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coll2mitts · 3 years ago

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#77 Grease (1978)

Slick your hair back and grab your team jacket, we’re hand-jiving our way through Grease, a movie about bunch of hot, self-motivated ladies with their whole futures ahead of them settling for a bunch of schmucks.

Grease is a strange experience to relive as an adult, because it was (as I suspect with a lot of people) ever-present in my childhood, and I didn’t understand the great majority of references then. This movie was intended as an 8th birthday present from my mother; I came home from school one day and the VHS was sitting on our kitchen countertop unwrapped. I didn’t recognize it, so when I asked my mom what it was, she feigned confusion for about 10 seconds before she gave up and said, “I bought it for your birthday, I guess you get it early now.” She promised me I’d like it when I popped it into the VHS player, and she wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t watched this movie in over a decade and I still could recite the majority of the dialogue.

While this movie is a toned down significantly from the stage show, it is still fairly raunchy in parts. What is kind of hilarious to me is Grease’s gradual shift in categorization over time as a “kids musical”. In 5th grade, my sister played Sandy in her elementary school’s production of it. I asked if she remembered any of the lines they changed to keep things “appropriate” (the Kidz Bopification, if you will) and she responded, “No, I just thought it was weird I had to go out and buy a sexy outfit.” Conversely, my 5th grade play was about the history of America and I dressed up like Martha Washington. I’ll never forget the 50 Nifty United States from 13 original colonies... SHOUT ‘em, SCOUT ‘em, TELL all about 'em, ONE BY ONE till we’ve given a day to every state in the U-S-A. AL-A-bama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, CON-NE-TI-CUT...

Anyway, do I think it’s weird that a movie about a bunch of horny teenagers has become Baby’s First Adult Musical? Sorta. Not really. I mean, the dudes act like children for the majority of this, so I’m not surprised, at least. It had, for sure, turned me off from wanting to date high school dudes when I was in high school. The high school girls, however... we’ll get there.

It’s the first day of school, and the oldest high school seniors I’ve ever seen are poised to take on their last year at Rydell High. The “T” Birds and their very uncool matching jackets are reunited after a summer apart and their super-senior leader Kenickie, played by the late Jeff Conaway, regales the tale of lugging boxes to earn money for a sweet ride, which you could feasibly do back in the 1950s. Danny, played by John Travolta, spent his summer getting action at the beach, which he eloquently describes as “flippin’”.

Frenchy and her new neighbor Sandy rendezvous with the Pink Ladies, who have very cool matching jackets and the unabashed confidence to go with them. Stockard Channing, who plays Rizzo, is turned off by Sandy’s pure, seemingly holier-than-thou persona, and is dismayed when Sandy starts to describe her sickly sweet summer romance. Her interest is only piqued when Sandy mentions her hunky date was notorious playboy and Rizzo’s ex, Danny Zuko.

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Sidenote: When I was a child, I thought Sonny asked if her “jugs were bigger than her nets”. I asked my mother what “nets” were, since I surmised that jugs meant breasts, and she didn’t know, which I thought was weird. It wasn’t until THIS MOMENT that I realized he was asking if her jugs were bigger than Annette’s. Who the fuck is Annette? Like the Mickey Mouseketeer Annette?! Rizzo sings about her later and I’m just like.. this revelation has lead to more questions than answers.

Rizzo hatches a plan to call Danny out on his shit and reunite Sandy with Danny at the school pep rally, as they know her boyfriend is an asshat. He predictably reacts maturely; Not wanting to admit his previous story of getting fresh with some cute Australian girl down in the sand was somewhat hyperbolic, he plays it off like he doesn’t give a shit about her, reducing Sandy to tears. Frenchy comforts Sandy like the supportive queen that she is and invites her to join the Pink Ladies at a sleepover.

Honestly, a Pink Ladies sleepover looks lit as fuck. As a kid (and now, tbh) I was Jan, I wanted to be Marty, I wanted to fuck Rizzo, and I wanted Frenchy as my best friend. I would totally be down to drink champagne, eat Twinkies and mutilate our body parts with needles. Sandy is a bit of a late bloomer and reacts to these series of events by puking. Rizzo decides to be a bit of a slag and make fun of Sandy for being an inexperienced virgin before shimming down a drainpipe to get laid by some jerk with a shitty car and a 6-year-old condom.

Sandy, whose night has done nothing to alleviate her heartbreak, sings a song about being in love with a coward. Part of the deal Oliva Newton-John signed to be cast in this movie specified she have her own solo number, so “Hopelessly Devoted” was written and filmed after the rest of the movie had been completed. This feel pretty obvious, since it gives off a very strong 1970s pop Best Original Song vibe. When I was a kid, I used this song as a break to use the bathroom or grab a snack, but as an adult I find myself humming it every so often.

Speaking of contract-obligated solos, we’re treated to a Travolta-led “Greased Lightning”, which I always thought was weird, cause like, who is going to sing a song about their friend getting tit in their sweet car? Jeff Conaway played Danny on Broadway, he deserved better... Also, I’m CONVINCED this song got the Pop-Up Video treatment, but couldn’t find it online anywhere. Otherwise, how the hell else would the fact that they thought John Travolta putting the saran wrap on his crotch was too racy live rent free in my head for like 20 years?

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After encountering Sandy on a date with a jock, Danny decides he’s going to join a sports team to prove to her he can be a motivated team player. Instead, he just physically assaults several members of his school, but it’s fine because he’s wearing a uniform when he does it. This is enough to impress Sandy, as she accepts Danny’s invitation to the school dance.

The other gang members are going through their own drama, as Rizzo is sick of giving it up to Kenickie without receiving a modicum of respect.

“A hickey from Kenickie is like a Hallmark card. When you care enough to send the very best.”

Danny regresses and continues to act like a shithead to Sandy in front of her friends.

“I don’t like tea.” “You don’t have to drink tea!” “Well, I don’t like parents.”

Jan and Putzie begin an innocent and adorable romance, which proves it’s possible to start off a relationship with mutual respect, even if your friends make fun of you for it.

“I also think there’s more to you than just fat.” “...Thanks.”

I love this scene, there’s so many good lines.

Frenchy, who had dropped out of Rydell to pursue a career in cosmetology, is also in crisis as her stint in beauty school went very poorly. After hours, she somehow hallucinates Frankie Avalon advising her to get her high school degree.

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As a child, I was so proud of myself when I realized all these women played other roles in the movie, as if facial recognition was an important skill.

The day of the big dance finally arrives, as National Bandstand comes to Rydell High with roofie-wielding predator and television host Vince Fontaine. Rizzo arrives with the leader of the rival gang, while Kenickie has his best girl, Cha Cha, as his date, because they are both very well-adjusted teenagers that know how to work through conflict by communicating and not using desperate attempts to make each other jealous. Danny and Sandy are cutting up a rug until Sonny attempts to physically assault Sandy, and Danny just lets it happen because another one of his exes, Cha Cha, starts to dance with him while Sandy is rebuffing Sonny’s advances. Cha Cha and Danny subsequently win the contest. Honestly, this is so fucked up, I would have dropped Danny after this lapse of good judgement.

But no, Sandy still allows him to take her on a date to the drive-in, and it’s not until he elbows her in the boob and then tries to cop a feel in front of everybody that she finally blows him off. Then he has the absolute gall to act emo about it because he’s afraid people will think he’s a loser. Jesus Christ.

Kenickie is also hurting, as he discovers that Rizzo is pregnant and she doesn’t want anything to do with him, regardless of what being an unwed mother will do to her reputation. He decides to process these emotions by racing Greased Lighting for pink slips, as he likes to live his life a quarter mile at a time. Unfortunately, Danny steals Kenickie’s thunder (road) yet again, as he’s forced to take his place in the race because of a car door-related closed head injury. Sandy is impressed by Danny’s driving skillz and decides to sex herself up for an unreliable and emotionally manipulative teenager. Danny has a similar inclination and decides to put on a nice sweater to win Sandy back, which is something, I guess. They declare they’re the one each other needs, oh yes indeed.

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The school year ends, and all the boys end up paired with the girls. Rizzo finds out she’s not pregnant and reunites with Kenickie?! Marty ends up with Sonny even though he’s a handsy creep. Danny and Sandy are just an mess with incompatible expectations of each other. But at least Jan and Putzie and Frenchy and Doodie are fairly inoffensive. The end.

This movie is great, even all these years later. The entire cast is fantastic, even those with smaller bit parts. I was *living* for the school staff, Principal McGee and Coach Calhoun especially. Grease also jump started my lifelong love for Stockard Channing. She’s great in The West Wing, but her part as Sister Husband in Where the Heart Is may be my favorite performance of hers. I’ve watched that movie so many times I can’t even call it a guilty pleasure, I love it so much.

Olivia Newton-John wasn’t even sure she wanted to be in this movie and requested a screen test so she could see if she was good at acting. John Travolta was enamored with her and helped convince Olivia she was perfect for the part, and he wasn’t wrong. She gives such a strong performance as Sandy; I bought her transformation from clean-cut cinnamon roll to sexpot completely. John Travolta was also unbelievably charming as Danny, and I found myself giggling at his line deliveries constantly.

The songs are also unbelievably catchy (albeit somewhat annoying after you’ve heard them 700 times). Barry Gibb, my favorite Pras-adjacent composer, wrote the theme for the movie and it just bops so hard. As a well-documented detractor of Doo Wop music, there’s not a whole lot else here for me, but that’s not going to blind me to the excellence of this soundtrack. There is a reason this movie is revered as much as it is. 10/10, fun for the whole family, as long as the kids don’t understand the references.

#100 best musical movies of all time rotten tomatoes #unwarranted opinion #grease

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the-a-word-2214 · 4 years ago

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─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Raspberry Beret

Mars Blackmon x OC

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I actually like how I worded the last part. Art will be coming soon of these two, I commissioned a piece not too long ago so I’ll post it when it’s completed. Maybe one day I’ll post my own art of them too

Summary: Mars and Scarlett move in together

828 words

Chapter 6: The Next Step

Late nights were always Scarlett’s best time for painting. The sleep-deprived state that she would end up in always made her creativity flow easier than in the day time. She was mid brush stroke when her doorbell rang. She stood up, brush still in hand. “Who is it?” She questioned as she waited for a reply. She was perplexed as to why someone was here at this hour. She knew that she was the only person on her block who was up at this hour. “It’s me.” Mars. Of course, it was him, but why now? He sounded incredibly vulnerable and defeated like he had been crying. She buzzed him in and was faced with the tear-streaked face of her lover. His eyes were bloodshot and she knew that she couldn’t turn him away. Not in his time of need. “Lourdes kicked me out.” He muttered as he stood in her doorway. Scarlett simply responded by embracing him. He immediately reciprocated, his hands winding around her waist. His crying commenced again, into her shoulder this time. He had the majority of his stuff with him. His usual bag that held most of his stuff and everything else that didn’t fit in there, in his duffel bag. She’d let him stay as long as he needed, she wanted to get to the root of the problem first. “Do you want to talk about it?” She queried.

He nodded as he took off his glasses. The lenses kept fogging up so he chose to discard them. “We got into some stupid argument, she started sayin’ that I was bein’ childish and- and she called me a fuckin’ loser. I ain’t a loser! She thinks that I don’t got my shit together but she’s just buggin’. He was clearly angry with how passionately he spoke. Scarlett knew that he broke considering the fact that his own sister had kicked him out. She was his only support at the moment. That weight was on her shoulders. “I’m tired of people thinkin’ I’m not worth somethin’. Sometimes I don’t think I even belong here. Like, why am I here?” He mumbles as he looks down. Scarlett tilts his chin up to look at her. “We all stumble through life, some people more than others. It’s okay if you fall off the horse sometimes. I don’t mind helping you, okay? And I want you to see your self-worth. I know that you’re confident.” He nods as his facade returns for a brief moment. “Brooklyn’s finest, baby.” Scarlett chuckles as she wipes away the tears from his cheeks. She engulfs him in another hug, her hand coming up to cup his head. Men have mental health problems too, there should be no shame in talking about that.

Once they break away, he intertwines their fingers. “So I um...I wanted to ask you something.” Scarlett pronounced. Mars put back on his glasses. “What is it, mama?” He questioned. She grabbed his hands as she looked into his eyes. “I recently bought this place and I’d like for you to move in with me.” Mars’ eyebrows immediately shot up as he broke out into a grin. He stood up and blew out a sigh. “For real? You really wanna do that?” He laughed as he put his hands on his head. She nodded. “Mmhm, yeah. We’ll have to get used to living together but I know that we can do it.”

Keeping Mars organized was the hardest part. Moving in his stuff was easy though. His Jordan’s stored easily under her bed, now their bed. She had extra space in her drawers for his clothes and that was it really. Except for the Michael Jordan shrine which he insisted on keeping. “I gotta keep it up, for MJ, y’know?” He had said. He was the absolute sweetest when it came to cleaning and cooking. He wanted to cook for her all the time even though he wasn’t very good. He made a point to take care of her and pulled his weight when it came to rent.

One late night, they lay in bed staring aimlessly at their phones. Mars begins singing a tune. It was something new that he’d been working on. He was really getting into it when Scarlett then turned her phone towards him to record it. He practically serenaded her in his shirtless glory. Scarlett couldn’t help but laugh at his shenanigans as she posted the video to Instagram. He stole a glance at her phone. “Yo, you gotta tag me in that shit. That’s free exposure right there.” He explained as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He began peppering kisses on her neck and collarbone. He was clingy but in a good way. It felt nice to be needed for once.

Now it was official, Mars was hooked. He brought Scarlett to his planet and she never wanted to go back. The planet Mars was just too comfortable and inviting.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#mars blackmon x oc #mars blackmon #anthony ramos x oc #anthony ramos #new writer #new writers on tumblr

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years ago

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i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 6. i’ll be your arms, i’ll be your steady satellite

read on ao3

read earlier chapters

The Santiago Siblings with families spend a weekend together, Amy’s feeling weird, and Jake’s getting suspicious.

september.

Amy throws out the ovulation tests first. Then, most of the pregnancy tests.

She keeps a few, in case of emergencies, but she hides them so far inside their bathroom cabinet, buried underneath boxes of band-aids and disinfectant wipes, she tells herself it’s the same thing.

She also throws out the vitamin supplements and the gross herbal teas, and puts the cherished pages of the fertility binder through her paper shredder while Jake shakes his head at her.

“You’re being crazy,” he states when she empties the paper confetti in the trash, immediately tying the bag shut and placing it by the door.

“Nope,” she responds. “I’m finally being sane.”

She stops doing yoga, not that she got into a habit with it in the first place. She goes back to her usual diet and coffee habits. She deletes every fertility-related bookmark off of her computer and unfollows all the Instagram accounts she once tried to find support in. There’s a smidge of panic and hard-hitting grief the first few times she sees a pregnant person somewhere, a harsh pain that comes with knowing for certain she’ll never experience it again, but most of all, Amy feels free. As heartrending as the knowledge is, she’d take it over uncertainty any day of the week.

Her days of the week are moving quickly, too. It's like the moment she stopped being consumed by this, the rest of her life caught up with her, and now it’s speeding past. Leah starts her first Tiny Tots preschool class, and her parents cry for a good ten minutes after dropping her off the first time because their baby is growing up and it’s all moving too fast. They start doing proper research on allergy-friendly cats and even schedule a visit at a cattery. Work speeds up and she has to work overtime for more days in a row than she's done since having a kid, making her fear their apartment will fall into pieces and her daughter forget who she is, but she comes home each night to dinner on the table and Leah in pajamas begging her to read a bedtime story. She makes sure to thoroughly thank her husband, especially the night when there’s a takeout box with potato pancakes waiting for her, and promises him a proper reward once the weekend rolls around.

“Cool, cool,” he mumbles half-asleep as he makes himself the little spoon in bed. “Also, while we’re on the topic, those potato pancakes definitely weren’t because Leah and I had ice cream for dinner. In case you were thinking that.”

