#his reminder of the essay deadline just went off lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tobioslune · 3 years ago

Text

liquid courage

Paring: Iwaizumi Hajime x gn!reader

Genre : fluff, comfort? college au kinda, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, Iwaizumi being soft and a simp

Warnings? : implied drinking, (aged up), cursing (from the lyrics), a little smooch

a/n: This is a draft i started in january but things happened that made me leave it for about like four months lol (if u wanna know what happened while i was writing this you can read it here lol also you could see how i wrote / continued writing it here ) but! im finally finished and im pretty proud of it even though its lowkey all over the place :>> please do check out the song bc it slaps and it’s really good lol okay that’s all for now hope you enjoy <3 (last notee: likes and reblogs are really appreciated!!)

▶ now playing : drunk - dijon

You and Iwaizumi have been close friends since highschool, and feelings may have been caught during that time. With the reason of not wanting to ruin the relationship you’ve built with him, you tried to brush it off. And like every other trope where you fall for your best friend you expected that he wouldn’t feel the same way.

Surprisingly both of you ended up going to the same university, and you were able to hang out and keep in touch with each other. Everytime you think you’ve set those feelings aside, whenever some romantic tension presents itself, it bubbles up inside all over again. Like an annoying weed that keeps coming back no matter how hard you try to get rid of it.

School and other work has been pressing on you for the past few months and you just keep getting into a slump. No matter how hard you try, you find yourself in the same place you were over and over again. Iwaizumi noticed this and really tried his best to help but he’s also caught up with a ton of things.

O baby, I’m lonely and I’m fucked up by myself

Could uu come here?!

It was 1am on a Saturday and Mattsun called you. You were working on an essay and it was super unexpected. It was able to shake you from the somewhat trance you were in while trying to think.

“Hey y/n-san I’m so sorry to call you at such a late time and most probably not so nice notice, but is it okay if you pick-up Hajime here at our usual place? Hanamaki and the others have already left and theres a paper I need to take care of, and you’re the only one I could think of.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Did Hajime drink too much like last time?” You think to yourself, ‘How stubborn, I’ve told him last time to be mindful of how much he takes because of his low tolerance’ You found the thought quite amusing.

“He sure has. When will you be able to get here by the way?” Mattsun replies.

“Give me about 15 minutes, it’s not so far from where I live anyways. Can you keep him company for a little while longer?” you tell him. This would be able to get your mind off the stress and exhaustion you’re in hopefully for a little while. Besides you haven’t met him in person for about month so it would be nice to see him again.

“Yeahh I can do that. Thanks again by the way y/n.”

“Suree, anytime. Okay see you in a bit, bye”

“Bye.”

The train stations are already closed at this time, and it would be too much of a hassle to take a cab to and from where he lives so it probably would be best that he crash at your place instead.

You straighten a few things up in your apartment and proceed to grab a jacket, your keys, wallet and your phone, placing it into a small purse. As you closed the door you could already feel a rush of cold air surrounding you.

The walk there was quite refreshing and you felt much better than you did earlier. As you arrived there you could see Mattsun waiting in front. You smiled as you walked toward him. It took him a couple seconds to recognize you as you came into view.

“Heyy, hope I didn’t take too long” you said as you greeted him with a hug.

“No, it’s all good you actually arrived faster than I expected”, Mattsun replies returning your smile.

“He’s inside by the way.” gesturing with the back of his thumb.

“Okay, I’ll go take care of it from here”

“Thanks again, apologies if it interrupted anything important.”

“Like I said, it's alright! I got it.” you assure him.

You both bid your goodbyes and you make your way inside the homey bar. There he was, head resting on his right hand and glass of water in the other. You figured he sobered up at least a little bit.

You let out an amused sigh, “Oh Haj, I’ve told you a couple of times last time to watch it, right?” You took a seat in front of him, leaning your head on your hand. He laughed a little at the statement made. “Sorry y/n, got a bit caught up and forgot.”

Letting out a low hum you respond, “Anyways, ready to go?”

“Yeah just give me a moment.” His head was still pounding from the drinks.

I’M WASTING and I’m anxious; I’m fading from myself…

You placed his arm around your shoulder in an attempt to keep him upright and stable as you walk. Compared to him he was obviously heavier making it difficult for you to even make it to the door, you were basically stumbling out, but somehow you were able to manage and he was at least trying to cooperate even when everything was practically hazy for him in that moment.

----------

You fell for him, and little did you know he did too. You’ve known Hajime as reserved, reliable, firm, caring and surprisingly stubborn at times. He knew that if he told his friends and teammates they would tease him and make it more obvious that's why he kept it in a never said a word.

He liked you, he liked you so much, but sometimes you just seemed so out of reach to him. Loved by almost everyone, you were beautiful, charming and just overall amazing to him. There were times where he really tried to deny his feelings, his emotions, toward you but whenever another guy would be around you he just can’t help but want you all to himself.

--------

As school progressed your schedule became more hectic and your assignments started to pile up. It felt like an endless mess and an inevitable disaster. He saw how stressed you were but he felt a bit helpless because he didn't know what to do. He couldn’t really help you because of your different courses and besides he wouldn’t even know what to do. As time went on your hangouts became lesser and lesser and sometimes you'd even be too busy or even too tired to chat with him. You would try making plans but your group mates would suddenly set up meetings or deadlines would abruptly be sent and given.

Although he has tried reaching out, because of how busy you were he was left alone with his thoughts and feelings and he tried to make sense of how he really felt. He wanted to avoid thinking of you but that became difficult for him when almost everything reminded him of you…

“They would have liked this..”, “I should probably ask if they ate.”, “This would be such a nice gift for y/n.”, “I wonder what they would think of this.”, it just felt like never ending thoughts of you.

---------

When Matsukawa and the rest of the old team from Seijoh offered him to hang out and catch up he couldn't say no. By going he would be able to hang out with them and it would hopefully be a distraction to help get you off his mind. He knew you were busy and in his head he thought that maybe you didn't like him the say he does. You ran circles around his mind and at time he’s just feel so conflicted and confused.

In the end he got wasted, he felt faded, and just wanted to feel ok. He accidentally ended up telling the boys out of frustration that he had feelings for someone which left him with mixed emotions at times. They found this quite surprising because who would get him so hung up and drunk like that.

COULD U COME HERE?! And say u’ll stay the night

Although you reminded him last time you went drinking to watch his intake you were still shocked that he was so drunk he could barely think straight. The cold air and silence filled the walk and everything in some way felt alright. You felt at peace and his presence made everything feel comfortable even if you were practically carrying him.

He sighs, “Hey I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess I accidentally let myself go back there again.”

“It's ok, I mean that's bound to happen to everyone at some point I've got you don't worry it's fine.” you respond.

“Where are we going, by the way?” He asks.

“I'm taking you back to my place, I mean if you don't mind. The subways are closed and the taxis are hard to come by at this time.”

“Oh ok, it's fine, I mean I have nowhere else to go to anyways and I don't really mind,” He says with a flustered laugh.

As you keep walking you pass by a convenience store you both frequently used to hang out at when your schedules weren't so busy.

“Hey Haj, we should stop there for a while just so you could sober up a little more. Also I’m a bit hungry anyway,” you suggest.

“Yeah good idea, besides you must be kind of tired trying to carry me around for this long.”

You both make your way to the convenience store and you tell him to sit outside while you buy something for the both of you.

Cause it’s been a while, since I've seen u smiling! O baby, could u come down? I think I’m freaking out! And I’m drunk!

