#betty would twist it and say he only cares about the car and then more yelling and then cuartel would hear this watch from the window

[ladysophiebeckett]

so many fics about armando going to cartagena or armando finding out she knows about the letter but not ONE fic about betty agreeing to get in the car with armando at inesita's to avoid nicolas getting the shit beat out of him. not a single one. not one fic about them having a yelling match in his car like a couple at a cvs parking lot.

[moonlightlullaby]

no celebrations?

summary: Corpse and reader celebrate his birthday in the most chill way. Based on this lovely request (ty again for sending it!) 

pairing: corpse husband x gn! reader

category: fluff

warnings: food ingestion; alcohol ingestion; loads of physical touch (let me know if I forgot to mention anything)

A/N: Hello (: This is such a lovely concept, I just couldn’t wait to get started hehe Also, I got a bit carried away and just went with it, so I’m really sorry if that’s not what you’d pictured. I do hope you enjoy it tho <3 Take care!

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Walking into our shared bedroom, I catch the sight of Corpse exiting the bathroom. As our eyes lock, my lips curl up tiredly and a long sigh I didn’t even know I’ve been holding finally frees itself. He sits on the edge of our bed and extends his hand to me. When I take it, he pulls me so I stand in the space between his legs.

“How was the day?” he asks with both of his hands on my waist. 

I hum, quirking a brow and tilting my head a bit “At least tomorrow - you know, the most unspecial, completely ordinary day of the year -” this earns a giggle from my boyfriend “is Sunday and I can just ignore all of that” I wave my hand in the direction of the adjacent room, where my laptop - filled with texts, assignments, spreadsheets and appointed Zoom calls - is. 

At my words, Corpse wraps his arms around my figure, pulls my body even closer to him and plants a kiss on my stomach through my shirt. My hands, in turn, caress his upper back and soft hair. 

Coming in contact with the string of his eyepatch in the process, I lean back slightly, which causes him to shoot up at me with a small frown and pouty lips. He sits still, though, as I carefully remove his eyepatch, and, while his eyes are still closed, I give each of his lids a peck. He smiles and tilts his head up to meet my lips in a long, tender and effortless kiss. Oh finally.

The idea of quarantining together was welcomed as a blessing by both of us. It meant more time spent together after all. However, with my school and work demands and Corpse’s irregular schedule, we still barely see each other throughout the day in spite of being a few feet apart from one another. And when bedtime rolls in, we’re both so exhausted all we can do is mumble words that could be counted in the fingers of one hand before drifting off. This, of course, when my boyfriend doesn’t stay up until dawn working. Don’t get me wrong, I’m his number 1 fan and admire his passion and all the hard work he puts in everything he sets his mind to, but I’m also not going to lie and say I don’t miss his warmth at night. Hence I want to devote this Sunday to him.

After a while, I break the silence “I’ll be right back.”

I let go of his hold and take my turn to use the bathroom. After doing my night routine, brushing my teeth and getting into my cozy pajamas, I walk back in the dark room and lie down, settling myself back in Corpse’s hug like two puzzle pieces matching together.

~~~~~

The excitement for a new day - not any day, no, but August 8th - washes over me as soon as I open my eyes and get a glimpse of the sleepy boy next to me. 

A couple of minutes go by as I contemplate on getting up, torn between prolonging our cuddling for some more and doing something to show Corpse my appreciation for him. The latter wins and I, cautious not to wake him up, slowly unwrap my arms from him and step out of the bed. Drawing the curtains to make sure the summer daylight doesn’t disturb his peaceful state of mind, I make my way out of the room and to the kitchen. 

Wondering what to make for breakfast, I take a good look around until my eyes catch the plethora of fruits we’ve bought a few days ago. Fruit salad it is. 

Corpse has, for as long as we’ve known each other, made it very clear he isn’t too fond of his anniversary and similar celebrations - and, even if he hadn’t explained it to me, it’s rather evident how uncomfortable they make him. This year, his friends’ and especially his fans’ hype for the date - although unintentionally - has added an extra layer of unease to it all, to which I don’t intend to contribute.

Even though I don’t want to make matters worse and would never overstep his boundaries like this (because, thankfully, I’m not Betty Cooper and he isn’t Jughead Jones), I still want to celebrate Corpse. I want to celebrate his birth and his existence, which I’m immensely grateful for. He’s both the best friend I can confide in blindly and the lover I want to share my lifetime with. He sticks to his truth and dreams higher than I could ever imagine. He turns the darkness in the world and in his mind into light with his words and with his laugh. Having him in my life is one of the best things to ever happen to me and seeing him fly makes me more proud than I can put into words. 

There’s a lot to toast to, so the solution is a celebration that is so smooth and so chill - the smoothest and most chill possible - that it doesn’t even feel like one. Just log off and enjoy a laid back day together.

As I chop a kiwi and make a mental list of fun and uncomplicated things we can do that don’t require much time and many skills, in walks Corpse, in an old white tee which is one too many sizes bigger than him and in his black sweatpants. He rubs his eyes and lets a raspy “good morning”.

“Mornin- wow! They really weren’t lying when they said when you hit 24, hotness knocks at your door”

He chuckles and shakes his head “No one’s said that”

“Well, then consider yourself the muse of a new proverb, baby”

He scrunches up his nose in response before grabbing the cup of orange juice I’d placed on the counter and taking a gulp. 

“Thank you” he turns my face and gives me an orange-flavoured kiss, neither of us having ever really cared about morning breath. 

“For calling you hot? Oh save it to when I’m done with the list of cheesy compliments I have for you” I take a grape and before I can get it in my mouth, he steals it, with wrinkles on the corner of his eyes.

“Then we’d be here for eternity!” he’s not wrong.

Corpse helps me put the fresh fruits in bowls and, with them and our juice cup in hand, we head to the balcony. Sitting next to each other, we calmly eat, take in the light blue sky and the cars and passersby changing the scenery ahead of us. Conversation flows naturally.

As we empty our bowls - after stealing many bits from each other -, I twist in my seat and face him “Hey, Corpse, do you see this?” I point to the very prominent and familiar dark circles under my eyes. “Wanna help me get rid of them?” I ask, knowing damn well it’d take a lifetime for them to actually go away and not giving up regardless.

~~~~~

The bathroom is filled with chatter and laughter and the sink, with hair clips, scrunchies, a sharpie, bowls, hair products and a towel. Corpse hisses as our cool homemade face mask comes in contact with his skin. His curly hair is pushed back and held by a blue hairband and I apply the mask to his face, making sure not to leave any spots uncovered. Well, that’s what I’m trying to do, which becomes an unnecessarily challenging task when my lovely partner can’t be still for more than two seconds. 

He kept switching between dancing to Soulmate, by Mac Miller, and mouthing its lyrics. Now that I got him - after a small threat that I wouldn’t hesitate putting this weird mix we made in his pretty mouth - to keep his lips together, the (adorable, admittedly) swaying, however, continues. He stops momentarily, only to shuffle things around right after.

Something cold touches my skin, making it my turn to let out a hiss this time. The sound is accompanied by a small jump, caused by the surprise. Corpse chuckles and, when I glance at the spot on my arm the cold thing came in contact with, I realize it’s just the sharpie. All he does is give me a mischievous smile.

While I keep massaging his face and covering it with the mask, Corpse litters my body with his drawings. Smiley faces, lightning bolts, hearts, clouds... his repertoire is vast and any exposed skin he can find becomes his canvas. Each line causing me to giggle and shudder a little. With him focused on his creations, it’s 10 times easier for me to complete my task. 

“Alright, my turn” he states, smiling, and I’m quick to grab the sharpie. 

As he adjusts a matching hairband on my head, I put a dainty heart on his neck. And, as he takes the bowl in his hands, I swiftly plant a kiss on top of the drawing. At this, he sighs in content and my chest gets warmer.

I soon understand how hard it was for him to stay still as Stay comes on and all I want to do is have a little karaoke session and dance. Corpse entertains himself with my struggle and, because it’s his birthday, I’ll let it slide. So, to make the whole process easier, instead of focusing on the song, I focus on the gorgeous face in front of me. A beautiful face to a beautiful soul. 

One of the various perks of sharing an apartment with Corpse is I get to see this face in all ways: sleepy, completely clean - no makeup, no mask -, all wrinkled in the morning, red when he’s embarrassed or when he laughs too hard… His laughter. Its sound pulls me from my trance “You’re staring, y/n” 

“Well, at least I wasn’t moving around, Corpse” I reply with squinted eyes and nudge his side playfully. 

We begin collecting the things scattered across the sink and storing them in the cabinet, and the song comes to an end, giving way to Dang!

“How long do we keep these on?” 

I hum at the question and check the playlist on shuffle on my phone “How does 5 minutes and 2 seconds sound?” 

Facing him, his grin mirrors mine and he spins me around. We laugh and allow ourselves to be as goofy as possible, jamming and moving our limbs around with a green paste on our faces.

~~~~~

After washing off the masks in the shower and painting our nails - so we’re both rocking the black nail polish look -, we’ve set our minds to - finally - finish the puzzle we started two months ago. It’s a 90’s anime setting inspired composition and we’d gotten about 40% of it done before our schedules got more hectic and the game, well, pushed aside. For weeks, the pieces sat on the ground of our living room and silently judged us every time either of us stepped to the side, as we crossed the room, in order not to crush them.

Sitting around the puzzle with comfy clothes, we team up against it and indulge in the wine Corpse’s got us and the hawaiian pizza I’ve ordered. 

As the picture comes more and more to life, moments of comfortable silence and of chattery - when we talk about anything from our shopping list and gossip about our neighbours’ lives to parallel universes and the matrix - follow one another. A different playlist on shuffle is our background noise. 

Time flies and the sun’s already hidden when it clicks to us that there are only 5 pieces left. Each piece is fitted in the whole with a giddier feeling than the previous. Corpse picks the last one - deep blue with purple and black specks - and turns to me with an excited smile and an eager gaze that I’m sure are mirrored on my face. I nod encouragingly. He places it in the puzzle and celebratory sounds fill the room.

Corpse stretches his arms and pulls me in a hug, but, since we’re both kneeling and because of the distance between us, we end up falling and lying on the ground in rather uncomfortable positions. 

“Come on, puzzle, that was easy breezy! Gotta step up your game if you really wanna challenge this duo right here!”

“Oh for sure!” Corpse squeaks as we laugh at our nonsensical brag.

After a moment while we catch our breath, he rubs my back and speaks, pulling my attention to him “Not that I’m not loving this position, but what if we watched some Drag Race?”

Is this man real? If I couldn’t feel his heart beating under me or his arms around my figure, I’d be sure he’s just a figment of my imagination. “But it’s your b- don’t you wanna choose something you like more? Li-” 

“Nope,” he boops my nose “Drag Race, or maybe Love Island, would be great right now.” And people still dare say the perfect man doesn’t exist!

“You’re such a dream!” I give him a quick peck before continuing “Ok, so I put on the show and you get more wine…?” He hums in approval and stands up. Our eyes briefly jump from each other to the puzzle and back to each other, then we simply nod. A silent agreement to leave the puzzle here. We’re both too lazy to put all the pieces back in the box and too proud of our achievement to let it go just yet; besides, everything’s been sitting here for about two months, what are a few more hours?

He steps to the side, gets our glasses and makes his way to the kitchen. I lie on the couch and scan Netflix for Drag Race. Corpse comes back, placing the glasses next to the couch, and gently lies down on top of me. He nests his head on my chest and we both hum contently.  

While RuPaul announces what the winner’s prize will be, I play with his hair, letting my fingers knead his curls. His right hand flies up to meet mine and I bring our intertwined hands to my lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses. The gesture is cut by a loud laugh that escapes my lips as miss Vanjie Mateo’s iconic moment replays on the screen. 

“Hey,” Corpse’s voice makes me look right back at him “I love you. You know that, right?”

My heart melts at his words and at the way he’s looking at me right now. I nod with a smile.

“I love you too, birthday boy.”

[renhaswritersblock]

Kinktober Day 1: Facesitting||Anonymous Sex - Johnson

Word Count: 2174

Warnings: Oral, overstimulation, faded sex, slight angst

A/N: Hello! So, I kinda got a bit carried away with this one *looks at the word count* hehe. But I hope you enjoy reading this fic. Was a bit hesitant at first while writing this smut, but with a few readings from a couple of friends, I continued writing! It's sort of unfinished, a work in progress. The rest of the kinktober day's will probably be short, not sure yet. I have a few exams this week and work is being a cunt, so the writing will be delayed for a short while, sorry. Also, I refer to Johnson in this fic as "The Man" cause of the anonymous sex part. Anyways, again, hope you enjoy reading! Let me know what you think. I do accept feedback/criticism, just don't abuse that power. And I hope ya'll are having a wonderful day. -Ren

~~~

“So, do you mind telling me where the hell we’re going, Frankie?” the strawberry-blonde glanced over at her friend sitting beside her, gripping anxiously at the steering wheel.

Frankie had her head leaned halfway against the open window of the moving car. Feeling the cool summer-night breeze hit her face while her hand traces circles on her wooden thigh. A small yet noticeable grin leisurely forms on the brunette’s face, thinking about tonight’s plans. She had been looking forward to this night for some time, finally be able to get away from the Bang-a-Rang - a place she once called home but is now a prison - and go wherever the river takes her.

“Hello? Earth to Frankie.” Frankie opened her eyes, turning her head swiftly towards the calling of her name. “Are you going to answer my question? Or do I have to turn the damn car around and drive back?”

Frankie pressed her lips together, letting out an exasperate sigh. “You worry too much, V,” she finally replied in a soft, choleric voice.

“No shit,” V retorted, “I rather not have Aunt Rosemary or Dennis be on my fucking ass if you’re doing something that could get us in trouble. Or worse, killed.” She glanced once more at Frankie with a furrowed brow. The brunette rolled her eyes with a snarl, glaring back out the window, head resting in hand. The pale broad’s narrowed eyes dropped into a pitiful look, sighing as she turned her attention back on the road. “Look, hon. I’m trying to be there for you more and back you up, but you can’t just leave me in the dark. You know what happened last time, fuck, it scared the living shit out of me.” Frankie’s eyes darted down at her wrist, seeing the visible dark-faded bruises wrapped around her like a cuff. Her face scrunched mournfully at the memory, remembering how painfully tight those bastards tied the chains. “I don’t want you to die, Frankie,” V finished, becoming teary-eyed.

The strawberry-blonde jumped at the gentle touch of something weighing on her shoulder. Looking over, she saw the olive-skin hand belonging to Frankie, giving a light squeeze for reassurance. “Didn’t know you cared this much about me, V. Thanks,” Frankie gave a half sympathetic smile, V returning a similar smile. “But you should save that melancholic shit-talking for your butch when it gets close to war,” She quipped, making V scowl and slap Frankie’s hand off her shoulder.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Frankie couldn’t help but tilt her head back and release a cackle as V continued staring angrily at the road.

“I’m just fucking with you, puta. You know I love you.” The brunette adjusted herself in her seat, now sitting up straight. “Anyways, a little birdie sent me a note to meet them at this motel in town,” Frankie pulled out a wrinkled note from the pocket of her shorts, handing it to V, “Mira. Thought I could -you know- check it out.” V quickly snatched the piece of paper, silently reading it while keeping an eye on the road.

In town only for tonight. Meet me at the Woodland Motel at 8 pm sharp, don’t be late. See you there.

Ps. bring the thing XO

“The thing?” V quirked up a brow, turning to Frankie with a puzzled expression. All the brunette could do was shrug at her response, fixing her spaghetti strap. V scoffed as she shook her head in disbelief, “Do you even know who you’re meeting? It could be some crazy lunatic who’ll bash your brains out or make you end up in a tub full of ice with a missing organ!” Frankie reached to grab the note out of her friend’s hand as she was waving it around in the air. “Honestly, Frankie. Do you not see the red flags here?”

“Nope.” The brunette answered with a popping sound on the p, “Plus, I know him. Known him for a pretty long time. And besides-” she bends down, tracing her fingers on the smooth wood of her prosthesis. Finding the split crack, she gently pulled at it to reveal a hollowed compartment and a revolver nestled inside. “-if I ever am in danger. I always have this.” She took the gun out of its chamber, swaying it in the air.

---

Lighting another cigarette, the man watched from his car as the brunette struts out of the front office towards the parked convertible, bending down to lean against the car’s open window of the driver’s side.

The last time he saw her, her shaggy hair was long and vibrant, reaching down to her backside, her bangs acting as curtains to shield away her flaws, as she called it. Now her hair was short - below the ears and sleek, it reminded him of Betty Boop.

It was unclear what she was saying to her friend, but not even a minute passed when the convertible came to life and started to drive off, leaving the girl wiggly waving goodbye. Once the car was out of sight, she twirled in the direction of her room.

He couldn’t help but stare longingly at her ass. How her shorts hugged tightly around the brunette, revealing more of her curves and backside. Even her tight-fitted tank top that displayed her womanly busty’s made the man’s cock twitch as they bounced merrily.

When she entered the motel room, the man waited a couple more minutes, taking one good draw of his cigarette puffing out a cloud of smoke before exiting the vehicle. Throwing the cig on the ground, he swaggers across the street, taking out a spare room key from the pocket of his blazer, and approached quietly to the door to room 6.

---

Frankie let out a faint moan, feeling a wave of pleasure overtake her as she played frantically with her clit. Her face growing red hot, firmly cupping one of her breasts, whimpering lowly when she twisted the nipple to feel the burning friction and pressed down on a particular spot of her clit that made her see stars.

After she stepped inside the room, the brunette did not waste time quickly disposing of all her clothes and hopped daintily on top of the bed, not even bothering to turn on the light. She wanted to start slowly, gradually roaming her hands around her body and steadily rubbing her slit on the outer layer of her boxers, but the brunette was impatient. Hungry for the pleasure that would push her over the edge. Intimacy she hadn’t felt for a long time.

Now, sprawled out on the bed, Frankie writhed in frustration, her free hand clenching the pillow below her head as she concentrated on the small squelching sounds of her pussy from teasing her bud. Eyes shut tight, biting back her cries of bliss. She could feel it rising, the knot in her stomach tightening, aching to be released. Yet Frankie refused to, not wanting to climax so soon. Not without him.

She wondered where he was. Wishing -fuck- begging for him to show up and claim her, ruin her, make her a mess. Turning her head toward the nightstand, she saw the red numbers illuminate from the digital clock reading 8:22 pm. Maybe he was running late. The river always kept him busy and distracted, slowly drifting him away from her, leaving her to sink further into the watery depths of the current to drown. Maybe she was set up, that this was another one of the pin-up’s sick jokes to get back at her. Frankie’s chest ached tightly at the many dejecting thoughts consuming her, stopping and removing her hand out of her boxers. He’s not showing up, Frankie thought, tears beginning to cloud her vision.

Suddenly, a pair of hands swiftly grabbed her by the leg and thigh, pulling the brunette down at the edge of the bed. Frankie released a startled squeal, opening her eyes widely to see the dark outline of a man hovering above, two dimly lit orbs longingly staring at her. She gazed back up at the man with a slack-jaw, blushing. Wondering how long had he been here, watching her touch herself soundlessly. Her breath hitched, jolting when she felt the cold but comforting touch of the man, delicately tracing her slender frame. Sending her body trembling every time the tip of his fingers draw near a sensitive bit. He moves down to her breasts, burying his face between them, giving small pecks and soft bites of reassurance that left the brunette flush, turning her head to the side biting her fist to hold back the moans. Noticing this, the man then latched his mouth onto one of her nipples. Frankie hissed and jerked at the pleasurable shock as he sank his teeth into her, granting a loud moan to escape from her lips. She could sense the man looking up, smirking smugly. He repeated his action one more time, greedily wanting to hear her whines and soundless beggings.

Hooking a finger on the waistband of her boyshorts, he steadily tugged the fabric down, opening her legs to fully exposing her wetness. The brunette’s breathed heavily as the man left a trail of tender kisses, going down between her legs. Before he could press his lips against her heat, his hand brushed her thigh accidentally, making the girl flinch and back away out of instinct. He looked up at her with a furrowed brow, questioning what he did to make her panic and flee so slightly. Then it hit him. His eyes darted back at her leg and at the wooden prosthesis still strapped onto her mid-thigh, realizing the mistake he made. He looked back up to her, kissing her other leg apologetically, signaling that he wasn’t going to do anything she was thinking of again. Frankie mumbled an ok before moving hesitantly closer, carefully leaning back and opening her legs once more.