“Jake.”

“Mm. Goodnight, babe.”

Even without the fertility treatments, her free time between work and family life remains strictly limited, but she does manage to squeeze in something much needed. Every other Thursday night at eight o’clock sharp, Amy finds herself outside the door to Rosa’s apartment, and every night Rosa cuts right to the chase.

“You’re not pregnant?”

“Nope.”

“Not taking any fertility medication?”

“Stopped them all.”

“Take a shot, Santiago.”

She’s decided not to tell more people about her experiences, doesn’t see the point when all she wants is to forget, but every other Thursday night, she vents. Rosa lets her speak, sometimes offering commentary but mostly just nodding, and Amy’s pleasantly surprised to discover it helps.

She’s not alone, and most importantly, she’s going to be okay again.

october.

As the end of October arrives, it becomes time for the weekend with all the Santiago siblings and their families renting a cabin upstate. Tony calls it a tradition even though it's the first time they're doing it, but when Amy points this out, he simply shrugs and says it's important to have goals in life.

At first, she's skeptical about it - spending four days in a cabin with fifteen adults, thirteen kids and one dog feels like a polar opposite to the relaxed family time she craves - but it's been forever since she saw them all and she supposes she could use some time away from Brooklyn’s buzzing city life, so they decide to go. She nearly regrets it after three hours in the car with the Frozen-soundtrack on repeat, but then they reach their destination, and all is forgiven when Leah runs to hug all her cousins.

Friday morning, they arrange a big leaf fight in the yard. At first, it's kids against adults, but as more and more children drop out, it becomes Santiago siblings against partners, and as more and more adults drop out too, eventually it's just Amy and Julian against Jake. The fight lasts until Jake starts complaining about there being leaves in his ear. At that point, Amy's laughing so hard her stomach hurts.

“Loser does all the dishes after lunch,” Julian grins, and Jake looks like he's about to cry.

Amy checks in on him after ten minutes. His shirt is wet from the soapy water and she can see the terror in his eyes as he looks to the mountain of dirty plates, glasses, and cutlery, but he’s scrubbing hard at them one by one with furious determination.

“Need any help, babe?” She sneaks her arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck and pulling out a small twig that’s still stuck in the back of his hair.

“Desperately,” he groans, wiping his hands on his jeans and facing her. “But I have to prove my strength to your brothers.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure Julian just wanted a reason to see you in a wet t-shirt.”

“He could have just asked.”

Amy laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help you out.”

He squints. “Are you sure? You look kind of... tired.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not like that,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But you look a little - I don’t know - pale? Did you not have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t finish it. Creamer tasted weird.” He opens his mouth to say something, but she shuts him up with a glare. “I’m fine. Come on, I’ll help you finish these.”

They manage to get done right on time for a family walk in the woods. Leah makes it about a quarter of a mile before she starts complaining, so Jake carries her on his shoulders, which results in immediate chaos and tears from David’s twins when they demand the same and David can’t carry them both. Amy helps her brother by carrying Samuel on her shoulders, but the kid must have dog hair on his clothes from playing with Julian's dog, because her nose gets stuffy after only a minute. If it weren’t for the animal being straight-up adorable, or for Leah's excitement when Julian asks her if she wants to hold Oscar’s leash for a minute, Amy swears she would be yelling at this dog, too.

The stuffy nose lasts for the entire afternoon, and she curses the fact that she forgot her allergy nasal sprays at home. Luckily, she’s surrounded by plenty of good distractions, and the afternoon disappears in a jumble of trying to keep different children from hurting themselves or others while also trying to make sure they’re happy, and if she’s not watching any kids, she’s trying to keep up with what feels like a billion different conversations going on at the same time. It’s enough to make anyone exhausted. She tries to have another cup of coffee, black this time to avoid the probably-bad creamer, but she only gets down a few sips before her throat goes all dry and she has to breathe real hard for the nausea to pass. She pours out the rest in the kitchen sink.

Despite her tiredness and stuffy nose and sudden coffee aversion, Amy has a lovely day. When afternoon becomes evening, everyone who isn’t cooking dinner makes their way down to the nearby lake to watch the sunset. Leah’s in Jake’s arms with her head on his shoulder, looking all cozy in her purple fluffy hoodie as she sings the lyrics to Moana in the wrong order, and Amy can’t fight the urge to kiss her sweet little face until Leah grimaces and says stop, mama, hiding her face in Jake’s shirt as he laughs.

They’re her favorite sight in the world - the love of her life, and the child who’s held Amy’s whole heart in her hands since the first time she waved to them on an ultrasound screen over three years ago. Jake whispers something to Leah that Amy can’t hear, the girl giggles, and her heart aches with how much she loves them. She may never get the kids-plural family she pictured in her younger days, but she gets this, and it’s better than anything she could have imagined.

When all the kids have gone to bed - save for seven-month-old Charlie, who’s wide awake and happy to get passed around between different pairs of arms - the adults gather in the living room for a chance at uninterrupted conversation and a glass of wine. Amy finds space in the corner of a couch, with Jake on her left and Tony’s wife Clara in an armchair on her right, and gratefully accepts the glass of red wine Lucas gives her. She takes a sip, first enjoying the taste, but the second sip tastes off and the third is awful. She tries to hide her grimace as she puts it down on the side table and asks for a glass of water instead.

She's not really listening to the conversation, zoning out and just enjoying the comfort of Jake's arm around her shoulders, but Clara nudging her arm gets her attention.

“Do you want to hold Charlie for a while, Amy?”

“I’d love to,” she says, and the next second there's a baby in her arms who's shooting her the brightest of toothless smiles and reaching for her necklace. Charlie’s chubby fingers try to grab the L and J-pendants, so she gently separates his hands from them and he starts playing with a sling of her hair instead.

“Oh, you're strong,” she laughs as he grips it. “Wow.”

“Tell me about it,” Clara laughs. “Sometimes he’s lucky he’s cute.”

Amy smiles. The baby is already snuggling his head into her chest, making himself comfortable. He's truly adorable with round cheeks and light-ginger hair, melting her heart as he grips onto her shirt.

She's missed this. Still, it’s less painful now that she knows - she might never have more babies of her own, but she’ll always have plenty of nephews and nieces to hold, cuddle and play with.

“You're adorable,” she whispers to Charlie with a kiss to his forehead. “Yes, you are.”

“Hey, Amy?” David catches her attention from the opposite couch. “Aren't you guys going to have more kids?”

She can feel Jake freeze next to her.

“We’ve thought of it,” she says calmly. “But we landed on one kid. We’re happy with that.”

Jake squeezes her shoulder.

“Really? Huh.” David nods in surprise. “Don’t you want more kids, Jake?”

“It's not my decision to make,” he shrugs, like it was an obvious fact. “I'm just hoping we can get a cat soon.”

Charlie falls asleep in Amy's arms, staying there even as people begin to drop out and head to bed. She gives him back to Tony when it’s time for a diaper change, closing her eyes and leaning against Jake's chest once her arms are free again.

“You okay, Ames?”

“Yeah,” she promises. “Just sleepy.”

“You didn't drink anything,” he notes, nodding to her untouched glass.

“Did you try the wine?” He nods. “I hated it. I think Julian has crappy taste in alcohol.”

Jake shrugs. “It tasted fine to me. Maybe your taste buds are being weird.”

“Or I have better taste than you.” She kisses him on the cheek. “Let's go to bed, babe.”

She’s barely closed her eyes before Leah climbs into their bed, full of energy as she makes space between her parents.

“I wanna go outside and play,” she insists, and when this doesn’t garner enough of a response, she frowns. “It’s morning!”

Amy reluctantly opens her eyes to reach for her phone, reading the time. “Half-past seven.” Weird. They went to bed at one a.m. and Leah’s slept through the night, yet it feels like she was woken up after ten minutes.

“Hey, I have an idea,” says Jake, pulling his daughter close and tickling her neck. “How about we play in here for a while? I have a great idea for something.”

“What?”

“Well, you see, bumblebee, you’re a super brave space pirate. This bed is your spaceship, and mama and I are your innocent, weak humans that you’ve captured.” He yawns. “The rules are that we have to lay still. If we move, we’ll fall out into space and, uh, die.”

“Okay! Dada, still!”

“I love this game,” Amy mumbles, pulling the covers closer around herself.

The spaceship game lasts a full ten minutes before Leah tires, deciding that her parents are too boring captives for her taste and starting a new game that circles around her trying to jump from the bed onto her mattress in increasingly creative and less-than-safe ways. Jake defuses the situation before she tries to do a backflip, suggesting that they get out of bed and see if any other cousins are up yet, and Amy tries to open her eyes again. It’s painful - her body screams for more sleep, and she channels this into the pleading look she gives Jake.

“Can I get another half hour? I feel like I’m going to collapse if I get up now.”

“Huh.” A line appears between his brows. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah,” she yawns. “I just need thirty minutes, like I said.”

“Okay, I’ll wake you up when there’s breakfast - Lee, wait!”

He disappears out the door chasing after their daughter, and Amy sighs in relief as she lets her eyes fall closed again.

It still feels like no time has passed before Jake comes to tell her the thirty minutes are up, but she forces herself to get out of bed anyway. They have a long day ahead of them, and Amy’s not risking getting teased by her brothers for wanting to sleep in. Instead, she throws on a hoodie to hide the fact that she’s freezing, and pours herself a big cup of coffee at the breakfast table. She manages four sips before it threatens to come back up again. Luckily, one-year-old Milo chooses that exact moment to almost choke on his piece of toast, and no one except for Jake seems to notice the gagging expression on her face as she tries to swallow everything back down.

She must be getting the flu, or maybe she’s picked up some other bug from her daughter. She’s cold, a little dizzy, and the stuffy nose refuses to pass even though she keeps away from the dog. They go to play in the woods while the sun is still shining, and Amy’s enjoying herself as she watches Jake run with Leah in his arms towards a tree, touch her feet against the wood and yell Parkour! only to make the girl lose it with laughter every time, but she’s so tired when they get home, she’s barely sat down in an armchair before she’s nodded off again.

“Hey, Ames.” Jake’s firm hand on her shoulder makes her return to consciousness. His mouth is set in a hard line, and there’s a seriousness to the way he watches her that reminds her of the way he gets whenever she’s really sick, all worried and overly protective like he thinks she’ll instantly drop to the floor if he’s not right there. “Can we talk in private?.”

She nods, following him back to their bedroom where he closes the door. He sits down cross-legged on Leah's mattress, and she takes her chance to lay down on the bed, propping her head up with two pillows. “Okay. What’s up?”

He gives her a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure you’re just tired?”

“I mean, I feel a little off, I’m sort of dizzy and my allergies are annoying.” She sniffles. “Probably coming down with some bug. Why?”

“Your immune system is way better than mine, though. I’m always the first one to get sick after Leah and I’m fine. I don’t even think she’s been ill in weeks. Isn’t it weird that you’re the only one feeling sick?”

Amy shrugs. “Exception that proves the rule?”

“Yeah, or you’re not sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ames,” he says in a low voice, his tone slightly hesitant. “You don’t think there’s a chance you might be - I don’t know, pregnant?”

“Come on. How would that have happened?”

“Uh -”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, but I think we established my body didn’t want it to happen for us again.”

“Maybe, but face the facts. You’re exhausted, your taste buds are funny, and you were like, seconds away from throwing up your coffee this morning. You’re cold, you’re dizzy…” He counts on his fingers as he lists the symptoms. “It sounds a lot to me like before we found out you were pregnant with Leah?”

“Or it sounds like it's been a couple of intense months, my body's fighting an infection and I’m getting ill once I'm relaxing.”

“Have you gotten your period this month?”

She glares at him. “Stop.”

“Well, have you?”

She sighs and pulls out her phone from her pocket, opening it to her period tracker. Current Cycle - day 33. “It's a few days late.”

Jake’s eyes go wide.

“No.” She shakes her head before he can say anything. “Nope. That doesn't mean anything. My cycle got screwed up after the treatments and they said it could take months to return to normal.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No. Seriously. We both know I’m not pregnant.”

He squints. “We do?”

“Yes. And I can’t let myself think about it, Jake, because if I do…” She bites her lip at the crystal-clear memories of ovulation strips, shots and negative pregnancy tests, of feeling betrayed by her own body time and time again. “I’ll start to go crazy. I just got away from that obsessive headspace. I can’t go there again, I can’t have another negative staring me in the face, I just… can’t.”

He nods slowly, gaze still full of worry as he sits down next to her. “Okay. I just thought I’d ask.” His hands rub soft circles on her neck to ease the tension there, his lips brushing against hers for a few seconds. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” She sighs. “God, I need another nap.”

“I’ll make an excuse for you,” he says, and she swears she’s never been more in love with him in her entire life.

Jake doesn’t bring it up again, and Amy’s grateful. It's not that she doesn't wish for his suspicions to be true - her falling pregnant naturally would be a miracle - but she can't let herself think about it, let alone hope. She spent a year hoping and it led nowhere. This isn't the first time she's imagined symptoms that turned out to be nothing. If she lets herself have hope another time, only to be faced by cruel disappointment, she's certain she's going to shatter.

The weather changes from gorgeous sunshine to heavy rainfall, effectively locking every present Santiago family member inside of the cabin and creating yet more chaos. Luis and Christian organize a game night for the kids, first consisting of child-friendly memory-games and puzzles, but as more and more kids go to bed, eventually the adults drag out Monopoly and get drunk. They also get insanely competitive. When Simon starts threatening Tony about having him do another challenge for his YouTube channel, and Tony threatens to wrestle Simon right there on the floor, the game is quickly changed to Cards Against Humanity which soon becomes a dangerous game of Never Have I Ever. Amy opts for alcohol-free wine, and it’s probably lucky, because her brothers are ruthless. Never have I ever had a catastrophic double date - drink. Never have I ever made out with someone at work - drink. Never have I ever accidentally startled a man with a genetic heart condition, resulting in his immediate death - drink, remind Julian he’s an asshole, and come up with a good revenge question. She’s relieved they go to bed before anyone can suggest a game of truth or dare.

The next day, she's feeling much better, and manages almost half a cup of coffee without nausea. She must've been right about it being some kind of infection, she thinks, pleased that it seems to be passing.

The weather isn't improving, so she teams up with a few of her brothers and their families to go to a nearby, kid-friendly, museum while Jake, Julian, and Simon visit a sneaker outlet. Leah finds an activity station and plays there for nearly fifteen minutes with her cousins before breaking down in tears when someone takes a crayon from her, and after it’s been another ten minutes of crying, Amy eventually chalks the child’s sudden fury down to low blood sugar. She ruffles through her bag for a snack and finds an unopened bag of dried mango, and two slices later, Leah is back to normal. Amy also finds an unopened tampon package, giving her a nudging reminder that her period’s still nowhere to be seen, but she shakes away the thought. Had this been a couple of months ago, she would've been rushing to take a test, and she gives herself a mental pat on the back for acting so calm about it now. She knows this means nothing and she's not stressing out. There’s this tingling, cramping, feeling low in her stomach anyway, aching for a moment before immediately fading. Surely that must mean her period is coming.

They go to bed early on their last night away, ready for the drive home the next day. Leah wakes up crying about a nightmare, so Amy ends up sleeping next to her in their bed with Leah's little legs curled against Amy's stomach and her hand gripping her wrist. As far as sleeping positions go, she could think of far more comfortable or ergonomic ones, but there's no denying the coziness of it. Leah snuggles her nose into the crook of Amy's neck, and Amy falls asleep just smelling her head, and if she’d ever been asked to describe the word peaceful with one situation, she would have chosen this.