You step inside and the warmth of the shop embraces you. You then proceed to get some meat buns, and two coffees. As you go to pay you take a glimpse outside to check up on Iwaizumi and to your surprise he was already looking at you. You quickly turn away and you feel a small blush attempting to creep up on your face, but you shake the thought away as you make it to the counter.

You finish paying and walk over to where Iwaizumi is sitting and you place the food down on the table. Handing over a meat bun and a coffee to him, you sit down and sigh in satisfaction as you bite into yours. Somewhat comfortable silence fills the space and you absentmindedly process everything that happened.

“So, how was the hang out with the guys? I haven't seen them in so long. You sure must’ve had fun...” You say in the hopes of making things a little less awkward and quiet.

“Oh yeah it was great.” He replies with his mouth still with food, you laugh and he continues after he finally swallows what he was eating.

“Yeah it was really fun, we got to catch up on a lot and they're doing pretty great I must say. You should come next time, I mean when you're not busy. I miss our hangouts, you know...”

“Is this not a hangout?” You humorously ask.

“I mean, it is but I'm saying we should hang out more when you're not busy and when I'm not drunk.” He says with a laugh.

“Yeah we totally should.“ You say with a smile.

“So anyways, how's life?”

“Well I mean I'm doing ok, but overall just really stressed. Work and papers have been piling up and my head has been pounding for like weeks or maybe even just days you know, but I guess I'm doing fine.” Giving a small laugh to lighten the statement.

“Yeah the workloads really suck right now, they're crazy. But I'm here for you if you need anything even if I don’t really understand a thing from your subjects.”

“Yeah, I know.” You say giving him a reassuring grin.

You both take a brief pause when he suddenly brings up an old inside joke you both had when you were younger. You spend about an hour reliving memories, throwing around jokes, teasing each other and laughing a lot.

Sighing into a smile he says, “I really miss this. It's been a while since I've seen you smile like that.”

“Yeah I missed our hangouts like these, this feels so great and nostalgic in a way.”

And I don’t think I can beat it, I’m paralyzed, I’m terrified of being alone!

You both clean up and start to continue your walk back to your place. All the stress you’ve been feeling earlier feels as if it has left and you feel relieved. As you both near your apartment complex, Iwaizumi stops making you turn back.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah I’m good.” You then proceed to turn around, but he suddenly continues.

“Listen I need to tell you something, and I need you to promise me that we’re still going to be ok even as friends afterwards.” He says with a slight seriousness on his face

“Yeah, you can tell me anything I promise I'll still stay. I mean unless you're a criminal and you're gonna kill me.” You joke. Moving closer to him you prepare yourself a bit for whatever he would say. “So what's up?”

He takes a breath, “I like you y/n -san.... and I'm really sorry if you don’t like me after this or if this makes anything awkward or if I made you uncomfortable in any way. I've liked you since high school and I was too scared to say anything because I thought you liked another guy--”

“--I swear even when we were younger there was something about you that just made everyone like you. You were so nice, friendly to everyone, helpful, beautiful, and so much more. You’re captivating to me… and I’m trying to use whatever’s left of this liquid courage to get this off my chest and I think I’m ready for whatever might come next.”

Your mouth parts slightly from shock because of what he said but it slowly, turns into a huge grin.

“Hajime, I don't know what to say…” you cut him off before he could say anything,

“Because I like you too, and I have for such a long time.”

He lifts up his head with hope and a slight disbelief in his eyes, “You do..? You did..?!’’

“Yes..” you say with a small chuckle and a smile plastered across your face. You walk even closer until you're both mere inches away from each other. You take a relieved sigh and make eye contact with him. You wrap your arms around his neck and draw him in for a hug. He places his arms delicately around your waist hugging you back.

He slowly pulls away and cups your face ever so tenderly, pulling you in so that your lips are merely ghosting the others; and he gently kisses you. You felt as if that you were floating on clouds. His lips were so soft and warm it felt so surreal.

You both pull away and he says with a smile, “I've waited and wanted for so long to do that.”

You couldn't believe that everything that happened, actually happened. It felt like a scenario that you would only be able to play in your head. But it was all real and it was all happening. It felt like a dream, and if this were a scene in some cute drama there would have been hearts floating around your head right now, you felt lovestruck.

Cause it’s been a while, since i’ve thought about the good things, all the bright light things all the good times that we had! It’s been a while, since I made u smile!

You finally reach your apartment hand-in-hand, sitting down on the couch as soon as you enter. The night was filled with more conversations, laughter and just overall good times. Homework forgotten and disregarded, you let yourself go and have fun. Surprisingly everything felt like it just fell into place.

You looked at him and maybe it was the alcohol but he was pretty sure he saw stars in your eyes.

“I can't believe after all this time you're finally and actually mine.” you say.

Whatever magic or fate intertwined and lined you up to this exact moment you just knew that you were forever grateful.

84 notes · View notes

abyss-mal-blog1 · 5 years ago

Text

current mind-space//word vomit

it’s amazing how much can change in a few days, but it hasn’t been a week since my finals ended and i already felt so different. i have been doing f45 everyday this week (if not then some kind of workout, but i’ve really been into that recently). i am feeling so much better now without deadlines, sometimes i don’t know if i function better under pressure or not. i guess not, but then it’s amazing how much i can do and achieve under pressure. i need the right amount of pressure, and this semester it has been a little difficult for me to get around that.

last friday was kinda my last day of finals, i just had an essay to submit, and i am disappointed in myself and my work ethic because i submitted it at 9pm, went to my cousin’s (disappointing) party, and then professor emailed me to say that she cannot read Pages format (seriously smh @ my tardiness!!!), only got back at 1am that night and sent my mediocre essay. i am a little sad about it because i know that is not my 100%. idk why but college so far has just been a series of 80% effort. this paper was an interesting one, on airbnb, on the sharing economy, it’s a performance studies paper where i analyze the hospitality platform in terms of host-user relationship, parasitism and (attempted) to talk about free online labor. it is a little too late now but i kinda want to work on it again and like, submit for feedback. maybe ill ask taylor.

last saturday was kinda meh, i agreed to go to a *social* kinda event at a bar/club at chelsea, held for Asian-ivy-alumni-people that yanlin invited me too. it was at up&up and honestly a little...i didn’t enjoy it at all. the music sucked, the people were either too dorky or gross or old or weird, and the whole time i just kept saying to myself, “never again”. they said it was open bar but they only served absolut, which was shit. and then my friend’s two friends were...i feel sorry that this was their first clubbing experience. at the beginning my reaction was look at all these ivy alumni! get hitched with one of them for ~da connectsx~ (and nothing else) but no kidding i was actually interested in talking to them just to get to know what people who graduated from ivies are up to, and what are they doing at such events...and are they actually enjoying themselves because it was really kinda gross. met my friend’s friend who seemed like a really smart engineer (he asked for my number the next day lol), and a german dude at the bar who didn’t want to get me a drink. all i needed that night was a drink.....(i’m glad i didn’t drink tho because recently drinking has made me feel all kinds of bad) we had ramen after at ramen-ya (most probably the worst ramen and charsiew i’ve had but what can we do at 3am and my friend wanted noodle and soup...)