Immediately, he sinks his face into her cunt, dragging his tongue up and down her slit to savor her juice. Frankie whined and stirred, arching her back at the feeling of him vigorously eating her out. As his mouth focused on engorging her clit, he worked two fingers into her hole, perfectly sliding inside her.

The brunette choked out a moan at the intrusion, grabbing ahold of the bedsheets as he slowly dragged his fingers out and quickly shoved them back in, setting a rough pace that hit her g-spot with every thrust. Her hips began to move to meet his fingers and tongue as he proceeded to fuck her, picking up his pace and going knuckles deep. She felt pressure build in the pit of her stomach, increasing by the second. With a brisk roll of his tongue over her clit, Frankie arched her back and spasmed into a powerful orgasm.

“Oh, f-fuck!” Frankie’s eyes rolled back as her body shook violently, huffing out of breath at the sensation.

When the brunette came down from her high, she thought that was the end of it. Only for the man to grab both her hips and pulled Frankie closer to his face, continuing to burrow his tongue into her, repeatedly hitting her sweet spot. Frankie tensed up at the feeling of being stimulated again, bracing for another climax that was closing in. She reached down to try and pull his head away from her. To no avail, the man moving it away by extending his hand out to hers, fingers intertwined. No matter how many times she squirmed away from the man’s face, he would always go forward and proceed to work on her cunt, digging his nails into her skin. Then the brunette made an attempt to roll over to detach his lips from her folds, but it only flipped him over to his back, pulling her to sit on his face.

“S-stop. I-It’s too -fuck- It’s too much,” The brunette arose, gripping at the man’s hands as support, as well as to pry them open, “Fu-Fuck, I’m gonna- AH!” She cried out, snapping her head back as another orgasm came crashing shockwaves of ecstasy into her. The man emitted a mm, parting his lips away from her snatch to breathe. Frankie took it as an opportunity to free herself from him, wearily getting off and slumping next to the man on her back, also catching her breath.

Not even a minute had passed when she heard the metal clang of a belt and looked down to see the silhouette of the man seated upwards. He began to remove his pants, tugging them down to his knees, and turned to face the brunette.

“Just give me a minute.” She responded with a raspy voice, lifting herself gradually. Frankie perched at the side of the bed, unclasping the leather strap of her prosthesis. Removing her leg, she leaned it against the wall and crawled back to the middle, spreading out to present herself to the man. With a slight close-lipped smile, she purred, “Ready when you are, cariño.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In the Neighbourhood

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, very lightly edited

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After your grandmother breaks her hip, you volunteer to look after her as she recovers but her neighbour is a bit too friendly.

Note: @lokislastlove​ thinks I won’t call her out anymore but I’m calling her out and you should too. Always blame her.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your grandmother’s house never changed. Nestled between two larger homes and with grass as green as the next, it was as perfect as any along the suburban sprawl. Inside, the same framed pictures of your mother and your aunt and uncle, those of you, your siblings, and your cousins, and family members you only saw at reunions. All of them far away. All of them keeping her company only in the still images. None of them coming to care for her; none but you.

You didn’t mind so much. With two degrees under your belt, you were ready to start your novel as you pondered a third. Your online transcription job was easy enough to travel with and you loved your grandmother. The least you could do was help her out in her recovery. A broken hip but otherwise okay. She couldn’t do much from her wheelchair and you feared a worse injury if she tried.

You moved in on a Sunday. The family next door, the Barbers, were the perfect picture of a suburban clan. Andy introduced himself and his wife, Laurie, and their quiet son, Jacob. Then they asked if your grandmother, Lucille, was coming to their barbecue that afternoon and invited you along with her. Your grandmother confirmed that she didn’t want to miss out on Laurie’s potato salad because she’d tripped on a rug.

So you wheeled her over, careful as the grass slowed the chair, and you angled her through the open gate. You seemed to be the last to arrive. The air smelled of searing beef and swirled with the buzz of voices. You stood behind your grandmother’s chair as you looked around nervously and a plump woman with short curly white hair approached.

“Darla!” You grandmother greeted. “You’re back from your little getaway.”

“Arn was keen to come home,” The woman smiled up at you and back to your grandmother. “I heard you had a bit of an incident.”

“Oh, still spry, but the damn doctor has me ‘takin’ it easy’,” You grandma sneered. “I’ll be up at it before long. This is my granddaughter, you remember her, don’t you?”

“I do,” Darla smiled though you barely remembered her. “So sweet of you to come down to look after our Lucille.”

“It’s nothing,” You said. “I owe her. I spent too many holidays on campus.”

“That you did,” Your grandmother chided. “But do go on and socialise, dear. There must be someone here your own age. Or closer to. You can’t be lettin’ yourself get caught up with us old biddies.”

“I’m fine,” You chuckled. “Really.”

“You go. Get something to drink.” You grandmother snapped her fingers. “Mingle!”

You huffed but left her with Darla and another woman, you were certain her name was Betty, passed you on her way to join them. You looked around. The wives were in their clusters and the men drank from brown bottles as they laughed and talked about sports. You didn’t know about children or baseball. 

You went to the end of the table, just by the barbecue, a cooler open and waited as a young boy claimed a can of Orange Crush. You reached inside and took out a grape soda. The lid of the barbecue closed and you turned to face its master; Andy smiled as you blinked at him.

“That’s the kid’s cooler,” He said. “There’s a mini fridge in the garage if you want something stronger.”

“I’m good with this,” You cracked the can. 

“I thought you were a college girl,” He said as he set down his long spatula.

“Graduated.” You assured him. “Never was big on the scene though.”

“Really?” He lifted a brow. “I kinda miss it.” He stepped around the barbecue, closer to you. “It was a while ago now but it was fun. You know,” He put his hands on his hips as he looked across the yard. “I was in a frat with Carson over there,” He nodded to skinny man holding a bottle of water amid the sea of brown glass. “We got in quite a bit of trouble. Maybe I wrote a few of my exams drunk but didn’t do much harm.”

“Oh yeah?” You said dully. “What do you do now?”

“Law. Assistant district attorney.” He preened. “But don’t worry, I can still have fun.”

He winked and you squinted at him. He was an old man trying to relate to a youth. There was what, ten, fifteen years between you? Wasn’t that much, really, and yet it was.

“Legal fun,” You suggested.

“Well, the immoral isn’t always illegal,” He mused. “So… Miss Graduate, you have a job lined up?”

“I work online for now but I’m writing, too.” You shrugged. “Nothing fancy but it’ll do for the time being. Until my grandma’s better.”

“That’s a nice thing you’re doing,” He said. “You know, not a lot of people I know my age would drop everything to go care for family.”

“Least I can do,” You sipped from the can. “She always did make the best lemon meringue. It has its perks.”

He chuckled and backed up as he grabbed the spatula again and opened the barbecue.

“Offer stands,” He called over the smoke. “Beer’s in the garage.”

“Thanks,” You smiled and slowly walked away. This was like that party you’d spent hiding on the porch; awkward as hell.

🏡

The first two weeks passed swiftly. You woke up, made breakfast for your grandmother, her usual oatmeal and tea, then you spent a few hours working online, then lunch, an hour of writing, a walk through the neighbourhood, some alone time, dinner, and then some nightly crime dramas with your grandmother. Each day was identical to the last and you felt the vaunted slog of suburban life.

It was Saturday. You needed to get out. Your grandmother even encouraged it. A few hours at the bar, drinking, dancing, you returned with a guy, Gabe, you met there, hushing him as you snuck him in the front door. 

The house was dark as you climbed the stairs carefully and ushered Gabe into your bedroom. You closed the door and grabbed him as you stumbled to the bed. It was messy, hurried, and desperate. Entirely regrettable as you laid staring out the window at the sky after. You didn’t have time to ask him to leave before he started snoring.

You slept for a few hours and woke as the sun began to rise. You poked the stranger you knew as Gabe until he woke up and you threw his clothes at him before you dressed. You peeked into the hall and waved him out behind you. You led him down the stairs and to the front door. He left you with some empty nicety and you hid your wince. It wasn’t your first one night stand but it was definitely the worst.

“Fun night?” You turned as Andy descended the steps of his porch and opened his car door.

“You work on Sundays?” You grumbled. You hoped he hadn’t seen your regret walking away.

“Not usually but I got some hours to make up.” He dropped his briefcase in the back seat and closed the door. “I know that guy. Pretty sure he’s still on probation for the molly he was dealing at the mechanics.”

“Ugh, no.” You covered your face. “You saw?”

“I got a bit curious as I was finishing my coffee.” He pointed to the window with lacy curtains. “Great view just above the sink.”

“So you’re one of those neighbours?” You crossed your arms.

“I seem nosy but really I’m just looking out for you.” He opened the driver’s side door and planted his hand on the roof of the car. “Look, you don’t know the people around here. I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I won’t be seeing him again.” You retreated to the door and stopped there. “Boring, to say the least.”

“Heh,” Andy scoffed. “Really?”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” You rolled your eyes and stepped inside, closing the door with a snap. You went to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. “Hey, grandma,” You called as you began to climb. “You ready to get up?”

🏡

At the end of the next week, you took your grandmother to her check up. Her recovery was on track but she had a long way to go. The doctor was optimistic that at her next appointment, she’d be ready to use her walker more often.

As you helped her out of the car and got her settled in her chair, you ignored the roar of the mower in the next yard. You’d seen Andy as you drove up. He was pushing the machine back and forth across his already perfectly manicured yard; shirtless. As you turned to push your grandmother up the walk, you couldn’t help but notice that he was in great shape for his age. For any age, really.

“Hey,” He yelled over the motor and shut it down. “How’s it going, ladies?”

“Andy,” Your grandmother chimed. “Great! Doc says I’m doing well.”

“Mmhmm,” You mumbled, still slightly embarrassed over your last interaction with the man.

“Well, seeing as I’m already out here and you already had such a busy day, I could do your lawn while I’m at it?” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and you quickly tore your eyes away from his chest. 

“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Your grandma giggled. “It’s so hot out here.”

“I don’t mind,” He insisted. “Laurie’s gone to see her parents with Jacob so I’m just trying to keep myself busy.”

“Twist my arm, why don’t ya?” Your grandmother shook her hand. “Fine! Sweetie,” She reached back and tapped your hand. “Let’s go make some lemonade for this young man so he doesn’t overheat.”

Andy smiled and you nodded at him awkwardly. You wheeled your grandmother up the newly installed ramp and inside. She ordered you to the kitchen and directed you to the lemons hidden in the crisper.

“The juicer is just under there.” She pointed to the cupboard, “And you’ll want to add some sugar.”

“I know how to make lemonade, grandma,” You said as you pulled out the pitcher.

“That Andy’s a nice man,” She said. “So helpful… handsome too. It’s too bad you’re so young… and he’s so married.”

“Stop,” You warned. “You said the same thing about your doctor.”

“Yes, but he’s a doctor. He’s rich.” She snickered. “And not married, just not into your type.”

“Grandma,” You snipped. “Really.”

“I don’t know how your mother ended up with you.” She said. “She was such a little troublemaker.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard,” You said as you washed the lemon juice from your hands and added water and sugar to the pitcher. “I think her stories were more a warning.”

“Too smart for your own good,” She tutted as you mixed the lemonade.

You went to the cupboard and grabbed some ice cubes from the freezer as you set a glass on the counter. You poured the lemonade and gave her a sour look. 

“You think you can look after yourself for a few minutes?” You asked dryly.

“Girlie, I was taking care of you while you were in diapers,” She narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.”

“I don’t wear diapers,” She hissed as you neared the door. “Yet.”

You went out the front door as Andy pushed the mower across the yard just along the walkway. He stopped and looked over at you. He shut down the motor again and neared you as you came down the steps to hold out the glass. He thanked you and took a big gulp before he handed it back.

“You know, I didn’t mean anything,” He said. “The other day. Sometimes… I say stuff without thinking.”

“It’s… whatever.” You shrugged and set the glass on the rail of the porch. “No hard feelings.”

“I just got a hot tub. Just gotta hook it up and it’s ready to go.” He said. “You should stop by later. Get a soak in.”

“No, I don’t think so.” You stood at the top of the steps. “I don’t wanna leave grandma all alone. She wants to watch Casablanca tonight. I promised we would.”

“Maybe another night.” He offered. “You work so hard. You deserve a break.”

“Maybe,” You said evasively as you turned and crossed the porch. You glanced back as you opened the door and he was still looking at you.

“Lemonade’s good.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

🏡

You finished lunch and left your grandmother to her puzzle at the dining room table. You went upstairs to change the shirt you’d spilled mustard down; it was all you could smell. You tore off your shirt and tossed it on the bed. You rounded the bed to the dresser that sat just below the window and opened the draw. Movement caught your eye and you looked up across the space between yards.

Andy’s eyes met yours through the windows. You’d never realised they were adjacent, let alone so easy to see through. He wore a towel around his waist, freshly showered and his gaze strayed for just a moment. You blanched and pulled out a shirt and covered yourself with it. He smirked and tilted his head. Then he winked and a shiver went through you.

You grabbed the curtain and closed it so forcefully you nearly bent the rod. You backed away and put the shirt on properly. Surely, he was being funny. A tense, awkward moment. What else could he do but make a joke? Well, it wasn’t a very good one.

🏡

You stayed inside for the better part of a week. Aside from your walks with your grandmother and a trip to the grocery store, you kept your curtains closed, and hid yourself away. Maybe you’d built it up in your mind but you were just set off-kilter by the wordless interaction. Since, you felt as though you’d been walking a tightrope, too afraid to look down.

But that night, your grandmother wanted to sit outside. It was warm and the nights were shorter; later. You wheeled her out, a book on her lap, and as you made to skirt back inside, he appeared. Andy had impeccable timing. It made you wonder if he was watching you; if he had been for much longer than you knew. Well, now you were just being paranoid.

“Hey,” He stood at the edge of the yard. “Beautiful night.”

“Sure is,” You grandma replied. “I’ve got a new book and I’m ready to enjoy the breeze.”

“Oh, a new book? What’s it about?” He asked as he neared tentatively.

“Another scary one.” She cracked the cover. “Or so I hear. Skinwalkers taking over a whole city.”

“Ah, spooky,” He commented and looked at you. “And you?”

“Writing. Inside.” You said evenly.

“I figured since it was so nice, I was finally gonna try out my new Jacuzzi,” He said. “I just… I did promise you a soak so I thought maybe--”

“Eh, I don’t know.” You neared the door. “I really should try to get some writing done.”

“Nonsense, dear,” Your grandmother intoned. “You’ve been on that computer all day. You should go, relax.”

“Really, I--”

“Laurie might join us. She’s inside doing some work.” He piped up. “She wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Go on! I’m getting sick of ya anyway,” Your grandmother snorted. “You could stand to loosen up.”

“Grandma,” You huffed.

“Go get changed,” She ordered and smiled at Andy. “She’ll be over shortly.”

You blinked and tried to hide your irritation. You went inside before Andy could notice and you stormed upstairs. You weren’t even sure you’d packed a suit. You searched through the dresser. The curtains were still drawn tight. You found your old pink bikini with the white flowers. Really? It had to be that one?

You changed, reluctantly. It couldn’t have covered less of you. You found a tee shirt and pulled it over. You descended the stairs again and stepped out on the porch.

“Thanks for that, grandma.” You scowled.

“I can see why you were never popular,” She laughed. “Go. Have fun. This old lady can handle herself.”

You stomped down the steps beside the ramp and stopped at the border of the yards. You sighed and went to the gate, it was open in expectation of you. You heard the whir of jets before you entered. Andy was just beside the hot tub, testing the temperature with his hand as you stood across from him. He looked up and gave a crooked smirk.

“Andy,” The back door opened and Laurie appeared. “Oh, hey.” She smiled at you before turning back to her husband. “I’m gonna pass. Gina’s not going to make it in tomorrow so looks like I’ll be up all night.”

“Damn, that’s too bad,” Andy said. “More tub for us I guess.”

“Yes, love you too,” She said dryly. “You enjoy yourself. And don’t leave that thing on all night.”

“Yes, honey,” He said before she shut the door. “Love you.”

You swallowed. Your mouth was dry. Maybe you had been a bit presumptuous. Andy climbed into the jacuzzi and lowered himself into the warm water with a sigh. You hesitated to get closer but you did. He watched you, expectantly. You grabbed the edge and tried to will yourself in.

“You’re wearing that?” He nodded to your tee.

“Yeah,” You lifted your leg over the side.

“You don’t gotta be shy,” He grinned.

You paused and frowned at him.

“I’m joking,” He said. “The other day. That was… funny. Bad timing.”

“Mhmm,” You drew your other leg over and carefully sat.

“You met any more cute guys?” He asked suddenly. You squinted.

“What?” 

“Not much to do around here, you know? Pretty boring.”

“No. I don’t--” You sputtered. “I don’t think it’s a very good idea. Once my grandma’s better, I’ll be going.”

“Still, it’s lonely.” He said softly. 

“What do you care?” You asked, harsher than intended. 

He was quiet. He leaned back and looked over at the house then back to you. He exhaled and spread his arms over the edge.

“So… that toy you hide in your night table? You always use it or you ever just… feel yourself?”

Your heart sank. You felt as if you would choke on air. Had you imagined his words?

“What did you just--”

“Took you long enough to catch on,” He said. “Got a good view of you when I can’t sleep but… not anymore. Too bad.”

“Andy,” You stood and the water splashed around you. “You-- You’re-- Laurie, she--”

“I haven’t fucked her in months. This is what she does.” He sat forward and caught your hand. “She works. All the time. I try and she… just doesn’t want to.”

“Let me go.” You struggled with him. “You’re disgusting. You’re married!”

“Me? Fucking awful some young girl strolls into town and tries to seduce a married man? What would grandma think? And Laurie? She’s not one to sit back and be humiliated.” He tugged on you. “I have a reputation around here. You’re just a stranger, and apparently one, who fucks strangers.”

“What are you talking about?” You nearly slipped as he spun you back to him. “You’ve been watching me and--”

“I’m just a neighbour looking out for you,” He pulled even harder and your feet slid across the bottom of the jacuzzi, forcing you to catch yourself on him. “Like I do all my neighbours. They would confirm as much.”

“Get--” You grabbed his arm as it snaked around you. “Andy! Laurie--”

“Doesn’t give a fuck and if she came out, well, she’d only realise what’s she’s pushed me to.” 

You wriggled as he held you to him. He drew your leg over his so that you straddled his lap. You pushed on his chest and grunted.

“You keep it up and everyone will hear. Even sweet old nana.” He snarled. “I saw you looking at me that day… when you brought me lemonade.”

“No, no,” You rasped.

“I’m old, not that old,” He purred. “As you can obviously see.”

“Let me go. Please.” You begged. He was too strong and your arms only ached from pushing against him. “Andy--”

“Shhh,” He grabbed your chin with his wet hand and pulled you close until your lips almost met his. “In this town, rumours travel. It might be old news that you left a bar with that dumb kid but now, it’s evidence.” His hand slipped down your neck and squeezed. “Such a bad girl.”

“No one would--”

“They have no reason not to believe me,” He rolled up your wet shirt with his other hand. “Annie across the street, she likes gossip. She’s seen you flirting with me, at least that’s how she told it to Laurie but you know, my wife just laughs it off. And now she’s no doubt seen you come into my backyard in just this.” He pulled your shirt higher. “And her mind is going wild.”

“I can’t--”

“How long did he last? A minute? Less?” He snarled and his other hand slipped down to draw your shirt up. You kept your arms down as you tried to resist. “Bet you could wait to use your little toy.”

“Stop,” You pleaded.

“Get your arms up.” His voice was deep and dangerous. “And stop your whining.”

You stopped and stared at him. His blue eyes burned into yours and sent a shiver through you. His fingertips pinched your hips as they crawled under your shirt and he pushed it higher.

“You don’t shut up and someone will hear, sweetie,” He warned. “Up.”

He tugged until you raised your arms. A wave of bile rose in your chest and you let him peel away your wet shirt and reveal the skimpy bikini beneath. He dropped the cotton over the side of the tub and his hands grazed the triangles of your top.

“Cute,” He hummed. “You hiding this from me?”

You were quiet, sickened. With him, with yourself. You knew you couldn’t fight, wouldn’t. You remembered the barbecue and how you’d been the odd one out. Recalled how Andy had talked to almost every person there. Everyone loved him and no one knew you.

“Mmm mm mm,” His fingertips walked around your neck and he picked at the knot behind your neck. The straps loosened and he let your top fall and expose your chest. 

He bent to bury his face against you and nibbled along your tits. You looked, startled, to the back door. It was still shut. A light glow from a bedroom above and the distant beat of music escaped through the slightly opened bedroom window. Another light died on the first floor and was replaced by a second on the top floor, reflecting against yours on the other side. 