At first, she thinks she's dreaming about a real past event. She's back in the bedroom of their apartment, with Jake sleeping on her right and Leah asleep in her room, but Amy's awake. She can't tell why, isn't fully aware of the narrative here, but she can tell that dream-Amy has an instinct. Something is causing her to get out of bed, walk towards their bathroom and grab a pregnancy test - one of the cheap paper strip ones - from a visible spot in the bathroom cabinet. Something is making her take it. Dream-Amy watches the test, sitting perched on the toilet and staring intently at the first line, and after what feels like the blink of an eye inside of her dream-reality, a second, faint but clear, line shows up.

Even though it's a dream, the explosive happiness is every bit as real as if she'd been awake. She takes the paper strip, wrapping it in a bit of toilet paper, and is about to go ask dream-Jake if he can see it too when she’s pulled out of the dream and back to reality.

“What the hell,” she mumbles as she opens her eyes. Jake and Leah are still sleeping, and it's every bit as dark outside as when they went to bed, but Amy's wide awake and officially weirded out. She's never been one for dream analysis or seeing them as omens of any kind, but something about the realistic feeling has caught her attention, leaving her confused and wondering if there’s any truth to it. She tries to repeat to herself that there isn’t, she isn’t pregnant and should go back to sleep, but her mind is reeling. She tries to do some breathing exercises to force her mind and body back to a relaxed state, but it’s out of reach. The what if-narrative plays on repeat in her head, and eventually, she accepts that she’s going to need to at least outrule the possibility. She’s pretty sure there’s a spare test left somewhere in her bag.

Carefully, she frees herself from the three-year-old’s grip and climbs over Jake instead. He grunts and opens his eyes for a second, but closes them again in the next.

Amy uses her phone’s flashlight to dig through the contents of her bag, finding her calendar, pencil case, notebooks, and a crossword magazine. Headphones, painkillers, an extra phone charger. More snack bars and packets of dried fruit. Wet wipes, tissues, hair ties, and some makeup. She moves on to the inner pocket, finding allergy medication, tampons, even an expired condom that seems to have nestled its way into the bottom of the bag and stayed there for years, but no spare pregnancy tests. She almost thinks she’s found one, but a closer look tells her it’s an ovulation indicator, and she groans with disappointment. She could have sworn she left one for emergencies, but suddenly it’s gone, and she could wait until tomorrow and buy one, but she wants - scratch that, she needs - to know now.

“Ames? Are you looking for something?” Jake’s voice is raspy, a mix of surprise and pure confusion in his tone, and she hums vaguely without looking back at him.

“I thought I had something in here,” she says in a whisper. “But I can’t find it. It’s nothing, you can go back to sleep.”

“What’re you tryna find?”

She sighs. “I had a weird dream, okay? So I want to take a pregnancy test, because I just need to know it wasn't real so I can go to sleep. I thought I had one in here, but I don’t, so…”

He yawns, and then, in a movement far swifter than she would expect from someone barely-awake, he gets out of bed and walks over to the plastic bag he brought home from the sneaker outlet.

“Jake, I’m sorry, but I don’t care about your sneakers right now,” she wheezes. He shakes his head and brings out another, smaller CVS plastic bag.

“I know,” he says, “but you might care about this.” He throws her a familiar, pink-and-white carton, and she’s not even caught it before she knows exactly what it is.

“You bought a pregnancy test.”

He nods.

“What - when - why?”

“There was a CVS close to the outlet, I told Julian and Simon I needed to buy some Aspirin, ran in and got this. They didn’t see it,” he assures her, noticing the worry on her face. “I was smooth. And as for why - I know you said you didn’t want to hope, but I thought in case you changed your mind and wanted to know, well... “ He shrugs. “It would suck if you were stuck here with no way of finding out, even if it was just another day. I know how much you hate not knowing.”

She twists the carton in her hands. “I really do hate it.”

“So, are you…”

“I’m going to take it. Now.”

“Now - now?”

“Now.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then they’re silently racing each other out the door.

Amy’s so used to the steps at this point, she doesn’t even feel the anxiety kick in until she places the test on the sink and nods at Jake to start the timer. There’s barely space for them both to sit on the floor of the tiny bathroom, so they’re squeezed together, him stroking her hair and holding her hand as she focuses on keeping her breathing steady.

It doesn't matter what it shows, she tries to tell herself without success. It’s just to check.

And yet, there's this odd sense of hope in her heart she doesn't recognize from the last months.

“How did you guess?” She asks Jake, and he wrinkles his forehead, so she clarifies. “You remembered all the symptoms.”

“Oh.” He blushes. “This is going to sound bad, but… do you remember before we found out you were pregnant with Lee? There was like a week before you took a test, where you kept complaining about how it felt like you were getting the flu, or some kind of infection, because you were feeling off.” He draws quotation marks with his fingers. “You kept repeating that. And I was so proud of myself, because I'm always the first one of us two to get sick, but I was feeling fine. I thought I’d finally get to brag, and I was so excited, but then we found out you weren't sick.”

“Just pregnant.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Which, of course, was so much better. Except I never got to brag. It's haunted me since then. So this time, when you said you were feeling off and like you were getting sick… I remembered, and I made a guess. Also, I’ve read the list in your binder. But honestly, it was mostly the first thing.”

Amy laughs, genuine and hearty despite her nervosity. “You're ridiculous.”

He puts his arm around her shoulders. “And yet you keep wanting to have kids with me.”

“It’s like I must be in love with you or something.”

Her comment makes him snicker, and she thinks, not for the first time, that there could never be another person she'd want to do this with - no matter the results on that test.

The timer rings. Jake turns it off.

“Do you want to check, or should I?”

“I don't think I can see another negative test,” she whispers, the fear making her heart beat out of her chest, and he nods and tells her to close her eyes. She hears him fumble for the test, and then he finds it, and there’s a moment’s silence that drives her crazy.

“Ames?”

“Yeah?”

“What’d you say two lines meant, now again?”

She opens her eyes, immediately snatching the test from his hands. “No way.”

It’s faint, but there’s an obvious second line.

Amy just stares at it. She's worried it’ll disappear, like her mind’s playing tricks on her, but it stays.

“This is crazy.” Tears of happiness flood her eyes once she speaks. “This is - this is absolutely insane.”

“Told you so,” says Jake in an attempt of sounding smug, but she can tell he’s about to tear up, too.

“This is positive.”

“Sure is.”

“Oh my god.” She can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying, but she’s shaking, unable to believe her eyes as she looks from the test to Jake and back at the test. “Oh my god, you’re going to brag about this forever.”

He grins. “Consider the fact that I won’t to be a testament to how much I love you.”

She’s too overwhelmed to know what to say, so she just hugs him, smiling into his chest as he peppers kisses to the top of her head.

“Hey, Ames?”

“What?”

“We’re having another baby.”

She’s spent a year wishing for it, getting used to the thought in her desperation to get there, yet his words are impossible to take in. Another baby.

“Seems that way,” she whispers, and he laughs.

There’s a second test in the carton, and Amy wants to take it right away, but Jake convinces her to save it for tomorrow so they can go back to bed before anyone notices they’ve been occupying this bathroom for a suspicious amount of time.

She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, not when a thousand thoughts are running laps in her head and she’s so in shock she thinks she might still be dreaming, but then Jake’s hand sneaks under the hem of her t-shirt and rests low on her stomach to make sure they're warm, he mumbles, and she places her own hand over his and relaxes.

november.

Logically, Amy knows she’s pregnant.

All of the tests, a new one every day even though Jake tells her she’s being crazy again, are coming back two dark lines and plus signs and bolded words Pregnant, and the expensive test with the week indicator which shows how long it’s been since ovulation changes from 1-2 to 2-3 and 3+ Weeks. The fertility clinic gives her a blood test, confirms it’s a healthy pregnancy and schedules an early ultrasound two weeks later, which feels like an eternity. Time is moving excruciatingly slow, even slower when the nausea fully kicks in and she wants to spend as much of the day as possible laying down. She’s secretly happy she’s feeling terrible because that means the hormone levels are rising, and Jake insists on high-fiving her after the first time she throws up, but it does make the days feel even longer when all she wants is for them to pass.

Emotionally, the knowledge is much more difficult to wrap her head around. She’s terrified, analyzing every minuscule shift in her body in fear of there being something wrong and checking for blood in her underwear several times a day. She’s short on distractions, because she’s exhausted and moving too much makes her feel sick, so she’s mostly stuck on the couch after work watching movies and cuddling with Leah. They're not telling her yet - they're not telling anyone, except Rosa who figured it out soon as Amy declined a tequila shot - and Amy feels like a shitty parent who doesn't have the energy to run around and properly play with her kid right now, but Leah seems to get that her mom’s not feeling well, because she's more than happy to read books together and watch iPad until Jake comes home and takes her to the park for a bit.

She wants to be happy, and every time she adds another positive test to the growing collection, she is, but she’s also dreaming nightmares and waking up in cold sweats in fear that this will be taken away from them. It’s too good to be true, the kind of happy ending you read about but never experience, and she can’t for the life of her try to fathom that it’s real. In short, she’s so hormonal she cries at stubbing her toe in the doorway, so nauseous she has to force down the few things she can consider eating, feeling guilty over how little energy she has to give Leah and how much responsibility this puts on Jake, and she can’t even allow herself to trust that they are having another baby.

“This isn’t forever,” Jake tells her on a particularly exhausting evening after she's cried in his arms and eaten three lemon popsicles because they're the only thing that tastes remotely good. When she's cried a little more, about her fear and bad conscience and the deep shame in not being able to feel happy about something she's dreamt of for a year, he tells her, “just three more days until the scan,” and that does help.

Amy doesn’t want to exaggerate, but she’s pretty sure the hours between six a.m., when Leah wakes up, and nine a.m., when the ultrasound appointment is, are the longest three hours of her life. Mornings are enough of a struggle to get through with a stubborn three-year-old who’ll put up a fight about anything from clothes to breakfast to brushing her teeth if she’s in the wrong mood, and they’re not made any easier when Amy’s feeling like this, but it’s moving particularly slow today when nearly all of her focus is divided between worrying about the scan and trying to keep her breakfast down. In the end, Leah doesn’t brush her teeth this morning and she has a yogurt smoothie in the car, but they manage to drop her off in time and she gives them a long hug each, so Amy considers it a success.

Unfortunately, it’s a temporary one. She’s so nervous she can’t think straight, can’t focus on the Taylor Swift-tunes playing in the car or reply when Jake asks if she’s excited. Her head is playing possible nightmare scenarios on a loop, of there not being anything there, of them not seeing a heartbeat, or something else that will leave them no choice but to terminate the pregnancy. Taylor Swift sings something about cloaks and daggers and bright mornings, and Amy tries to see if she can memorize the lyrics for a distraction. She doesn’t get far before they get stuck in a traffic jam, though, giving them no option but to drive a few feet at a time, accelerating and braking on repeat.

She knows that Jake tries to drive as smoothly as possible. He’s a good driver. She doesn’t have a problem with his driving, but the constant starting and stopping, the inevitable jerking movements, is absolute hell for her morning slash all-day sickness and suddenly all her focus has shifted to trying not to throw up in a moving car.

“I’m really sorry, Ames,” says Jake after casting one glance at her pale complexion, and she doesn’t dare to move her head but she mumbles a ‘not your fault’ before she goes back to taking deep breaths.

She makes it through the congestion, and the nausea’s easing as they drive the last stretch to the clinic, but then there’s a slight bump as they drive into the parking lot and the fight is lost. She stumbles out of the car in search of a trash can, but it’s too far away. Instead, she has to publicly humiliate herself by throwing up right there on the curb just as another couple is walking out of the clinic and giving her what she assumes are grossed-out looks. She feels Jake’s hands on her shoulders as she coughs up the last bit, grimacing at the foul taste.

“Everyone’s going to think I’m hungover,” she mutters as he leads her to a spot further away, urging her to sit down.

“Oh yeah. That’s definitely what they think about all the women who puke outside of fertility clinics.”

His comment makes her laugh, but the laughter makes her feel sick again, so she stops.

“You okay?” He asks, carefully scratching her neck with one hand as he digs in his messenger bag with the other. “I have water if you want to rinse your mouth, and I’m pretty sure I have gum somewhere.”

“I’ll take water,” she says, accepting the green kid-size bottle that was definitely originally Leah’s and taking a cautious sip. “Sorry about this.”

“You’re sorry?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Damn, queen of unnecessary apologies. It’s okay.”

“I feel like crap,” she groans, ignoring him. “Sorry for whining.” “Okay there, ridiculous. Stop apologizing. It’s not something you can control.”

“But I don’t want to whine about this,” it comes out of her before she can stop it. “I don’t want to be sad, or scared. We fought so damn hard to get here! It fucking sucked! And now - I guess we’re having a baby, but I don’t know how to believe that, and I have to deal with the fact that pregnancy sucks, too!” She shakes her head, instantly regretting the quick movement but continuing to speak anyway. “I just want to be happy, and grateful, and I am. But I’m terrified. I can’t trust that it’s really happening, that it won’t be taken away from us again, and on top of that I feel awful all the time. I just… thought it’d be different.”

Jake looks a little taken aback by her sudden outburst, opening his mouth before closing it and watching her with that same worried look she’s seen way too much during the last weeks.

“It will be,” he promises once she stops talking. “You’ve done this before. You know it gets better. You get a baby out of it, which - there are worse deals.”

“Yeah. But it feels so far away. It doesn’t feel remotely real. I wanted us to be happy now, to relax and enjoy this, but it feels like everything sucks.”

“Isn’t that just life sometimes, though? It sucks, and then there are awesome parts, and then it sucks again, and then there’s more awesome stuff.” He grimaces, looking down at the curb before meeting her eyes. “I know you feel like crap. I know you’re scared. Honestly, so am I. But we’re about to see our baby for the first time,” he smiles, “and that’s at least one of the crazy awesome parts.”

She nods. “It is.”

“Yeah.” He reaches for her hand, squeezing it. “I just think that… there’s always going to be shitty things, right? Sure, this year was rough, and I wouldn’t want to do it again, but we also had a million amazing moments with Leah, and together, in-between the bad parts. When this baby comes,” he nods to her still-flat stomach, “we probably won’t be sleeping and everything will be nuts for a while before we figure it out, but we’re going to have two kids and it’s going to be the best.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to tell you something I heard from a very smart person once,” he grins, looking proud of himself. “Life is unpredictable, but as long as you’re with the right people, you can handle anything.”

“That person sounds smart. Did they also make a butt joke after that?”

“Sure did. Made me cry, and everything. But what I was actually trying to say was…” Jake blushes, and she can tell there’s a moment of emotional sincerity coming. “I’m with you. I know that. I also know that as long as I’m with you, all the bad stuff is survivable, and all the good stuff is a million times better. And I’d rather have hard days with you, and Lee, and I guess soon whoever this is,” he holds his hand to her stomach through her sweater, “than good days with anyone else.”

“Me too,” she snivels, having to wipe the tears on her shirt sleeve because of course, this is making her cry. “How’d you get so wise all of a sudden?”

“Married you,” he shrugs. “And had kids. Also, I got hella old.”

“You’re forty-two.”

“Exactly. Shh.”

Amy laughs, with tears in her eyes because he’s hitting that perfect spot between wisdom and humor that’s one of the many reasons she loves him so much, and the smile on his lips grows wider once he sees that he’s made her laugh.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, cupping his face with her hands.

“I know. Love you, too.” She kisses him, and he kisses her back for a second before immediately pulling away and scrunching his nose. “Okay, ew, no. Vomity breath. Gross.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to apologize,” she teases. “But I’ll take that gum too.”

“Let’s just go inside and look at our baby,” he says as he hands her the packet, and she doesn’t protest.

There are some routine questions and another blood test, and then they’re ushered into the ultrasound room. She’s nearly holding her breath as she lays down, eyes glued to the screen and Jake’s hand squeezing hers so tight she thinks he might stop the blood flow if he squeezed any harder.

At first, she’s scared she was right and there’s nothing in there, because everything is blurry and she’s not sure what’s what, but then it clears slightly and the ultrasound technician points out a white blob the shape of a lima bean, and there are tears of relief running down her cheeks.