on sunday i KNow i should have left my house earlier to workout but i didn’t. i was angry at myself that i didn’t. instead, i stayed at home and emotion-ate. i must have eaten more green bean soup than my stomach would have liked. what else...avocado? i remember..two bananas? god. this was the day i felt like i was n’s boyfriend because i had to do what she wanted to do. i know i had agreed on going, but at that point i really wanted to go thrifting or something. i mean when i got to central park it was fine and things were good but the whole day just felt like i was kinda pulled into doing something that wasn’t my first choice of plans, not that i didn’t enjoy myself lying under the sun at the park. it just felt like i was accompanying someone. i was half an hour late to meet her as well, and half heartedly got a burrito-wrap at newsbar. if you think about it it is really kinda funny, we’re just buying food and taking the subway to this grass patch 50 blocks away. we didn’t walk much, we literally only stayed at a little grassy slope overlooking the baseball pitch. anyway we went to a dance class after (the class was an hour long but i felt like n had asked me about when and what time we should book the classes for more than an hour by text so i just got really sick of it) i rushed home and got dinner with my uncle who’s in town for my cousin’s graduation. i was surprised that he chose the same japanese restaurant again, after dissing it half a year ago we ate here. the omakase was crazy and it cost 230 per person. (for the most expensive set) it was also kinda dumb because you aren’t allowed to order a different omakase set from anyone else - everyone on the table has to order the same - because of “timing”. i wonder if this is how it is in japanese omakase etiquette, but in any case it really earned them a hefty amount because my uncle decided to get 230 for all of us. qiyang didn’t like and said qiqi had bad taste, hahaha. the food wasn’t bad, i mean it’s japanese fusion, but the prices were way too steep for the taste. anyway enough about the food, during the dinner i think we talked about many things though. i kinda wanted to talk to my uncle individually because i think he is the only one who knows about ah gong, but he was sick, and i could tell he was exhausted. my aunt got a little impatient because i didn’t arrange plans to take their furniture and they were going to throw all of them away and it was actually the first time i’ve seen her get so worked up - but at the same time trying to control her emotions - because she was talking to me. i could tell she was annoyed though but i tried not to take it personally, and arranged it tomorrow.

arranging the moving stuff was kinda last minute, i was walking to the library for work one day and i saw a truck that said MakeSpace. i assumed it was a kind of moving company and so i looked them up. they seemed to be pretty okay in terms of their services and so i decided to try them out. confirmation and setting up an appointment went pretty smoothly, except for the part where the guy i think his name was joseph, asked me to give my credit card details over the phone. idk why i did that! i stopped though, and asked him why, to which he replied he wanted to key in with the coupon code. this service has so much gimmicks within the first 2-3 minutes on the phone he was already telling me about how the first pick up is free, and that he will deduct 100$ off the first month...when people give you discounts too easily it just feels like a ploy and a thing they give to everyone, it’s not anything special and it’s probably calculated inside whatever we have to pay. anyway, i was just thinking it would be cheaper (assuming the maximum that i would have to pay is ~$500, as i confirmed with them on the phone yesterday), it’d still be cheaper than starting an apartment lease now and going through the trouble of finding two subletters.

well. idk, it’s also easy to have things all moved in, i have to find a place to store my perishables!

moving is so much work, and storing things. this reminds me of my paper on airbnb and about the digital nomad lifestyle. it is interesting though, that this is what it has become. but the homogenized aesthetic is something i really cannot stand, in airbnb, in coffeeshops around the world..i am sure you know what i’m talking about. a new york times writer did something about this - he termed it “Airspace” - and apparently it originated from Brooklyn. I guess that’s where the art/avant-garde stuff started. well. keep a look out im gonna write a blogpost about that

moving on

nat came to sleepover on sunday night and a few days after because the school kicks you out of the dorms you pay so much for right after your final ends. i forgot if we did something fun but i probably just fell asleep.

on monday i think i went to f45 and did cardio at Dumbo with Gi. he seems like a pretty nice trainer, the first time i went it was him and another girl Bertha (i think my first f45 was last tuesday) and i felt like i had two personal trainers with me - Gi was cheering me on and Bertha was doing it with me. it felt like such a good workout, one of the best ive had in a while. then work, where i arranged the movers stuff. i also realized i bought the wrong date for my flight ticket as my friends and had to buy one more...............

tuesday was the same f45 in the morning, and the bobst after. didn’t really get much work done at bobst. oh i also viewed a 3BR flex at 160. hella expensive and small, and dates didn’t work out anyway. also the broker who brought us to view the apartment was a very nice tall french man and his name was jean-francois which i couldn’t pronounce and asked nat but still called him jean as in jeen instead of john. this is why i have to learn french. you’re embarrassing. i also went to the itp/ima spring show with shubham which was super cool. there were many cool ideas, and i just wonder if i could create something like that. i didn’t get to see all of the exhibits which i regret, but i remember a few notable projects. one was an installation made with keyboards that randomly clicks, but when you hold your phone up it’ll stop. it’s made using 3d gestures. there’s also one at a gallery for surveillance, this team had a thing they call facebox, and it’s literally a box, that when you open it has a webcam that would capture your face, find you on facebook, and print out an invoice/receipt on how much you have earned for this giant tech company. what else...an AR project that when you scan a food, it shows you where the food comes from. nat said that she would love it if menus have something they could scan and then have pictures appear in ~holographic~ format, or maybe in the nearer future something on your phone that shows you a picture of the picture of the food. but isn’t it a surprise tho? sometimes the fun’s in the surprise, you read the description, you know what are the foods you’ll eat, leaving room to imagine or be surprised by how the chef puts it together! anyway, went for dinner with nat and jenny - got vegan shwarma (definitely wasn’t worth $14) and went to get crepes with will after.

wednesday we were gonna go to the dmv but we weren’t prepared. nat also needed to get her passport and she was lazy. wow the number of times i mentioned her, it feels like she’s my boyfriend at this point. talked to famz, sister, and beatrix. am currently considering if i should even go to beijing or just go straight home. fuck. went to bobst for work but no one was there i was just really sleepy. viewed an apartment at 55 morton (it’s a nice quiet residential street that seems to be tucked away from the loud cars and bars and people) then i went to f45 again-varsity!!! cardio!!!, walked across brooklyn bridge (a little regret although i wanted to walk, but my bag was heavy and there were too many tourists to brisk walk)

also the reason for this is that after my soba/miso/salad/shrimp dinner last night i was just watching a bunch of netflix shows and it was probably the caffeine from puerto rican roasting company - the barista made me a chai cappuccino with almond milk (3 SHOTS!!!)

me and nat couldn’t sleep, i really think i slept for an hour. i watched so many different shows, yoko and john’s documentary, while we were young, anthony bourdain, i was seriously flipping through all the shows and alternating between amazonprme and youtube and netflix and i even tried watching peaceful cuisine and making the brightness lower and had the sleep mode on and wow i just couldn’t sleep

so yeah the birth of this word vomit

i am going to create more things

1 note · View note

jugandbettsdetectiveagency · 7 years ago

Note

#12 For the prompty thing, my love. 💙💛

Jandy. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is under the cut, and on ao3 because it’s a bit long. Also, I inserted a slightly revised version of my 31 prompt fill into this fic if you’re wondering why some of it seems familiar, lol

***

12. Who initiates talks about the future?

They’re six, sitting on the Andrews’ front porch, waiting for Archie to finish his chores and come out to play.

“Mom came home from the hospital with my new sister,” Jughead says, scuffing his shoe against the concrete steps. He’s not normally one to always fill the silence but he likes talking to Betty - likes it when Betty talks to him - and he feels like this is something she should know.

Her eyes light up, pigtails bouncing as she turns her head towards him. “Really?” He nods. “What’s it like? I wish my mommy would go to the hospital for a baby sister. Then I could play with her just like my dolls,” Betty says wistfully, already subconsciously cradling something in her arms. Jughead thinks about her other question.

“It’s…” Lots of words pass through his head, but none of them seem quite as fitting as, “Loud.”

