barrier, I changed it so that they are all in Cybertronian, just horribly translated. Kinda like all the files had been run through Google Translate first.

Thanks again for reading,

-TheRationalDove

#fanfiction #transformers fanfiction #trdwriting #tarantulas #quickshadow #rook #jumpstart #catapult #ramjet #cannonball #one of the strangest things i have ever written #humor #slight parody

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bngtnblues · 8 years ago

Text

letters to an angel

genre: college AU/angst

author’s note: I’ve written three jimin fluff drafts but at the end, unsurprisingly, it’s got to be an angst. Warning: this scenario does have mentions of depression, mental disorders, and death. Credit to @saliechelon255 for making the beautiful gif above ♥‿♥ hope yall will like my first scenario for our chimchim (｡◕‿‿◕｡) and thanks to the lovely anon who requested and had to wait quite long for it. oh, and remember to request!!!

pairing: jimin x reader | scenario

blurb: A bunch of scattered letters from a girl to a boy who stole her heart and took it beyond the stars and above.

////01

Dear Jiminie,

My hands are shaking now as I’m writing this. It’s been a year and they still tremble whenever the pen begins to nearly bead onto the page. It’s a sight I’ve gotten used to every day. I guess, whenever I try to start this letter, it’s as if an upsurge of fear and all the anxiety that’s taken so long to stumble through appears in a cataclysm of waves. I close my eyes, hold my breath, and pray it doesn’t bury me.

I’ve written only seven lines and I can already feel it in my chest.

Shit. I’m crying.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I promised myself I could do this. I promised myself that I could write this letter. I promised so many promises it seems I only break them.

I miss you so much it scares me to the point of-

I can’t do this. I can’t stop crying and the paper’s all drenched from my tears and the ink’s blotched and everything is a mess.

I’m sorry.

I’ll try again tomorrow. I promise.

I’m so sorry.

////03

Dear Jiminie,

It’s my third letter. I’ve learnt to domesticate the upsurges and the waves now. Sometimes, my vision starts to blur and my hands turn numb but the thought of you somehow reading these letters has become a constant comfort.

It was my therapist who suggested the idea. Therapist Joon as I like to call him. He’s my second one so far and he’s not so bad too. At any rate, writing to you is growing into an addiction, Jiminie. It’s the only thing I look forward to doing in the extent of this twenty-four-hour span. Nowadays, I live in a perennial state where I’ve come to accept pessimism, with all of its negative intentions, because there seems to be no good in this world and it’s exhausting trying to find some.

I thought you’d want to know that Taehyung’s moved out of your dorm, he couldn’t bear sleeping in there and you’ll find him most of the time dozing off in the theatre’s backstage. I barely see Hoeseok anymore. He reminds me with monthly texts of the upcoming dance productions but he and I both know, what’s the point of going when you won’t be there. I haven’t seen Yoongi ever since you left. I once got a random postcard from Quebec wishing me well and as for Jungkook… he’s not doing too well, Jiminie. I’ll see him in one of my lectures with dark circles and he’s so thin now. He’s apparently been diagnosed with insomnia ever since he found you that day.

You know where I am right now? I’m sitting on our bench, the one on the beach near your house. I used to wait here while you were at rehearsals, the faint breeze brushing my nose and a clear sight of the stars sparkling in a world of darkness. It seemed like hours since I could finally see you running with a bag of snacks in your hand as an apology. You’d be panting when you reach me, kissing away the small pout on my lips considering even a small kiss from you, Jiminie, is like setting off a kaleidoscope full of stardust in me. It would leave me always airheaded. You had the kind of effect that could make a shrivelling weed convince itself it was a rose in full blossom.

We would sit side by side, you gazing at the sky, and me gazing over at you. Your eyes would be shining from the reflection of the stars, your hair matted from sweat but I would still sweep them over, your cheekbones glistening under the light as you patiently sipped on the bottle of milk.

You once pointed out a star in the sky, almost invisible to an eye and said, “ I promise one day, I’ll go as far as giving you that star Y/N.”

I remember scoffing, “As if. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Park Jimin.”

You turned to me, your eyes no longer shining and whispered, “Believe me, Y/N, I intend on going.”

And you did go and I’m still waiting here, Jimine. Still waiting for you give me that star.

////04

Dear Jiminie,

It’s early morning here and I can’t sleep, love. My mind has become cursed from thinking too much. It’s gotten used to wandering off into different dimensions where you’re still lying beside me.

Your brother came by my dorm yesterday. He’s taller now, probably taller than you. He talked about the how your father’s changed and how your mother keeps calling your voicemail. Then there was an awkward silence between us. He left after awhile. He looks so much like you, Jiminie.