You quivered as Andy took a nipple in his mouth and sucked. You felt it in your core as his hand cupped your other tit. He reached beneath you and played with the edge of your bottom. He drew you back as he leaned against the side of the tub and lifted his pelvis, and you with him. He tugged on his shorts and sat back down.

You felt hollow and a cloud of panic filled your stomach. You struggled against you and he bit you. You squeaked as his teeth threatened to break the skin and stilled. He parted and looked up at you.

“Be a good girl,” He felt beneath you and began to stroke himself.

“Please--”

“Shhh,” He turned his hand and hooked his fingers in your bottoms, pulling them aside. “It’s okay, sweetie.” He rubbed his tip against your folds. “It’ll be good.” He drew you to him and angled you over his dick. “Better than ever before.”

He forced you down and your lips formed an o as he entered you. You latched onto his shoulders without thinking and he pushed you to his limit. His lips and teeth returned to your chest as he once more began to toy with you. You quivered as he began to rock your hips.

The water swished around you, swirling and slapping against your skin. You held your breath as you tried not to cry out. You hissed as you dug your nails into his shoulders and let him guide you. Despite yourself, despite everything, it felt good. It felt wonderful. He was right and you were weak.

“You like that?” He nuzzled your throat. “Is this what you think of at night, huh?”

You bit your lip as he kneaded your hips and kept your moving.

“I think of it all the time,” He muttered. “All the time. Maybe…” His breath caught and he groaned. “Maybe I could offer to take you grocery shopping, hmm? We could have some fun in the car…”

“Andy…” You whimpered. “No, we can’t-- not again…”

You grasped his wrists and tried to push yourself off of him. A semblance of sanity returned to you as you looked him in the face. His eyes were dilated and dusky. He was entranced; incorrigible. You struggled as he held you down.

“This is wrong--”

He shoved you off him as his lip curled. You stumbled back and caught yourself on the other side of the tub. The water splashed as he stood behind you and grabbed your arm. He turned you over and pushed you over the siding, a jet blowing against your pelvis.

“Doesn’t feel wrong to me.” He growled.

He held you down with a large hand between your shoulders as he pushed your legs apart with his knee. He pressed against you and searched for your entrance, swiftly impaling you. You choked down a mewl as your hips crashed into the wall of the tub. He leaned his weight on you entirely as he rutted into you without relent. You were certain someone would hear the clapping of flesh or the stir of water all around.

“You’ll do what I want, when I want,” He sneered. “And from what I can tell, you’ll like it.”

“Andy--” Your voice fizzled as the pressure mixed with the steady stream of the jet as it hit your cunt. 

You held in a moan as you hung over the side of the tub, the blood pounding in your head as you panted wildly. You covered your mouth, afraid you would cry out as the coil inside you twisted and twisted. Your legs quaked as you orgasmed.

Andy’s hand gripped your hips and he pulled you back against him, again and again, using your body easily. You slid back and forth over the side and he bent over you, crushing you against the tub. He growled in your ear and his thrust jolted your body.

He pulled out suddenly, still looming over you as he stroked himself against your bikini and pressed his damp beard to your cheek as he shuddered. His hot cum spilled out onto the wet fabric and dripped down your thigh as he eased himself through his climax. He sighed and pushed himself from atop you, falling back into the water heavily.

You stayed as you were for a moment. Stunned. Shakily you stood and fixed your top and pulled your bottom straight. You couldn’t look at him. You climbed out of the tub and walked unsteadily across the grass.

“Ah, that was relaxing,” He said. “Come back anytime.”

You ignored him and continued onto the gate.

“Oh, and it’s supposed to be a cool night,” He called after you. “You should keep your window open.”

You slipped through and the gate creaked behind you and closed with a metallic click. You shivered as you kept to the side of your grandma’s house and entered through the back. You didn’t want anyone to see; you were certain they would know if they did.

[youwontlikethisblog]

Tonight A Dream Of Mine Has Come True

The fall out of the night settles here, with Betty happy in her room, shocked at what has happened as she says that tonight her most desired dream has become a reality, Armando declaring his feelings for her.

Up to this point we've seen Betty be very professional with Armando. She has never crossed a line with him, has been respectful to him and despite her feelings, helped him out with his affairs.

She understand the relationship he has with Marcela is mostly based on family ties to the company and not really about love, however, she is aware that Armando does care about Marcela.

What is to come of it the next day shouldn't shock us as to why Betty doesn't bring it up at the office, doesn't jump his bones ect ect. She still behaves professionally.

As we hear her monologue we hear her fears and see Armando's drunken state(you know Marcela has money money because homegirl always has the lights on in her apartment like she ain't worried about her light bill. Girl, turn off the lights when you're not in the room!)(also it really concerns me how Armando literally is always seen driving while drunk. How does he not crash the car? IG they always talk about traffic so he isn't driving too fast but my man.) he stumbles to the bar to pour himself a whisky and hear Betty discribe the fantasy him and the real him.

She says "It was Don Armando, the one I'm with every single day for hours, the same stern and relentless man that I've fallen in love with." this tells us the qualities Betty likes of his because we all wonder why Betty fell in love with Armando, we get that he is a handsome man and that he is rich, but aside from that, why would someone like Betty fall in love with a man like that?

You ever hear that girls like men that are like their father?

I suppose that it's based on the security and love we've gotten from our father that we later shape into the prospect of our significant other, not in a sick and twisted way. We like these qualities because we are aware and feel safe knowing them as they remind us of an honest and true love.

Betty without a question is a daddy's girl. She is the jewel of her father's eyes and we know Betty loves him very much and she says it herself that he is the most sacred thing for her.

Armando display's similar characteristics. He is restless and relentless as well as stern. Betty likes alpha men. She likes men that are determined, speak their mind, sure of themselves and mentally strong individual but she also likes men who are sweet and romantic(that's where it differs from her father). I think most of all she likes challenging men as in she likes men who make her mentally work. I want people to realize that Betty isn't in the trope of "I can change him. I will change him with my love." because she isn't looking to change him. She isn't trying to tame him, notice how to this point she hasn't expected anything from him except that he keeps her an employee and that she does a good job at maintaining her job. She knows who he is and she likes him just like that. In fact what she wants is to just give him love, that's it.

This is vastly different from Marcela who wants to tame Armando for her ego. She expects that because she "loves" him that Armando should do everything she wants him to do and because of this, Armando runs from doing any of that and only pretending to.

Armando here looks confused, just confused and drunk. He seems confused to be in Marcela's apartment, confused about the night, confused, confused, and more confused.

Betty goes on to say that she isn't jumping from joy or painting hearts on her wall.

"I'm scared... I don't know what he sees in me. What do I have that obsesses him? To attract him? For me to have provoked him to kiss me?" camera fades to Armando drunkenly stumbling into the hallway to Marcela's bedroom, he looks annoyed. "He is an important man, of surnames, titles, he is a man desired by the most beautiful woman and the worst is that he is engaged to Ms. Marcela. "

This highlights Betty's realism, her insecurity, and her low self-image. She is a humble person but this doesn't display that. As she thinks so low of herself that she really thinks no man would ever be interested in her, personality be damned.

Remember that Betty has this beautiful understanding that love is based on an emotional connection and not based on physical appearances. This is something she still believes for other people but her disastrous relationship with Miguel has left her with such a bad perception of herself that she truthfully believes that even if she gives her love, even if she has a beautiful personality that no man would ever truly be interested in her much less obsessed with her. While we are hearing Betty go on about how "good" of a man Armando is we see a drunk man stumbling, contradicting this.

"he is going to get married." Armando stops walking. "nothing can happen between him and I." he takes off his glasses. "I'm not the woman for him." he turns around and rubs his eye "I couldn't make him happy." and then neck, he turns back to face the camera as Betty says "I have to think that all of this was an accident."

Maybe I'm reading too much into the play by play of how this scene was presented or maybe I'm not.

As Betty is saying these things we see Armando behaving confused, frustrated, and dealing with an inner dilema. One could say that as Betty is writing these things, Armando is drunkenly telling himself the exact same things.

"I have to think this was an accident. He was drunk, depressed, stressed out, maybe he didn't really know what he was saying and doing and if that's the case I would have committed the worst mistake of my life because when he wakes up he'll remember that he kissed his ugly assistant, the one he has in that dark hole of an office, that from there she daydreams and yearns for him 24/7"

This is the internal monologue I imagine he's having within.

'I am an important man, a man with titles and a good last name, who beautiful woman desire and worst I'm engaged to Marcela. I'm getting married. Nothing can happen between us two. She isn't the woman for me...she can't make me happy. This is all a misunderstanding. I'm drunk, depressed and stressed out. I didn't know what I was saying or doing...I've made the biggest mistake of my life by kissing her, the ugly assistant in that dark hole in my office...'

His body language is what gives the impression that that's what's going on with him. As he removes his glasses after he realizes what he said, that he's getting married, which crash with the feelings he's been denying, that he cares about her more than just a friend at the office so he proceeds to manipulate himself. To deny once again that he cares about her as he says that she can't make him happy and the reason why he feels what he feels is because he's drunk, depressed, stressed out and therefore he isn't aware of what he's saying or doing so it cancels out like PEMDAS. He seems frustrated as he rubs his neck(remember the forehead rubbing in the tavern? These two gestures come to show that while at the Tavern when he was confessing his feelings to Betty that he was open or easy going while this gesture that he is being critical and frustrated) confused and then reassuring himself as he enteres Marcela's room.

he gets in bed and snuggles up to her, she wakes up and asks him to get under the sheets.

"My love you drank too much, hmm?"

"Yeah, I exceeded myself a little with-with the drinks my love." He rapidly blinks as he tells her this, which implies deceit. We know he did drink too much so he isn't lying about that, however he is lying about what happened as he is now telling himself he exceeded himself with Betty. Which shows his guilt but out loud he is lying to Marcela as to what he actually exceeded himself with.

Marcela tells him that lately he's been drinking too much and asks him "Is it because of the payroll?" now Armando hesitant at first nods slightly but then eagerly and he shifts his worry to that.

Reading too much into this I believe that he has found ground in his denial by having this self-"realization" that he is only feeling the distress and worry he feels because of the company.

Now Armando does worry and care for the company, I'm not saying he doesn't and that he is only solely preoccupied with Betty and what she means to him. He sincerely talks about the fact that never in the history of Eco Moda had they missed a payday "tomorrow I won't be able to pay and I'm really anguished." He shows honesty here.

Marcela proceeds to reassure him by telling him that everything is fine.

"My life, calm down, everything is going to be fine, you're going to see, tomorrow will be a new day. Everything will be fine, my love, don't worry. Rest my love, don't worry." Armando has had the same expression on his face the entire time until Marcela says I love you." Armando then stop staring into the unknown with raised eyebrows and wide eyes and his eyes turn to look at Marcela beside him with brows furrowed and looking confused as in "Why is she telling me this? Love me?" he's suspicious of her.

At this point I've come to realize that a lot of Armando's hostility towards Marcela is that he doesn't trust her with his inner world or personal issues as he often doesn't want to share those things with her and tells her that he doesn't want his intimacy known to the public or in her hands.

I find it funny that his reaction to Marcela telling him this is what snaps him out of his thoughts and instead of seeming happy he seems suspicious and confused by this declaration of hers.

This ends their conversation and we hear Betty's voice as we see Armando begin to doze off.

"I'm afraid of the morning when we both see the disaster of that kiss cause I won't know how to look him in the face. He will feel uncomfortable with me." the camera fades to Betty in bed, gripping her journal to her lips, truly afraid of what tomorrow brings and her monologue of those fears.

The next morning Betty arrives to Eco Moda, she rushes towards their offices and when she gets there she walks towards his desk and then to the picture frame he has of Marcela and him and studies it for a moment. She then sets it down and goes to her office.

She is anxious to see him, feeling guilty for the kiss and her feelings because of Marcela and nervous about it.

Now we get Armando arriving, going to his office and him inside of it. We see his back as he looks at papers and walks towards Betty's door but stops himself(the gesture he shows when he's truly pissed but trying to keep composure is that he often "fixes" the side of his hair as he passes his hand lightly over it) he stops himself and passes a hand lightly over his hair, he then walks towards the back of desk, massaging(this is a key word as it indicates the negativity rather than excitement like rubbing would portray) his hands as he walks towards the same picture frame and sees the picture. He only does this for a second before setting it back down, staring at it for a second more and then turning it away from his desk. He turns to look around him. A bit tense he walks towards Betty's office, Taking in a deep breath and letting out as he stops once again in front of her door, shakes his head and turns his head to the oposite direction.

Armando is now facing the reality of his actions, the guilt, and is anxious as well.

Betty opens her office door and for a brief second there's this awkwardness. Betty decides to keep things professional as she greets him as always but there's a tremble in her voice.

Armando sees her "Good day, Sir." He walks away, towards his desk.

He can't even make eye contact with her as he tries to but just constantly looks away(it's not because of the shades, which are very late 90's early 00's).

"Good day, Betty, how was your morning?" Betty takes note of his body language, which is being evasive and anxious. She there decides to act like nothing happened.

She exits her office very adorably, reminiscent of a child as she sways her arms beside her and walks into his office awkwardly on her feet. However she does so as well a bit stiff, showing she herself is very anxious.

"Good, good. How about you?"

"Good." He glances up for a second, nodding, and returns to "look" at the papers on his desk. His lips are tight in a line, showing he is really anxious and holding back.

"I imagine you're a little hungover, no?" she chuckles.

"No. Not really." He glances again up at her but then goes back to look at the papers. He does this a lot but the fact his does swiftly looks at her then down allows us to know he's trying to act normal.

"'cause you drank too much last night." she nervously laughs.

"Yeah, a lot." He nods repeatedly.

Betty proceeds to say she'll go get him a consume, which is like a broth but with veggies and meat(I speak and write English better than Spanish but honestly I don't know what white people call their foods. Sorry.)

"You have to be at your very best today, Sir." Armando then panicked removes his glasses and stares at her longer than a second. "Today we have to gather money, we have to get the sales on production to see if we can pay everyone."

Armando almost barely says "Yes" out loud and stops making eye contact with her.

As Betty exist his office Mario walks in.

This proceeds to Mario asking Armando about the night and what happened after he left.

Armando shows to be feeling guilty for what he's doing to Betty as he constantly avoids eye contact with her, barely talks and tries to pretend that he's being normal.

Now stepping away from this scene the behavior Mario displays here as he asks Armando all these coming questions as he laughs sets foot for the rest of his[Armando's] relationship with Betty. The reason why Armando constantly has a poker face with Mario as he talks and tries to get him to understand that he feels terrible for what he's doing. Armando is afraid to talk about his true feelings and concerns regarding Betty because he knows that Mario won't respect his feelings nor his boundaries. It wasn't just that Armando was in denial for so long about his feelings towards Betty and even his attraction towards her but the ridicule his best friend would make him go through as well as well as the social embarrassment he knew he'd have to face because the people he surrounds himself with only care about physical appearances. In short you can say Armando was a coward to be open about his feelings.

"Was it traumatizing? horrible?" he laughs. Armando rolls his eyes but doesn't make eye contact with Mario either. "Brother be generous with words."

Armando and Mario are best friends, up to this point they have shared everything with each other. Mario knows Armando's real feelings about Marcela. He knows about his feelings towards the models. They share with each other stories about their one night stands. How do we know this? Mario is way to comfortable jumping on Armando's couch asking these questions, which shows us that there are no boundaries with topics as such.

However we can see that unlike with the other one night stands, Armando doesn't seem too eager to share this as it requires more than just physical action but actual emotional topics so he is being avoidant.

Angirly Armando gets up and walks towards the side of the couch as he yells at Mario. The word here is bleeped out but I imagine he's telling him to not mess with him.

"I'm feeling really bad!"

"Obviously. I'd feel bad if I had to kiss with a woman so horribly ugly like Betty." he says between laughs.

"Do you realize-"Armando's entire exterior shows that he is truly angry at Mario for his behavior but also nervous. He groans and brings his thumb nail to his teeth. He looks at the oposite direction of Mario.

Proceed to Armando telling Mario that what they're doing is a caddish(dishonorable or ungentlemanly) trick. That he doesn't know how(buddy get a real therapist to work these problems out cause they would have told you that you yes you are behaving like a pig but also that it was all coming from your subconscious e.i that you really meant what you did and said).

"What did she ask for seggs?" he gives him the stink eye. "Armando careful. Ugly woman are very repressed. Look give them a chance like this(shows fingers slightly touching) and you'll see. Brother, give me details, come on!" he whines at the end.

"Nothing!" He yells at him in return, jumping at him from his seat but falling back into the couch. "None of that happened, Mario."

"Then?" he now speaks calmly.

"She fainted. She thought it wasn't real." he says that frustrated. This gives us the impression he is only sharing this so that Mario will stop asking questions, however he is reluctant to give him details. Mario starts to giggle.

Notice that Armando's body is pointed away from Mario(Blading) but not so much that you'd pick up on it right away. He doesn't want to be having this conversation especially with him.

Now Mario falls beside him, leaning his shoulder on Armando's forearm as he laughs and says he's dying. Armando looks up this gesture gives us the understanding that he is searching for the right thing to say(to get Mario to drop the subject). While Mario is still laughing Armando's demeanor switches to worry. As his eyebrows furrow lightly, he leans his head on his knuckles that are touching his temple, lightly holding his temple against them.

He is scared that talking more about it will make him face out loud the same things he had to face, drunkenly the night before to someone who he knows will ridicule him for it.

Mario being himself realizes that Armando isn't laughing, joking, or showing disgust like he had when they merely entertained the idea of the sinister plan or Armando having to kiss Betty so he composes himself and in classic inspector behavior Mario puts his thinking hat on.

While Armando still looks like he has his stomach tied in knots Mario straights up and turns to look at Armando "Hey I'm getting the impression that that kiss affected you more than it affected her."

Armando raises his eyebrows and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands in front of him "You know what? You're not not wrong. Yes, that kiss affected me a lot more than it affected her." Now that the topic has switched away from Betty being the main focus he seems less reluctant to talk about the topic. His eyebrows furrowed, lips puckered, indicating that he is stressed. "It's the weirdest kiss I've ever given in my entire life." he looks truly anguished by this confession as well as confused.

With guilt he stops looking forward and glances down as he says that he doesn't know how he was capable of doing what he did the night before and he feels terrible for what he's doing to Beatriz.

The camera shows us Mario that now looks panicked, he is breathing rapidly, takes in a deep breath and licks his lips. Armando isn't aware of this at all as he has his back to him.

My question now is why would Mario panic over this confession of his?

"I feel as if I were betraying an Angel. Look, Calderon, Beatriz doesn't deserve what we're doing." His voice is natural, it is rational as he points to Mario behind him and his expression with eyebrows raised shows that he is concerned over this.

Mario shifts gears now. As he sits up and leans a bit forward and rapidly starts saying "Okay butbutbut you're saying that there was passion from Betty's kiss? That Betty is feelings things for you?"

Armando confessed that the kiss had affected him a lot more than Betty, meaning that it made him feel something deeply. He told him that it was the strangest kiss he has given in his entire life. The main focus in this conversation is Armando.

Armando nods his head repeatedly as he whispers "yes", takes in a deep breath, while rubbing his forehead showing that he is open to the conversation as now it no longer is about making fun of Betty or the the implications of the night but now it's about dissecting the meaning behind the kiss and why he was affected by it.

"So then what she feels for Nicolas isn't that strong."

"And if that's the case I've committed the worst mistake of my life. I committed a crime..." He looks pained by this. "unnecessarily."

Now Mario shows his true colors. Remember what I said about his true worry only being Eco Moda and what it means to him and his single life as a playboy?

The panic and fear he has is that Betty takes that away from him.

Armando is no longer worried about the company because if the true motive behind the sinister plan had been only the company Armando wouldn't really feel this anguished or guilty as he knows that in order to keep the company he'd need to keep Betty in love, with a beau or not but now that he realizes that Betty might not truly have feelings for Nicolas, which means that he hasn't lost "his" Betty, that he has now acted unfavorably and undignified towards her and that guilt is eating him up.

Mario irrationally and with no composure begins to tell Armando that he can't go back, that Nicolas is after her money, their(his[Mario]) money.

"No sir. We can't neglect Betty. It could be that she's feelings stronger things towards you than Nicolas, okay but we have to have her, bro, That guy Nicolas is after her money, our money! Armando what we just started we can't leave halfway across." This no longer is of interest nor concern for Armando though. As instead of entering full gear as he had in the past, now that it is a reality that Betty does in fact have feelings towards him, Armando isn't so worry or concerned about the fate of the ownership of Eco Moda.