Betty thinks about this, perusing her rosebud lips together, crinkling her forehead seriously. “Well, I guess babies do cry a lot,” she says finally.

Jughead doesn’t tell her that Forsythia’s crying wasn’t all he meant.

His mom is always tired, forgetting to give him breakfast or turn off the stove before the water boils over. He’s also down to his last pair of clean socks. She doesn’t tuck him in anymore, and Jughead has learnt not to ask for her to read to him like she sometimes used to on days when she didn’t have a double shift.

His sister’s distressed cries are loud, but his father’s voice is louder. He now knows what it sounds like when glass shatters - a bit like the wind chimes hanging from their neighbours’ window but, again, louder. He knows the sound his dad’s fist makes when it comes down on the kitchen counter, the door when it slams, his mom when she cries.

Everything is loud.

“Do you want to have a baby when you’re older?” Betty’s question snaps him out of his reminiscence, the revision of his new knowledge of sounds which, at aged six, go alongside the bark of a dog, ‘duck’ being pronounced with an ‘f’, and the constant rev of a motorcycle engine.

“No,” Jughead answers immediately, his shortness shocking Betty whose lips part. “Babies are gross,” he covers quickly. Betty clucks her tongue at him in a move that makes her look frighteningly like her mother.

“No, they’re not,” she argues, pigtails swinging again. “Besides, when you get married you’ll have to have one, that’s what you do,” she states matter of factly. Jughead can tell that if they were standing up she’d have her hands on her hips.

“I don’t want to get married,” he mumbles sourly, scuffing his sneaker again before thinking better of it, part of the rubber edging falling onto the ground.

Betty regards him as if he’s just grown a second head, like the thought has never even occurred to her before. And he guesses it hasn’t - her mom and dad live in a proper house with proper furniture, proper jobs, and she has a sister, and a fish, and new clothes when she outgrows the old.

“You will,” she says after a moment, and it comes out with such conviction that Jughead thinks he has no reason but to believe her.

“Archie asked me to marry him.” It’s his turn to turn towards her in surprise.

“But we’re not adults?” He feels a bit panicked. Betty rolls her eyes, but it’s different to when his mom does it. There’s a fondness hiding in their sparkling green depths.

“That’s what I told him, but he’s promised to ask me again when we’re older.” The door behind them opens, a blur of red hair flying past them down the steps, Betty’s giggle following it, but Jughead doesn’t move for another moment.

The concept of ‘older’ has lost its appeal.

They’re fourteen and starting high school, sitting cross-legged - Betty on her floral bedspread, Jughead on her cream carpet.

“Do you think it’ll be alright?” she asks suddenly, looking up from her laptop. He peers out from behind his own, wheezing heavily as the fan works to cool down the old, overheated system, and finds she’s chewing at her lip.

“What?” He doesn’t mean to sound so short. They’ve been given an assignment to write about their summer vacation, a summary of all the places they’ve been, the adventures they’ve had, the things they’ve seen.

Jughead has been to the Twilight Drive-In more times than he can count, weaseling his way inside the projection booth by promising the pimpled seventeen year old that he’d watch the film reels while he took a nap, or went for snacks, or made out with his timid-looking girlfriend in the back of her car.

He’s seen countless places, had more than enough adventures, loved, lost, and loved again, all from one singular spot on a somewhat uncomfortable wooden stool, the light of the screen illuminating his features. He’s spent most of his ‘work’ time over at Betty’s wondering if he could just turn his summer essay into a mass of film reviews.

Betty on the other hand had been on a family trip for a lot of the summer - something that partly contributed to his lack of fun. The Coopers had been travelling along the West Coast, beginning with a visit to Betty’s aunt in LA. He’d received countless pictures of her - at the Space Needle, the Golden Gate Bridge, on the beach with Polly (he reminded himself he’d seen her in a bikini numerous times during their childhood and he definitely wouldn’t admit to anyone that that last one had had his cheeks flaming). She’d returned at the beginning of the week, her skin golden and freckled, her blonde hair sun-bleached, and immediately launched into tales of all the things she’d done while she was away.

“What about you? Have you survived the summer without me?” she teased, pushing at his shoulder jovially.

No, he wanted to say, I’ve never wanted summer to end faster.

Instead he tells her, “Well, Archie was a bit of a handful, but it was alright if I took him out for walks twice a day and made sure to keep him well fed.” She’d laughed at that, a proper, fold-you-in-half laugh, and Jughead had smiled the widest he had in weeks.

“You know,” she begins now, gesturing vaguely to her screen. “High school.” Jughead doesn’t really get what she means.

“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s just school.” He turns back to his screen but he can sense the worry rolling off her in waves and sets his laptop off to the side. “Want to talk about it?”

Her eyes are wide and unseeing, her fists clenched tightly in her lap. She starts when he talks, like she’d expected the conversation to be over. “Oh, um,” Betty mumbles, stretching her fingers out slowly. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

Jughead doesn’t quite manage to stop the snort that escapes him. “What do you have to be nervous about? You’re Betty Cooper. Your sister’s a cheerleader, and you have one of the highest GPAs in our year, and you’re… blonde,” he finishes, the word beautiful feeling like too much of a window into his soul, one that he’s not ready to draw back the curtains on just yet. Her hand shoots up to her ponytail, as if to check. Jughead sighs. “Everything will be fine, Betts.” He smiles at her, just the smallest upturn of his mouth, but it makes some of the tension in her shoulders visibly disappear.

“Alright,” she says back softly, pulling her laptop closer. “Thank you,” she adds a beat later.

“I missed you, Betty,” he confesses after a few minutes gathering his nerve, skin prickling, heart pounding. The smile she sends his way then makes the nauseous feeling in his stomach entirely worth it, bright and unrestrained.

“Me too.”

There’s the sound of a truck door closing, and they both peer towards the open window, blinds fluttering in the warm, steady breeze making its way through the streets.

“It’s Archie’s mom,” she says sadly, being able to see from her vantage point on the bed.

That’s another reason why Jughead is here and not over at the Andrews’, enjoying the last few days they have to play video games without the pressing knowledge of homework deadlines. “Guess that’s it then,” he sighs, willing the hot sting out of the corner of his eyes by blinking rapidly.

“I can’t believe she’s moving away. I didn’t ever think Mr and Mrs Andrews would get a divorce,” Betty muses forlornly, now perched on the edge of her mattress, looking down at him.

Jughead’s always thought of divorce as inevitable.

“People outgrow each other,” he shrugs. He does wish it hadn’t been Mary Andrews that had outgrown someone, though. She’d filled an ever increasing void in his day to day life without a word. She’d make sure he had at least one good meal most days, nodding her head towards the array of snacks on the table with a conspirative smile whenever she saw him gazing longingly at the displayed food. She’d wash his clothes before he went home whenever he slept over, slip some money into the pocket of his bag for school lunch, and always open the door to him, no matter how strained her marriage became.

Jughead should have known that something was going to happen, because at this point he’d experienced too much of a good thing.

“Still,” Betty was now saying, the telltale lift of her shoulders informing him that she was going to try and be optimistic. “At least Archie will get to see a lot of Chicago. It’ll be like he’s going on a mini vacation all the time,” she smiles. Jughead nods vaguely.

“Where do you want to live when you’re older?” A silence stretches out between them. Jughead realises he doesn’t have an answer.

He’s spent more time than he will ever admit to anyone thinking about what it’d be like to live outside of Riverdale. He’d find somewhere with a solid wood door, and windows that kept the cold out, a house that couldn’t be pulled away on wheels and had more than five minutes hot running water. He’d live somewhere where he wouldn’t have to wait for the sound of furniture being walked into before he slipped out of his room and unlaced his dad’s shoes, pulling the threadbare blanket from the back of the couch over his drunken limbs, finally able to sleep knowing his dad was home and not sprawled at the side of the road.