I’ve realised it’s been one year and twenty-one days. One year and twenty-one days without those sweet coaxes of whispers into my ear. One year and twenty-one days without the feeling of your soft tufts of hair between my fingers. One year and twenty-one days without the stroke of your lips against mine. One year and twenty-one days since I’ve felt your fingers grasp mine as you hummed a melody while we walked to the library. One year and twenty-one days without hearing you laugh at the most pointless things. One year and twenty-one days since I’ve seen that smile that inexorably causes my breath to hitch.

It’s been one year and twenty-one days since you decided your life wasn’t worth living, Jiminie, and once again, I sit on the edge of this bed, inebriated with silent tears.

////06

Dear Jiminie,

Everything sucks. Professors piss me off with their overly-worrying questions, lectures tend to be the only time I can fall sleep, and my roommate is a bitch who thinks I need to ‘get back in the market.’

I told her to fuck off. She wasn’t too pleased and when I think about it, you would have made me apologise to her.

Anyway, I ate lunch with a group of friends today. Well, technically I sat with a tray of untouched stew while watching everyone smile and laugh while I didn’t. Nowadays, it takes actual effort to fake one or the latter and I don’t even have the energy to do that. On the other hand, the way people glance at me as I walk past or the way they talk to me now makes me wonder sitting on the edge of my bed isn’t a bad idea after all.

In the loneliest of nights, I find myself looking for your things, Jiminie. Like yesterday, I found a CD filled with your favourite music and there’s this particular song you always used to play to which you’d literally sweep me off my feet, making me abandon whatever I was doing, and waltz us around the room.

Remember that, Jiminie?

And a week ago, I found your scarf which you forced me to wrap around my neck on our second date, even when it wasn’t that cold. You were such a cheeseball. You told me to hold onto it with crimson cheeks and then shyly uttered that it suits me way better than it did for you.

I should have given it back.

It still smells like you.

////07

Dear Jiminie,

Therapist Joon asked me when was the last time I felt happy. I said I’m always happy. I talk when I’m happy. I breathe when I am happy. I smile when I’m happy. I’m even happy when I’m supposed to be sad.

He said that was one shit of a lie he’s ever heard.

////09

Dear Jiminie,

Sometimes I wish I never met you because then, I wouldn’t have any sleepless nights and I wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that this world can be so fucking cruel.

Does that make me a fool?

////12

Dear Jiminie,

Talking. Eating. Breathing. Sleeping. Everything hurts really. I don’t understand why I’m still here. I stay up at night thinking where you are and where you’ve been and where you’re going and every night I wonder when you’re coming back.

Therapist Joon read me a chapter from this book today. It was about a boy, who kept all of his emotions and troubles locked up inside a clear blue bottle. He tossed the bottle far into the sea, except he didn’t see the thin, slithering piece of string camouflaged around his ankle. Slowly, it anchored him down and then one day the bottle cracked. It cracked so bad the boy found his reflection the next morning with jagged lines running all over his face.

I told Joon I hated the story. It was too metaphorical for my liking.

He then finished off the session with a conclusion that a part of me blames myself for what happened and just like the boy, I’m bottling it all up.

He told me I need to start accepting your death.

death / deth / (noun) : the end of life of a person. the destruction or permanent end of something. period of greatest darkness, coldness, etc.

////13

Dear Jiminie,

There’s a red traffic light incessantly blinking inside me. It’s been like that ever since I wrote you the previous letter.

I knew a boy who was considered a disappointment in his parent’s eyes. Who was constantly reminded of the disreputable son - the auspicious heir who let down his family to become a dancer. All the more, the boy soon found judgement in everything, the dark thoughts of mediocrity and imperfection hissed in his mind while he twirled and leapt on stage. When he thought he could leave everything behind, it slowly ravaged inside him because he learnt to wear his happiness like some sort damnation, something he was forced to believe he could never truly deserve.

Along came his artful way to pretend which had everyone completely fooled. He plastered on smiles, always laughed a little more than needed, the persona never faltering.

You had us completely fooled, love.

But I started to notice everything, Jiminie; the sharp shards of glass in you, the tearstains you drowned in oceans the night before, the thorns you dug into your skin and scars you hid so shrewdly, how food had become your enemy and lying your best friend.

And I tried Jiminie. You know I tried. I tried to glue back the pieces that were hopelessly thrown away, I tried to take your pain away, even if it was only for a few minutes, praying when I was finished, you’d see yourself the way I saw you.

It was too late, though. I was so blinded by the light of saving you, I didn’t realise how there were still empty spaces embed in between the pieces, a bottomless vacuity where hopeful thoughts perished, and even if I took away your pain for a moment, it returned greater, more malignant, more poisonous each day. You told me with a sad smile there wasn’t any hope to begin with. As if it was the undeniable truth I had to accept.