The technician says and here’s the heartbeat, and Amy has to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying harder than she already is when a whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sounds through the room in quick little beats.

She could listen to that sound forever.

They get printed sonogram pictures of their fetus, which is slightly over an inch and just looks like a white blob but is well and truly perfect according to their doctor, and then they’re advised to go home and celebrate. They both have to stop crying first, though, so they stand outside the clinic for another while, just hugging without needing to say anything else.

“So,” Jake says when Amy’s finally found space to breathe again. “How do you want to celebrate?”

“Do you want to go to Target and look for another shirt that says Big Sister and some stupid cute tiny clothes?”

“Oh, you know I do.”

They get a long-sleeved pink shirt for Leah, six pairs of baby socks with animals on them and tiny pajamas with rainbow stripes, and then they buy alcohol-free champagne.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction #iwthwy

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loplainlointhemorning · 5 years ago

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You don't have to answer this if you don't want to but what's up with the Courtney Love controversy? Why are people accusing her of manipulation or whatever? I'm totally new to this discussion

hey darling!! no worries, I love discussing Kurt & Court bc theyre my surrogate parents and they emotionally raised me when I had a difficult relationship w my Mom and Dad, plus I’m named after Kurt and he’s part of the reason I realized my ~gender~, so needless to say I have a surplus of information on them. Plus their music fucks. anyways, this is gonna be a masterpost-

my credentials(sources I have taken my information and formed my opinion on Kurt & Court’s relationship from if u need to look into them):

-Heavier Than Heaven(Book by Charles Cross, authorized by Kurt’s estate. Charles Cross is a well known grunge/music historian and has literally devoted his life to researching and writing rockstar biographies, including several on Nirvana. One of my favorite books ever.)

- Montage Of Heck(Documentary on Kurt’s life. Produced by his daughter, Frances. I have some heavy criticisms of this film and of the interviews in it, but it does have some reflections on Kurt and Courtney’s relationship that I think are important.)

- Hit So Hard(a documentary on Hole’s drummer, Patty Schemel. Minor discussions of Kurt and Kurt and Courtney.)

- Verse Chorus Verse(Fan-made documentary series on Kurt’s life, widely regarded by Nirvana fans the most in depth play-by-play biography that exists- and it’s free on YouTube, which is lit.)

sources I don’t pull from, but many younger Nirvana fans do(the people who buy into the conspiracies generally):

Kurt and Courtney- A documentary made in the late 90’s under the guise of biography, but is actually about the conspiracy theory that Courtney killed Kurt. I saw it when I was a new fan and I literally laughed out loud from how apeshit it was.

Soaked In Bleach- ‘Biopic’ about Courtney killing Kurt. I haven’t seen it but straight men who think Courtney is ugly take it more seriously than the Bible. Very little truth ever goes into these theories, besides maybe names and dates.

Anything Hank Harrison(Courtney’s father) has to say- He wrote a book on the subject. He also gave her acid and lost custody of her when she was three years old. He’s a shit parent and I doubt he’s actually seen his daughter since the 80’s.

Anything Buzz Osborne(Kurt’s friend, singer for the Melvins, a band Kurt looked up to in Montesano) says- I think Buzz’s opinion is taken way too seriously by a lot of the fan base, I read an interview of his criticizing Montage Of Heck because Kurt ‘didn’t really have a stomach disease’ and was just lying about it to get high, and also about how he hated having to see Courtney naked, and made a good long point about how disgusting her body is. IOn top of all that(none of which really has to do with critiquing the film...?), he mocked Kurt and called him a loser for committing suicide. I don’t care what your opinion on his stomach, his wife, or his music is, that shit is callous and idiotic, but totally reflective of the 70’s and 80’s mentality regarding the mentally ill. He’s part of the legion of pretentious punk dudes who *kind of* knew Kurt, who think Courtney’s the one who ‘corrupted’ him, which brings me around to answering your question.

So, there’s this idea regarding Kurt and Courtney’s relationship, which is pretty similar to the one surrounding Sid and Nancy’s(or at least used to.) Courtney is the whiny, annoying, petulant bitch who attached herself to the first trophy she could find, and through her terrible manipulative personality kept him with her and kept him from getting better. In this mode of thinking, She’s also the person who ‘started’ him on drugs, and in a few people’s eyes, the person who ‘forced’ him to have Frances.

The reality of the situation, as I see it, as someone who’s gone to pretty decent lengths to inform themselves on the subject, is that Kurt and Courtney’s relationship was toxic: But the toxicity was mutual. This doesn’t mean they were a “problematic” couple, or that they were abusing each other, or even that either one of them was ‘evil’, it means that they fell deeply in love as young trauma survivors with substance abuse issues and huge ambitions. That’s a lot to put on any relationship and it’s a lot to talk about, so I’m gonna split this into categories of complaints that you’ll hear pretty routinely as a new Nirvana/Hole fan.

1. “She got him into drugs!”

Courtney started on heroin in the late 80’s in L.A., when she was still playing with Sugar Baby Doll(her band with Jennifer Finch and Kat Bjelland). Kurt, as said in Heavier Than Heaven, tried heroin for the first time around 1988-1989(I don’t remember exactly.) At the time, he was still living with(though I don’t believe they were still dating) Tracy Marander. Because he was destitute, he didn’t have enough money to start forming an actual habit until Nevermind started gaining speed, and by the time he and Courtney started dating(they met a couple of times and phoned a couple of times before cementing a relationship) he had been taking it for a while. That’s the thing I think people look over when it comes to Kurt- He was embarrassed about his addiction and he hated the physical side effects, but he loved heroin.

Courtney says in Montage Of Heck that she had both tried and kicked heroin by the time she met Kurt, but I think the Heavier Than Heaven description is probably more accurate: That she did heroin socially, and her addiction worsened after the two of them began living together because Kurt was(in her own words) ‘obsessed with oblivion.’ She also said in Montage Of Heck that his dream was to ‘Get to three million dollars and become a junkie.’ She’s stated several times that her drug problems came out of a need for ‘comfort’, and Kurt was into getting so fucked he couldn’t do anything else(also confirmed by his friend, Dylan Carlson, who was also into heroin and did it with him often.)

On top of that, Courtney was the one who orchestrated interventions for Kurt, went through the process of reviving him when he’d overdosed, and broke his syringes/scared off his dealers to try and keep drugs away from him as much as possible. At one point, she even made a rule that no drugs were to be done in the house- So he started renting motel rooms and doing them there. It was she who was the head of his final intervention before he went missing.

If anything, Courtney is the person who tried her hardest to keep drugs away from both of them. Considering how much people still talk about her doing heroin while pregnant(which occurred very early on before she was aware of her condition), Kurt is the person who struggled the most to stay off drugs during her pregnancy and after Frances’ birth, even going so far as to hide in the bathroom from her while she was struggling with morning sickness so she wouldn’t know he was getting high.

2. “She manipulated him into dating her/marrying her!”

Here’s the thing about Courtney; She is an enigmatic, entertaining, talented, maternal individual. Here’s the thing about Kurt; He’s a shy, quiet, non-confrontational guy with mommy issues. There’s been a lot of discussion on how Courtney was ‘obsessed’ with Kurt, and how she wouldn’t rest until she pinned him down: That’s untrue, or at least it reads less like crazy-bitch-steals-rock-god and more like cute-singer-has-crush-on-fellow-cute-singer. She was really into him, but when she met him she was still dating Billy Corgan, which deterred her from pursuing him until that relationship(basically) dissolved. When Kurt met her, he had just gotten out of a relationship with Tobi Vail, which most likely fell apart because she refused to be what Tracy Marander had been for him. She wasn’t interested in caring for him and she wasn’t interested in a full-time monogamous relationship. She was working too hard at her own career and was way too involved in the burgeoning riot grrrl movement to worry about looking after Kurt Cobain. That just wasn’t going to work for him.

Kurt was a big believer in the nuclear family model, he was very monogamous, and besides that he lacked the ability to physically take care of himself. If he wasn’t living with a partner who would clean up the house and remind him to wash his hair, it just didn’t happen. He was chronically ill, depressed, and he’d spent most of his adolescence AWOL from anyone who would actually raise him, so Tobi’s rejection deeply hurt him for a number of reasons- While Courtney, the opposite of Tobi in a few key ways, was exactly what he wanted. On top of looking like the archetypical punk girl, “I was attracted to her because she looked like Nancy Spungen,” she had a maternal streak (In Montage Of Heck, when he’s found sitting beside her while she cuts his hair, and, typical for people living with Kurt, mentions that she cleans the house because ‘nobody else fuckin does.’) Early on in their relationship, Kurt had a meltdown and begged Courtney to come to his apartment. She did, and looked after him the rest of the night, a pattern which would become common for them, and was stated by her half sister to be the ‘original strain on the relationship.’

Besides her mothering elements, Courtney was brassy and loud, and her presence allowed him to be less introverted and freer with himself. She was an ambitious young musician who shared a similar childhood to him, and had the same yearning for a safe home life that he did. She was well-read and artistic, and introduced him to the literary side of music creation, which he hadn’t explored yet. After spending a night on the phone with her, he went around telling everybody she was ‘the coolest girl in the world,’ and broke off another burgeoning relationship with Mary Lou Lord on live TV after spending the night with her. The famous quote, “Courtney Love is the best fuck in the world.” is in fact real. And yeah, he could’ve handled that one better.

The attraction was mutual, and I find it hard to believe that Kurt was ever forced into anything romantic with her based on how well she suited his tastes.

3. “She used him for his fame/money!”

As stated above, Courtney was attracted to Kurt before Nevermind was even recorded, and if she wanted to marry a famous dude right out the gate, at the time they met there were plenty of people who were way more famous than Kurt. In Heavier Than Heaven she mentions really liking their song “Dive,” and later in life she mentioned hearing “Sliver” and being impressed with Kurt’s writing abilities. Both of those songs were released a solid two years before Nevermind. She was interested in Kurt because he was cute and talented and she was savvy in the music scene, meaning that she kept up with underground bands.

Now, a point of contention between Kurt & Courtney was their different attitudes towards fame. That is entirely true. Courtney wanted to be famous, enjoyed celebrity, loved attention, and could handle touring, press, and the craziness of success. She was very charismatic, very physically strong, and let’s face it, definitely an attention whore. Kurt liked being praised, he liked being successful, and he definitely had a thing for attention- But he hated pressure, he had inferiority issues, he didn’t know how to handle his life being pried into all the time, and he wasn’t strong enough to do massive tours. Courtney just didn’t understand that, which is pretty common if someone doesn’t share your same mental illness/physical illness: Touring hurt Kurt’s stomach, it worsened his anxiety and emotional instability, it wore his body out, it didn’t agree with him. He loved playing live but couldn’t handle the mania or the travelling, meaning he didn’t mind blowing off huge tours that would bring in loads of money. Courtney, who did feel envious and intimidated regarding his success, would get angry at him for that- She didn’t want him to blow off massive paychecks and press coverage because it’s not what she would’ve done. I definitely side with Kurt on this, nothing is more frightening and frustrating than people trying to force you to do things you can’t handle health-wise. Courtney, being naturally business-oriented, was also aware of how things appeared to the public, and definitely cared about their image more than Kurt did- One of their fights revolved around her nagging him about how important the “Heart-Shaped Box” music video would be for him, and how he should look good. He reacted by stubbing out a cigarette on his forehead and saying, “Do I look fucking good enough for you now?”

So yeah, Courtney, like a lot of people in Kurt’s life, was all about furthering his career and success. A lot of people read that as her being money-hungry or manipulative, in my opinion it’s just a natural response from a person who’s spent their whole life trying to be a success and wouldn’t really get there until 1994. I think some of it was envy and I think some of it was her using him a little vicariously, neither of which are healthy but neither of which are malicious, either. She wanted to be a rockstar, she was ready to be a rockstar, she wasn’t; He thought he’d wanted to be a rockstar, he didn’t really want to, he was.

4. “She emotionally abused him!”

I hate to say this because I love Kurt so much but, as someone who’s been through a codependent relationship where they were bailing water out of a sinking boat, Kurt’s behavior throughout their marriage set off way more red flags for me than Courtney’s did. I don’t think he was actually abusive, but I do think he was a little too underdeveloped and unresolved to be married to someone. He had to grow up slower than everyone else because he missed out on having concrete mature influences, which Courtney did as well, and like I said earlier I think a lot of their problems came through a lack of adult communication skills. Both of them were really jealous people: Courtney couldn’t stand Kurt talking about Mary Lou Lord or Tobi Vail, Kurt was completely convinced that Courtney was cheating on him with Billy Corgan(even going so far as to talk to their lawyer about a divorce shortly before he died.) This was the catalyst for a lot of mind games and unnecessary drama, especially coming from Kurt.

Kurt couldn’t handle conflict. He was really passive aggressive, and would do things to purposely piss Courtney off or communicate to her that he was displeased. While she was trying to stay clean he would declare that he was going to do drugs in the apartment, when she started talking to a psychic to help her with her problems he mocked her and put her down, when she staged his final intervention his entire argument against rehab was that she was just as ‘fucked up’ as he was(she had already agreed to go into rehab, though whether he was aware of this or not I’m not sure.) He made his first suicide attempt by overdosing on Rohypnol on their wedding anniversary because she took some pills and fell asleep and he decided that meant she wasn’t interested in him anymore. I’m not arguing that that’s an irrational response to your partner getting stoned and falling asleep, especially when he’d apparently set the night up to be as romantic as possible, but the overdose put him in a coma and sent Courtney into hysterics.

Her mental health began to decline due to paranoia that he’d end up dead, and her weight dropped due to the added stress. As someone who’s been through a pretty similar situation to that and exhibited the same symptoms, I can tell you that it is never okay to use a suicide attempt to deal with a perceived injustice from your partner. By this time, Kurt was facing either getting clean or dying, and his behavior was very depressed and erratic, so there are explanations for the way he was acting and I don’t think he was trying to manipulate her with a threat. Despite my understanding of that, there is nothing more exhausting than being the caretaker of someone who is hellbent on never getting better. I can’t imagine being the caretaker of someone who won’t stop until they’re dead, and I do think at that point it would’ve been better for them to separate.

But that isn’t to say Courtney wasn’t toxic herself, I’m not trying to paint a wholly negative image of Kurt here. I’m merely trying to stand in the way of Nirvana fanboys who have no grasp on the more sickly sides of his personality, and give Court a bit of a break. Definitely, she struggled with her jealousy: As stated, she never wanted his ex girlfriends mentioned around her and would tear them apart if they were. She was ambitious and career driven, which eroded a lot of her platonic relationships/working relationships as well her marriage to Kurt. She was one of the people who was pushing him to recover in time to play Lollapalooza, and she was one of the people who pushed him into his last stunted tour before his death. She weaponized his relationship with Frances in ways that I and most people agree are gross: She told him he should be playing massive gigs to support his daughter(though their medical and legal bills were big they were hardly poverty stricken), and admitted in an interview later that she called him in rehab once to tell him he’d dropped Frances on her head(She mentioned during this that Frances was wearing a furry hood, and that he didn’t hurt her. In my opinion he was doing his best by even trying rehab again, and that he was already so worried that he was a terrible father that it was just cruel to make him feel worse.)

She has a tendency to be self-obsessed, and to put her own self interest before people she cares about, even if she regrets it later. She struggles herself with mental illness and addiction, both of which tend to give a person poor judgment regarding the people they care about.

Once again, Courtney and Kurt weren’t a healthy couple, but it wasn’t because they were evil or abusive towards one another. They cared for each other deeply, they had a very pure devotion. Underlying all this nastiness were two people who prayed together, wrote together, fantasized about a Valentine’s Day wedding, and faxed each other R-rated love letters like modern versions of James Joyce and Nora Barnacle. During one of his more successful stints in rehab, Kurt wrote Courtney love letters every night(though he did decorate them with blood, wax, and semen.)