He’d live in a house that didn’t occasionally spring memories of the people that left him behind on him - a stray earring, a pink-covered book or abandoned toy - reminders of the ones that have already found somewhere else to live.

But he’d never given a thought as to where this mystical, unobtainable place to live would be. Not only because he was convinced he’d never find it, but because ever having the means to get out of Riverdale, leave his dad behind, seemed next to impossible.

“I don’t know,” he tells Betty, meeting her curious gaze. “New York, maybe,” he throws out, finding that the idea doesn’t seem entirely horrid. A big city where he’d be just Jughead, anonymous in a sea of faces.

“That sounds nice, I think I’d like that,” Betty surprises him by saying.

“Yeah?” His lips twitch, fighting a grin.

“Yeah. I could be a journalist for The New York Times,” she announces, laughing at her daydream.

“Maybe we could go together,” he breathes, chest tightening. She softens, still glowing with the rays of sun her skin has soaked up during her time away.

“Maybe we could.”

They’re sixteen and he’s pulling on a leather jacket.

“Jug?” she murmurs, expression puzzled.

He’d been trying to creep out of the trailer before she could wake up, his walk of shame not because of who he’s walking away from. His shoulders slump in defeat as he turns at the sound of her voice. She’s still rumpled with sleep, perfectly dishevelled and wearing his t-shirt.

“Go back to sleep, it’s still early,” he tries to smile, but it must look like the grimace he feels it to be because she looks disappointed.

“You said you wouldn’t do this anymore. You said one last thing and then you’d be out.” Betty’s voice sounds dangerously close to breaking, and he’s still not fully awake, and his own eyes feel a little watery. He remembers making those promises.

“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. The Serpents are doing a lot for me, I owe it to them-” Betty cuts him off with a laugh that sounds a bit like a bark. He looks at her in shock.

“You don’t owe them anything! You’re not some kind of replacement for your dad now that he’s gone. You’re not a fill in, carbon copy of their leader just because you’re his son. They offered to look out for you if you needed it.” She’s breathing heavily, fists clenched and he aches to reach out and uncurl them before she hurts herself. “Do you need it?” she asks.

Jughead can tell she’s not asking whether he needs them to pay for new notebooks, or his groceries, or sneakers without holes in.

She’s asking if he likes the feeling of running with a gang, the feeling of being needed by a group of people, no matter who they are or what they’re asking him to do. He doesn’t want to lie to her so he says nothing at all.

Betty nods, pulling her lower lip in between her teeth as the first of her tears fall. He thinks this is going to be it when she says, “How long do you need? How long will it be like this?”

He doesn’t have an answer for that either.

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before setting him with a steely look that stops his breath. “Jughead, I love you. That hasn’t changed and I don’t think it ever could anymore. But I need you to remember who you are and what you want, because I don’t think it’s this. You said once that I was so much more than my family’s mess, their pressures and expectations. You are more than this now. Don’t let go of who you are because you think the future is one straight, preset path for you. You have options even if you don’t see them yet.”

Somewhere during her speech she’s lifted her hands to cup his cheeks, an action that instantly soothes his raw heart, her touch a cooling balm.

“We’re not our parents.” He’d said that to her to get her to stop spiraling. She was coming back at him with his own advice now, his own words of affection. “Promise me you’ll think everything through.” He nods, accepting her kiss. “I’m going to go home.”

She’s placed the ball in his court, the come and find me if you decide you want to lingering beneath her words.

Jughead steps out of the trailer, breathing in the sweet air of spring. He feels dizzy, not realising he’d been spinning until she’s steadied him. He can’t deny he’d been creeping towards the cliff edge of recklessness recently, relishing in the unrestrained freedom being on the right side of the Serpents gave him. If no one cared enough to parent him, then he wouldn’t act like he was worthy of being parented.

So what if he had to do a few runs for them. He’d always been background noise, an aid for intimidation mainly, making up the numbers.

But he knows what Betty had been getting at, what she’d been reminding him. Things like this, doing things at the word of others without stopping to think of the consequences first, could catch up to you in the worst way. Especially when you lived on the side of town considered to be off the radar by most of the people in the sheriff’s department.

The border of the town seems to close in around him as he stands on the front steps of the trailer, and he makes his decision.

They’re seventeen and sitting on the worn out couch in his dad’s trailer - his trailer - looking at college brochures.

“You’re not paying attention,” Betty chides, tapping the side of his head to get his focus back.

“Why would I focus on college brochures when there are far more interesting things to occupy my attention?” he smirks, turning away from the staticy television with a smirk, running his hand up the outside of her thigh until the tips of his fingers slide beneath the hem of her skirt. She slaps at it with a giggle, the laugh turning into a sigh when he squeezes the soft skin.

“Jug,” she breathes on an exhale, tilting her head to give him better access to the spot where he’s mouthing at her neck, peppering kisses and small nips of his teeth, soothing the sting with the flat of his tongue.

During all the times someone has forced him to think about his future, he never thought this current scenario would be part of it. Betty Cooper, reclining beneath him on his couch, eyelashes fluttering as she swallows, tugging at his hair with desperate fingers while he slips his hand beneath her skirt.

There’s a small stab of guilt that pokes at his stomach as his forefinger rubs over the front of her panties, his thumb running higher to circle over that spot that has his favourite sounds leaving her lips.

It’s not the first time she’s tried to broach the topic of colleges with him, and every time he’s found a way to pull the thoughts from her head, leaving her light and floating and entirely unfocused. Jughead feels slightly like he’s tainting one of his favourite activities by using it in this way. Betty moans his name and his own thoughts short out for a moment before she’s smiling dreamily at him and the guilt returns a shade brighter.

“You’re really good at that,” she sighs, boneless and sated. He kisses her for that, and just because he can, tucking her close against his side after she gets back from the bathroom and turning his attention back to the rerun of Jeopardy or whatever it is on the screen.

“You still aren’t paying attention.”

Crap. She’s being more persistent this time.

“Betty, we’re only just about to start senior year. I don’t see why I have to spend the end of my summer thinking about what I’m going to have to be doing in a years time,” he gripes, shuffling uncomfortably on the couch cushions.

“Because a year isn’t that long! We’re going to have to start applying really soon, and I want us both to have at least an idea of where we want to go before we go back in the fall,” she insists, and Jughead can feel his blood begin to simmer. He really doesn’t want to get angry with her when she’s only looking out for him, only trying to help. His head feels too full, and his limbs ache, and he suddenly has an intense desire to go to sleep.

“Well, I don’t have an idea. I’m not even sure if I’m going to college.” That stops her. She stills beside him, pulling out of his embrace to face him more fully.

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Of course you’re going to college,” she states, but Jughead is already shaking his head, pushing off the couch and facing away from her.

“You don’t know that, Betty,” he huffs in exasperation, feeling that everything he’s been trying to avoid is suddenly coming to a head. “I don’t know that.”

“But, you’re so smart, Jug. And… and you want to write, and get out of Riverdale and experience the world,” she lists enthusiastically, leaning forwards on the edge of her seat. “Listen, we’ve got time to think through this. And I’ll help edit your admissions essays, and ask Mrs Mayweather if she’ll write your reference because I know she’s got a soft spot for you, I just don’t think she’d admit it to your face.” She’s gesturing wildly, a sign Jughead recognises as her being particularly passionate and focused on something.