But I couldn’t force myself to believe that. And I still can’t.

Did you honestly think it would’ve been easier for everyone if you just killed yourself, Jimin?!

Jungkook said you didn’t leave a note behind that day and I’m glad you didn’t because that type of notes hold a bunch of sorrys and goodbyes which embody complete lies. You’re not sorry for leaving me here. You’re not sorry for anything and I hate you so much for that.

////14

Dear Jiminie,

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I look up into the night sky and it’s no longer the dark blue I once saw. It’s black and it’s dead and a star from the corner of my eye sits in space, unexceptionally desolate and dim, trying its utmost to shine in the night sky.

How come the night sky reminds me of you and the star of myself?

My breath and tears are all coiled into one substantial blob and my whole body feels like collapsing into destruction all because of you. You, who used to make daisies bloom onto my cheeks and orchids onto my heart. You, who took in complexity and emitted simplicity. You, who danced like a tragedy and now all of this makes my chest hurt.

I think you’ve turned me into a masochist, love. I think I like how my chest hurts when I remember the way you smelled like strawberries and the way your giggles still chime in my ears. Your cold fingers leaving chills on my skin and the spearmint your breath blew across my face. I remember the irregular galaxies inside your eyes and your nose tickling my neck and your arms which surrounded me at night.

I’ve succumbed myself to it.

I hate you but I’m in love with you. I hate you and I don’t want to love you anymore. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

////15

Dear Jiminie,

Truth: I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I want to hate you but I still want to love you.

I’m such a mess.

////17

Dear Jiminie,

Please come back.

I swear to god, I would do anything for you to come back.

Please, Jiminie, just come back so I can hear your heart beating and hold you tight and play with your hair and we can talk about anything or dance to anything.

I love you so much. Please come back.

Please.

////20

Dear Jiminie,

I’m standing on top of a building, and no, I’m not going to jump. Although, I would really like to sleep for a very long time.

I’m standing on top of a building, looking down onto the gleaming maze of a city, thinking about the time my nonexistent voice whispered, shouted, begged for you to not go.

I once asked you why you desperately wanted to leave. You tilted your head back and a low chuckle flew out of your mouth with irony. That sight will always be scratched in my mind, love. The airy eyes, deprived of any care in the world, lit up by one single notion, and then you said, “That’s where my paradise will be and this is my hell.”

You were always selfish.

I wanted you to realise paradise was actually here. I guess I was always selfish too.

////21

Dear Jiminie,

Hoseok spotted me on the beach, lying on the sand and the shells like a corpse. He asked me how I was. I couldn’t find the right words to say I’ve gone mental when it comes to my dead boyfriend so I chose to reside with the simple “I don’t know anymore.”

Which is the reality after all because I have no words to express how I feel. One minute, I’m okay then the next, I feel as if I could implode. I never chose to feel like this. I search for a place where the emotionless are but I think that’s inevitably impossible.

////24

Dear Jimine,

I’m watching the sunrise and it’s moments like this where you feel as if everything in the world stills to a halt and it’s like there’s a second where the universe tries to become like cosmos. There’s no noise, and yet, the birds keep singing, and there are so much light and darkness in one unified assortment.

Today’s your birthday, Jiminie, and I’ve realised saying goodbye to someone does hurt but you know what’s more painful? When you ask someone to stay when you know they want to leave so badly. You can’t change their mind no matter how many times your voice becomes raw from shouting and begging and the worst part is when they actually leave and you finally realise the proof that you didn’t change their mind one bit.

It makes me think that you never really needed me the way I need you.

Happy birthday, Jiminie.

////26

Dear Jiminie,

My roommate-who-I-never- talk-to-and-who-says-the-wrong-things-at-the-wrong-time made me sit down and watch stupid kitten videos.

I laughed and smiled once during all of it. She’s not as bad as I thought she was.

////27

Dear Jiminie,

This is what happened today.

therapist Joon: so, how are you today, Y/N?

“good”

therapist Joon: ahh, good. A word that seems so complete but isn’t.

I shrugged. The man is crazy philosophical.

therapist Joon: what I meant to say is how are you really today? Because when I ask you how you are, I really want to know.

“That’s great.”

therapist Joon: you know, Y/N? grief comes with a whirlwind of emotions which a human mind can’t fully comprehend and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know I’ve told you this before but keeping all that emotions deep beneath you is not going to make you understand anything nor will it help you.

“…”

therapist Joon: I’m not going to force you to say anything about Jimin. I know you talking about him is difficult and the letters seem to be doing some progress but just-just tell me if he liked the cafeteria food or if he hated the library because it has poor ventilation or something. Opening up about the tiniest details about him will help, Y/N. I promise.