Armando places his shades back on tells him "You know, Calderon. Yesterday I drank too much liquor. I was very drunk and Betty ended up thinking this was just due to a lot of drinking, nothing more." He says in a normal tone. "Anyway she didn't even bring it up right now."

Overall we've seen both of them deal with the Kiss.

While Betty accepts that it was a dream come true though she still tries to see it rationally and realistically, she also feels guilty for it as it keeps her from truly enjoying it or really feel happy about it as she is more afraid of the implications. Once more we see Betty really pay attention to Armando's boy language which allows us to see that Betty truthfully understands and sees Armando as a person rather than a trophy and that she is fully aware of the man he is.

However we see Armando truly struggle with what that kiss has made him feel. As we hear Betty's monologue and watch him behave we can understand that the writer is trying to show is that Armando is telling himself the same things Betty is saying about the situation. He is trying to rationalize his feelings and push them to be something they're not as well as denying them.

With Mario he looks reluctant to talk about the kiss when it concerns Betty, we actually see him get mad at him for making fun of Betty or the situation. He doesn't outwardly express this but tells him to not mess with him. When the main focus moves from Betty and her physical appearance Armando becomes more open to the conversation, however he doesn't really talk about his feelings or how it actually affected him. His believe is that it only affected him because Betty feels something for him but if that were truly the case than Marcela's kisses should affect him, the models he flirts with should affect him but they don't so we can draw the conclusion that the only reason why the kiss affected him like it did is not only because of the guilt but because he felt something towards Betty.

At this point if you don't see any typos call for help because I didn't write the post.

The next couple of post won't really be a breakdown of the entire episode between Betty and Armando but only certain scenes that highlight the challenge that they're both facing.

As the "tell me about how it went" conversations between Armando and Mario the more days go by the less detailed Armando gets, especially the night after he(Sober) confesses his feelings to Betty. He tells Mario that he doesn't really remember what he told her or where it all came from(dude needs to pick up a dictionary and find the word subconscious asap) but he doesn't talk about his feelings. He keeps it all based on action and reaction rather than what he actually feels. I will write a more detailed post on it to explain it better but for now I'll probably just do breakdowns of one scene or two in one post.

'Til next time!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Do You Tree What I Tree?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word Count: 8730

For @justmattycakes​! Happy holidays!!! Massive thanks to @spiderman-homecomeme for organizing this Spideychelle Secret Santa!

Summary: Home from their various colleges for winter break, MJ and her friends make a day out of going to cut down their own Christmas trees. Being alone in the woods—just her, Peter, and an axe—seems like the perfect opportunity to admit that her feelings for her friend have changed.

“Wine and cider!” Peter announces, jabbing a finger at the car window as they pass a rustic-looking roadside sign.

MJ smirks to herself. His touch will probably leave a smudge on the glass, which Flash will painstakingly wipe clean later. She likes Flash much more now than she did in high school—they all do—but she likes to build up a little vindictiveness towards him in advance, for when he inevitably says or does something douchey.

“Whine inside her, is that what you’d do if you could actually get a girlfriend?” Flash asks immediately. Sweet justification for MJ, though she rolls her eyes.

Flash is driving, but Betty trusts his skill enough to smack his arm from the passenger seat, then turn to smile back at Peter.

“That sounds nice. We should definitely stop on the way back.”

“Yeah,” Ned pipes up. “Maybe they’ll have a fireplace too, where we can thaw our fingers.”

“Babe, I won’t let your fingers get cold.”

“Aw, babe,” he croons, reaching over his girlfriend’s shoulder where she sits in front of him to tangle their fingers together.

“Back to your intense lack of dateability,” Flash persists. MJ swears his original asshole persona comes out so much more whenever he slides behind the wheel of his dad’s Cadillac Escalade. “Are you having a lonely winter, Parker? With only your cold lab bench to keep you warm?”

Next to MJ, Peter sighs and mutters, “Same old Flash.” She thinks he says it only to himself, but he darts a look at her and they share a smile.

“Well, I don’t have your L.A. weather,” he allows, artfully changing topic.

Flash will talk for an hour straight about the numerous perks of attending UCLA, including the constant sunshine, the short-shorts, and the absence of his current listeners. The last they all recognize to be a blatant lie, but they like him enough to let him get away with it. MJ has a special sympathy for Flash in those moments; she’s still growing from the girl she was when they were all at Midtown together, when she found it so much easier to edge away from other people or, when she did interact, to speak defensively, insultingly, and with liberal use of the middle finger. Her communication skills have flourished with not being able to see these people in person every day. She’s actually amazed with how she’s clung to them, certain she’d failed to develop the kind of solid relationships people were supposed to form in high school and that she’d just stagger forward through her fine art degree (PoliSci minor) with a wild hope of connecting to other humans through the doodles that she’s developed into graceful sketches, from sketches to oil paintings with sweep and verve.

The five of them are in their second year at their respective centres of learning now and it feels really nice to gather after living by too-brief text exchanges, missed calls, and videocalls that somebody’s roommate inevitably arrives home in the middle of, loud and invasive. When MJ’s speaking to Ned or Flash, they can push through. They have the boisterousness and, in Ned’s case, natural good nature, to conduct two separate conversations at the same time. Betty prefers to hang up and try at a better time, when they can speak uninterrupted. Peter’s different from all of the above. MJ always sees how he blushes, as though he’s being caught talking to her. It makes her flush in return. There’s no reason for them not to be as close as either of them are with any of the others, but conversations with him make her feel different. Without meaning to, their voices lower and they wander away from whatever topic they start with; on some nights, into the most intimate tracks of their inner lives. She gets why he feels caught to be interrupted because it’s disorienting for her too, being dragged back to the larger world, hearing a voice other than his in her ear. She likes traditional phone calls with him the best because she can lie in bed with her phone pressed to her ear and he doesn’t have to know.

“Are we almost there?” Ned says when Flash pauses in his rhapsodizing of Venice Beach.

MJ, sitting in the middle of the backseat, watches her friend unlock her phone and check the map.

“Yes. Under two miles to go.”

“And we’re super sure about this place?” Ned checks.

“Mhmm. A friend of a friend in my French workshop went last year and got the most spectacular Fraser fir,” Betty assures him. “I saw it at her Christmas party. That’s the one you couldn’t go to because you got the flu, remember?”

“Ugh,” he agrees.

“We passed a tree farm awhile ago,” Peter ventures. “That wasn’t it?”

“Betty told me the owners of that farm own this lot too. It’s cheaper to get your tree here because they don’t tend the lot in the same way,” MJ informs him. She likes the look on his face when he listens. She likes the feel of his leg bumping against hers as they traverse the uneven gravel sideroad.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be making up the cost difference paying for a paint job. I can hear the stone chips!” Flash complains. As if he’s ever paid for so much as a tank of gas.

“It’s an adventure, moron,” she says.

“I wasn’t prepared for stone chips.”

“I told you everything in an email last week, when we were planning this,” Betty calmly reminds him. “We should all be prepared.”

It isn’t visible to her right now, but MJ knows her friend has a shiny, compact saw at her feet, tucked into a neat black case, looking bizarrely like a tennis racket. Her own axe is trapped beneath Peter’s shoe so it doesn’t slide forward under Flash’s seat and slice the soles off his shoes. It’s quite sharp. She made sure.

“Listen,” Flash demands, “I’m the transport. Someone else can take care of the less significant details.”

“That is so fucking dumb,” Peter mumbles.

“What?”

“I said, I hope your feet don’t go numb,” he says more loudly. MJ turns her head, like she’s trying to follow the gentle backwards sweep of falling snow with her eyes when she’s really trying to hide her smile from Flash’s suspicious gaze in the rear-view mirror. “Did you wear waterproof boots and warm socks?”

“Of course. About to make winter my bitch.”

Betty twists to catch MJ’s eye.

“You wanna take this one?”

“Go for it.”

While Betty educates Flash on why that is not an acceptable thing for him to say—not with two of his female friends in the car, or ever—MJ drums her fingers on her knees. Her mittens are piled in her lap for now; despite her natural inclination to insult Flash’s ride, it heats up nicely. Plus, she’s tucked between Peter and Ned. She glances to her right to check on the latter and finds him huffing a warm breath on the window. He traces his finger through the resulting condensation, drawing a heart and writing ‘B+N’ in the middle. MJ glances at Peter and he’s already looking at her.

“So, tree?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ve been told to keep it under six feet. A measuring tape and a ladder might’ve been helpful, but there wouldn’t have been anyplace to put the ladder once we got the trees on the roof of this thing.” She smacks the SUV’s ceiling and Flash goes, “HEY!”

“You can just choose a taller one,” Peter suggests, “and then cut it shorter.”

“I feel bad about the waste though. It’s a living thing.”

“I can help you with that.”

“Oh yeah?” MJ’s genuinely curious. She knows May prioritizes Hanukkah customs to keep Peter’s connection to both his ethnoreligious traditions and his lost love ones strong, so she doesn’t know how a Christmas tree fits into that.

“Right before you guys picked me up, May had an idea. She thought it might be nice just to get some pine branches for, like, generic winter decorating and to make the apartment smell good.”

“That’s a really good idea.”

“Yeah. I was gonna grab scraps from where other trees had been cut down, but I can get them off whatever tree you pick instead. Or you can. You have the axe.”

“I’ll give you a turn with it if you help me drag my tree back to the car,” MJ bargains with a smile.

“I can definitely help.”

Of course he can. He could probably carry a dozen trees if he felt like it. Over his head. With all the roots and clumps of frozen earth still attached. But the thought of him hauling the tree back with her rather than for her is something she appreciates. As she nods, she gets the fluttery feeling she’s been experiencing more and more whenever he’s called her this term. Their calls have gotten longer. A younger version of herself would be amazed at the way she can now talk for hours without noticing the time slipping past. And it never feels wasted. Actually, when they aren’t talking, MJ misses Peter. She can’t completely put it into words and so she hasn’t. What she’s done, besides continue to answer every time he calls, is offer him a chance to swing the axe she brought. Romantically, there’s room for improvement.

Their overlapping winter breaks are going to end in another week and she’s scared the calls, as treasured as they’ve become to her, won’t be enough.

“There!” Betty cries. She flings her arm across the dash to point.

“That’s the woods,” Flash says, brushing her off.

“No, that’s the driveway! You’re going to pass it!”

The jarring, inelegant jerk of the wheel as he takes Betty’s directions at the last moment tips Ned into MJ and MJ into Peter. They all groan in discomfort, but Flash seems supremely pleased with himself as he straightens the tires. Off the gravel, their passage between the trees is muffled by the packed snow on the laneway other cars have driven over. There’s a dusting on top as today’s thin flurry continues to fall. As she sits up straight following Flash’s terrible Baby Driver impression, MJ feels Peter’s hand on her back, through her coat, and her face gets hot. Unable to meet his eyes in thanks, she leans towards Ned instead and the two of them stare out at the picturesque scene where low drifts spill over the ground and every pine, spruce, and fir—all dusted in white—looks like the perfect Christmas tree.

“Hats on,” Betty instructs as Flash pulls to a stop next to a pickup truck with a tarp already laid out in its bed, awaiting a tree. “Shoelace check. Gloves and mitts secure.”

“You sound like you’re prepping us to jump out of an airplane,” Flash laughs.

He swings his door open while Betty’s trying to get back into her winterwear checklist with the rest of them, letting in a gust of cold air that disturbs the warmth MJ’s hoarded as well as Betty’s good temper. She reaches across the center console and shoves Flash with both hands, pushing him straight out of the vehicle with a “WHOA!”

Betty’s nonchalant as she flips her mirror down and adjusts the positioning of her pompom hat before stepping out of the SUV herself. Peter and Ned pile out, laughing, and MJ climbs out Peter’s side. Flash is next to the car, brushing himself off.

“I’m going to get sick,” he pouts.

“Say cheese!” Ned encourages, snapping a picture as Betty runs into shot to pose next to her victim, cupping his face between her gloved hands.

“Maybe this’ll make him change his mind about the cider place,” MJ notes to Peter hopefully.

“I feel like we’d be stopping there no matter what,” he muses. “It was either making Flash fear hypothermia or Betty sneaking back to the car first and tampering with his brake line or something.”

“So, which way looks good, babe?” Ned asks his girlfriend.

As she told them, this lot isn’t the manicured family attraction the last place was. There aren’t any employees standing around—easily spotted even as they drove past the tree farm down the road in their orange crossing-guard-style vests—or a map marking which areas are which type of tree. There’s just sort of a main track that’s been tramped down by passing feet leading between trees. It’s easy to see for a ways, but beyond that, the forest grows denser. MJ knows Betty did her homework and can identify tree varieties, and she doesn’t actually care which type she gets. She’s here for the experience, and for the idiot next to her who gives her a thrill every time the nylon sleeves of their winter coats rush against each other.

“Hmm,” Betty says, and strides forward through the narrow entrance. From there, things fan out. She taps her bow saw, now loose, against the side of her leg. “Well, what would everyone like to do?”

“I’m going wherever you are,” Ned vows. She shoots him a soft smile.

“Me too,” Flash decides. “You’ll get us in and out of here fast so we can get warm. Not like Parker, who’ll probably get lost in the first five minutes.”

“What?” Peter asks, insulted. “Will not.”

“Oh yeah? How’s your sense of direction without that robot lady in your head?”

“Karen is not a robot lady, she’s an AI.”

“Same diff.”

“It is not. A robot lady is like what they have on The Jetsons.”

“Whatever. Point is, without your GPS, I don’t trust you.”

“Well,” Peter counters, “we can just look at our phones.”

“Already tried that,” Flash informs him. “I don’t get a signal out here.”

Regardless, the rest of them check.

“That’s alright,” Betty persists, trying to be chipper to maintain group morale, MJ’s sure. “It’s daylight, the snow’s not coming down hard, and nobody’s going off alone. Now, Flash, Ned, and I are going that way.” She points, then glances from MJ to Peter. “Do you guys want to stick with us, or…?”

MJ opens her mouth and looks to Peter, shuffling beside her and doing some sort of best-friend telepathy with Ned, based on the stupid, scrunched up looks on their faces. Is he going to say something? He’ll probably want to stay with Ned. It’ll be weird if she speaks up for both of them. But if she doesn’t, when are they going to talk, just the two of them? Since they’ve all been back in the city, everything’s been done in a group—buying presents for friends and relatives, going skating, getting hot chocolate, attending Flash’s ugly holiday t-shirt party (L.A.-themed, so no sweaters allowed). The woods though. The woods are quiet and friendly and private. Snow muffles sound, fresh air and cold wake her up and fill her lungs until they burn with everything she’d say to Peter if she just had this opportunity. No Ned and Betty hanging back to offer encouraging looks, no Flash to ruin everything with a terribly timed innuendo. MJ just needs Peter. Just her and Peter. Please, dork, she thinks, don’t say Ned.

The words come from her.

“I think Peter and I’ll go that way,” she declares, nodding sharply in a direction that isn’t Betty’s.

“Yeah,” Peter adds.

Oh, thank god, MJ thinks.

“He’s gonna get you lost,” Flash warns. He’s already stamping his feet like he’s freezing to death on the spot, though the cold isn’t that bad with the tree cover. “Then he’ll go nuts in the woods.”

“I have an axe,” MJ reminds him flatly. She glances at Peter. “Bring it.”

Peter snorts a laugh.

“No one will be re-enacting anything that remotely resembles The Shining,” Betty instructs. “Meet back here in, how long, do you think?”

“Depends,” Flash says. “How long should we wait before declaring those two missing and sending out a search party, of which I will not be a member, but will be happy to direct from the comfort of the Escalade with a hot drink in my hand and my feet against the heating vent.”

“Dude, don’t do that,” Ned pleads. “You’ll make the whole car smell like your feet.”

“My ride, my rules.”

“Should we just…?” Peter asks MJ. She nods.

“Let’s go.”

“Ok, um, an hour!” Betty decides.

Peter gives her a thumbs up and the two of them follow the path as it diverges, then cut away again, wading through ankle-deep snow where no other tree-hunter has walked today. The sound of Flash goading the other two fades. MJ stops for a minute and turns to watch them march into the trees. She takes a deep breath in and out.

“You good?” Peter asks.

“Yeah.” She hefts the axe onto her shoulder to look more lumberjack-esque (and so she doesn’t slice it into her calf as she walks). “Come on.”

Despite promises to share, she refuses to surrender the tool any sooner than she must. Soon enough, she’s huffing, face passing through damp clouds of her own breath and chilling her flushed cheeks and frozen nose. Balancing her temperature out here is a tricky thing; as long as they keep moving, as they are, she stays warm, but with Peter crunching along in the snow beside her, she’s too warm. MJ bites her mitt between her teeth and unzips her coat a little to let the brisk air circulate around the back of her sweaty neck.

“You’re not gonna catch cold?” Peter asks solicitously.

She shakes her head.

“Ok,” he says, “but it’d be just like you to get sick and say nothing about it while Flash complains all the way home that he is sick when nothing’s wrong with him.”

“The only thing he’s suffering through is his body’s natural rejection of us. He spent too many years thinking he was better than we are just to end up right here, hacking down Christmas trees together.”

“Probably caroling,” Peter guesses.

“Probably. He claims his favourite holiday song is the instrumental version of ‘Carol of the Bells,’ but that has to be a lie.”

“My money’s on something super cheesy.”

“Mine too,” MJ agrees with a grin.

Gradually, she slows, taking in the pine trees around them. Her guesstimation is that some of these go up to ten or twelve feet, but there are shorter options tucked in between. Younger, or those that maybe didn’t get as much light as they grew. She wipes the back of her mittened hand across her forehead, pushing her slipping fleece headband back where it’s been sliding forward.

“So,” she asks, “any of this look good to you?”

She lowers her gaze to find Peter hastily averting his from her face.

“That one?” he says, pointing to a tree at random.

“Peter, that one’s longer than Flash’s SUV.”

“Oh. Right. Um, ok…”

Focusing now, she watches his upturned face and the serious expression that sinks into it, the way snow’s been sinking into her hair. Maybe Betty was right about wearing a hat, though Betty’s hair is also significantly flatter than hers and thus more conducive to hat-wearing. Well, it’ll be fine. They aren’t stranded or anything and the snow’s not getting to them as much as it was when they had to walk across the clearing to reach this stand of trees. They’re sheltered here. As MJ hoped, it’s quiet.

Instead of asking Peter how much of his remaining holiday he’d like to spend with her, or how he feels when she forces him to hang up the phone first (he must notice), or why, exactly, he was so quick to agree to go off into the woods with her when he could just as easily have insisted they all stay together, she criticizes the first tree he takes genuine interest in.

“Crooked.”

“Too dense.”

“Too sparse.”

“Weird empty area.”

“I swear to god, something moved in there, Peter. I do not want a fucking National Lampoon Christmas, ok? My mom will freak out if I bring a live squirrel into our home.”

He’s laughing at her when they finally spot one that looks pretty good: shorter but not squat, full but with soft, long needles rather than nasty ones bent on treating them both to non-consensual acupuncture if they stand too close. It doesn’t look sickly or as though it’s currently inhabited by birds or rodents.

“So young,” MJ does note, assessing its size in comparison to a taller tree a yard away. “Oh well.” She raises the axe and adjusts her grip.

Peter goes scrambling backwards, almost slipping, then tries to pretend he was only calmly moving out of the way, that he is not afraid of the radius of her swing. When he starts babbling about how quickly his body could probably heal from an axe wound (though, with all the crazy shit he gets up to, that’s actually not something he’s experienced yet), she finally laughs at him.

“Relax,” she says. “You can just hold the branches up at the bottom while I chop through the trunk.”

Fearless—and even more determined to prove it now that she’s given Peter a scare—MJ drops to the snow and wriggles under the tree, as close as she thinks she should be while still being able to swing the axe. Peter’s hand makes her jump. She whips her head around, nearly getting a clump of needles in the eye, but he’s only skimming her coat by accident as he gathers the lowest branches away from her. As she asked. Right, he’s not touching her on purpose and he’s not even doing the not-touching activity on purpose but because she told him to. He’s trying to help. Frustrating.

She props herself up on her elbow and takes an awkward whack at the tree. The blade sinks into the bark like it’s supposed to, but it’s still somehow surprising to feel the give. MJ takes a few more tentative swings and the axe sinks deeper, requiring some force to yank it out again. She grunts and hears Peter crouch down behind her.

“Is it going ok? Can I do anything?”