A distant memory that he’d rather suppress of him telling her he’s not ‘a project’ resurfaces along with the taste of bile and he swallows thickly.

“Betty.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, only half turning towards her. “It’s not about where, or what for, or even if I want to,” he replies woefully. “In case you forgot, my dad is in jail. This is his trailer, and I’m living here without him because he got sent down for a dead man’s crimes. I don’t have any money besides what I’m making at Pop’s, let alone enough for the extortionate fees required to continue on in the system of education.”

“There are scholarships for that, and loans. There are ways for you to do this,” Betty insists, standing up and talking the necessary steps to reach him. He fights to shrug her gentle touch from his shoulder, knowing he’s being cruel taking it out on her. She’s just trying to help, he’s the one who turned their evening upside down.

Something is thumping in Jughead’s head, a constant, thrumming heartbeat that has its source in the back of the coat closet, thick leather and bright embroidery.

His eyes must betray him and look towards the spot because Betty bristles. “You’re waiting for them to call you up, aren’t you?” she whispers, almost gasps, like the last piece of the puzzle has finally emerged from under the table where it had fallen, hiding all this time.

“Sweet Pea said something,” he admits.

“Sweet Pea,” she repeats, her tone accusatory.

“They’re close, Betty. They’re so close to bringing down the Ghoulies once and for all. Think about what this could do for the divide in this town, about how good it could be,” he explains, unable to stop the excited tingle that hums beneath his skin.

“You’re still obsessed with this… this rescue mission for a town that will probably never come together again. Why do you think it’s your responsibility to fix this?” she shouts, taking a step away from him, shaking.

“This is where I come from, Betty, I don’t get to choose!” he fights back, wanting nothing more than to stop yelling at her, to stop this trailer from reliving the soundtrack of his youth, but they’re already here and it’s already happening. “It doesn’t matter how many times someone from the Northside tells me I belong, the fact is that the prejudices in this town are everlasting. I’ll never be accepted as anything other than trailer trash who’s dating a girl who’s too good for him.”

“Don’t you dare,” she shoots back, shaking her head. Her hair is down around her shoulders but he can still see the defiant way her ponytail would swing if it were up. “You don’t get to decide who is and isn’t too good for me, not you,” she seethes. The air in the trailer has become too hot, too cloying, flushing both their cheeks and making him want to scream for some kind of release for the scalding pressure in his chest.

“No, not me,” he says bitterly. “Just everyone. The town, the world, the goddamn laws of the universe.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Betty scoffs.

“I’m just telling the truth!”

“You’re using this as an excuse, Jughead!” Their faces are impossibly close. “Everything is about the ‘rules of Riverdale’ having it out for us, and I’m starting to think that you just want to find a way not to be with me anymore.” Some of the fight has left her voice and she sounds weary.

“I don’t…” he begins, not sure how to finish his sentence. In a way, he supposes he’s always been keeping one eye on an out for them. Not because he wants it - god, he wants anything but - but because he thinks it’s coming for them anyway. And maybe if he’s prepared for it, it won’t hurt so much.

He’s wrong. This is still the most painful thing he’s ever experienced.

“You’re not happy, Betty,” he tells her; it’s not a question. “And I’m the reason why.”

“Well you are right now,” she laughs humorlessly, grabbing her bag and heading towards the door. “You’re fighting a one man war and it isn’t for the North and the South.” With that she’s gone.

They’re twenty and staring at each other across a coffee shop.

“What are you doing here?” Betty blurts out as soon as he says hello.

“Ah,” Jughead rubs at the back of his neck, a nervous tick, not as prepared as he thought he’d be upon seeing her again. “I’m starting my freshman year here.”

“Here?” she repeats, dumbfound.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Betty runs her hands down the front of her apron. The customer behind him clears his throat and he garbles something about a black coffee. She nods, fingertips brushing as he he hands over his change, and Jughead tries not to focus on the sparks that shoot down his arm.

He’s looking down at the book in his hands (first one on his required reading list) when her white Keds step into his peripheral vision. “Hi,” she whispers, glancing over her shoulder towards the other employees in the shop, leaning down to wipe his table in what he assumes is some facade of ‘working’.

“Hi,” he says again.

“How have you been?” she asks quietly, focusing on a invisible spot of dirt on the table.

“Reckless,” he admits truthfully, his eyes downturned and set above deep bags. There’s less tension in his face now, though, less weight of other people’s problems.

“I never liked you reckless,” she replies, so low he almost isn’t sure if he wasn’t supposed to hear it. “So, you’re going to college now?” she asks, louder this time. Jughead nods.

“Thought it was about time I got out of Riverdale. I, err, I sold my manuscript to a publisher. There was a pretty decent advance,” he informs her awkwardly. He’s overcome with conflicting sensations. She’d been the first person he wanted to tell when he’d received the email. Once upon a time she’d read the early draft, looping her arms around his neck as she told him how he deserved to be recognised for his talents, that he was going to get the acclaim he deserved. Only, when the opportunity came - too many years and too many changes too late - she was the one person he couldn’t share it with. Telling her now feels a bit like a consolation prize, not quite what it should have been.

“That’s so great, Juggie,” she praises earnestly, her eyes wide and sincere, clutching the refill jug to her chest. The nickname, coming from her lips instead of Archie’s or Jellybean’s, squeezes his gut in an uncomfortable way that he’s instantly addicted to all over again.

“Thanks,” he says bashfully, throwing in a noncommittal shrug for good measure.

“I always knew you’d have a bright future.” She’s speaking to him so softly, like he’s something delicate, like one wrong word and he’ll shatter and disappear right in front of her. He wants to change that.

“I think you were the only one who always did.”

They’re twenty six and Jughead can’t breathe.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words play over and over again, echoing on repeat, bouncing around Jughead’s skull like they’re looking for a way out.

He’s staring at the spot where Betty told him, sat cross-legged in the middle of their bed, chewing at her lower lip in apprehension as she lay her hands purposefully flat on her bent knees. He’d just come out of their bathroom when, “There’s something I need to tell you,” leaves her lips and sets his heart thudding.

Betty takes a deep breath, the pause allowing him to take in the small nuances of her features that he’s come to know so well over the years. Her brows are bent in careful apprehension, the corner of her lip trapped between her teeth in such a way that betrays her nerves but also her excitement. She’s worried - about his reaction, he guesses. Guilt makes his stomach swoop as he remembers all the times he’s given her reason to be so delicate when telling him things, and he makes sure to rearrange his expression into the most open and accepting one he has, soothing her with a look rather than a touch.

He can see, in the faint glimmer of her eyes, that despite her qualms, whatever it is she’s happy. And if Betty is happy about whatever she’s got to tell him, then he probably will be too.

So when she tells him those two words (one word and a contraction, he clarifies in his mind) he’s already cringing before the word, “Right,” leaves his mouth.

She leans back, the tension leaving her shoulders as her posture turns into somewhat of a dissatisfied slump.

“Um,” she starts, her eyes not quite fixing on him - he thinks she might have focused on the corner of their dresser just right of his shoulder. “Is that all?” Betty asks, her voice small and uncertain. The tremor that permeates it now is no longer a combination of nervousness and anticipation; she sounds as if she’s swallowing back tears.

Jughead feels like an ass. Worse than that, he feels like he should leave the room so she doesn’t have to look at his unresponsive, ineloquent, indelicate self.

But he’s completely frozen, both his tongue and his body. So all Jughead can do is stare at her as she doesn’t quite stare at him, desperately searching his brain for a way to invent time travel within the next two minutes.