They had some serious therapy they needed to attend, the both of them. But 90% of these demonizations of Courtney are either untrue or blown out of proportion.

#aberdeen spoken word #ik this runs on so much but i love talking abt this shit and i didnt #want to spend tomorrow editing bc i have other shit i need to do so #have a basically unedited essay on my parents fndndfn

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mikeo56 · 4 years ago

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They Say That Discrimination Is A Thing Of The Past

A few times I’ve had a white person (BTW I’m a white male) say that a black person claiming discrimination is merely playing the race card or the victim card to cover for their own inadequacies.

They say that the reason the black person didn’t get the job or the apartment or whatever almost never had something to do with discrimination, that the real reason is that they just weren’t good enough, and that their claim of racism is nothing more than a phony excuse, a scam to blame others for their own failings.

If their opinion is challenged they usually say something like, “Oh, come on. There isn’t any widespread discrimination any more.” Maybe they add, “The Civil War was over a hundred and fifty years ago. They need to get over it.”

It’s All Their Own Fault

Sometimes these white people will continue with something like, “If they would only stay in school and stop having out-of-wedlock babies and taking drugs they wouldn’t have these problems.”

Sometimes, if the white person in question is really feeling talkative, they’ll ramble on with something like, “The real problem is that those people don’t want to work hard” or “Those people just aren’t as smart [as white people].”

I’ve been thinking about this “There isn’t any wide-spread discrimination anymore” idea and I asked myself, “What do white people really think about black people?”

What A Lot Of White People Really Think

Well, all white people aren’t the same so, I amended the question to “What do a lot of white people really think about black people?”

What’s “a lot”? 20%? 35%? 50%. I don’t know.

My guess is between 20% and 35% on average depending on where you live. Mississippi is going to be different from Connecticut.

So, for the purposes of this column, when I say “a lot of white people” I’m going to go with a 25% nationwide average but clearly that’s just a guess.

The Dog Whistle Is More Common Than The Bullhorn

I don’t often hear blatant racist statements like “White people are genetically smarter than black people” or “White people are a more genetically advanced species than black people,” probably because I don’t generally listen to people like David Duke or Iowa Congressman Steve King.

Most of the time, white people’s racism is of the “dog whistle” variety — it’s code where the words say one thing, but which other racists recognize as meaning something else.

Some people think that Trump’s tag line “Make America Great Again” is just a slogan, but a lot of white people translate it to “Make America White Again” meaning “We need to stop catering to black and brown people. They’re mostly losers sucking up our tax dollars and getting a free ride. We’re going to get rid of food stamps and Medicaid and we won’t let any more of them into the country.”

Gestures Instead Of Words

Dog whistles can be gestures as well as words.

There’s scene in an NYPD Blue episode where Andy Sipowicz is talking to Vince Gotelli, one of the old-time night-shift detectives.

Believing that Sipowicz is as racist as he is, Gotelli wants to say something about a black person and not be overheard so he runs the palm of his hand down in front of his face. Andy doesn’t understand and Gotelli says something like, “You know, shades” and he again runs his palm in front of his face in a gesture supposed to signify people with dark skin, “behind a shade.”

A lot of white people flat out believe that black people aren’t as smart, hard working, decent or honest as white people. To then, that’s just a fact, but they hesitate to say it out loud. Instead they express this opinion in different subtle but significant ways.

Subtle Discrimination

Who You Hire

Suppose one of these white people is looking for a new primary-care doctor. You read them the website particulars on two candidates, Walter Hawkins, Iowa State University Medical School and Robert Phillips, Yale University Medical School. Hawkins has five years experience and Phillips is the deputy head of the department with ten years on the job.

Naturally, they pick Phillips, but then they get a look at the candidates’ pictures and discover that Phillips is black and Hawkins is white. Suddenly, Hawkins is their guy.

“Why?” you ask, “Because he’s white?”

“No,” they’ll tell you. “I just think he looks more like a real doctor.” Or, “He seems nicer.” Or, “He looks like someone who knows what he’s doing.”

They aren’t going to tell you that the real reason they switched from Phillips to Hawkins is that they think that black people are less intelligent than white people; they think that Phillips must have gotten into Yale on a quota, and that people helped him and covered for him because he was black, because, in their mind, how else could a black man graduate from Yale Medical School?

No, they won’t say that out loud, unless they think that you’re just like them. But they absolutely believe that black people just plain aren’t as smart as white people and that a black man couldn’t possibly be a really top-notch doctor.

And they will look you right in the eye and tell you that they aren’t a racist.

“I don’t have anything against anybody,” they will insist. And they would think that was true.

Who You Rent To

Take two resumes, identical in every way except that the picture of Robert Phillips on one of them is of a white man and on the other he’s a black man. Now, have Mr. Phillips apply to rent 100 AirBNBs as a white man and 100 as a black man.

You will find a significantly higher rejection rate for the black Mr. Phillips than the white Mr. Phillips.

A Harvard Business School study (Racial Discrimination in the Sharing Economy: Evidence from a Field Experiment) found that people whose names are perceived to likely be black find it 16 percent harder than whites to book lodging on Airbnb. They found that some Airbnb hosts would rather their properties remained vacant than rent them to a black guest.

Personally, I think that Airbnb applications with actual pictures showing black versus white guests (as opposed to hosts merely inferring race from the applicant’s last name) would have black rejection rate differentials much higher than 16%.

I’m sure you would find the same thing in tests for renting an apartment or applying for a job interview.

A lot of white landlords and employers will decide that while the white Mr. Phillips looks like a wonderful candidate, the black Mr. Phillips somehow just doesn’t measure up.

“I’m not a racist,” they will swear to you. And believe it.

The Stereotype Racist Pictures That Pop Into Their Heads

I wrote a column about the little stereotype pictures that pop in our heads when we hear a word or phrase e.g. “Las Vegas” or “Wedding.”

The Pictures That Pop Into Our Heads. When I Say “Welfare” “Illegal Alien” “Businessman” “Drug Company”

For a lot of white people the words “black man” will pop up a picture of a person selling drugs on an urban street corner or a manual laborer pushing a mop or a junkie passed out in an alley or a pimp covered in bracelets and gold chains.

You think I’m making this up?

Racism Masquerading As ‘Just Being Careful’

Why do you think a white woman tried bar a black tenant from his own apartment building?

Because in her mind a black man could not possibly earn enough money to be able to afford a luxury apartment. She was convinced that he must be a criminal who was there to steal, that he couldn’t possible belong there.

Why do you think two white security guards kicked a black man out of the lobby of the Double Tree Hotel where he was a registered guest?

Because they were sure that he must have been a pimp or a drug dealer or a homeless person who intended to sleep in the lobby.

In their minds a black man couldn’t possibly afford to stay in a nice hotel because when they see a black man the pictures that pop in their little heads are of pimps, drug dealers, drug addicts, homeless people and raggedy poor people.

A black, female Yale University graduate student fell asleep in her dorm’s common room and a white, female student called the police with the complaint: “There’s somebody here who is where they’re not supposed to be.”

Why did she think that? Because in her mind black people couldn’t possibly belong in a Yale University dorm.

In Indianapolis a white, female off-duty police officer and a white, female apartment-house manager evicted a black tenant from the complex’s swimming pool even though the manager knew he was a tenant and he had the key to his apartment with him.

In Memphis, a white manager of an apartment complex called the police on a black tenant for wearing socks in the pool.

In North Carolina, a white man demanded identification from a black woman at a private community pool and called the police when she refused.

In South Carolina, a white woman attacked a 15-year-old black boy at a neighborhood pool, telling him and his friends that they had to “get out.”

This is just the tip of the iceberg. These incidents go on and on and on.

Why A Lot Of White People Assume A Black Person Doesn’t Belong Around Them

All of these people saw a black person in a place they thought a black person “didn’t belong.” Why did they think that a black person didn’t belong there?

Because they thought that black people were too poor to qualify to be in such a nice place. Or because they thought that black people were likely dirty, lazy, dangerous or criminal and they didn’t want “people like that” around them.

My opinion is that few of these white people would admit to being a racist any more than the white person who wouldn’t accept a Yale-educated black doctor or a white homeowner who wouldn’t accept a black person as an Airbnb guest wouldn’t admit that they were racists.

They would just say that they were being careful because unknown black people are more dangerous or untrustworthy than unknown white people.

They would tell you that they just wanted to protect their property and white tenants are generally more law abiding, careful and drug free than black tenants.

They would say that they just wanted to keep out trespassers, and because most black people can’t afford the nice places used by white people, they were more likely to be trespassers.

They would just tell you that they wanted the best professionals they could get and white doctors are, of course, smarter and better than black doctors.

Yes, You Are A Racist

Then they would look you straight in the eye and solemnly tell you, “I’m not a racist. I’m just being careful because black people really aren’t as smart, honest, trustworthy, law abiding, clean, and decent as white people. That’s just a fact. Recognizing that fact doesn’t make me a racist.”

Yes, it does, it really does.

So, don’t tell me there isn’t widespread discrimination in America.

It’s just gone underground. It’s language is just now more often spoken in code and with winks and nods.

But it’s there all the same in every little, bigoted picture that pops into a lot of white people’s heads whenever they see a black man who is someplace they’re sure he doesn’t belong.

— David Grace (www.DavidGraceAuthor.com)

#race #racist

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risingfire17-the-weeb-trash · 6 years ago

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Buds of Beginnings-Original Story

“Ugh, isn’t that your own fault?” he drawled into the phone, his voice a mixture of boredom and exasperation. Kyle Brennan had just finished his opening shift at the grocery store, and had a mere half hour of freedom before starting his shift on campus as a repairman. He couldn’t stand university students, who flew into panic at the tiniest sink leaks, before fishing out their parents’ credit cards so he could save them from “that awful dripping sound” interfering with their studies. Sometimes he wanted to ask them if reading Plato put food in their bellies, as it had clearly fixed their sinks. But full-time campus jobs came with a good salary and even health insurance, which was a huge score for a high school dropout like Kyle. Besides, he actually liked the work itself, working with his hands, where things made sense, and he could make things happen. At any rate, his day was long, and he certainly didn’t want to spend his precious break time listening to his mother rant drunkenly about the latest loser boyfriend to leave without paying his share of rent for her decrepit trailer.

“That’s cold! All I did was refuse to take his shit! There are some things a self-respecting lady just can’t put up with!”

Kyle sighed, remembering the call from the trailer park manager last week, something about his mother drunk and naked in front of her trailer, throwing beer bottles at some piss-smelling tweaker and cursing him as he left. As usual, a promise of free repairs had staved off a call to the police.

“Besides, I never had to worry about rent before you moved out, so isn’t it your fault?!” Another sigh. This again, huh? “Hey, why don’t you move back in? It’s cheaper than whatever yuppie apartment you live in, maybe you could cut back on work and actually live a little!”

“Mom, you already know my answer to that. Don’t start.” A slight edge was creeping into his voice. He shuddered at the thought of ever again living in the trailer-turned-brothel-turned-traphouse he had grown up in.

“See?! It’s all your fault! I never should have had you! You know, I-“ And with that, he hung up and set his phone to Do Not Disturb. He had long ago stopped getting angry when she did that, and now he could enjoy the rest of his walk to campus with Metallica coursing uninterrupted through his ears, drowning out any fatigue or annoyance that life could throw his way.

He had almost finished engulfing himself in his monstrous headphones when he saw her just ahead of him. She must have turned onto this street at the last intersection while I was on the phone. She’s probably going to campus too. I’ll just stay behind her so I don’t have to talk to her. Michaela Sommers. Student. He only knew her because she was a part-timer at the grocery store. Like all students, she annoyed him. She came with the extra annoyance of being oddly unconcerned with others. Once, they had taken lunch at the same time, and she had been alone in the break room when he had walked in. She had looked up from her book to greet him and as how he was doing, and her smile had seemed genuine enough, but as soon as they had finished exchanging niceties, her face was back in her book. Maybe she’s shy, he had thought. But she had just sat there with her book, smile on her face, happily absorbed in her own world as she abandoned real-life responsibility. She even giggled at her book! Like they had some secret too good for the actual person in front of them! Maybe they were even laughing at him! How rude, in a public place! Doesn’t she understand how uncomfortable she makes people? He had finished his lunch out back with a cigarette, even though he was trying to quit.

That was just Michaela. Every free moment of hers was spent in her own world with some bliss she refused to share with anyone else. She always turned down party invitations from coworkers. Given her chubby cheeks and puny frame, she was probably too young to drink; he honestly would have taken her for a teen if he didn’t know she was a university student. But he was only 20, and got on just fine! It wasn’t like people were terribly opposed to buying for minors around here! No, she didn’t turn down invitations because she was young, she did it because she was a stuck up prude who probably got off on some dead philosopher rather than making actual friends. Well, let her!

At least she worked hard and never called out, which was honestly more than Kyle had expected from her. Most students worked part-time just so they could post selfies in uniform on Instagram with “#worklife,” but called out if they were ever scheduled for nights, weekends, or more than five hours per week. Who would take a job seriously with Mommy and Daddy paying all their bills? Michaela would, it seemed. Good. One less thing to worry about.

And here she was. Despite the baby-pink scarf and matching fingerless gloves, the black oversized sweater, and the faded denim blue backpack stuffed to full capacity, (no doubt with more damn books) her beige work pants and black non-slip boots gave her away. Furthermore, her black hair was pulled out of her face into a sporty ponytail. She must have work after class today. She seemed like that practical type of girl who would wear her uniform to school so she needn’t carry it (probably because there was no room in that book-crammed backpack).

But, for once, she wasn’t reading. Now, she strolled down the block, constantly looking up to stare at the trees lining the street. Trees, of all things?! Just WHAT is this girl’s deal? Although, following her gaze, Kyle realized for the first time that the trees had pink leaves, same as the girl’s scarf and gloves, rather than the green he assumed all leaves were. He also thought how odd they looked, blooming on such a cold, gray February day. But the sight was not entirely unwelcome. Maybe such a dreary day needed some pink leaves. Kyle found just the slightest hint of a wry smile sneaking onto his face. Is this the kind of world she sees? So far, it didn’t seem so bad. He couldn’t imagine having the time to notice such a world, though.

He draped his giant headphones atop his shoulders and continued to watch her as they made their way down the street. Someone’s got to watch where that dumb kid is going, because she sure isn’t! He didn’t understand how she could be so careless. He didn’t understand how any of these kids could be so careless. He had never been able to be careless. He had worked since he was about 10 to keep himself and his mother in that shitty trailer. He had always been careful not to waste time, money, or food, because his mother would do that for him, and he would have to fix that before rent came due. Now he was careful to ensure he would never again have to live that way. He was too used to his own studio apartment, tiny but his own, his music collection, and the occasional carefree night at a concert or party. Unlike Michaela and the other college kids with trust funds and whatnot, Kyle was always one mistake from losing everything he had worked for, and he took this reality seriously. He, for one, always watched where he was going.

He was a few feet behind her when she walked through a tunnel of construction scaffolding affixed to the shop next to her. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed the “Workers Above-Watch For Falling Objects” sign, because her eyes were still on the trees across the street. Damn kid. As he entered the makeshift tunnel, he lazily looked up, just in time to see a worker knock over a wrench that had been left carelessly behind him. The wrench began to plummet.

Straight. For. Michaela’s. Skull. And still she smiled, blissfully unaware of the tool coming for her. Blissfully unaware that even a small metal tool from that height could crush her skull, tear into the brain beneath it, even take her life. So blissfully unaware that this could be her last peaceful moment…

Kyle didn’t realize he had lunged for her until after her tiny body was wrapped in his arms, her hazel eyes turned up to him, open wide in astonishment. The wrench clattered harmlessly to the ground right behind them. The worker who had knocked it over was screaming “my God, are you kids, okay?” But Kyle didn’t register this yet, nor did he register anything that had just happened. The first thing he noticed was Michaela’s heartbeat pounding against his chest, so intense it might even be her heart, and not his own, sending his blood rushing through his ears in a torrent. He realized he was still holding her, and put her down, his face growing hot.