“Umm, maybe be prepared to pull the top of the tree in the other direction so it doesn’t fall on my head. I think I’m almost halfway.”

“Yes, please don’t make it fall on your head,” he requests.

“It won’t as long as you do your job,” she promises gruffly, hewing in once more.

“Do you think this would be easier with a saw?” Peter’s voice is higher now, coming from the other side of the tree. Though the branches fell when he changed position, she can feel them only resting lightly on her as he holds the top of the tree away. Probably standing on his toes.

“Don’t say anything against my axe.”

“I’m not! I was just thinking out loud!”

“A saw,” MJ informs him with another swing, “is not as badass.”

“Good point.”

But is he just agreeing because the tree’s starting to topple and the final swings to break through it take her blade closer to his shins as he dances out of the way? Maybe.

She clambers out and, with the tree now on an angle, is able to chop from an upright position, down on a diagonal until she buries her axe in the snow, then yanks it free.

“Oh, you can lay it down,” MJ tells Peter when she realizes he’s standing there with his arms full of tree, face hidden as he keeps his head pulled back from the branches.

He does so gently and then they stand there in triumph. MJ hurls her axe into the ground.

“Would you quit that?” Peter requests, jumpy.

She grins.

“Sorry. Just really feeling this.”

“I can tell.”

They took their time making their selection and can do one of two things next: either trim the branches for Peter to take home to May right here or drag the tree back to Flash’s SUV and perform the necessary amputations there. They do neither. MJ shrugs her shoulders and flexes her fingers inside her mittens, exorcising the tension of gripping the axe’s handle. She turns, glancing casually around, but really looking for something invisible—a reason to stay. A rational delay before rejoining the others.

“Hold still,” Peter says, as she’s looking back the way they came. The way she thinks they came. They stomped around this area, circling every tree, for a while, so the footprints are a little confused.

“What? If you try to tell me there’s a squirrel in my hair, I’m not going to believe you.”

He smiles softly.

“No squirrel, just snow.”

She stares at her friend warily as he approaches, then sweeps snow from her headband. That’s when she realizes one side of her coat is soaked from lying on the ground. It can’t get through though, it’s just the outer layer. Still, Peter walks a complete circle around her, wiping snow away.

“There,” he says.

MJ sighs.

“Peter…”

“Yeah?”

His face is so open as he looks at her, flakes flying around and between them. Her heart squeezes almost painfully because there have been so many days of not seeing his face without the assistance of a screen. Now that he’s here, it’s too much.

“Umm… how many branches do you think May wants?”

MJ crouches and puts her back to him, feigning being deep in concentration over the fresh Christmas corpse splayed out in the snow. She feels like a detective at a crime scene. Peter exhales heavily behind her, then drops to her level.

“More is probably better, right? She’ll probably take some in to work or try to give them to the neighbours anyway.”

“True.” They both reach for the axe. “Go ahead,” MJ says, quickly withdrawing her hand.

Peter shaves off what he thinks May might like—plus at least an armload more—in quick slices and snips.

“Jeeze, this thing is sharp.”

“I know,” she says proudly.

“I want one. For the suit, I mean. You think that could work?”

“Well, you already have a bunch of less probable-sounding features, so why not a spider with an axe made of webs?”

“Ned’s gonna be so excited when I tell him.”

“I’m excited,” she says, maybe a little too forcefully. It’s not a competition. She doesn’t think he’s already forgotten about her. There’s just some kind of glitch in her brain-to-mouth connection that no Spidey tech could possibly fix.

“I think we’re ahead of schedule,” Peter tells her.

He pulls out his phone to check the time while MJ cleaves into the fallen tree’s trunk, cutting it down to a size more suited to transport and her family’s apartment.

“We could do this in two trips,” he presses. “Take the tree and come back for the branches? Or vice versa?”

“I think we can manage it in one.”

She glances at him and he looks mildly frantic.

“Or two,” MJ amends. “Two would be better.”

Are they finally going to talk? That has to be the reason for Peter stretching this out, doesn’t it? But he moves quickly to grip the lowest branches of the tree, down where MJ severed it, and she grabs those on the opposite side of the trunk. After a jerk to get it going, they slide the tree smoothly over the snow, leaving a fine trail of needles. It occurs to her, as they walk, that she was worried about this part on the way in here, that the tree might pick up dirt from where others have walked, but the ground looks fresh and sparkling in the sun. That’s not familiar.

“Peter? Are we going the right way?”

“What? Yeah. Aren’t we? We have to be. Because the sun was…”

He gestures very unconvincingly overhead and her heart plummets in her chest. For once, not because she’s scared of saying something about her feelings for him and hearing they aren’t reciprocated, but because what Peter’s not saying directly is that they might be lost. And the worst part of that scenario is Flash being right. No, no, no, Peter will not make Flash right, not today.

“It’s been snowing,” she reviews. Stupid and obvious, but facts are soothing to her. “How much do you think it’s snowed? Not that much, right? It can’t have. We must’ve just started walking the wrong way.”

“Definitely. Ok, let’s turn around.”

So, they swing the tree with them and strike out in the opposite direction, not going very quickly as they navigate the trees. They pass the stump they lately created and MJ plucks her axe from the snow on the way past. It just makes her feel better, having it.

Unfortunately, this way isn’t correct either.

“Alright,” she says slowly. “What the fuck.”

“Let’s leave the tree for a minute.”

They set it down. She realizes she’s sweating.

“How could we be lost? How could you be lost?”

“There aren’t exactly landmarks,” Peter says. “It’s just… trees.”

“Maybe we should’ve gone to a place with signposts and neat little rows.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

He wanders over to her, watching her with careful eyes.

“I wasn’t this cold when I called today an adventure.”

“Maybe you should zip your coat back up.”

But she’s too warm and uncomfortable to do that just to challenge how he’s calling her bluff.

“Are you scared?” he asks. “You don’t need to be scared. I think we did a lot of circling. We didn’t walk too far in any one direction. I could climb a tree and look around?”

“Climb a tree? One of these trees? The ones covered in snow with the thin branches and the spiky needles?”

“Hey,” Peter jokes, hitting her arm with his elbow, “you’re supposed to be cheering me on.”

“I…” She closes her mouth. He frowns.

“Is something wrong?”

“We’re lost and Flash is going to gloat.”

“Besides that.”

“You’re trying really hard to get us out of here.” That should be a compliment, a commendation, but it sounds accusing as it leaves her mouth. MJ feels on-edge, heart beating all wrong.

“…Should I not be?”

God, she’s being strange. She can feel herself being strange. Everything’s aligning to buy her more time and she’s panicking trying to work out what to do with it. The snow is falling softly all around and she’s auditioning to play the most awkward protagonist in the history of Hallmark holiday movies.

“Are you looking forward to going back?” MJ asks abruptly.

“To the car?”

“To school. In January.”

“Umm, kinda? I mean, it’s going well. But you know that, we talked about this stuff the other day when you and Ned were over at May’s.”

“Yeah.” She’s thinking, staring down at her cut tree, debating how to mention that there’s one thing they didn’t talk about, that she couldn’t bring up, because she felt strange about doing it with Ned there. She goes to continue, unsure of her phrasing, but ready to push onward, when Peter answers, looking thoughtfully up at the pale-grey snow clouds.

“It’s really nice to be home, but I also don’t like living in the past.”

He glances at her to see what she thinks. She’s noticed that he does that a lot, when they’re on a video call. Sometimes, she teases him about it—the way he makes certain assertions sound like questions because he wants her input, values her opinion, thinks of her as wiser than him (she is) though he’s the genius playing around at the upper end of the grading curve in all of his classes.

“Sorry, what were you gonna say?” he asks, spotting the unfinished thought in her expression, how she holds her eyebrows a little too tightly together.

MJ shakes her head.

“It’s nice to have you home.” As Peter’s beginning to smile, swaying slightly towards her, she rambles on, “It’s nice to have everyone home. I mean, I could go longer between having to see Flash in person, but what can you do, right? It’s worth it to have Ned home. And Betty. And you.”

She swallows.

“There!” he shouts, pointing past her. She squints.

“What is it?”

“Our tracks.”

Trusting his superior eyesight, MJ troops after him. Sure enough, their deep treads from earlier are still faintly present—now gentle indents as the snowfall works to even everything out again.

“But we don’t have to hurry back,” Peter says. She avoids his eyes.

“Except we probably do, now that we’ve wasted time being lost.”

“We were never actually lost.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night, Spider-Man. Help me with the tree.”

He does, then hightails it back to collect May’s branches once MJ’s in the clearing with only the little trail left between her and the makeshift parking lot. She pulls her bounty along and through the gap, suddenly back with the rest of her friends.

“Did you manage to lose Parker out there?” Flash asks immediately. “Nice. Up top.”

She rolls her eyes instead of meeting his hand in a high five.

“He just had to go back for something,” MJ explains, expressly for the benefit of Ned and Betty.

“What’d he do, drop some of you guys’ sexual tension in the woods?”

Flushing with the sting in the air and self-consciousness, she walks past Flash. Just close enough to drag the tree over his feet and make him start whining about getting dirt on his blindingly-white designer snow boots. When his complaints cut off, she knows she’s in trouble. It’s like the sudden silence in a horror movie that you just know means nothing good.

“Never mind,” Flash says loudly. “Sexual tension present and accounted for.”

MJ whirls around to see Peter’s arrived and is staring at her with a pleading look on his face. Or he was, until Flash’s words sunk in. Surely, Peter’s fast enough to snatch his keys, toss them to Betty, and have them all climb into the SUV and wheel outta here, leaving Flash behind? But during the holidays? She’d feel bad. He’s lucky.

“Can we just get the trees loaded?” Peter asks, moving to help MJ pull hers closer to demonstrate that it’s not so much a question for Flash as a demand for him to shut the hell up. Flash probably doesn’t understand. He’d need tact for that.

“Fine. And not a scratch on the Escalade,” Flash commands.

He opens the trunk to reveal a set of carefully folded tarps; they’re too ratty to actually belong to him, so MJ’s betting that they’re Betty’s or Ned’s. Those two went on a big, romantic camping trip together right after high school graduation, so these could be remnants. The first tarp crinkles in Peter’s hands as he pulls it out and unfolds it. Beneath the second—removed by Ned—there’s a Burberry blanket protecting the SUV from the tarps. Honestly. Momentarily forgetting about their awkward moment in the forest, MJ catches Peter’s eye and nods at the blanket. The two of them start laughing and soon, Betty and Ned have spotted them and are laughing too. Flash is perplexed, which, as always, is when he gets grouchy and defensive.

“Can we pick up the pace, people?” he requests. “I need a hot drink and an even hotter fire. I can barely feel my fingers.”

“Wait.” MJ frowns and pauses in assisting Peter with dragging the longest tarp onto the roof of the SUV. “I have a tree, Ned and Betty each have trees… Flash, where’s your tree?”

She turns her head and notices Ned just cutting off a gesture of slicing a hand across his throat to insist on her not finishing that question. Betty sighs and explains.

“Flash’s service came back while we were out there.”

“Dude,” Peter huffs, stretching to reach and finish tugging the tarp into place, “you had service? You could’ve texted us to see if we were, I don’t know, lost.”

“This should come as no surprise to you, Parker,” Flash says snootily, “but I had other priorities.”

“Oh yeah?” MJ questions suspiciously.

“He went online and bought an artificial tree,” Betty says with a roll of her eyes.

“Sacrilege.”

“More like brilliance,” Flash corrects. “It has snow-encrusted branches, pre-strung lights, and the thing isn’t gonna die in a week, so it’s better for the environment.”

“Isn’t it plastic?” MJ checks in a slow voice, waiting for him to catch on.

“Yeah.”

“Then the process used to produce it created harmful emissions and when you find it next year and decide to throw it out because you’re no longer ‘feelin’ it’ or whatever excuse you have, it’ll go straight in the trash and from there to one of the many, many local and international landfills that house our city’s waste.”

“You’re pretty judgy for a girl who just fucking murdered a tree.”

“I did my research,” MJ counters easily. “This is a sustainably managed forest. They maintain the trees, protect new growth and transplant saplings every spring to ensure the health of not only the cash crop, but the forest as a whole. Pre-light that, dickhead.”

Feeling flustered, she goes to give Betty and Ned a hand with positioning their tree on the roof. MJ stands on the ledge offered by the open trunk and stabilizes the tree while the others guide it into position.

“Tension,” she hears Flash diagnose under his breath. He’s smart enough to not meet her eye when she glares down at him.

They encounter a small problem while loading the second tree: both Betty and Ned have selected especially full specimens. Side by side, they take up the entire roof, and MJ’s tree is still on the ground with Peter’s mountain of branches, waiting to be slung onboard.

“I don’t think it’ll fit,” Ned says after jumping into the air twice to take a look at the available space (none).

“Neither do I,” she agrees. “Guess it’s going in the trunk.”

“In the trunk?” Flash is there in a, well, flash. He slipped into the driver’s seat, ostensibly to doublecheck their route home, but really to start his seat-warmer and turn the Christmas radio station back on. His distress is juxtaposed against a jazzy rendition of ‘Winter Wonderland.’

“Yeah. There’s nowhere else.”

“Guys, please. Are you trying to get back at me for the sexual tension comment? It’s forgotten. I lied. No tension here. Cut the act and tell me that thing’s going on the roof with the others.”

“While ‘that thing’ is a capitalist nexus, it’s also a precious symbol of everything I love about Christmas,” MJ says firmly, “and it’s going in the trunk of this SUV.”

“Guys?” Flash glances at the other three, but nobody sides with him.

“Don’t worry, Flash,” Betty says kindly. “We won’t use the second tarp to go on top of the roof trees, we’ll line the trunk with it instead. There won’t be any needles, I promise.”

That is definitely not a promise she can make, and MJ’s sure her friend is aware, but she’s taking a shortcut to winning this standoff and MJ admires that. The placating seems to wash over Flash like the spirit of Christmas over Scrooge McDuck. Suddenly, he’s smiling.

“Yeah. We can do that. Of course. But.” Oh no. The smile’s warping. Flash is about to be an asshole again, MJ can see it coming fast on the horizon. “The tree’s going to take up more space than just the trunk.”

MJ peers into the SUV. Shit. He’s probably right.

“Oh,” says Betty, not getting the issue, “well, we can fold the seats down, right? The tree isn’t that tall. Come on, guys, we’ve had real problems. This is nothing!”

She beams at them and Ned wraps an arm around her, hugging her to his side.

“We’ll lose a seat in the back,” MJ says.

She’s profoundly annoyed by the satisfaction on Flash’s face as she’s the one to say the words, point out the obvious. Isn’t she always? It feels like her role in this friend group and she never minds that, never has until this very situation and its inevitable conclusion.

“Somebody’s gotta sit on somebody else’s lap,” Flash singsongs. “And it’s not me because I’m the driver!”

The other four look at each other.

“Betty,” Ned begins, “you and I could…”

“But she needs to be in the front to navigate,” Flash irritatingly points out, “and before you say it, you shouldn’t double up in the front. It’s not safe.”

Maybe they can back over him when they steal his ride and drive out of here, MJ theorizes. She sighs. Loudly. Vexedly.

“I’ll sit on Peter.”

She proceeds to make eye contact with none of them, just fishes a sloppy coil of rope out of the back and works with Betty to feed it over the trees and through the windows. Some cold air will blow into the SUV, but that won’t matter so much to her, she guesses, since she’ll have the benefit of Peter’s body heat. Who needs a seat-warmer when you can have an actual human lap? Ugh, no, not funny, but she tried to consider it in a way that doesn’t make her want to volunteer to sit in the trunk with her tree.

Finally, they lift her tree and Peter’s branches inside, position them, and shut the trunk. Flash is whistling ‘Carol of the Bells’ as he practically skips to the driver’s seat. Betty, far more compassionate, gives MJ a reassuring look before she gets in. Then Peter climbs into the back, taking the middle seat, and glances at her, lingering in the snow. She groans to herself and folds into the car as Ned gives her an encouraging pat on the back.

Maneuvering is awkward. Peter cranes his neck back like his whole body is leaning to make room for her, but it’s not possible—he’s already pressed back against the seat. She sits. He rustles beneath and behind her. Before she can panic and insist on walking home, Ned gets in and slams the door closed (Flash complains).

“Uh,” Peter starts, “do you wanna shift forward so I can buckle my—”

“Absolutely not. If we’re sharing a seat, we’re sharing a seatbelt. I don’t want to end this excursion by flying through the windshield when Flash swerves the car off the road because he sees a snowdrift that looks like a butt or something.”

“Hey! I’m an excellent driver,” he complains, starting the car.

“I could just, like, hold onto you?” Peter offers.

MJ’s heartbeat rockets. She presses the top of her head to the ceiling to ground herself.

“No. We’re using the seatbelt.”

Peter stretches it away from the seat and holds it for her to grab; she passes it back for him to fasten. The second it clicks into place, Flash throws the SUV into reverse and hits the gas. Peter must move his head away from behind hers because MJ’s genuinely surprised not to feel his nose break against the back of her skull.

“Excellent driver, huh?” she questions flatly.

“There was ice.”

“Sure there was.”

Flash winks at her in the rear-view mirror and instead of siding with her, MJ catches Ned chuckling.

“I’m sorry, but it’s funny. You guys look ridiculous seatbelted together,” he says.

But she doesn’t feel so much ridiculous as confused and on alert, swaying with Flash’s accelerations and decelerations (thankfully minor compared to how he started off). Every time, Peter’s hands jump to grab her: shoulders, waist, legs. Once, he grabs her hands and even though she still has her mittens on, dripping melting snow onto the seat on one side and the tree branch she��s clutching on the other, it’s startling.

“Sit still,” Peter tells her when she jerks out of his hold.

“You sit still.”

He laughs.

“I can’t go anywhere—you’re sitting on me.”

“Then try having less bony legs,” she suggests, though they both know the nerd has more muscle mass in one of his legs than the rest of the SUV’s occupants have in their entire bodies combined.

“Right up here!” Betty directs. “We have to pay.”

MJ sags gratefully into Peter, relaxed for the first moment of the short drive from the lot to the tree farm. She tenses up again when they pull in and Betty offers to be the one to hop out and pay for their trees. There is no reprieve from Peter’s lap. She hands over her cash to her friend with a sigh and listens while the trees are removed from the roof, shaken by a machine to rid them of loose needles, and replaced for transport home. When the trunk opens and the tree farm guy slides MJ’s little tree free, she shivers at the cold air blowing in.

“Take off your mitts and put your hands by the vent,” Peter suggests.

MJ looks around and sees that the only vent she can reach is the one their feet are bracketing, down by the floor. She fights the grip of the seatbelt to bend forward. Ah. Hot air on her freezing fingers, plus, she’s out of the draft coming through the open trunk.

“This is better. Thanks, dork.”

She glances back and spots the stricken look on her friend’s face as he watches her, still seated on his lap, but now bent over. MJ sits swiftly upright.

“I’m actually not that cold,” she says, spine rigid beneath her coat and her sweaters.

Peter sighs and, while Ned’s looking out the window to watch her tree get vibrated and wrapped, tentatively offers MJ his hands. If Ned notices that they’re holding hands when the SUV is completely repacked and they’re on their way to the place with the wine and cider, he doesn’t say a word about it. It’s shared body heat. It’s a survival tactic. That’s what MJ tells herself as she finds her and Peter’s fingers moving gently from a perfunctory clasp to intertwining.

They stay that way until Flash pulls off the road at the cider spot, which turns out to be an apple orchard. Well, more than just the orchard; there’s a whole barn here, but fancy, with a designated lot and possibly a restaurant inside.

“This is so cute!” Betty says.

MJ concentrates on shaking her hands out of Peter’s before Flash puts the SUV in park and turns around to see them.

The two of them are the last out of the car and she’s stiff with the silence, listening to their friends laugh and gripe about the cold (Flash) as they wait with Ned’s door open. Before MJ can push through her thoughts and fears to say anything, Peter’s arm comes around her. Her eyes widen. …And he unbuckles the seatbelt. Probably just because she was taking too long. She slips over into Ned’s vacant seat and is about to scramble out when Peter catches her hand. MJ turns.

“Will you tell them we’ll meet them inside?” he requests.

Heart hammering, she relays the message, then looks on as Ned and Betty hustle Flash through the doors before can make another of his unwelcome comments or otherwise interfere.

“I think we really need to talk,” Peter says, after MJ pulls the door closed to preserve what little heat is left in the vehicle.

“We talk all the time,” she argues. She thinks, Yes, please talk to me.

“About a lot of stuff. You know, most stuff.” He wedges his fingers under the edge of his hat to run them nervously through his hair.