He’s not sure how long the silence stretches on, but eventually Betty’s shoulders begin to shake and she clenches her fists, slipping quietly off the bed and out the door behind him.

Now he’s left staring at the ghost of her figure, the depression she’s left in the sheets, the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.

Jughead lowers himself to the mattress on wooden limbs, taking in the last ten minutes of his life, the shift that occurred so sudden and unexpectedly.

He knows that it shouldn’t really be a surprise. It may not have been a thought out, well formulated plan, but it still shouldn’t be a surprise. Despite all the odds, all his mistakes, all the denial of his early years, he and Betty are married, in their own home, with steady incomes and stable financials. They’ve been together through an awful lot and come out the other side, no matter how many barriers were placed in their way.

Jughead’s also aware of the logistics, thanks to a very awkward conversation that began with FP fumbling over his words and eventually throwing a dog-eared book from the Southside’s library at him before leaving the room. And he’s been there for all the times he and Betty have had sex. He knows the percentage failures of birth control.

So, logically, Jughead knows the potential has always been there, and that the next step in the precisely constructed, Alice Cooper approved, game of life plan that they’re supposed to be following, that he never saw himself playing a part in, is children.

He’d known that Betty thought about having children. He’d heard casual remarks about cute young families in restaurants, seen her making faces at babies in their strollers, talking about their family. But nothing had ever seemed so real, so solid, as that one small phrase still hanging in the air of their bedroom.

There’s something too familiar about them, though, and the more Jughead thinks about it, the more his chest tightens, oxygen being forced out of his lungs and not quite making its way back in.

Everything, for the first time in a long time, is too loud.

He’s once again in the trailer, sitting on the stained carpet of the living room, playing with a broken yellow truck that had come from the secondhand collection box put together for the kids on the Southside. Those words float over to him from the kitchen, light and trembling by the time they reach his ears.

What follows is scary but not unfamiliar. Shattered glass and falling furniture fills the air. His father’s voice is raging, his mother’s high pitched and wailing as she screams back. Can’t afford it, not going to happen, leaving for good are all phrases that rise above him, collecting over their heads in a rolling cloud of fury and despair that forms just beneath the cracked, grey plaster of the ceiling.

Jughead had crawled over to the storage cabinet beneath the kitchen counter and tucked himself inside, one of his few hiding places inside the trailer for when things like this happened, one he could get to now without having to pass his parents mid-match.

He doesn’t come out again until the door to the trailer slams shut, then the door to his parents’ bedroom, and the air has been still for at least one hundred Mississippi’s. He’d called the Andrews’ number on the main phone and Mary had come to get him, not even asking what had happened before she’s buckling him into her car and taking him home.

The sound of the kettle whistling to announce its boiling point atop the stove breaks through Jughead’s reverie. He blinks rapidly, unfocused eyes scanning the room - painted a light, breezy blue - around him. The ceiling above is a clear, clean white, and when he looks down his gaze lands upon the photo frame on the dresser.

Betty smiles back at him, carefree and happy, in a white, gauzy gown. His expression mirrors hers, somewhat more bashful as confetti falls around their embracing bodies. Next to it is Betty’s hairbrush, her bottle of perfume and her makeup. His eyes trace along to the floor where a pair of her discarded panties and his bunched socks are lying close enough to the laundry basket to be considered ‘in the zone’ of being washed. His reading glasses and book are on one of the bedside tables, her tablet and moisturiser on the other.

Everything around him is familiar and calming, signs of a routine, steady life, devoid of screaming matches and threatened walk-outs. He’s already living the life he’d never thought he’s get; it’s already, definitely, his.

Jughead feels his chin quiver, face crumpling as fast-welling tears make their way down his cheeks, dripping onto his lap. He ducks his head, elbows braced on his knees as he lets the emotions consume him completely, shoulders wracking with barely contained sobs.

“Juggie?” Her whisper has his head snapping up instantly.

Betty is standing behind the door frame, more concealed than normal as if she’s scared the sight of her will send him reeling again. She’s clutching a steaming mug in one hand. “I’m sorry,” Jughead gasps, unable to get the words out quick enough.

Her own face folds as she rushes over to him, setting the mug down on top of their drawers before wrapping her arms around him. “Oh, Jug.”

She runs her fingers through his hair, keeping his face buried in her stomach while his hands clutch at her, wrinkling the soft cotton of her shirt in his desperate hands. “I’m so sorry, Betty,” he chants, like he’s making a promise.

“It’s okay,” she hushes him, her touch soothing and cool. “It was a surprise, and we haven’t even discussed-” Betty stills, angling her lower body away from him like she thinks he won’t want to be close to the cause of his grief.

“No, no, no,” Jughead whispers, drawing her as close as possible, nuzzling against her skin. “I didn’t mean to react like that, I just…” Before, he couldn’t get his mouth to work, now he can’t get it to stop, spilling out his ill-founded fears, his knee-jerk reaction to her confession, before the reality of their situation, as far removed from the one his parents had been in as possible, broke through.

“It’s good, Betty. It’s really good,” he tells her earnestly, because he means it, it’s the only truth there’s ever been. Betty Cooper has supplied him with a future, despite the fact that he’d always shied away from the word. “You’ve already made me realise that while I didn’t want my parents marriage, I still wanted to get married. To you. And now this - I want this.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still a little skittish. Jughead closes his eyes against her skin as he exhales, wishing that he could end this dance with his childhood that’s flowed into his present. He presses his chapped lips to her abdomen, where their child is now growing, feeling her inhale.

When he looks up, she’s got that look in her eyes again - quiet excitement. Gentle hope.

God, she’s beautiful. He knows they’ll need to talk about this for the rest of the night, about what his reaction means. But that look is all he wants to think about right now, the fact that she’s still giving it to him twenty years later. That they’re beginning their new future, together.

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead prompts #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty cooper x jughead jones #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #jetty #writing

186 notes · View notes

leeeovitate · 5 years ago

Text

April 22,2020 3:23AM: It was not intended but this ended up becoming my high school memoir.

I sifted through my old journals. I have been obsessed with notebooks and pens back then, maybe a little bit until now. You see I wanted to be an artist. At least 5 of them were filled with songs and rubbish from cover to cover.I remember the first song I wrote way back in 2007 or 2008. It was called “Putting Traces” and the first I ever played was for my grandmother on her birthday. I played a video of it I recorded with my sister at her dinner party. I don’t think she appreciated it or maybe it just wasn’t any good but she was polite about it. It was called “Thank you for everything”. My first songs notebook was a tinee tiny one with the Eiffel Tower in black on the cover and silver on every page. Then I got obsessed with buying every journal that looks cute or has music related designs or the ones with London and Paris or other European countries that I would love to visit. Then I bought every pen to my liking and spent my lunch money on paperbacks. I was basically a resident at National Bookstore or the stationery section of every mall. I scanned them all tonight, those journals. I forgot about some songs but when I read the line it comes like a flashback to me. That is why I kept writing. It immortalizes the moment. When I play that song, I feel like the emotions turn into concrete and I could go back when I want to feel it again. I was so sure of myself in the songs I wrote before. I knew what I wanted and that was to make music. Maybe I had that dream of being magically sent a record deal. I wanted to have a world tour before 18 but the world was never in my favor. I remember setting a deadline and counting down like Lena did on Beautiful Chaos. I think I also set it on 100 days but nothing happened.