She seemed to recover quickly. She glanced at the fallen wrench and gently patted the spot on her head where it would have landed. She looked back up at Kyle with a warm smile and a soft chuckle.

“Well that could have ended badly. I’m glad you put a stop to that!” and then, a little softer: “Thanks, Kyle. Really.”

He wasn’t sure why her nonchalant acceptance of what had just happened made him uneasy, only that it did, so he started on her. “Christ, Michaela, can’t you watch where you’re going?! You kids are all so damn careless! It’s a miracle you even made it to 18 like that!” She had been handing the wrench back to a construction worker while Kyle scolded her, but as he finished, she turned and fixed him with a stare, cocking her head slightly, before chuckling and continuing on her way. With nothing else to do, he caught up and fell into step beside her. She was still glancing at trees! Damn kid!

Anyway, what’s so interesting about trees?” At that, she paused to look at him. He felt like her gaze was taking him all in, absorbing his existence into her strange world, and it made his face grow hot again. When he averted his eyes, she answered his question with one of her own:

“Don’t you think such a dreary winter day could use pink petals like those to brighten it?” Kyle froze. Did this girl read my mind earlier? Just what kind of scary powers has she got?

“…I guess.��

“Do you know what kind of trees those are?”

“…not really…I never thought about that kind of thing.” Does she study trees in school or something? Was she doing her homework while walking? Why else would she care?

“They’re cherry blossom trees, native to Japan. In springtime, they bloom en masse and shed their flowers immediately, so the entire air is dancing with pink flowers. Even though Japan starts their new year on January 1st like we do, their school and fiscal years start in April, around blooming time. It’s said that when the cherry blossoms fill the air, any new beginning is possible. Isn’t that sweet?”

“That’s…kinda cool, I guess.” He now remembered cleaning the streets after the spring festival a few years ago. He had felt like he and his broom were drowning in a sea of those pink flowers. But when he was no longer the one cleaning it, he had to admit it had been a refreshing sight. Is this the kind of world she sees all the time? He wondered where a student with a job found the time to notice this world. Especially one who actually showed up top work. Come to think of it, he saw her at work quite frequently. Could she possibly be full-time, on top of her schooling? That would make the time she spent in her hidden world even more miraculous. Even the yuppie kids without jobs didn’t seem to have that kind of time, between exams, books, staring at their phones, parties, and whatnot.

“But hey, here we are, in February, still shrouded in cold and gray. No one tells the trees that Spring is almost here, that they just need to hold on a bit longer and then they can share their blossoms in warmth and safety. But still they bud; they work hard because they know their time of suffering is almost over. How do they know?”

Kyle couldn’t even begin to answer that. He wasn’t sure he even understood what she had said. It sounded like nonsense, like the ravings of a mad little girl who had forsaken reality. But, strangely enough, he found himself asking if her nonsense world was such a bad place, or if it was even truly nonsense at all.

He didn’t notice that he was staring at those beautiful cherry blossoms, or that he had slowed his voice, until he heard her voice again, softer as it gained distance: “Do you think nature speaks a language that we could understand if only we actually listened? Do you think maybe we would even be happier?” Once again, he had no idea how to answer, but he had a feeling she did, and he found himself wanting to hear. Before he could ask, though, she changed the subject:

“By the way, what makes you think I’m 18?” Kyle wasn’t expecting that, but he supposed if the girl could go on tangents about trees and hidden languages, he better be ready for anything. He shrugged.

“Well, you attend university, so obviously you’re at least 18. No offense, but I doubt you’re any older than that.” He quickly eyed her up and down to indicate how young she looked. Was she about to tell him she was really 30 in some immortally youthful body or something?

She just chuckled again. “I’ll be 17 next month. My home life wasn’t great, so I graduated early and became legally emancipated last year. I chose this school because it was the furthest I could go from home without paying out-of-state tuition. I came here for a new beginning. I worked hard for it, and I still do. I don’t resent it any more than the cherry trees resent Winter, because I always know Spring is on its way.” She finished with a flippant smile.

It was Kyle’s turn to stare and take her in. Michaela Sommers. 16 years old. Alone in a new city. A child living as an adult. Tiny, so, so tiny. But that tiny girl fought for her future, making it happen with her own two hands and willpower. Yet, still she could be gentle; still she could giggle, despite the looks she got, at things she couldn’t possibly share, because who would understand? Still she could notice things like cherry blossom buds in February, and the hard work the trees put into those buds. She was a tough girl, tough, but not hard, unlike weary, hardened Kyle. And he couldn’t help but think that was simply amazing.

Of course, he couldn’t tell her any of that. Who would say something that awkward? She would, probably, but…oh, hell, I can’t do this! I need to get out of here, damn it! His face was burning and his legs felt like rubber for some god awful reason. He had to get out while they would still move! He picked up his pace and left her behind him, muttering that he had to get to work. Damn it, Kyle, don’t be a dick! He turned around, feeling feverish at this point, unsure of what to say, settling on “it…was nice talking to you, Michaela. Really.” Then he turned and practically fled the scene, speeding off to the repairs waiting for him. At least those made sense!

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saniminded · 6 years ago

Text

» Just a Kiss [a DIFTL bonus]

part 18 << Just a Kiss >> part 19.

[This is a bonus scenario for the DIFTL Text Au] [Masterlist Here] [Length: 3.6k] [I wanted to write a drabble but lol, 3k words] [Leave Comments I don’t know what I’m doing and I crave validation] [Warning: Mention of past abusive relationship]

The day is already turning dark when I barge into Namjoon’s place, pretty tones of purple and pink dissolving into a star spotted sky. The door makes a loud bang when I open it, and I can hear Seokjin’s loud scream even before I see him by his boyfriend on the sofa. Namjoon himself barely acknowledges me, hand waving half-heartedly as a welcome. He’s already used to my loud steps and violent coming and going, since I have my own keys and weird visiting habits.

Learning my best friend is not alone does put a dent in my courage, but thinking about Jimin's sad pout urges me on. If I want my boyfriend to be happy and stress free, I'll just have to talk to both of them at once.

“They’re good news”, I reason to myself, “there’s no reason for panic”. But that positive mindset flies out the window when I step into the living room. Not only Jin is over, but Yoongi is also present, sitting beside the couple with a sour expression.

Now, even though bored is Yoongi’s default mood, I can’t really blame him these days; Namjoon and Jin have been attached at the hip since they began dating. They are still in the honeymoon stage, and it makes things harder to the rappers usual hangouts. I believe that’s why when he sees me, Yoongi just rolls his eyes at the pair and flashes his big gummy smile at me. It's so out of nowhere you'd think I came in carrying puppies or something.

I throw myself carelessly on the sofa, forcing my friends to accommodate the new body between them. Namjoon’s arm naturally involve me by the shoulder as Yoongi’s circle my waist and I sigh. Once I'm sandwiched between my best friends, the whole tension accumulated in my body melts away.

“Stop laying over other people's boyfriend, Y/N”, Jin pouts from the other side of Namjoon. His hands are busy playing with the younger tanned fingers, but I know his eyes are on me.

I just wiggle between them some more in response, head sinking into my best friend’s shoulder. As Jin’s loud voices starts a new whine, Yoongi pinches me to a stop, his glare a warning.

“Stop that, the couch isn’t big enough for your squealing”.

“What do you want space for? You should embrace your friends more, Yoongs”.

The boy sighs, tired, and Namjoon coughs out a laugh.

“She’s not wrong, hyung. You never give us any love”.

“What do you want my love for, you have a boyfriend right there. Hyung, do something, help a guy out here”.

Jin just grins and his dashing, incredible smile blinds us for a moment.

“You and I know it’s not the same. You’re brothers”.

“Yeah, we’re one big happy family”, he teases, but I don’t mind him.

“Why wouldn’t you wanna cuddle your cute baby sister?”, I blink big eyes at him, but both of my friends scoff at me.

“You’re not as much of a cute baby as you think you are, Y/N”, Joon attacks.

“Or of a sister”, Yoongi completes, and I make a big show of playing hurt, hands against my heart and everything.

“Woah. And I thought this friendship was forever”.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and Joon bumps his shoulder against me, playful.

“At least I have Jimin now”, I add nonchalantly.

There’s a whole two seconds pause in our conversation, and then they are all speaking at once.

“I KNEW IT! You are both terrible at secrets. Jimin’s been walking around with literal hearts on his eyes, it's ridiculous. I knew something finally happened”, Jin screeches.

“That’s not the correct use of literal”, Namjoon cuts, but he has a soft smile all over his face. And then he turns to me, eyes inquiring: “Since when is this happening? And right under my nose too”.

“Park Jimin? Seriously?” is Yoongi’s incredulous comment. His arm leaves my waist as both his hands go to his temples, fingers massaging it with precision.

I just chuckle, face flushed and body restless. This is when they say this is a bad idea, right? This is when they say that I’m being dumb for trusting a guy with a reputation like the one Jimin has. That I’m putting myself up for suffering for doing this again.

“I thought you hated guys like him”, Yoongi mutters, confirming my thoughts. I shrink beside him, legs coming over so I can hug them.

“He’s not like I thought he’d be. I know we started on the wrong foot with the whole frat party fail and all, but... when I reached over for the whole Jin and Joon thing, he was up for it. And a guy who accepts to date someone who hates him, even if it’s fake, just to try and get his friend together with his crush can’t be all bad, right? And then whenever we were together he was just... this really caring, sweet, fun to be around guy-friend. He ended up not being bad at all. I mean, he flirts a lot, he's jealous of everything, and he's used literally ever excuse in the book to hold my hands or hug me close but... He just won me over being Jimin, I guess”, I finish with a small smile.

“I called it, she’s in loooove”, Jin sing-songs, like he’s not the oldest of us all.

“Shut up, oppa”, but there’s no real bite to my voice.

“Since when?” Namjoon asks again, suspiciously over invested in this detail.

“A month and a half, give it or take”.

“HA!”, Jin cheers, poking his boyfriend with a maniac smile. “I told you the party would do it, pay up, loser!”.

“Did you guys seriously bet we’d get together?”.

“Nah, we bet on how long you’ve been hiding”, Jin corrects me, shameless.

“Oh, c’mon, we can’t have been that obvious”.

“You were, sweetie”, Jin says, and his eyes are soft now. “I’m telling you, Jimin has been ridiculous. Hobi can’t stand him around the studio anymore. Says he keeps singing love songs and disturbing the practices”.

“I'm going to kill him”, I mutter, and Jin coos, pinching my cheeks. I can physically feel the blood flushing up and setting my skin of fire.

“I mean, he did jump out your bedroom window yesterday morning”, Namjoon completes.

If my face felt hot before, now I could easily fry an egg on my face, no problems.

“You saw that? Why didn’t you say anything??”

“Y/N, Jimin was half naked while jumping out of a window. You guys were clearly working hard at hiding it. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. And you did”.

“I’m so embarrassed. But that was really sweet of you, Joon, waiting for me to put my thoughts in place. Thank you so much”.

“Yeah, bitch, you should thank me! Hyung has been impossible with the ‘I told you so’s”, he complained, and I couldn’t help but laugh, my body doubling over. So much for a sweet moment.

“But I did tell so! So many times too! I said Y/N should give him a chance, that he was serious about this, that she should listen to her dumb little heart! I’m basically the catalyzer of this relationship. I have the right to feel like a proud parent”.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Jimin did most of the work. You have to give him kudos for not giving up on us, even if I’m an indecisive insecure mess”.

“Yeah, if he’s putting up with you, he’s really something else”, Namjoon mocks. “But let it be known that if he mess things up again, I’m going to... do something bad. To him. Yeah”.

“That’s cute, but you’re a teddy bear, Joonie”.

“I could be hiding an angry beast, you never know. He’s better off not trying funny shit like hurting you”.

“I'm pretty sure I could punch your teeth out, Kim Namjoon, but thank you, I guess”.

“You can’t even reach my neck, Y/N, I’m not worried about your threats”.

Namjoon yelps when I pinch him in retaliation and Jin cackles at our antics, but I’m feeling really content. Despite all my fears, the little time Jimin and I were together was nothing short of bliss. He showers me in love and kisses and so much adoration, I am happy my friends finally know about it too, so I can do the same. Honestly, now that I’ve told them (and they are teasing me about it), it feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest. This is right. And even if it’s not, they got my back.

I recline on the sofa, half laying all over Namjoon, and he taps my forehead fondly, silent question in his eyes. I smile up at him so that he knows I’m fine. I’ve been scared for so long my friends got over zealous, and I love them for caring so much.

“Where did Yoongs run to?”, I ask, stretching my legs to make use of the sudden free space beside me.

Namjoon shrugs, “Maybe he left while you were threatening me. God knows you two just come and go like you live here. You two should pay rent”.

“You literally barged into my place yesterday at seven in the morning. My boyfriend had to leave through the window, half dressed. Shut up”.

“Okay, so maybe you don’t need to pay. BUT YOU STILL HAVE TO, HYUNG!”, he screams towards the corridor, and I roll my eyes. Yoongi never responds.

“Do you think he died?”, Jin asks from the other side of the sofa where he’s also leaning over Joonie. We’re lucky he’s so unnecessarily big so there’s quite a bit of Namjoon to everyone.

“I’ll check on him, I guess. I have to leave anyway, I promised Jimbo I’d go over to his tonight”.

“Uh, look at her, staying over at her boyfriend’s”.

“And to think last month she was literally running away from him on the streets”, Namjoon adds. I flick his forehead in retaliation before I leave, and he's still complaining when I get to the door. The couple scream their goodbyes as I lock behind me.

I find Yoongi at the small playground right outside Namjoon’s building, swaying slowly in the rusty swing set. I sit by him, giggling when I push it a little and the whole thing shakes.

“You look really emo sitting here alone, Yoongs”, I say as opening.

His response is an automatic “And your fat ass is going to break the freaking playground, Y/N”, but his tone is weak.

“You okay? You didn’t say goodbye to us”.

He only looks at me and sighs, and I’m confused by his sudden gloomy mood.

“‘m fine. Just thinking”.

“Nah. I know your normal thinking face. This one”, I say, poking my finger between his brows, and his face softens a little “ looks like sad thinking. Bad thinking”.

“You know me well, uh?”.

“It’s a gift and a pain”, I agree. He gives me a small smile, but it’s gone as fast as it appears. “What happened, Yoongs?”

“You, I guess”.

“I happened? Am I bothering you? Was the whole couple thing too much for you?”, I ask, bumping my swing chair against his lightly. Yoongi isn’t high maintenance, but if his two best friends are suddenly dating, he could feel left behind. And he’s not the biggest fan of couples and romance on the daily, anyway.

“Nah, I saw it coming. Granted, I didn’t think you’d go for frat boys again. Specially not after the shit Jinhoo pulled on you last time”, his voice is bitter and the words hurt.

Yoongi knows not to talk about my ex, worst even about that night I can barely remember. The abusive dirtbag’s name alone trigger bad memories and I don’t want to relive them right now - nor ever.

“Don’t. Please, don’t - Don’t even mention him”, I plead, and his hand squeezes my leg in atonement. The motion is soothing, comforting, but I still wish he'd stayed quiet.

“Sorry. I just knew you would be swept away sooner or later, but I didn’t see Park Jimin doing it, I guess”.

“I know it’s a little surprising, since we were screaming at each other daily a couple of months ago, but Jimin is not a bad guy. A little too coy, maybe, but I really like him and got tired of pretending I don’t. Especially since he didn’t let me get away with it anyway”.

“Insisting paid well for him then”.

“Or maybe he just got himself a time bomb”, I whisper and Yoongi glares at me. I cower a little.

“You are fucking incredible, Y/N. You’re beautiful, funny, loyal as heck and you give everything to make whoever you love happy. You got together with a guy you hated to get Joon a boyfriend, fuck’s sake”.