“That’s a generalization, but a fair one.”

“But, you know, lately, I’ve been, uh, wishing that we could talk about…”

“…even more stuff?” MJ guesses, hopes.

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“You know, our schools aren’t that far apart,” he says, like it’s the first time he’s realizing this.

She smiles wryly.

“I’m aware. That’s why I came out for Thanksgiving first year when you couldn’t make it back to Queens. Even if we did eat take-out shrimp Pad Thai instead of homecooked turkey.”

“And,” Peter adds, “it’s why I showed up at your dorm to help you study for that midterm you were stressing about in October.”

“And why I picked up when you called me every night,” MJ says, quieter. He smiles softly.

“I was talking about the distance.”

Summoning her courage, she looks him right in the eye and lets her still-uncovered hand sneak back over his.

“What distance?”

“You’re my best friend,” Peter starts. “You and Ned.” MJ frowns. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit, she’s misjudged this, seriously misjudged this.

“Oh. Well. Great. Cool.”

“No, MJ!” he says quickly, noticing the look on her face. He flips his hand under hers so their palms meet. “I’m definitely in love with you, I just mean… Well, oops, I guess I said it.”

She’s pretty impressed with her own control over her facial features—maintaining a slightly-happier-than-neutral expression—when half of her brain is setting off fireworks that seem to be landing and fizzing around on the other half. He’s in love with her. Definitely.

“For as fast as your mind works, your mouth always manages to get ahead of it,” she observes.

Peter’s expression goes from tortured and fumbling to sharp and decisive.

“That’s good advice.”

“What? That wasn’t advi—”

He darts forward and kisses her, hand emphatically clutching hers. There’s a humorous smack when their mouths separate.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, “I forgot to ask if it was ok to do that.”

MJ smirks.

“My only complaint is that you beat me to it when I’ve been trying to figure out how to do that all day.”

“I did wonder,” he admits with a small smile.

“And you couldn’t have helped me out?” she asks, exasperated.

“A big part of being friends with you is knowing you rarely need help. You’re good, like, ninety percent of the time.”

“What do you do the other ten percent?”

Peter shrugs.

“Kiss you and ask if you have plans for New Year’s? By the way, do you have plans for New Year’s?”

He tries to adopt a casual expression but now that MJ thinks about it, she can’t recall the last time her friend looked at her with anything like mild interest. He can’t pull it off anymore, if he ever could. Apparently, she wasn’t always watching that well, because she clearly didn’t know everything.

Peter loves her. He loves her.

“I have a feeling I’ll probably be available,” she tells him. “I have a bad habit of trying to be where you are.”

“I love that about you.”

MJ kisses him quickly, then shoves him away, nearly into the pine tree resting on his other side. Whoops. It’s just that she can feel how easy it would be to get caught up in this moment, and they’re still in the back of Flash’s SUV. People are waiting for them. She takes a deep breath and gives Peter a searching look.

“If we walk in there like this—” She shakes their clasped hands. “—what do I say?”

“Tell them your hands were cold.”

“I… I don’t want to hide it, I just…”

“I know. It’s ok. It’s new.”

“Yeah.”

Peter nods sympathetically. He’s her friend first; he’s not going to push her to speak before she’s ready. (He probably knows he couldn’t if he wanted to.)

She hauls the door open and they stride through the snowy parking lot together. The sun’s already struggling to come out and flakes whip high into the air, catching in the light. They step inside the building to see brightness streaming through the windows, their trio of friends crowded around a table. Flash seems to be making Ned sprinkle cinnamon into his hot apple cider while he films it—presumably to post for the enjoyment of the Flash Mob. (That’s still going. He has a shocking number of followers.) Betty turns and her gaze slips down to their joined hands. She smiles.

MJ has the excuse ready. When Flash and Ned glance over, she’s prepared to tell them her hands were cold.

She opens her mouth.

“Peter’s my boyfriend now.”

[howlermemes]

                                       𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭                                                l  y  r  i  c    s  t  a  r  t  e  r  s

✽  long post ahead bc i have no self control ! ✽  change pronouns / punctuation as needed . ✽  some lyrics are explicit. ✽  some themes are slightly darker. ✽  alteratively, send    ♫ 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚔𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎    to have a lyric automatically generated & said to your muse instead .

[ track 01 ]   the 1 ❛ I'm doing good! I'm on some new shit. ❜ ❛ I thought I saw you at the bus stop. ❜ ❛ I hit the ground running each night. ❜ ❛ You know, the greatest films of all time were never made. ❜ ❛ If you wanted me, you really should have showed. ❜ ❛ If you never bleed, you're never gonna grow. ❜ ❛ It's alright now. ❜ ❛ We were something, don't you think so? ❜ ❛ If my wishes came true, it would have been you. ❜ ❛ In my defense — I have none for never leaving well enough alone. ❜ ❛ It would have been fun if you would have been the one. ❜ ❛ I had this dream you're doing cool shit, having adventures on your own. ❜ ❛ We never painted by the numbers, baby. ❜ ❛ We were making it count. ❜ ❛ You know the greatest loves of all time are over now. ❜ ❛ I guess you never know. ❜ ❛ It's another day of waking up alone. ❜ ❛ If one thing had been different, would everything be different today? ❜ ❛ It would have been sweet if it could've been me. ❜ ❛ In my defense, I have none for digging up the grave another time. ❜

[ track 02 ]   cardigan ❛ When you are young, they assume you know nothing. ❜ ❛ Baby, kiss it better. ❜ ❛ I was your favorite. ❜ ❛ A friend to all is a friend to none. ❜ ❛ Chase two girls, lose the one. ❜ ❛ To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed. ❜ ❛ You drew stars around my scars and now I'm bleeding. ❜ ❛ I knew you tried to change the ending. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs. ❜ ❛ I knew everything when I was young. ❜ ❛ I knew I'd curse you for the longest time. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standing in my front porch light. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd come back to me. ❜

[ track 03 ]   the last great american dynasty ❛ How did a middle-class divorcee do it? ❜ ❛ The wedding was a charming, if a little gauche. ❜ ❛ There's only so far new money goes. ❜ ❛ Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud. ❜ ❛ It must have been her fault his heart gave out. ❜ ❛ There goes the last great American dynasty. ❜ ❛ Who knows, if she never showed up, what could have been. ❜ ❛ There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen. ❜ ❛ They say she was seen on occasion, pacing the rocks, staring out the sea. ❜ ❛ In a feud with her neighbor, she stole his dog and dyed it key lime green. ❜ ❛ Fifty years is a long time. ❜ ❛ Who knows, if I never showed up, what could've been. ❜ ❛ I had a marvelous time ruining everything. ❜ ❛ I had a marvelous time. ❜

[ track 04 ]   exile ❛ I can see you standing, honey, with his arms around your body. ❜ ❛ I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending. ❜ ❛ You're not my homeland anymore. ❜ ❛ What am I defending now? ❜ ❛ You were my town. Now I'm in exile, seeing you out. ❜ ❛ I can see you staring, honey, like he's just your understudy, like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me. ❜ ❛ You'd get your knuckles bloody for me. ❜ ❛ Those eyes add insult to injury. ❜ ❛ I'm not your problem anymore. ❜ ❛ Who am I offending now? ❜ ❛ You were my crown. Now I'm in exile, seeing you out. ❜ ❛ I'm leaving out the side door. ❜ ❛ There is no amount of crying I can do for you. ❜ ❛ All this time, we always walked a very thin line. ❜ ❛ You didn't even hear me out. ❜ ❛ You never gave a warning sign. ❜ ❛ I gave so many signs. ❜ ❛ All this time, I never learned to read your mind. ❜ ❛ I couldn't turn things around. ❜ ❛ You never turned things around. ❜ ❛ You didn't even see the signs. ❜

[ track 05 ]   my tears ricochet ❛ If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too. ❜ ❛ Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe — all the hell you gave me? ❜ ❛ I loved you, I swear I loved you, until my dying day. ❜ ❛ I didn't have it in myself to go with grace. ❜ ❛ You're the hero flying around, saving face. ❜ ❛ If I'm dead to you, why were you at the wake? ❜ ❛ Look at how my tears ricochet. ❜ ❛ We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean. ❜ ❛ You know I didn't want to have to haunt you. ❜ ❛ What a ghostly scene. ❜ ❛ You used to tell me I was brave. ❜ ❛ I can go anywhere I want. Anywhere I want, just not home. ❜ ❛ You can aim for my heart — go for blood. ❜ ❛ You would still miss me in your bones. ❜ ❛ I still talk to you when I'm screaming at the sky. ❜ ❛ You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same. ❜ ❛ You turned into your worst fears. ❜ ❛ You're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years. ❜

[ track 06 ]   mirrorball ❛ I'll show you every version of yourself tonight. ❜ ❛ When I break, it's a million pieces. ❜ ❛ Hush. ❜ ❛ You'll find me on my tallest tip-toes, spinning in my highest heels, love — shining just for you. ❜ ❛ I know they said the end is near. ❜ ❛ I can change everything about me to fit in. ❜ ❛ You're not like the regulars. ❜ ❛ I'm still on that tightrope. ❜ ❛ I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me. ❜ ❛ I'm still a believer, but I don't know why. ❜ ❛ I've never been a natural. ❜ ❛ All I do is try, try, try. ❜ ❛ I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me. ❜

[ track 07 ]   seven ❛ Please picture me in the trees. ❜ ❛ I hit my peak at seven, feet in the swing over the creek. ❜ ❛ I was too scared to jump in, but I was high in the sky. ❜ ❛ Are there still beautiful things? ❜ ❛ Cross your heart. ❜ ❛ Though I can't recall your face, I still got love for you. ❜ ❛ Love you to the moon and to Saturn. ❜ ❛ The love lasts so long. ❜ ❛ I've been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. ❜ ❛ Your dad is always mad. ❜ ❛ I think you should come live with me. ❜ ❛ We can be pirates! ❜ ❛ You won't have to cry or hide in the closet. ❜ ❛ Our love will be passed on. ❜ ❛ I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted. ❜ ❛ Pack your dolls and a sweater. ❜

[ track 08 ]   august ❛ Salt air and the rust on your door — I never needed anything more. ❜ ❛ I can see us lost in the memory. ❜ ❛ August slipped away into a moment in time, because it was never mine. ❜ ❛ I was see us twisted in bedsheets. ❜ ❛ August sipped away like a bottle of wine, because you were never mine. ❜ ❛ Will you call me when you're back at school? ❜ ❛ I remember thinking I had you. ❜ ❛ It was never mine. ❜ ❛ You were never mine. ❜ ❛ For me, it was enough to live for the hope of it all. ❜ ❛ I canceled plans just in case you'd call. ❜ ❛ Meet me behind the mall. ❜ ❛ So much for summer love and saying "us". ❜ ❛ You weren't mine to lose. ❜ ❛ Do you remember? ❜ ❛ Remember when I pulled up and said "Get in the car." ❛ I was living for the hope of it all. ❜

[ track 09 ]   this is me trying ❛ I've been having a hard time adjusting. ❜ ❛ I didn't know if you'd care if I came back. ❜ ❛ I have a lot of regrets about that. ❜ ❛ Maybe I don't quite know what to say. ❜ ❛ I'm here in your doorway. ❜ ❛ I just wanted you to know this is me trying. ❜ ❛ I got wasted like all my potential. ❜ ❛ My words shoot to kill when I'm mad. I have a lot of regrets about that. ❜ ❛ I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere. ❜ ❛ I ended up here, pouring my heart out to a stranger. ❜ ❛ I didn't pour the whiskey. ❜ ❛ At least I'm trying. ❜ ❛ It's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound. ❜ ❛ It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. ❜ ❛ You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town. ❜

[ track 10 ]   illicit affairs ❛ Make sure nobody sees you leave. ❜ ❛ Tell your friends you're out for a run. ❜ ❛ You'll be flushed when you return. ❜ ❛ Take the road less traveled by. ❜ ❛ Tell yourself you can always stop. ❜ ❛ What started in beautiful rooms, ends with meeting in parking lots. ❜ ❛ That's the thing about illicit affairs — and clandestine meetings and longing stares. ❜ ❛ It's born from just one single glance, but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times. ❜ ❛ You leave no trace behind. ❜ ❛ Take the words for what they are — a dwindling mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times. ❜ ❛ They show their truth one single time, but they lie and they lie and they lie. A million little times. ❜ ❛ Don't call me "kid". ❜ ❛ Don't call me "baby". ❜ ❛ Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. ❜ ❛ You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else. ❜ ❛ Look at this idiotic fool that you made me. ❜ ❛ You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else. ❜ ❛ You know damn well, for you, I would ruin myself a million little times. ❜

[ track 11 ]   invisible string ❛ I used to think I would meet somebody there. ❜ ❛ Teal was the color of your shirt when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop. ❜ ❛ Time, curious time. ❜ ❛ Were there clues I didn't see? ❜ ❛ Isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? ❜ ❛ You ate at my favorite spot for dinner. ❜ ❛ She said I looked like an American singer. ❜ ❛ Time, mystical time — cutting me open, then healing me fine. ❜ ❛ Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire. ❜ ❛ One single thread of gold tied me to you. ❜ ❛ Gold was the color of the leaves when you around Centennial Park. ❜ ❛ Hell was the journey, but it brought me to heaven. ❜ ❛ Time, wondrous time, gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies. ❜ ❛ It's cool, baby, with me. ❜

[ track 12 ]   mad woman ❛ What did you think I'd say to that? ❜ ❛ Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? ❜ ❛ They strike to kill, and you know I will. ❜ ❛ What do you sing on your drive home? ❜ ❛ Do you see my face in the neighbors lawn? ❜ ❛ Fuck you forever. ❜ ❛ Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy. ❜ ❛ When you say I seem angry, I get more angry. ❜ ❛ There's nothing like a mad woman. ❜ ❛ What a shame she went mad. ❜ ❛ No one likes a mad woman. You made her like that. ❜ ❛ You'll poke that bear 'till her claws come out and you find something to wrap your noose around. ❜ ❛ I breathe flames each time I talk. ❜ ❛ They say "Move On," but you know I won't. ❜ ❛ Women like hunting witches too, doing your dirtiest work for you. ❜ ❛ It's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together. ❜ ❛ I'm taking my time. ❜ ❛ You took everything from me. ❜ ❛ She should be mad, should be scathing like me. ❜

[ track 13 ]   epiphany ❛ I think he's bleeding out. ❜ ❛ Some things you just can't speak about. ❜ ❛ With you, I serve. With you, I fall down. ❜ ❛ I think she's crashing out. ❜ ❛ Only twenty minutes to sleep. ❛ You dream of some epiphany — just one single glimpse of relief. ❜

[ track 14 ]   betty ❛ I won't make assumptions. ❜ ❛ I think it's because of me. ❜ ❛ One time, I was riding on my skateboard when I passed your house. ❜ ❛ It's like I couldn't breathe. ❜ ❛ You heard the rumors. ❜ ❛ You can't believe a word she says most times. But this time, it was true. ❜ ❛ The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you. ❜ ❛ If I just showed up at your party, would you have me? ❜ ❛ Would you want me? ❜ ❛ Would you tell me to go fuck myself? ❜ ❛ In the garden, would you trust me if I told you it was a just a summer thing? ❜ ❛ I'm only seventeen. I don't know anything. ❜ ❛ I don't know anything, but I know I miss you. ❜ ❛ I know where it all went wrong. ❜ ❛ I was nowhere to be found. ❜ ❛ I hate crowds. You know that. ❜ ❛ I saw you dance with him. ❜ ❛ I was walking home on broken cobblestones, just thinking of you. ❛ She pulled up like a figment of my worst intentions. ❜ ❛ Get in. Let's drive. ❜ ❛ I dreamt of you all summer long. ❜ ❛ I planned it out for weeks now. ❜ ❛ It's finally sinking in. ❜ ❛ Right now is the last time. ❜ ❛ I can dream about what happens when you can see my face again. ❜ ❛ The only thing I wanna do is make it up to you. ❜ ❛ Will you have me? ❜ ❛ Will you love me? ❜ ❛ Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? ❜ ❛ If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? ❜ ❛ I don't know anything. ❜

[ track 15 ]   peace ❛ Our coming-of-age has come and gone. ❜ ❛ I never had the courage of my convictions, as long as danger is near. ❜ ❛ It's just around the corner, darlin. ❜ ❛ I could never give you peace. ❜ ❛ I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm. ❜ ❛ All these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret. ❜ ❛ The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me. ❜ ❛ Would it be enough if I could never give you peace? ❜ ❛ Your integrity makes me seem small. ❜ ❛ I talk shit with my friends. It's like I'm wasting your honor. ❜ ❛ Is it enough? ❜ ❛ I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best. ❜ ❛ The rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me. ❜

[ track 16 ]   hoax ❛ This has broken me down. ❜ ❛ This has frozen my ground. ❜ ❛ Give me a reason. ❜ ❛ Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in. ❜ ❛ Don't want no other shade of blue, but you. ❜ ❛ No other sadness in the world would do. ❜ ❛ I am ash from your fire. ❜ ❛ You know I left a part of me back in New York. ❜ ❛ You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for? ❜ ❛ You knew it still hurts underneath my scars. ❜ ❛ You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? ❜ ❛ It still hurts underneath my scars. ❜ ❛ What you did was just as dark. ❜ ❛ Darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart. ❜

[i-know-you-can]

The Story of Us - It takes a village

Time flies and it’s been a little while since I added anything new to my collection of short one shots/drabbles but a few days ago a wonderful idea by @tikigoddess caught my attention and wouldn’t let me go. You can find the original post here or if you don’t want to be spoiled

Read below or on Ao3

“Are you sure you guys are gonna be fine on your own? I can just tell Veronica to reschedule. Or maybe we can stay in. I’m sure she could bring the whole spa over here if she wanted.”

“Betts,” Jughead says, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her nervous rambling, the other hand cradling their baby daughter against his chest. “We’ll be just fine. Mia will probably sleep most of the time you’re away anyway while I’ll try to get some writing done. No need to worry about us.”

It’s been only six weeks since Mia Isabella Jones has entered their lives, causing everything they do to stop and focus on her. And while Jughead is more than willing to do that, assuming the role of a full time dad with pride, he’s also still a husband, one of his duties being that he needs to force his wife to take time for herself and relax.

“But what if...” Betty tries to protest but Jughead stops her.

“No what ifs. You’re only going to Greendale. If something were to happen, which it won’t, Veronica’s driver will have you back in no time.”

With a resigned sigh Betty nods and Jughead knows just how she feels. Every moment spent away from their daughter feels like forever. And for someone as young as her, it probably is. Even though she spends most of her day sleeping, completely unaware of her parents’ presence.

“I’ll miss this sweet face,” Betty says, her lips down-turned as she strokes Mia’s cheek, the little girl rewarding her with a toothless smile.

“I’ll miss yours too.” Jughead grins, making her chuckle. “But it’s only a few hours and you deserve time for yourself.”

Just then a car honks outside of their house, signaling Veronica’s arrival.

With dozen kisses to Mia’s face and a few spare for him, Betty is out of the door, finally leaving the father-daughter duo alone.

“It’s just you and me kiddo,” Jughead whispers and for a moment he worries Mia will feel the lack of her mother’s presence and break into tears. He sure would in her place. But instead she just lets out a quiet gurgle and snuggles into his chest.

“I know, I’ll miss mommy too,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Not sure if more for her comfort or his. “But I promise we’ll have fun.”

Jughead may have exaggerated the term fun when twenty minutes later Mia is sleeping soundly in her crib while he stares at the blank screen of his computer, willing the words to come to him. It’s difficult to get into the zone though, as a thought in the back of his mind keeps nagging him, telling him he’s forgetting something important. He’s ran through the mental checklist of baby care twice already, making sure his daughter was safe and satisfied but the feeling doesn’t go away.

It’s only when his phone rings and a frustrated “Jones, where are you? We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.” comes from the other end that he realizes what he’s been forgetting this whole time. The monthly Serpents’ meeting.

While the previous month, due to Mia being barely two weeks old, Toni, as his second in command, lead the meeting, this month Jughead promised to check back in himself. A thought that quickly slipped his mind in the hustle and bustle of his everyday life.

What was once a five minute bike drive now turned into half an hour as Jughead triple checked the contents of the diaper bag before loading Mia into the car seat and setting off towards the White Wyrm. By the time he arrives, the Serpents are already waiting, faces predictably twisted with annoyance that quickly dissipates and turns into smiles once they notice the sleeping baby strapped to his chest. His daughter does tend to have that sort of effect on people.