“…..They gave out egg salad for lunch. He always hated it. It has that horrible smell.”

////30

Dear Jiminie,

I visited you today. I brought cherry blossoms and white carnations because they were your favourite. Funny how I used to put flowers in your hair and not on your grave.

////31

Dear Jiminie,

You loved rain and I hated it but today, it doesn’t bother me for the first time. I’m actually liking the sound of the drops hitting the window, exuding nostalgia of many things that has happened and never will happen. Stormy junctures like these make me hope that there are people who are just as lost as I am.

////36

Dear Jiminie,

The strangest thing happened today. I opened my eyes and it’s not so dark anymore. There were yellows and greens. There were pink and oranges. The night sky was still dead black and I can see that one star unconditionally shining to it’s uttermost, and the fact it keeps on shining in an abyss of total darkness made me think maybe it’s not so bad here.

These letters are becoming shorter. Sorry.

////37

Dear Jiminie,

Today, I ran into Jungkook and I guess it was something in his voice that made me sit down with him on a nearby bench. It was complete silence until he asked me why is it that the dead never really leave? Why does it feel like you’re still here?

I didn’t know how to answer since I didn’t know the answer itself.

He started crying after that and I’ve never seen Jungkook cry before. He was mumbling hastily that it was his fault that you’re gone and if he didn’t leave you alone in your dorm, none of this would happen. He was always so close with you, love.

Then, I hugged him. I hugged him so tight and god, he’s so thin. I was so scared that he would break from the pressure.

I gave him Joon’s number and an apple. Hopefully, he’ll use both.

////40

Dear Jiminie,

I went to see your parents. Your brother wasn’t home so it was just your father, who stares out into the distance now, and your mother, who’s locked herself up in your bedroom. She’s been like that ever since they cut your phone line. The butler still remembers me and the gardener gave me a tulip when I left. Your father no longer looks at me with dissatisfaction and I no longer look at him with despise. I guess we’re both mutual now.

////100

Dear Jiminie,

You existed for an innumerable number of reasons and I wish I could have told you each one, every day so you could have realised how much you matter and how much you will always matter to everyone you’ve left with a little imprint of yourself in their lives. You’ve only thought of yourself as a flaw who wasn’t worth being adored, worth being loved, worth being happy, worth having everything or being someone. You were flawed but yet you were immaculate and somehow you forgot you were worth anything at all.

Sometimes I forget that you’re not here with me, Jiminie. Sometimes I see a cute dog or hear something funny while I walk down the street and think that I’ll tell you later and then I’ll remember that I can’t because you’re dead and no amount of pleading or anger or sadness will bring you back. It was the undeniable truth that I’ve come to accept along with the reality that I’m still a collateral mess and I’ll always have bad days because they hold equal importance as the good ones.

I’m in a place in my life now where things are getting better. I’ve started up a little group at our college that raises awareness about suicide. I don’t want anyone else to experience the crippling pain of losing someone to it. I don’t want anyone else to experience what you felt here.

I’ve stopped going to Therapist Joon and on my last session, he told me how some people believed that the dead pervades in the creation of this world which was comforting because it’s nice to know you are in the trees and the ocean I walk past every day or in the stars.I bought Joon a bunch of mixtapes as a thank-you gift and he’s invited me to his boyfriend’s restaurant which I fully intend on going.

Taehyung no longer sleeps in the backstage of the theatre ever since the staff found out. Hoseok’s got a girlfriend and I’ve watched one dance production so far. Never as good as the ones you were in, Jiminie. Taehyung says Yoongi’s now somewhere in Australia. I don’t think he has a plan to ever come back here. Jungkook’s doing well. He goes to Joon now and most days we meet at a cafe so he has someone to talk to.

Your brother’s gotten a huge football scholarship and your parents are actually content with that. They’re all coping in their own ways and I try to visit them from time to time but it still hurts.

This is probably my last letter I’ll write to you. I want you to know I’ll always love you because I think even twenty years from now, I’ll still love you with all my heart could offer. There will presumably never be a day that I won’t miss you. This sounds all cliche and sappy. I guess I got that from you.

But you know what, Jiminie?

Love surpasses the borders of death and me living on this earth without you doesn’t matter anymore because one day, I’ll see you on the other side when it’s my time to get there.

Yours forever,

Y/N

ب_ب

REQUEST

#jimin #jimin angst #jimin scenario #bangtan scenarios #bts scenario #park jimin #bts angst #bangtan #BTS jin #bts namjoon #bts jungkook #bts yoongi #bts hoseok #bts taehyung #reader x jimin #bts au #jimin au #fic: college au

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