“But you said it yourself, Yoongs, and you’re right about it: Jinhoo made a number on me. I can’t even accept love without getting scared I'm being used again. I keep hurting people while trying to defend myself, I keep doubting everyone”.

Yoongi pulls my little chair over to his own, the rusty chains of the swing rattling at the brusque movement. I can feel his breath over my face and his eyes are raging and I’ve rarely seen him so upset.

“You’re the strongest girl I know, Y/N. What that shitbag did to you leaves marks. No one is blaming you for protecting yourself. You’re not a bomb for trying to recover an abusive past. Stop saying that. Park’s lucky to have you, if anything”.

“But”, I try, and Yoongi forces my lips to a pout, silencing me.

“No. You’re amazing. You’ve put yourself together after someone you loved broke your trust. I’m sorry I even brought him up, you know I get dumb when I’m worked over”, he finishes softly, and his grip loses force. Both of his hands rest by my face now, and an eerie silence looms over us.

“Are you sure you okay, Yoongi? Because you’re not letting go of my face and it’s getting really weird”, I say, trying to lighten up our conversation. This was supposed to be a good moment with my friends, a small celebration of my no longer dead heart. I don’t want to ruin the night talking about my ex. I only wanted to talk about Jimin.

“I just need a moment”, he murmurs, but he barely waits one before he leans over. His usually sleepy eyes are wide open, cataloging my every reaction as he comes closer. His lips touch mine gently, carefully, like he knows I’m about to flee his grasp. But I freeze, my brain short circuited for an entire second, because Yoongi is kissing me. Yoongi, my best friend, who’s been walking hand in hand with me and Namjoon for almost as long as I can remember. Yoongi who knows all my fears, all my faults, all my traumas.

He moves softly, seeking more, and then the situation downs on me and I push him away like I’ve been electrocuted. My hands cover my lips and my eyes water and I can only look at him horrified, because how could he?

“Y/N, no, wait”, he begins as I step away from him, bolting from the swing set as fast as my legs can take me.

“What do you think you’re doing? I’ve just… I just told you about Jimin. I’m dating Jimin. I’m happy, I’m finally trusting someone again and you…”, my voice fades.

His eyes are large and panicky and he’s trying to reach me, arms outstretched, fingers grasping at my sweater. I move away, farther from him and his pleading gaze.

“I just... I’ve been in love with you for so long, Y/N, and I”, the words have barely left his lips but I take another step back, like I’ve been slapped.

“Since when?”

“Way before the shitbag even happened. But the timing was never right. You were dating that Lee kid when we moved here, and when you guys broke up I tried giving you time, but then... you started seeing Jinhoon right before I decided to say something and we know how that ended. You were in no place for me to say anything after that. And now again… I guess I waited too long”.

“Lee... Minhyun? That was years ago, Yoongi”.

“I know, I know. Maybe I was a coward and hid behind giving you time. I was always so afraid I’d mess up and lose you completely”.

“And then you got tired and decided to fuck it up intentionally?”

“No, God, Y/N, I… You’re in love with Park freaking Jimin. You can’t see it, but your whole face light up when you talk about him. You guys just begun seeing each other and your eyes are already shining so much and… You’re so happy. I got angry that I lost you again”.

“So you kissed me? Are you trying to get back at me for…?”, he cuts me off, his words fast and worried and desperate.

“No! I’d never be angry at you for being happy. All that I want is for you to be happy. But I’m a loser, a coward and I don’t have any right, but I needed that one kiss. I’ve always needed it, needed you. And I wanted to taste, at least for one second, what it's like to have you. So I can finally try and leave these feelings behind and support you”.

I’m static after he speaks, the tears streaming down my face the only sign I'm still listening. His breath comes out in heavy puffs, like he ran a mile trying to catch ume. It fits, somehow, because the distance between us have never been so big. And maybe there's only a couple of feet separating us on the pavement, but the gap still feels uncommon, final. It doesn’t feel like it can shorten again. He’s my best friend and he just ruined the safety I felt around him to steal from me whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed.

“It was so hard for me to give into this thing with Jimin. To trust him not to hurt me. And you… You just made me hurt him. For a kiss? Because you wanted? Because you needed it? You’re just being egoist”.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”, he begs, timid steps trying to get closer again. My own feet mimic his movements, and the distance never lessens. “Please, stop moving away. Don’t leave me”.

“I need this space, Yoongi. I can’t trust myself not to slap you right across the face right now”, I tell him, and his face is anguished.

“Do it. Scream at me or something. Just don’t go away. That’s the only thing I never wanted”.

“You should have thought of that before. You were safe and now you aren’t. I’m feeling betrayed. And I don’t want to be here anymore, I want to go home and eat ice cream. I need to think. I need to figure out how I’m telling Jimin one of my best friends just confessed to me after I told him I was dating someone else. And then he kissed me. Not necessarily in that order, too”.

“Let me at least take you home. You look a mess, you shouldn’t be walking home alone like this”.

“And whose fault is that?”, my voice spikes up as my hands nervously clean the tear tracks all over my cheeks. I can feel my self control slipping and I hate it, I hate this situation.

“It was just a kiss. It was impulsive and dumb and I’m sorry”, he apologizes, trying to get closer, arms once again outstretched. I walk away from him, like he’s a stranger. Right now, he pretty much feels like one.

“I don’t care about the kiss. It was my trust you broke, Yoongi. You just did the same as Jinhoon back then".

"I would never", he seethes, but I don't even register his anger.

"You knew I trusted you, and you took advantage of it. What you took, it doesn't matter". He tries to speak again but I interrupt him, already exhausted from this conversation. “I’ll be fine, I’ll just go back to Joon’s now and cry a little more, maybe. But you should leave. I don’t want to see you right now”.

“I guess that’s fair. But we’ll talk again later, yeah? We’ll figure this out”.

“There’s nothing to figure out, Yoongi. You fucked up and now I have to make it right. In my head, with Jimin. What remains here comes later”.

“I am really sorry I acted on my dumb impulses and hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you”, he says, voice low, but I’m not looking at him to see how his expression look like. I can’t. “I’ll see you later, okay?”.

I don’t say anything. We stay there for a minute, both silent, eyes not meeting. And then he leaves, without waiting anymore for any response. His steps are slow and uneven as he walks towards the end of the street. I do the same, my head light from the crying, my heart heavy from the mess. I walk back towards the building I just came away from. And I don’t look back.

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readerwatch · 7 years ago

Text

Application - Dryicicle

“Y/N.” You can barely hear Hanzo’s voice through your earbuds. Blaring in your ears as you sit on the couch, wrapped in a blanket while drinking calming green tea, is one of those cute and funny animal videos. The video in particular has a title saying ‘laugh and you lose.’ You’ve been a winner of these videos quite often, ever since your boss had to lay you off. Usually, you’re a loser; you love these innocent videos of people adoring their pets. Pausing the video on a particular puppy that can’t quite learn how to walk down stairs, you pull your earbuds out of your ears and turn to the man who had just come home from archery practice. “You’re ready to go, right?” the man asks, setting his bow and quiver down by the couch. Hanzo said he had a surprise for you since you’ve been so down in the dumps lately. No matter how many times you’ve asked him what it was, he wouldn’t give you an answer. No amount of bribery or convincing will ever crack him. You’ve been ready to leave for his “surprise” since he left earlier in the day. After all, you don’t have much to do nowadays and your motivation has plummeted. You’re hoping that whatever he has planned will bring it all back. Nodding, you hop up off the couch, flinging the blanket onto the floor in front of you. You shove your phone in your pocket, grab a light sweater, and follow Hanzo out the door. “Can you tell me what it is yet?” You ask you two exit the apartment complex. His gait is a lot quicker than normal. Whatever it is, he’s in a rush to get to it. “No,” he looks at you with a straight face. You pout right back at him and he lets a smile creep onto his face. He finds your pout too adorable. “Trust me, you’ll be happy I kept it from you.” As far as you can tell, you two are walking the route you two usually take to get to the the Shinkansen station. Most days, it’s difficult to decipher where you’re headed, what with all of the foot traffic here in Hanamura. Today, it’s actually pretty quiet on the streets. “Are we going shopping?” You ask. “No.” “Beach?” “We aren’t wearing bathing suits.” “…Animal shelter?” “No.” This game of you guessing a location and Hanzo only saying no continues the whole way to the station, up until you two board the bullet train. You were able to spot the name of the location you will be arriving at whilst Hanzo was dealing with the ticketing. “Ueno Park?” You wonder aloud, raising an eyebrow at Hanzo as he takes the window seat. He stares at you silent. Busted. You’ve almost figured out his plan. “I’m not telling you what exactly it is we will be doing there. But yes, our stop is Ueno Park.” He sighs, defeated that you’ve discovered this much. The train starts to depart. “I know they say it’s really beautiful around this time of the year,” you state. You’re met with silence. In this silence, you start thinking about how you’re probably bothering him. A lot. You’re pestering him about this entire situation. You’ve been unable to pay your share of rent because of not having any source of income. Hell, he’s paying for this entire trip while you’re busying yourself with being a jobless burden. “Maybe you’re taking me to get a job,” you laugh awkwardly when he doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. Hanzo grabs your hand off of your lap and entwines his fingers with yours. “Please, Y/N. No more guessing. I don’t want you to spoil it for yourself,” he asks. The look on his face is genuine. He really doesn’t want you to find out. “Am I annoying you?” You ask after a few minutes. “What?” Hanzo says, confused look on his face. “I mean, I’m practically not doing anything with my life at the moment. You’re having to pay for everything and I just feel like I should be doing more,” you sigh, voice shaking. “No, no, Y/N. It’s not a problem at all. This setback is momentary. You will find something new you’ll love to do, I promise. I’ll never look at you like you’re a burden,” he lifts your hand and gives it a soft kiss. You smile, but you still feel like you could be a little less… useless.

The first sign appears out of the window. It flies by, sakura trees filling your vision. but you definitely recognized what was on it. A panda. They’re extinct. A museum? You half-crawl over Hanzo to get a better look at what’s outside. The next one flies by. A buffalo! You’re starting to think you know where he’s taking you. Hanzo jokingly puts a hand over your eyes and rolls his own, smirking at your shocked expression. You pull it down from your face just in time to see the last sign. A macaw. “Hanzo…” you say softly, a smile spreading across your face. “We’re going to the zoo, Y/N.” He smiles. You squeeze his hand as you feel the train start to slow. He knew you’d absolutely love the zoo. You bolt ahead of Hanzo when you two exit the train. “Wait, Y/N!” He shouts to you as you run towards the zoo. “Come on, Hanzo! The zoo isn’t open twenty four hours!” You turn around and speed-walk backwards as he runs to catch up to you. It’s already late in the day, you won’t have much time as it is. He puts his hands on your shoulders, turns you around, then leads you away from where the zoo enterance is. “Wait, Hanzo, what?” You try to turn and twist out of his grasp. “What are you doing?” “We’re not taking the main entrance.” Oh. You stop struggling and he lets your shoulders go, moving to walk beside you. The two of you walk in silence towards the very back of the zoo, taking in the view of the peaceful park whilst underneath the falling cherry blossom petals. Hanzo stops and nods to a gate, one with a sign saying ‘zookeepers only’. “Through there,” Hanzo says, taking your hand and pulling you along with him. “They should be waiting.” The two of you stop at the gate. Hanzo knocks on it. Someone really must have been waiting, because it opened as soon as he finished knocking. A man in zookeeper garb stands on the other side. “Well, hello there!” The man says happily, shaking yours and Hanzo’s hands. “I’m going to be your guide for today. You two ready to see the newest arrivals to the zoo?” Your boyfriend nods and looks to you, noticing the skeptical look on your face. Why exactly are you two taking a restricted entrance? “We get to go behind the scenes today. I thought you might enjoy a more personal experience here,” he explains, watching your expression change into one of understanding. “Oh. Yeah, I’m definitely ready for that!” You say to the zookeeper. “Great! If you two would follow me, I’ll take you to the main attraction,” The man opens the gate fully, allowing you and Hanzo to enter. He closes the gate and locks it shut behind the two of you. Taking the lead, the man gives you a vocal tour, explaining the origin each individual plant species you see on your path to your destination. It’s interesting, but you’re way more excited to see what new creatures the zoo could have. All three of you end up at the back of a large building, staring at another 'zookeeper only’ door. Your guide takes out keys and unlocks the door. “Most of the animals be out playing right now, so feel free to let me know which one you’d like to visit,” the man says, again locking the door behind the both of you. Windows line the walls around you, giving you a chance to see every single animal in the rooms around you. The first one you see is a baby Shoebill Stork, waiting being fed by a woman zookeeper. “Hanzo, look!” You exclaim, noticing the fluffy baby bird spreading its wings and opening its mouth, awaiting its dinner. “It looks simply prehistoric,” he observes. He’s not wrong, these birds look just like a living dinosaur. Turning around to look into the next room, you see three baby goats prancing around their room. “Look at you all go!” you cheer, happy for them having a nice play time together. “Newest arrivals,” you say, turning to your boyfriend. “This is the zoo’s nursery isn’t it?” Hanzo looks at you and smiles, “They won’t let you get up close to an adult animal for our safety. I also thought you would find the babies to be cuter.” You smile back and begin walking towards the next window. In the room was a creature you never thought you would ever get to see as a baby. “It’s a hippopotamus,” you say, putting your hand on the glass. The small animal turns its head, watching you wave your hand at it. Turning your head to your zookeeper guide, you make your final decision. “Can we sit in with this one?” you ask. “Of course!” the man says happily. He unlocks the door, giving you access to the hippo. Another keeper is in the room, a personal one assigned to care for this baby. “Hi there, little guy,” you say, crouching down to speak face to face with the chubby mammal. It walks up to you, giving you a little snort. “Hippos are extinct in the wild…” you tell Hanzo, softly as to not let the little one know of its rarity. “But look at you, you’re so cute!” you exclaim as the hippo walks over to your boyfriend, nudging his leg. He’s unsure about whether or not he should touch it. “We have a whole team here at the nursery making sure this baby hippopotamus is completely happy and healthy,” your guide says, “We could use more workers though. For all of the animals in the zoo, actually.” You look up at Hanzo, who just smiles down at you. Did he really tell this keeper beforehand you were out of a job? At this point, you don’t care if he did or not. The little hippo turns and trots over to you, sniffs your knee and flicks its tail. It then runs over to the keeper that was already in the room, wanting to get attention from a familiar face. “Aww, are you shy?” You ask the baby. It doesn’t respond because it, of course, can’t speak or understand you. What it does is let out a yawn, signaling that it’s getting sleepy. It ends up leaving the room with its personal keeper to get ready to sleep, but not before you wave goodbye. You stand up to face Hanzo and the keeper, who have been patiently watching you enjoy your time with the critically endangered animal. “You did say you were hiring, correct?” You ask. A job here, keeping animals happy and healthy, as well as saving some of the most endangered species, doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all. “Yes! We have many jobs available. Educators, tour guides, veterinarians, all sorts. I can get you an application right now if you’re interested,” the zookeeper says. “That would be lovely!” you exclaim. The zookeeper lets you and Hanzo out of the room you were all just in and leaves you two to go and grab an application for you. “Hanzo?” you ask quietly. He hums an answer, looking at the look of glee on your face. “Thank you so much for bringing me here, I feel a lot better now,” you say, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a strong hug. “This job won’t let you down. I know the animals will be grateful to be alongside you,” he whispers into your ear. “Just like how I will always be grateful to have you alongside me.”

#Overwatch #submission #readerwatch #dryicicle #hanzo #hanzo shimada #hanzo x reader #hanzo shimada x reader

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dearmadalice · 7 years ago

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@nekkyousagi @tacotits @dai-rokuten-maou @norageonlypancakes @tsuncarrot Some Date Clan Shenanigans for your enjoyment. It might seem sorta familiar because it was a drabble I started but I finally got around to finishing it. Someone. Please help Kojuro.