“Sorry for the delay, guys,” Jughead says as they all settle into their chairs, “but as you can see, I have a very cute excuse.”

It’s barely ten minutes later when he’s running his hand through his hair in frustration. He’s forgotten how these meetings can sometimes go, especially with new members of the gang and without Betty by his side to shut them up with a single look before they have a chance to say something stupid.

“It’s just weed. What’s the big deal?” the newest member of the gang, a self-nicknamed guy called Sniper, asks, crossing his arms. He looks like a toddler about to throw a tantrum and Jughead hoped he was at least two years away from having to deal with that.

“The Serpents don’t deal drugs. It’s one of the main rules and you know that,” Jughead says, trying to keep his tone firm and serious. He knows that the adorable baby strapped to his chest may be making it a bit more difficult to take him seriously but he tries anyway.

Sniper rolls his eyes with an exaggerated huff, muttering something about the gang being boring. Then he pulls out a pack of cigarettes but Toni slaps the lighter out of his hand before he can light one.

“Are you crazy? There is a baby here,” she says, her eyes flaming with anger.

“Yeah, and Fangs has asthma. The Wyrm is a strict no smoking zone,” Sweet Pea growls, standing up to tower over the new guy for emphasis.

Sniper takes a quick look around him, as if wondering whether anyone will back him up, but the other Serpents just shake their heads and send him disapproving looks. “What kind of stupid gang is this?” he grumbles, kicking a chair angrily.

The sudden noise startles Mia from her slumber, a loud wail piercing through the air in an instant.

“See? Now you made the baby cry. Get out of here!” Sweet Pea snarls, pushing him towards the exit.

Jughead’s hand immediately comes up to Mia’s back, trying to soothe her with gentle strokes. “It’s okay, sweetie,” he talks to her in the softest voice possible, “sorry that poopy head woke you up.” He hears a couple of people snicker at his choice of words but ignores them, bouncing lightly on his feet, hoping to quickly put her back to sleep. The first three weeks of her life, bouncing on a fitness ball was the only sure-fire way to get her to sleep but Betty and Jughead have since moved on from bringing the ball with them everywhere so this is the most he can do now.

The little girl isn’t having it though, her tiny face scrunching up and her cries growing louder. Some of the Serpents, mostly the ones who don’t have kids on their own, start looking uncomfortable, clearly not sure how to deal with the situation. A crying baby is not a common problem during gang meetings.

“Let me hold her. Maybe she’s just sick of all the testosterone in the air,” Toni says and after a moment of hesitation Jughead carefully extracts Mia from the baby carrier.

“Be careful,” he tells her and she shoots him a look that says: “ I know what I’m doing better than you do.” . He supposes she’s right. After all, she has her own tiny person at home and therefore a lot more experience than he does. Still, it doesn’t stop him from worrying whenever he hands his daughter to someone else.

Toni’s presence doesn’t seem to help though, as Mia continues to prove to everyone how strong her lungs are.

“Let me try,” an older Serpent comes up to Toni, reaching his hands out for the baby. “My girls always liked to be rocked in a specific way.”

Jughead runs his hand through his hair, wondering how the direction of the meeting changed so quickly. Ah, right, Sniper was being an idiot.

Betty often teases him about how the Serpents have hardly resembled a gang in the past half a decade. He usually tries to oppose her, saying that a gang isn’t defined by doing criminal activities or riding motorcycles (many of the Serpents have exchanged theirs for family cars). But looking at them now, all he sees is a group of dorks in leather jackets, passing along a crying baby in a poor attempt to get her to stop crying.

“Your ugly face is only making her cry more.” He hears Sweet Pea say to a Serpent called Hisser who is trying to pull funny faces at Mia, before taking the baby from him. “Babies like being sung to,” he says, taking a deep breath before a slightly husky rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star reverberates through the bar.

“You’re singing it wrong,” Fangs interrupts him, starting the song again and several other Serpents start humming alongside him.

To everyone’s surprise, by the time they finish the song for the second time, the crying stops, Mia’s bright green eyes half closed and heavy with sleep.

“We did it, boss!” Fangs whisper yells in excitement as Sweet Pea continues to rock the baby in his arms until her eyes close completely.

As Jughead watches them, he realizes he could hardly ask for a better family for his daughter. Raising a child really takes a village. And sometimes that village is a group of gang member singing lullabies in a bar.

_______________

“Oh my god!” Betty exclaims with a giggle as a video of the Serpents singing to her daughter plays on her phone. Underneath a message from Toni says: "The Serpent Princess already has them wrapped around her tiny finger.”

[notebooks-and-tea]

Parse & Folklore: A Ted Talk

Alright everyone, settle down and come have emotions with me about how many of the lyrics from Folklore could apply to Parse. This is a long one so buckle in kiddos. I’m not usually a omgcp blog and I haven’t actually used tumblr in ages but I needed to share my emotions. Someone please yell at me if they have any more thoughts - I’m always here for Parse &/ Taylor rants!  

1. The 1 - let’s be real you could read the entirety of this song as Kent, hopefully having now finally managed to move on from Jack, wistfully thinking back on how nice it would’ve have been if he had indeed been ‘the one’. 

Lyrics that kind of hurt:

We were something, don’t you think so? And if my wishes came true It would've been you In my defense, I have none For never leaving well enough alone      Rosé flowing with your chosen family And it would've been sweet If it could've been me In my defense, I have none For digging up the grave another time 2. Cardigan -  So the concept of this song doesn’t directly relate to Kent but a few of the lines stick out to me a lot and I guess just generally this idea of ‘when you are young they assume you know nothing’ in the context of what Jack and Kent would have been going through when they were in Juniors.

Lyrics that stand out to my angsty heart:

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young I knew I'd curse you for the longest time <--literally just Kent not being able to let go of Jack despite how long it’s been since the draft

3.  My Tears Ricochet - Definitely don’t think about the idea of Kent loving Jack and being cut out and ignored following his overdose while listening to this song. ‘I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace’ when thinking about Kent visiting Jack at Samwell and being rejected, then lashing out is particularly painful okay. You could totally interpret a lot of this song as Kent lashing out at Jack and reminding him that he can cut him out and claim he’s moved on but he’ll always be a part of him and it just makes me sad to think about how that might not actually be true...

Lyrics that make me sad:

Even on my worst day Did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you I swear I loved you Till my dying day  I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And you're the hero flying around saving face <--Jack getting to look like Kent attacked him for no reason as if he doesn’t also owe apologies  'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones    <-- also kind of reminds me of Kent, in his anger when he turns up at Samwell, lashing out and saying that it’s people like him who still care about Jack no matter what

4. Mirrorball - okay literally just one line really sticks out to me and makes me sad so definitely don’t think about Kent having to hide who he is around the Aces, especially when Jack and Bitty kiss on the ice and he’s in the bar and someone whose name I’ve forgotten is being a homophobic dick, while Taylor sings “I'm a mirrorball I can change everything about me to fit in”

5. AUGUST - like the entire song basically? But like specifically these two boys have a month in the summer between winning the memorial cup and the draft and maybe Kent thinks it’s perfect and he’s so hopeful and he knows it has to end because they’re going to be on separate teams but maybe for him, just wanting them to be together is enough, at least for now. But everything goes wrong and Jack slips away and then they lose contact because Jack cuts him out and all Kent knows is that he should have known because he was never really his no matter how much he hoped that would be true. So now he just has those memories of the two of them together that one summer and maybe that kind of makes me want to cry?

Lyrics and sadnessss:

I never needed anything more Whispers Of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before" <-- just really hammering in that reminder that they were just kids before the draft But I can see us Lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away Like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine  Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinking I had you Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call So much for summer love, and saying "Us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose 6.  This is Me Trying - Yikes, isn’t the title just a hypothetical Parse anthem though? Once again, not really exactly in the spirit of the actual song but I feel like so many of the lyrics apply? I mean, Kent turning up at Samwell vibes and once again he lashes out because he feels hurt but he’s trying. He doesn’t even know if Jack wants to see him but he’s hopeful so he turns up and he’s trying to be helpful and to reconnect but he’s still hurting even if Jack doesn’t seem to care? Also definitely don’t think about Kent in his first year in the NHL when he’s supposed to be living his dream and enjoying life, celebrating victories with his new team but all he can think about is Jack and how he may have hurt him and that he’s living the life he’s missing out on. 

Lyrics I have emotions about:

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway <-- Kent turning up at Samwell not really knowing if Jack would want to see him but being so hopeful that he would just hurtssss I just wanted you to know That this is me trying  And at least I’m trying

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad I have a lot of regrets about that

And it's hard to be at a party When I feel like an open wound It's hard to be anywhere these days When all I want is you

7. Illicit Affairs - Ooooh boy, we’re back to entire songs that remind me of Kent and Jack and pre-draft sadness. So cannon Jack might claim that they never really dated and doesn’t that hurt even more if you consider Kent thinking they’re basically dating in secret only for Jack to overdose, then cut him off completely and deny that what they had ever involved any real emotions on his part? So here’s where illicit affairs makes me want to sob. Definitely don’t think about them having a secret ‘relationship’ that starts off because they’re just such close friends, the best friend either one of them has ever had, but they’re also both closeted professional hockey players and horny teenagers let’s be honest, and what starts off as raw moments of honesty and closeness between them get’s slowly corrupted because they have to hide it all, and they have the draft to think about, and Jack has his anxiety etc. And maybe Jack doesn’t call him kid or baby but he does call him Kenny like nobody else does and Kent would ruin himself if it meant he could have Jack back, would give him anything, would get him a spot on the Aces so they can finally play together like they were supposed to...This song makes me sad.

Lyrics that hurt especially (might as well post the entire song here tbh):

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies and it dies and it dies ...a million little times / They show their truth one single time But they lie and they lie and they lie ...a million little times

So you leave no trace behind Like you don't even exist Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself ...a million little times

8. Invisible Strings - Is this song too happy for my feelings about Kent most of the time? Probably, but basically any ship that ends in Kent/Happiness could apply to this song and that’s the reason it stays on this list. So basically think about Kent being happy and moving on with someone who’s so so good for him and helps him heal and then reconsider this song with that in mine. 

Lyrics to think about:

Time, Mystical time Cutting me open, then healing me fine

A string that pulled me Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons Wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold tied me to you Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart Now I send their babies presents <- the idea of Kent moving on and no longer having confrontations with Jack whenever they meet but instead being happy for him too makes me so happy 

9. Betty - Okay once again the actual idea of this song, definitely doesn’t directly apply but hear me out. Kent turning up at Samwell wanting to be heard out by Jack. Maybe it doesn’t happen directly after the event so he’s not ‘only 17′ but he effectively is and he doesn’t know anything really. He didn’t at the time the overdose happened and he never got the chance to deal with it properly because Jack cut him out so he still doesn’t really know anything. All he knows is that he misses Jack and he wants to play with him again and wants them to get back to where they used to be, to where they’re suppose to be. And if he insulting Jack’s team isn’t James (Taylor’s POV) singing about Betty’s ‘stupid friends’ then idk what else to say. Why does this song scream Kent so much to me despite being about a random 17 year old boy who cheated on his girlfriend?

Lyrics I want to scream about:

Betty, I won't make assumptions about why you switched your homeroom But I think it's 'cause of me  <--so obvs not homeroom but please don’t think about Kent thinking that Jack overdosed and decided not to go to the NHL after her recovered because of him

But if I just showed up at your party Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself Or lead me to the garden? I'm only seventeen I don't know anything but I know I miss you <--maybe he’s not 17 but he’s basically still just a kid whenever Jack’s involved

Betty, I'm here on your doorstep And I planned it out for weeks now but, it's finally sinking in Betty, right now is the last time I can dream about what happens when you see my face again The only thing I wanna do Is make it up to you So, I showed up at your party Will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? If you kiss me Will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings?

I definitely have more to say on this but this is already so long so that’s it for now, might continue on some other time?

[ms-maj]

For @bettycooper​ on the most fantastic day of her birth! [I maaaaay have been given a slight heads up since someone wouldn’t give up the goat ;)] Thank you for all the brilliant insights and beautiful gifs and for being one of the most considerate and chill people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. You give and give and give and I am very, very lucky to call you friend. Happiest birthday, Cat! I hope you enjoy! <3

‘Tis All Hallows Eve and throughout this great house

Dark creatures are stirring, go and hide little mouse.

Bats line the hallway, there’s cobwebs on the stair;

The veil is now lifting, the other side is just there.

Reach out and touch it, magic flows from your hands,

Fingers burn with the powers passed by time, through the sands. 

Make notes in your grimoire as witches fly through the sky

We must ready our spirit, for Halloween is nigh…

“Isn’t your cousin in Prague?”

Betty looks up from her computer, the glasses she only wears when she’s been staring at the screen for an extended time sit on the edge of her nose. “What? Cousin?”

He’s waving the square of black cardstock in her direction as he shakes his head. “Your one, single cousin. The slightly over-the-top, heiress extraordinaire who has spent the last five years gallivanting across the globe.”

“And what about her?”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jughead drops next to her on the couch. Reaching over, he kisses her cheek before slotting the paper between her and the screen. “It would appear Hill House is done.”

Betty can’t help the snort that escapes her as she runs her fingers around the aged edge of the parchment. “I should say I’m surprised but, honestly, I mean, it’s Cheryl. Why wouldn’t she hand-write invitations to a soiree on the...’Hallowed Blossom Grounds’?”

Jughead is not wrong per se when he says the house is done. Thornhill has been under construction since Cheryl and Toni broke up, and she absconded from her second year of college. She made her way to Italy, where she stayed for a year before delving deeper into Europe; the art, the fashion, the architecture all appealed to her at a cellular level. Or that’s what she’d told Betty when asked about when she’d come home. (When the manor is restored or that vile harpy dies. Her words.) 

He leans over and takes the invite back from her hands to re-read it. “Like either house there isn’t large enough to have this shindig, she has to be sure we plebs all know it’s the entirety of the property that we shall be partying on.” 

Betty slides her glasses up to the bridge of her nose as she watches her boyfriend’s eyes roll. He leans back against the cushions, the hem of his t-shirt inching up ever so slightly. “At least we have an excuse to get dressed up this year,” she closes her laptop, sets it on the table and straddles him before he has a moment to realize what’s happening.

 “And we can finally scratch the main house off our list—”  The invitation flies from his fingertips and lands in the middle of the coffee table as his hands come down around her ass. He stands, wobbly as she laughs against his lips, and she’s carried to their bedroom. The costumes can wait another day.

Keep reading below or head on over to AO3

Betty’s proud, and a little relieved, when he comes back with the Addams. Though he refuses to wear pinstripes, much to her chagrin, she's quick to realize that plum, crushed velvet looks better on him than it has any right to. 

Unfortunately, there hasn't been time to confer on much else. It’s been a busy few weeks. Betty’s been working non-stop; crime doesn’t stop for Halloween parties apparently, and her particular skill set always seems to be more needed in the periods just before and just after Halloween. She’s spent hours recently in front of both screen and microscope, scraping particulates into vials rather than getting ready for the ostentatious event.

And as much as Jughead has bitched and moaned about the lack of foresight in sending a group of traumatized twenty-somethings invitations in the same manner as a psychopath, he’s channeled a lot of that anxious downtime between conventions into ensuring his Gomez is true and pays proper homage to both John Astin and Raul Julia. 

It makes for an incessant fluttering in her chest whenever she thinks of him. She finds it funny, the way he insists that it’s their friends who are the extra ones, but as they finally turn toward the mansion she sees the seventeen-year-old boy in him, the one who almost lost himself as the Game Master, and the beautiful, complex, eccentric man he’s become. 

“I think that’s Archie’s car,” Jughead pulls their small SUV next to the blue sedan. The governor’s drive is filled, cars of all makes and models line both sides of the freshly poured asphalt. “At least we won’t be alone in the cesspool Cheryl considers a social circle.”

Betty takes one last look in the mirror before tossing strands of her silky, black wig over her shoulder and exiting the car. “And it's a beautiful night.”

Jughead hums in response and then, “This place gives me the heebs,” shuddering as the car doors click closed, the lock tone sounding terribly loud in the eerie stillness. 

“You and me both,” Betty adjusts the hem of her billowing sleeve, the sleek black dress not giving her much room to breathe, let alone walk the entirety of the Blossom estate. She squares her shoulders, channeling the power and grandeur of befitting Morticia and slides her hand into that of her waiting boyfriend. 

The foyer’s black marble floors gleam, shadows dancing in the flickering candlelight. The tables, four round with two on either side of the room and a long six-foot buffet table between them, are dressed in crisp white linens, centerpieces of crimson and black, and not a soul in sight.

“Hello?” Betty calls into the void. She’s answered only by the reverberation of her own voice. She looks to Jughead, sweeping the black strands of her wig from her face, she moves toward the tables. The two tables on her right are full of cut crystal flutes filled to the brim with golden champagne, the left is full of hors d'oeuvres, and sat perfectly center of the large table is a silver tray. On it, a parchment envelope with a red wax seal.

“Jesus,” Jughead exhales while retying the belt of his costume. “I knew Cheryl had a penchant for the dramatic but even this seems a little extreme.” Suddenly looking a little green around the gills, he swallows before speaking again. “Her mom isn’t…”

Betty turns around quickly and lays her palm against his cheek. “No, it’s not Penelope. I talked to Cheryl yesterday and she’s assured me that the bitch is still under lock and key."

"Good, she can rot."

"Should we just—” she twists back, reaching for the envelope but Jughead swats her hand away before it makes contact.

" Really? You're just gonna grab that, no glove, no napkin, just bare-handed in the home of a known poisoner?" He questions, eyes wide, hands grabbing at her waist and twirling her away from the table. “You’re an actual crime scene investigator, Betty. What are you doing?!”

“Jug, Juggie, I’m gonna need you to breathe,” she frames his face in her hands, tilting his head so his eyes met hers. Under the chandelier, his hair reflects the incandescent glow in it’s slicked parting. “It’s just Cheryl being Cheryl. It’s just a party,” her fingers curl and slide down his face, thumbs stopping on his chin. “I think she’s trying to reclaim this place for happier times and this is part of it. Make the bad good or something. I don’t actually know but I know she is in therapy and I guess this is just her convoluted way of working past the demons and ghosts.”

His head drops to the side, expression nonplussed, and he sighs. “Just, use a napkin, or something. I can’t help that my paranoia is bound to run rampant when things like Blossom and Gothic Horror Hellhouse are dropped back into the vernacular.”

Her heart breaks just a little as she wraps her arms around his neck. “I promise I will be more careful as we go along. I don’t know what Cheryl has in store but I imagine this is how she’s making use of the grounds.” 

His hands haven’t moved from her waist, he simply tightens his grip and pulls her closer. “I’ll try to keep an open mind, and remember that this is actually for fun and not a ploy to murder us and our closest friends.”

“Atta boy,” Betty closes the gap between them, pressing her lips against his reassuringly. “Now, let’s get this party started.” She waggles her eyebrows excitedly, tossing the long black locks of her wig over her shoulder as she turns back toward the table. Jughead slouches behind her, his head resting on her shoulder, as her napkin covered hand reaches the envelope. 

Sliding it back across the table cloth, Betty snags a knife from the appetizer table and slips it under the crimson seal. 

Carefully, Betty uses the napkin to remove the parchment from the envelope and lays it out on the table. Jughead slides off her, moving closer to the table without actually touching anything. 

His eyes squint as he tries to read the intricate script from so far away. “I can pick it up if you—”

“Because I’m sure you brought your glasses to the Halloween party?” 

“Oh, my dearest, Gomez, where on Earth would I conceal glasses in this dress?”  

She hears him suck in a breath and feels it, hot, on the shell of her ear.  “Are we ticking this off the list first? We are all alone, Tish, you can be as loud as you want.”

Betty can feel the knock in her knees, the way her chest heaves at his tone and heat of his words. Her breath leaves in pants, short bursts of unadulterated lust she swallows down and tamps out. “You are incorrigible, Jones,” her voice drops to an even quieter tone. “And if I thought Cheryl and any of her other guests who’ve already completed their quests weren’t possibly watching, I would absolutely take you up on that.”

“Fair point,” Jughead sighs, straightening up and turning his attention back to the task at hand. As his eyes scan the words his hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Did she write these? Or did she actually pay someone? Because if she did, as a professional writer I am offended.”

Betty snorts a laugh and reads the text herself. “Oh Juggie, you are not wrong.”

Fortunately, Betty doesn’t think it’ll be too long before they get themselves through Cheryl’s finely woven tapestry of what she deems fun.

Welcome fiends, on this most holy of days

You’ve entered the first chamber and now you must play.