High school is the best years of my life. I remember one of my friends borrowing my songs journal and told me all my titles sounded nice. I have one friend who writes fiction, legit ones and we would talk after class until our fetch arrives and then we’d talk more on the telephone when we get home. I don’t have that in medschool. One time, our teacher made us do a school project. It was to write to a novel incorporating our topics on math class. Epic, I know. I planned it out alright, written everything with a plot but I never finished it and ended up rushing for the deadline. I won’t ever forget that. I loved doing it so much. My fiction writer friend, she ended up writing a sequel for the story she submitted as a math project. Then I also read some of the stories my classmates made. I felt surrounded by talented people and it felt really good. Then in English class, junior year we were required to have a green journal and have at least 3 entries per week. It could be a diary entry, poem, essay, sketch, whatever you like. We also had drama class. I remember saying the lines “The cat sat on the mat.... etc” with different emotions. I freaking nailed it. I loved it so much. The we were also asked to advertise a specific product we made up by pairs. Ours was a perfume and I played a fairy. The nicknamed me “Mama Fairy Tree Rapunzel Country Girl”. I had really long hair and used to braid it. Then I played guitar singing country songs. We also assigned ourselves to greek mythology characters, mine was Gaea. I was also quite tall back then and they say my limbs were long so I was like a tree with roots to the earth and that is where they all came from. We had to write a play for our final project. I was “musical director” and I was not good at my job but I freaking enjoyed it so much.

The senior year we had lit classics and we just have the best teacher on mythology and poetry. Wont ever forget him reprimanding me for reading “statue” wrong. Freshman year, we have 2-hour PE classes and the last hour was spent however we wanted. We would play and sometimes we would just sit around our teacher’s cassette player singing along to our favorite songs while the wind is blowing at the topmost floor of our high school building. Oh what I would do to go back. There was a time when I chose a ribbon as prop for gymnastics practical exam and danced to Avril Lavigne’s “Freak Out Let It Go”. I hated individual stage work but it was something we all had to do and my high school crowd were not mean. I used to choreograph dance routines, unbelievable if you see me now but yes, I remember when I did that. I would do it all over again. I have that one friend, the least I expected of all, who got into kpop. It was epic.

When we are feeling lost, our CLE teacher taugh us to open the bible at a random page and read those two sheets spread open. Whatever we have bothering us, God’s answer are within those pages and it is up to us how to interpret it. I think it also became a project like we were meant to do it everyday for a month or something. She collected money for a journal but it was never delivered though. I have no idea what happened. We also made a promise to meet in March 2020 or 2021 as a class but I think everyone forgot about it or are just too busy, these days. In high school, we made so many films too. Man it was great. You probably could already tell how much I enjoy acting and the I have this friend who is a really awesome video editor.

We also had the best advance chemistry and advance physics teachers. One time at the physics lab, I was busy reading my some Paulo Coehlo I did not notice that I got called in class. That was epic. My teacher threatened to confiscate my book, thank God she didnt. My only argument was “This is not a pocket book, Ms. Violeta.” Our statistics teacher, freshman year who entered the congregation of nuns kept saying “K” in class. It was really funny, my friend and I tallied the number of times she said it until we ran out of scratch paper. Would you believe that the highest grade I got in high school was in Geometry and the lowest I got was in Calculus? Lol I turned in an unfinished Calculus final exam because my tummy was upset but my teacher won’t accept it. I could not tell him what I was feeling at the time so I shaded the letter C in every item and I kind of flunked the exam. I was not that frustrated though. I was never the grade conscious type.

There is this cafe we frequented back then, It was called “Book Latte” and we got membership cards so we could rent books and chill in secluded spots. The place was really fancy but not that wide. Pizza Hut on the same mall became “our spot” with someone I used to consider one of my best friends. One of our friend’s became our go to for schoolworks and shooting videos or movie marathon. In math class again we had to do a song adaptation with video. We did a remix but Fall for You by Secondhand Serenade will always remind me of that. It goes “because tonight will be the night that I will study math over again don’t make me change my mind”. There was a competition in relation to Buwan ng Wika or our Foundation day every august. For the first 2 years of high school it was song adaptation and for the juniors and seniors it was song composition. For the first year, we did Awit Ng Kabataan by Rivermaya and my author/video editor friend wrote the lyrics. I think we skipped on sophomore year. I was not yet comfortable with exposing my songwriting in general at the time. I struggle with confidence issues until now. They assigned me for our junior year. I did it on guitar and piano. I had piano lessons when I was 9 but I did not appreciate it until years after. Our Environmental Science teacher who used to be in a band helped us out abit and they were rushing with the deadline for the song, I kind of backed off. My clubmate did it instead. Senior year, Had the song done early and we got first place. I was truly grateful.

I joined Guitaristas club freshman year. We were assigned into tutor-tutee. I was a tutee of course. I was assigned to someone who was like the great guitar player who was in a band and I was crushing on. He was so nice and he taught me guitar. I wonder if he still remembers me though. I don’t think he’ll recognize when we see eachother on the street. The the club changed it’s name to Tokata club and I spent two years there. We once played Back to December as a band on family day. The guy on drums is someone I was crushing on. I nicknamed him Orange because he told us about Battaglia delle Aranche, not sure if I remember that correctly. The past years I hated waking up early. Most often I’m late for class that they made me class monitor for like 2 years or so. I hated staying at home and I would wake up early. Some days I get to school at about sunrise and he would be there too. That was how we became really good friends and I became close to his younger brother too. My senior year, Speakers zone. It was a new club and it was accidentally not included in our new club ballot sheets. I think they accidentally printed out the old ones from last year. Our english teacher told us about it and only like 7 or 8 of us joined. All from our class. Every monday morning, we had to do a news report after flag ceremony. We were assigned sports new, weather, current affairs, celebrity, etc. It scared the shit out of me, stage fright and shit. I wanted to get over that so I forced myself to audition for our Literary Musical contest, newscasting category and got picked but I lost. I talk really fast and my nerves get the best of me. I was so scared, I wanted to chicken out minutes before the contest. I wanted to walk away from the stage instead of towards it.

We also had monthly trips and my favorite was doing grocery shopping the afternoon before with my groupmates. We assigned to prepare meals and took turns to cook. We went to islands, camps and other educational sites. It was so fun. Although I could not bloody swim and some days I feel sad because of being away from home. I missed 2 trips and forever hating my parents for it. I know they were just concerned but I missed out on alot. It was heartbreaking. I think it was because on our first trip, we climbed a mountain and stayed at a beach and I asked my parents to come over because my chest was aching but turns out I just needed rest. I don’t think I went home with them though or maybe I did, I kind of forgot. I stayed and missed the team building activities but I got to watch the games. Second trip, I missed. They talked about ghost soldiers and stuff. Third trip, we had to swim from one island to another which I couldn’t so I used a canoe, sort of. My mom accompanied us that time, she helped out with cooking and some other things. We stayed for 2 nights and one of my friend’s mom visited us too. Fourth trip, I think it’s that another one I missed. One time, we thought we discovered dinosaur remains, yeah our imagination were that wild. Some of us went fishing and the rest of us stayed at the Marine Biology site. We played ins and one of us tripped on a huge rock which was shaped like a dinosaur’s head. Then we started digging and then we talked about the islands around us making up stories about it. That night, we all slept at the rooftop and had a shadow show. Then we saw shooting stars. One unforgettable experience I had was getting lost in the mountains and getting help from NPAs because they freaking had rifles. It was raining and should have be frightening but at the time, it was more fun than scary and they brought us safe and sound to our campsite. I had a nightmare that night but I loved literally sleeping beneath the stars. I forgot how many trip we went to in total but I am thankful for each and every single one of them

It is funny how I went from a kid with all the big dreams to who I am today.

#kids #high school #life #hijas #memory

0 notes