“Date Masamune, you bastard! Put up your dukes if you want to live!” Oushu had been peaceful for some time between their campaigns. Katakura Kojuro was thankful for the quiet and he had miraculously managed to catch up on all of the physical work demanded in the fields. He had come to retire for the day from the hot sun and was greeted with the horrific screeching of an angry horse and his rider. Kojuro yanked the cloth from his head and grimaced as the gates burst open and nearly off their hinges. Masamune had been in the yard practicing. Hearing his name he had turned, jumping back to avoid getting trampled by the white stallion. In a flurry of crimson the rider dismounted and threw himself towards Masamune, the young lord throwing away his sword to meet fist with fist. “Shigezane! How many times have I told you not to barge in here like-“ Kojuro sighed and went to fetch the horse, who had wandered away and started chewing at some of their decorative plants. Trying to scold Shigezane now was like talking to a wall – best to let him wear himself out before scolding him. Then Kojuro scowled more, helping the small child from the back of the stallion. “What was he thinking?”

The little girl, Shigezane’s three year old daughter Kotori, smiled at him and wrapped her arms affectionately around Kojuro’s neck. Then her bright, yellowy eyes twisted to where her good-for-nothing father and his cousin where going at each other. “Papa! Papa I’m cheering for you!” Date Shigezane hollered loudly, his fist connecting with Masamune’s left cheek. Then he started laughing. “It’s been a long time, Bon! Have you turned into a slouch while I was gone? Huh, huh? Is this all the one-eyed dragon has to offer?” Masamune kicked out Shigezane’s knee. “The hell? You show up at my door without being invited and start talking trash?” Shigezane grunted and went for Masamune’s stomach. Masamune twisted, Shigezane’s blow just skimming over his side. “You’re an ingrate you know!” “Ingrate?!” Shigezane’s once firm and determined voice rose and cracked. “You know I’m not an ingrate!” “You sure act like one! I’m going to disown your sorry ass!” Masamune had rallied quickly, pressing his unarmed attacks. He aimed heavily for Shigezane’s face, the wild man ducking and weaving to avoid the blows while being unable to counter. “You show up just to drink my booze and eat my food; when are you gonna start payin’ rent?” Masamune laughed. Shigezane cracked a smile back, managing to catch Masamune’s right arm against his side. Shigezane had the upper hand now, still keeping hold of the One-Eyed Dragon’s arm to punch him squarely in the chin. Masamune spit blood, snarling as his teeth had snapped together on the tip of his tongue. “Isn’t my service payment enough? You’re ungrateful! I’m always your vanguard! Your spear! What happened to Date clan loyalty!?” He let out a mock sniffle, his guard dropping for the sake of dramatics. In that moment Masamune took back his arm, grabbed a fistful of Shigezane’s hair, and returned the punch to the chin. Kotori clapped her hands together. She cheered brightly, raising her arms to wave them wildly. “Papa! Go, go papa! You can win!” Kojuro was beside himself. He was certainly proud that Shigezane admitted his mistakes and had taken eagerly to fatherhood, but Kotori was a young girl and it was unsightly for her to be cheering on violence with such zeal. Though, such a thing was expected of the Date. He only wished that Kotori had better influences to cling to than just Shigezane. “Let’s go inside,” he said gently. “I will get you something sweet to eat, how does that sound?” He was hoping that maybe she would be more interested in food that the shenanigans in the courtyard, but she started pouting at him and her large, golden eyes starting watering. The older she got, the more clear it became in her expressions that Shigezane was certainly her sire. “B-but. But Papa!” she insisted. “Papa says Kotori is his lucky charm; he’ll lose if I go!” Kojuro sighed and gently smoothed her hair. Since when had he been so easily swayed by children? Shigezane grabbed the back of Masamune’s hair and the pair were twisting their heads and hissing in pain. They were both on the brink of scalping each other. Really, Kojuro should have stepped in and stopped them but he felt as though they both deserved the aches and bruises that would come in the wake of their stupidity. He wouldn’t be the one nursing their wounds. “D-dammit! Stop pullin’ so hard!” Masamune grabbed Shigezane’s ear and started pulling, hoping that putting a little extra pressure on his face would cause him to release him. “Stop complainin’! You cry more than a baby!” Shigezane hissed and winced and his mouth opened in alarm and agony. He started leaning towards Masamune, the one-eyed dragon’s pulling and yanking starting to shift Shigezane’s balance. “All is fair in love and war!” “You’re shit at both!” “You’re not so good yourself! Bon!” Finally, Shigezane yanked Masamune’s head back, wrenched his ponytail free from Masamune’s hands, and put the young Lord into a headlock. Masamune’s face rapidly turned red, and then purple as he choked and hiss, trying to stomp on Shigezane’s toes and crush them. Shigezane started to grin, letting out a relieved and pained huff. “See? Still can’t even beat me in a fight!” Masamune struggled for a few more seconds, his face turning such a horrible shade Kojuro was on his feet to break it up before someone got killed. Masamune had enough sense to start smacking Shigezane’s arm. “I give up, I give up!” Shigezane triumphantly released his cousin, but Masamune smacked him on the side of the head. No one had ever accused Masamune of being a gracious loser. “What sort of example are you setting?” Kojuro snapped. He was still irritated that the pair had started fighting to begin with, and Masamune continuing to fight when he’d already given up was in poor taste. Kojuro crossed his arms, and the two young men bowed their heads. Kotori ran up from behind him, launching herself into Shigezane. He scooped her up, kissing her face with his bruised lips. “Did you see Kotori? Isn’t your Papa strong?” “You shouldn’t be proud of that,” Kojuro remarked. “If we’d been using swords, I wouldda kicked your ass-“ “My lord, please! There is a child here.” Kotori started to squirm, holding her arms out for Masamune. Shigezane pouted and relented, slowly handing his daughter to his cousin. Masamune smirked, pressing his forefinger against Kotori’s little pink nose. “Did you see your Uncle Bon? I’m pretty strong, huh? Way cooler than your Papa, huh? And more handsome?” Masamune turned on his heel and started back towards the estate, now that their games had wrapped up really neatly. Kotori thought briefly, before answering. “Papa is really cool too! But Uncle Bon is more fun!” “Good answer kiddo!” Masamune started to laugh, Shigezane letting out a loud pitiful whine before he dragged himself off after them. “C’mon. Kotori, Papa is fun! Tell Papa he’s fun!” Kojuro sighed, rubbing his temples with both his hands. It would be a miracle if Kotori grew up one day to be a fine Lady one day. Something told him, she would be nearly as eccentric as the pair of them. Just once, he wished they could have a normal welcome. He was too old for this shit.

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beaniesandmilkshakes · 7 years ago

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you and me (the lucky ones this time) - oneshot

Summary: In which Jughead and Betty are just as in love as young adults as they were when they were teens. (bughead, fluff)

author’s note: I was listening to Lana Del Rey’s American and an hour later I had written this baby. Fair warning, it’s incredibly fluffy and cliche. enjoy xo!

The air was warm and the sounds of cicadas screeched around them, but to Jughead Jones, Sweetwater River was officially his new favorite place, especially with her.

Betty Cooper was sprawled out on the picnic blanket the couple had packed, latest James Patterson novel, sunglasses propped up on her head. Due to the mid-July heat, she wore a light violet dress that barely touched her knees (which was practically sinful for a Cooper girl), her blonde hair up in its usual ponytail. She was absolutely stunning in Jughead’s head.

While his girlfriend read, Jughead had begun to take pictures with his new Canon camera, a gift from his new foster family. He had always been interested in photography, but considering the fact that his father could barely afford to rent their trailer, Jughead never bothered to ask for a camera. Now that he had one of his own though, there was no stopping the boy, he shot everything from the kitchen table to candids of his friends at Pop’s. But even with all the pictures he’d taken over the past month, most of the pictures on his camera were on Betty.

She hated when Jughead took candids of her, always pointing out the flaws in her profile, while her boyfriend beamed proudly and kissed her on the cheek, still unable to process that he was lucky enough to call Betty Cooper his.

It was that day in mid-July, as he sat back down on the blanket next to his girlfriend when he realized how much Jughead really did love her. Betty glanced up from her novel, catching him staring.

“What?” She giggles, raising an eyebrow at her boyfriend. Jughead shot her a goofy grin and shook his head.

“Nothing, just thinking…” He ran a hand through his thick dark hair, his beanie long abandoned in early June when the temperature started rising up to the nineties. Betty marked her page with a bookmark and sighed, leaning her head again Jughead’s shoulder, which he responded to by laying his arm across her shoulders.

“Can you believe that in a little over a month we’ll be starting our senior year in high school?” Betty sighed, looking up at Jughead through her thick lashes. God, she’s so beautiful, Jughead thought.

“I know, and only ten years ago we were doing our times tables and had snack time, which we should totally petition Wetherbee to add to the schedule by the way.” The blonde giggled, rolling her eyes.

“Wow, those ten years totally flew by, imagine how fast the next ten years will fly by…”

“What do you think you’ll be doing in ten years,” Jughead asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. They’d had this conversation before, the ‘Where do you see your future going?’ one, and for the past three years, they still managed to include each other in their futures. He just wanted to make sure that hadn’t changed.

“Well, in ten years I hope to be a very successful journalist in New York,” Betty started, nudging Jughead in the side as she continued. “And I’ll have this wildly handsome boyfriend who wears suspenders and beanies and takes me to indy coffee shops,”

“Wow, that boyfriend of yours sounds like a loser,” He smirked, and Betty leaned up to give him a soft kiss.

“Trust me, he is.” She smiled, pulling away only for Jughead to pull her back into a kiss, lasting longer than the first. The two sighed as they parted, Jughead rubbing his thumb along Betty’s cheekbone.

“Let’s come back here, to this very spot, in ten years,” He whispers, their lips still centimeters apart.

“The last thing I want is to be stuck in Riverdale for the next ten years,” Betty closed her eyes, her warm breath tickling Jughead’s cheek.

“You won’t, we’ll come back and visit. Deal?”

“Fine Jughead Jones, it’s a deal.”

It would add an extra hour to their travel time, but Jughead insisted they take advantage of the beautiful weather and spend some time relaxing before going back to the stress of New York. Betty reluctantly agreed, only because she had brought a new thriller that she was dying to read, but never found time to.

So the two sat along the banks of Sweetwater River, just like they had when they were teenagers, Betty reading her book and Jughead taking pictures of the beauty around him (meaning he was mostly sneaking photos of Betty when she wasn’t looking). He felt a fond wave of nostalgia wash over him as he glanced down at his girlfriend, the weight in his short’s pocket somehow getting heavier.

After getting the warning that his SD card was almost full (his third one this month), Jughead took a seat next to his girlfriend, laying his head fondly on her shoulder.

“Hey,” He whispered. Betty marked her page and bit her lip, turning her head slightly.

“Hey,” She smiled, the couple sharing a chaste kiss before the two rolled over onto their backs, gazing up at the clouds above.

“You think the twins really liked their gift? I know how much Cheryl loves to upstage us at these events,” Jughead asked. The main reason the couple had taken the five-hour drive back to Riverdale from New York City was that it was Betty’s niece and nephew, JJ and Beth Blossom’s eighth birthday. The weekend had been filled with awkward Blossom family meals and snide comments about the couple taking up residence in Brooklyn, but it was worth it to see the twins, who Jughead and Betty both loved as if they were their own children.

Jughead never really thought about having kids until he met Betty, but he definitely knew he wanted them after bonding with the twins. Beth loved to dress up and thick storybooks that she always had Jughead read to her whenever she saw him, and JJ spent his time outside, inspecting every little plant and bug in the massive Blossom backyard. Jughead remembered how excited JJ had been when he let him use his old Canon to take pictures of the ladybugs and daisies the two had found in the backwoods of Thornhill. Spending time with JJ and Beth made Jughead long for a little Betty and Jughead toddling around, probably going off on secret sleuthing missions just like their parents had when they were younger.

“Cheryl may have us beat with the number of gifts, but I saw the look on JJ’s face when he opened up his own junior adventure’s camera and did you notice how big Beth’s smile was when she saw that we gave her that personalized princess storybook? Trust me, we’re definitely their favorite aunt and uncle,” Betty smiled, lacing her fingers with her boyfriend’s.

They’d been together for about thirteen years now, since that fateful October afternoon when Jughead finally got the nerves to kiss the girl he’d been crushing on since he was ten. Sure, they’d had their ups and downs, even spit up once or twice, but those estrangements never lasted more than a few weeks until the two realized how much they really needed each other. Back in high school, Jughead had been so worried that as soon as they graduated that Betty would move on to bigger and better things, leaving him behind; now, Jughead couldn’t imagine a life without the giggly blonde. He reached into his shorts pocket and smoothed his finger over the velvet box that seemed to weigh a ton, but in reality was practically lighter than a feather.

“Remember ten years ago? When we came here before senior year started?” He asked her, feeling a lump in his throat form. Betty didn’t notice as realization dawned on her.

“Oh yeah, and we talked about where we’d be in ten years? Wow, we were so young and innocent back then…”

“Well … not totally innocent. I see to remember a certain blonde and I doing some sinful things in the janitor's closet, the Blue and Gold room, your frilly bedroom, the Whyte Wy-” Betty smacked his shoulder.

“Oh shut up Juggie,” She laughed. “I meant that we were teenagers, we had no idea where our lives were headed.” Betty turned and snuggled closer to her boyfriend, inhaling his scent of old books and coffee. “I had no idea I would end up working as a children’s book editor, and you certainly didn’t predict you’d be taking photographs of celebrities for magazines. We obviously didn’t know how expensive rent was in the city because trust me, if I knew that a studio could cost up to fifty grand a month, I would never–”

“Betts,” Jughead chuckled, his palms becoming a bit more clammy. “I get what you mean,”

“Sorry,” The blonde blushed, her tendency to ramble became more and more regular as she grew older, especially in telling authors where to fix things in their text. To say that people would get mildly annoyed with her on the regular would be an understatement.

“It’s fine babe,” Jughead murmured, kissing her forehead, slowly pulling out the velvet box. “I was just going to say how ten years ago, I sat in this very spot and decided that I was officially the luckiest man to have ever walked the earth because I’ve never known such beauty as Betty Cooper,” He starts, his voice cracking a bit. Betty looks up at him through her thick lashes, just as she had ten years ago, her pupils blown with a mixture of love and lust.

“Oh Juggie,” She whispered.

“It was also ten years ago that I decided I shouldn’t let that beauty go, ever. That I need to spend the rest of my life with her, if she’ll have me,” Tears welled in Betty’s eyes as Jughead opened the small box, revealing a simple diamond engagement ring. “So, Elizabeth Allison Cooper, will you–”

Betty threw her arms around her boyfriend and kissed him passionately, almost causing Jughead to drop the ring.

“So is that a yes or…” He laughed as the pulled away, earning another playful smack.

“Of course I’ll marry you, you big sap!” He slid the ring onto her left hand with delicacy, having spent the past ten years imagining this moment, it almost seemed like a dream. Betty held her hand up to the sun to examine the ring further, and Jughead felt a tad bit of embarrassment at the size of it.

“Sorry the diamonds kinda small, I figured you don’t like flashy things and we could use the extra money for the wedding so…” Jug rubbed the back of his neck and Betty looked up at him with so much love it was almost overwhelming.

“It’s perfect Jughead, you picked out the perfect ring for me and I love it,” She pulled him in for another long kiss.

“Actually, Veronica tried to help me, but she kept picking ones a couple thousand dollars out of my price range,” He smirked, and Betty laughed, picturing her best friend and fiancé arguing over engagement rings of all things.

The newly engaged couple lay in silence until the sun began to set, Betty admiring her ring and pulling Jughead into a kiss every few minutes. When the sky turned a dusty shade of orange, they packed up the blanket and got back into the car, driving off towards their future, together.

#bughead fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction #fluff #you and me (the lucky ones this time)#oneshot #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty and jughead

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