From this greatest hall to the haunted gallows

The path you take shall leave you hallowed

Once, full oak barrels lined its walls

But it’s been an age since the empire did fall

It has been told of spirits who wander

But you must come closer to set them asunder. 

“I can’t believe this,” Jughead flicks at the padlock that’s keeping the man door closed, and them from their next set of instructions. 

Betty rolls her eyes, reaching up under her hair in the back and pulling out an extra bobby pin she had used to help secure the long wig. “What kind of party would it be if I couldn’t show off the fruits of my questionable morality?” 

She can barely see the pin as it disappears into the lock. The night is dark, cool, the crisp vein of fall’s majesty. The moon is full but the sky is overcast; clouds cover like sticky cobwebs blotting the light from the stars. “Mmm, I do love every shade of your gray.”

Her lips pucker and the sound of her air kiss carries loud enough for him to hear. There’s a click, the tumblers drop and the lock falls into her hand. The door swings open, a flickering incandescent light moves back and forth across the dank space. It stills, and light slowly starts to fill the barn before it starts to strobe slowly.  Betty and Jughead step through the door to find another set of tables and several cages of varying size, all filled with all different types of corvids. 

“Please tell me those things aren’t going to be released and we have to reenact Hitchcock before we can get the next clue, because honestly Betts, your cousin can fuck herself.”

“She wouldn’t dare. Cheryl knows perfectly well that I couldn’t run in this dress if my life depended on it.”

“And how do we know this is Cheryl? I mean, I know you said you talked to her about the party but this all just seems…”

Betty laughs. “Even more extra than usual? Understood. But that’s because, between you and me, I think she’s been missing home, and everyone, a lot, and she just wants to make sure in her patented Cheryl way that no one forgets her while she’s gone.”

She swears his eye roll is audible, because she can’t see him but knows implicitly that his eyes do indeed roll. “Why couldn’t she just hire a gourmet chef to cater? That would certainly be more endearing, and remember worthy, than having to trip the night horrific down memory lane.”

It's at this point, the birds, she realizes, are mostly fake. No, not fake fake. Taxidermied. Of course. “She’s still a Blossom, Jug. We internalized our traumas and turned them into our motivations, our tools to perform. Cheryl ran away, and now, the only way she can deal is to face everything head on. Take back the bad…”

“Make it good, right, right…” Jughead is muttering as his hand sweeps across his brow.

It’s been hard, Betty knows, to try and disassociate yourself from your familial legacy. Especially when said path leads you back to a level of depravity that you can barely wrap your head around. While she, like Jughead, have embraced their darker sides, it doesn’t mean that all the bad just disappears when you wake. His demons become characters in his books, their battles scratched out on napkins and receipts and any piece of paper that crosses his path when the inspiration strikes. He has bouts of anxiety that have to be quelled with medications, but some that breathing exercises and soft conversation will help to pass. 

Betty knows it’s mostly been the combination of therapy and lack of downtime that have really helped to keep him from slipping off the edge. 

“But in all seriousness, please, why did she call the elementary school and ask for third graders to write these clues?”

The space between them fills with the smell of apples and cinnamon, the small cloud from the vape pen lingers in the air. She takes the small black tube from his outstretched hand and holds it to her lips. Inhaling slowly, Betty lets the sweet, sticky intoxication take hold and inherently knows that Jughead is going to be kite-like in order to get through the night.

And she is five hundred percent okay with this. 

The pen is back in his hands and at his mouth before she can exhale. Her words come out with a cough. “I actually think it was fifth graders. But the education standards in this county are seriously slipping. You should consider changing profession, I imagine most children would love to learn from such an encouraging and engaging critic.”

He snorts. “No fucking thank you. At least not, you know…” The pen is back in his pocket, his hand now scratching at the back of his neck, the slicked down hairs starting to stand under his ministrations. She reaches out and lays her hand over his and he sighs. “Maybe someday.”

Jughead slides their hands from his neck and holds her fingers to his lips before they drop and swing between them. “Until then Mr. Jones, I believe this ‘clue’ is all yours.”

Betty squeezes his hand before she steps out of his grasp; she’s looking for something to grab the awaiting envelope with. He crouches, eyes level with the sleek, black paper, fingers folding and interlocking in front of his face. 

The lights strobe, flashes of wings and glinting steel catch her eye while she feels out the table. Her fingers catch the rim of a small, cut-crystal glass. She grabs the vessel and sniffs—smoke and peat—and throws back the contents in a single swig. It burns most pleasantly.  Almost instantly a live crow caws, drawing her attention back to the task at hand. 

She finds napkins, pushes a few up her sleeve for later and hands Jughead one so he can start the reading and direct them to their next locale. 

He grabs the edge and hits the seal against the table, disrupting all the living birds who respond in discordant chaos. The paper slides from the envelope, and somehow, through the strobing lights and cacophony, he's able to read.

What is it that makes the Blossoms bloom?

The very thing that sealed their doom.

Planted soldiers, row by row

Did we reap of all we sowed?

Follow the pieces dropped from my bough

Into the circle, cast a Samhain spell.

“Did she have to go full on nightmare Wizard of Oz? A path through the maple grove? Wholly unnecessary.”

“Something about a tree, and it looking like something busted it out of it?” Betty stumbles, her heel catching on a root. Though she curses under her breath, she realizes it’s one of the very few Cheryl’s team had missed fixing while covering the entire path with the fallen leaves. (The rest she had incinerated, of course. The maple grove couldn’t look picturesque with all those leaves just laying in hodgepodge piles, after all.)  She’s happy to see the tables set only a few yards away. “I was only half listening, but I remember her saying it was the perfect kind of creepy.”

He scoffs. “This whole place is the perfect kind of creepy. And if you knew all this nonsense was happening,” he turns toward her, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of the purple velvet smoking jacket, crooked mustache above a crooked smile, and looks her up and down. “Why the fuck would you wear those shoes? I mean, I’m not complaining because you look INSANELY hot but if you knew we were going to be walking over the palatial levels of acreage, then maybe—”

“True. All true. But would Morticia trade fashion for practicality? I think not, " Betty steadies herself at the main table, only slightly larger this time though still round, once again flanked by a beverage table (with a keg of cider it would appear) and another covered with small, apple tarts.

The night glows around them in all it’s autumnal splendor. Fairy lights wrap around the bases of the maple trees and twirl up through their branches. Pumpkins, some meticulously carved and others whole, fill the spaces between the trees, the tables, and line the path away from the grove. 

Jughead seems to be enjoying himself, he’s at least not as tense as he was to start. His steps are lighter, he’s quicker with a smile, and he’s laughing with an ease that she hasn’t seen in far too long. The vape pen slips back into view and she smiles, but declines when he offers it. The scotch from their last stop is starting to slink in and much more inebriation will not serve her well. She picks up a glass and flips the tap on the cider, filling one for her and one for Jug, who takes it without preamble.  Betty lets out a small sigh of relief when he sips the contents and doesn’t start to question the intentions behind it. In fact, he looks like he quite likes it. She starts sipping on her own, gags a little, and quickly places the cup back on the table, wishing she’d have downed more of the Islay deliciousness instead. 

“This one is all you, m’lady,” Jughead tips back his cup before grabbing her discarded one and doing the same. 

Her head shakes in mock annoyance. “Can you please try and maintain a modicum of sobriety? I’d like to make it to this party in one piece.” 

A raised eyebrow meets her, followed by the click of the tap and the glug of liquid spilling into his cup. “I thought this was the party.”

She can hear the cider sloshing as he lifts the glass but it’s overwhelmed by the sharp hiss of her black, stiletto nails as they slice through the seal wax.  “Only in your dreams.”

Her eyes scan the scrawl, pinching close briefly as she gets to the end. When she turns around to show Jughead he’s right there. She sucks in a breath and clutches the clue to her chest with a muttered Jesus. 

He smiles devilishly. “You’re right about that,” his hands circle her hips and he pulls her flush. “In my dreams it is most definitely only you and me. But we’re not doing any of this.”

“Oh, what are we doing?” she asks breathless.

His head dips and he leans toward her, stopping just shy of their lips meeting. She squeaks out his name, a petulant whine, but he does not acquiesce. “I think you know exactly what we’re doing in my dreams,” Jughead digs the tips of his fingers into the flesh of her waist, the palor from the makeup looking particularly ghoulish in the din. “But more than that, even though the thought, and promise if I’m not mistaken, are most tempting. It’s just that when it’s you and me I know everything is going to be okay. That no matter how dark or cold the night you’ve always got my back.”

Betty shivers almost as if on cue, tears burning at her eyes, she reaches out quickly and grabs his face. While the paper flutters to the ground, her thumbs run up the sharp cut of his cheekbones before her lips crash into his. They have more than enough time to spare, she thinks. Besides, she knows exactly where they’re going next.

Your next adventure you needn’t enter

But prepare to face a greater task

For the next clue will not be at the ready

And there shan’t be a soul around to ask.

Follow these pumpkins

Keep close the light

Only two more remain, dear friends,

To make it through the night.

Thistlehouse was the big bad. She knew it the way he reached for her hand as its impressive visage rose from behind the treeline. 

He’d only been back a handful of times, and only because his Toni had threatened his personage, so when she and Cheryl had broken up he swore up and down that he wouldn’t go back if he could help it. Yet here they were. She had assured him it would be different, that they were different, that there was nothing they weren’t in control of. 

And control was most assuredly something he liked. 

So she relented: the color of their bedroom, their sheet thread count, his preferred costumes (not that she put up a fight about being Mortica Addams). Once agreed upon, he dove right into the original series, watched every film iteration, studied cosplays; she watched as he got carried away by the sheer drama of it all. Jughead, she was aware, couldn’t help but love himself some drama. She recognized, quite quickly, that he had the same vim for creating their narrative, the same kind of spark that emerged when he switched from writing novels to creating graphic novels. 

Betty remembers watching as that switch flipped inside of him, the magnitude of feelings when he saw his words start being represented by an artist. Then the elation of being beholden to filling those intensely rendered scenes with the words that conveyed all the expressed feelings, and did them justice. 

She sees the way his eyes light up every time he mentions a storyboard, hears the excitement in his voice when his characters come to life, when they transfer from paper to corporeal and feel real and tangible in his hands. She wants to be a part of that for the rest of her life.

She shivers, pulling at the tightest section of her sleeves and tries to cover more of her arms with the taut fabric. Wordlessly, his arm slips around her waist, pulling her close to his warm body.

Sometimes, on the nights when the heaviest thoughts pervade her mind, and she starts spiraling through all the things she should have done differently, he does the same thing. Gathers her in his arms, whispers all the things he loves about her into her hair.

It's the hours (days, months, lifetimes) of listening, of shared experiences, of perspective that propelled them together and held them there. After a brief, albeit necessary step back the summer following their graduation, they came back together stronger and more committed than before. And it's sustained them these last eight years.

"What are you thinking?" His lips ghost across her temple as the tables come into view. 

She smiles, lacing her fingers through his and pulling them to her mouth. Betty kisses his knuckles and nuzzles closer. "Just how lucky I am to have you."

"The feeling is very, very mutual, " he leans down and is met with a sweet kiss. She feels a tug on the hand wrapped around his. The moment they separate she's spun away, the wide hem of her dress flaring around her. She lets out a laugh and Jughead starts twirling her, spinning them through a sloppy tango toward their objective.

It's been too long since they've been this carefree, that deadlines and court dates and conventions and lab work have become their normal. They try not to allow them to take precedence in their lives though, try to ensure the living, breathing, real people always, always come first but some days that’s harder work than others.

They dizzily bump into the drinks, glasses clinking off one another as they spill onto the tablecloth. This only makes the laughter come more freeky. They take the libations, toast one another and drink down what Jughead hopes is the last vestige of maple rum in existence.

While he ravages the snack table, Betty reaches for the last envelope with shaky hands.

One more trek awaits, before your final stop

Please take this chariot, you've done nothing but walk

Follow the lights, you'll be lead right to us

To cold to enjoy it, though to look is a must

You may not believe it, but heed these words true

Your life may very well change down by the pool.

The golf cart whirrs to a stop just before Thornhill’s swimming pool. Betty turns it off and steps out, the light emanating from the thousands of cream colored candles that line the far side reflects and dances on the still surface. Candelabras from three to ten feet tall, tea lights, chandeliers, votives, pillars; you name it, that candle had a place surrounding the dark water.

“Do you think Cheryl spent more on candles than we did on the down payment for our house?” Jughead muses coming to stand beside her, elbow jut out in invitation. Betty smiles softly when her arm slots through the space. She grips tightly, her cheek coming to rest on his bicep.                                        

“I think Cheryl probably spends more than that on even stranger things, on a daily basis,” they laugh low, content to be close, aware that their blissful solitude will soon cease. It’s just ahead—the white canvas tent marks the end of their path.

Betty’s heels echo with each step. She can’t tell if it’s as loud as it sounds in her head but reverberation seems to stutter with her pulse. The table that seemed to loom so far in the distance is mere steps ahead. This time, a gold tray rests dead center atop the crisp, clean linen, the final black envelope lies just within its confines. There are two, blood-red flutes on either side, waiting for the final clue to be read.

Without pause, Jughead reaches for it. “It’s blank.” He waves the card in front of him. Betty watches his fingers slide over the parchment, flipping it between them and examining it before the flame.

She swallows, stepping back. “I’m afraid you won’t find your answer there.”

His head turns before his body, the expression inscrutable. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying there’s nothing there. No hidden message writ with heat sensitive ink. No impressions traceable with charcoal.”

Her hands shake but there’s nothing she can do to stop them. He’s facing her now, cardstock forgotten it falls to the ground. “Betty, you promised,” his voice thick with the kind of worry that constricts all the pieces of her heart.

“I promised you would be safe. That we would be safe. And we are! There is not one part of this night that I haven’t carefully cultivated to make this an enjoyable experience,” she worries her lip between her bottom teeth when he looks away from her.

“Why? What is all this about?”

“Trust me, I know. Why would I do this? Set all this up and make you relive one of the collective worst nights of our life?”

His head swings back to her, expression screaming DUH, with the severe angle of his brows and the depth of the creases that have formed there. His arms cross over his chest as he waits for her to continue.

“I know I can't fix all the bad. But this one thing I wanted back, for the both of us. I want you to be able to go to escape rooms, or watch murder mysteries, or get surprises without triggering your PTSD. I want you to be able to stop looking over your shoulder, every minute of every day. I know how hard you work to get through, but I don’t just want you to have to put on a brave face and breathe through all those fear responses. And believe me, I’m aware that this is not a cure or therapy or anything more than me trying to reclaim something awful with something beautiful.”

She steps in front of him, bright green eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. She explains that she knows how much he loves Clue but can’t play it because sometimes it takes him to a place where he’s Mr. Body and everyone around is trying to simultaneously kill him and solve his murder, and he’s the only person in history who can say that’s too much like real life. And she hates that. Hates that he has to channel so much of that pain and anger and anxiety into characters in fictions, even though she knows it’s one of his healthier coping mechanisms. Hates that even with all the therapy and medication and love in their lives that his pain underscores so, so much of him. 

“I really do love Clue,” he sniffles, tears forming in his eyes. 

Betty laughs, taking his hands in her own. “I know you do. And I just want you to be able to enjoy everything, and I know I can’t make everything right. That’s not possible nor is it my job. But what I can do, is be by your side, be with you on those days when the thoughts are too heavy and you need help carrying them,” she let’s go of a shaky breath, hoping the mermaid skirt doesn’t fail her as she carefully kneels on the blanket that’s laid out next to the sparkling water. 

“Betty,” his voice trembles like she knows hers will.

She releases his hand for just a moment, sliding a final, velvet envelope from the sleeve of her gown. “Forsythe. Pendleton. Jones. The Third.”  Betty peels back a fold with each of his names that pass her lips. On the square sits a ring, mahogany, with a braided birch inlay, lined with soft, gleaming willow. “Jughead. The person who knows me best. Who has seen all the bad, who knows exactly who I am and what I’m capable of, and doesn’t just love me in spite of it, but because of it. You have given so much of yourself to keep the people you love safe. The huge heart, and compassion and forgiveness know no bound. And when I was young and dumb I tested the bounds of your empathy and love and risked everything because I was afraid. Because loving you was so easy and so all-encompassing I thought something had to be wrong. But the only thing wrong was me and you somehow loved me still. Your love has always been a tether, this undeserved filament that's kept me from floating into the ether."

Betty pauses to breathe, laughing though her tears, and picks the shiny wood ring up between her dark, matte nails. Their eyes meet in the excessive candlelight and Betty is infinitely thankful for waterproof mascara. “I am grateful that you stood by me. Helped me 

The hand she holds trembles as she slides the ring to his finger. "If I could form a coherent thought...I would." This time he laughs with her.

"Whaddya say, Jones? Make an honest woman of me?" The ring buttresses against his hand, the pale braid of birch almost silver in the moonlight. “Marry me, Jones.” She whispers into the night.

“For the record,” his arm slides down her forearm and grasps around her elbow. She’s on her feet, level with him before she knows she’s even standing. “Yes.” His lips crash into hers, bodies practically melding into one as her fingers twine through his hair, disrupting the slick without a single care. 

The lights from the main house flash on, music erupting from hidden speakers and suddenly life is breathed back into their hushed, reverent silence.

"Does everyone in there know?" He practically pants once they break apart.

"You can't think I did any of this on my own right? You're the creative and I'm, " she sighs, her fingers twirl in the hair at the nape of his neck. "The luckiest human in the world." 

He leans in again though this time they're both distracted by the sound of people moving toward them. He practically whines, "Now we're never going to check Thornhill off our list."

Betty smiles devilishly, her red painted lips twist and press ever so slightly against the shell of his ear. "Oh, did I not mention Cheryl has graciously offered an entire wing so that we may properly celebrate our engagement?" His eyes go wide while over his shoulder their friends all step into view. "Save the enthusiasm for later, you can show me just how happy you are as soon as we're congratulated by five hundred of our closest friends."

His eyes narrow and fix. "We stay for two hours, anyone who doesn't fit into that time frame clearly doesn't matter. And then you show me to our room, and I prove to you, over and over and over again that this is the best night of my life." 

They don’t last an hour.

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Best lyrics on 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑘𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒.

the 1 - 

“And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow.” 

“We never painted by the numbers, baby, but we were making it count. You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.” 

cardigan - 

“And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite.” 

“I knew you tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy. I knew you. Leavin' like a father, running like water.”

“I knew I'd curse you for the longest time. Chasin' shadows in the grocery line. I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standin' in my front porch light.”

the last great american dynasty - 

“The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. There's only so far new money goes. They picked out a home and called it "Holiday House". Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud. The doctor had told him to settle down. It must have been her fault his heart gave out.” 

“Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names, and blew through the money on the boys and the ballet. And losing on card game bets with Dalí.”

“They say she was seen on occasion, pacing the rocks, staring out at the midnight sea. And in a feud with her neighbor, she stole his dog and dyed it key lime green. Fifty years is a long time. Holiday House sat quietly on that beach. Free of women with madness, their men and bad habits. And then it was bought by me.”

“I had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

exile ft. Bon Iver - 

“I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending. You're not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out.”

“I can see you starin', honey. Like he's just your understudy. Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me. Second, third, and hundredth chances. Balancin' on breaking branches. Those eyes add insult to injury.”

“I’m not your problem anymore, so who am I offending now?”

“You didn't even hear me out. (You didn't even hear me out.) You never gave a warning sign. (I gave so many signs.)”

my tears ricochet - 

“We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room. And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too.”

“I didn't have it in myself to go with grace. And you're the hero flying around saving face. And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. Look at how my tears ricochet.”

“We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean. Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring. You know I didn't want to have to haunt you, but what a ghostly scene. You wear the same jewels that I gave you, as you bury me.”

“And you can aim for my heart, go for blood. But you would still miss me in your bones. And I still talk to you... (When I'm screaming at the sky!) And when you can't sleep at night... (You hear my stolen lullabies!)“

“You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same. Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. You turned into your worst fears. And you're tossin’ out blame, drunk on this pain. Crossin’ out the good years.”

mirrorball - 

“I'm a mirrorball. I can change everything about me to fit in. You are not like the regulars, the masquerade revelers. Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten.”

“And they called off the circus, burned the disco down. When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns, I'm still on that tightrope. I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me. And I'm still a believer, but I don't know why. I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try. I'm still on that trapeze. I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.”

seven -

“Please picture me in the trees. I hit my peak at seven feet in the swing over the creek. I was too scared to jump in. But I was high in the sky with Pennsylvania under me. Are there still beautiful things?”

“Sweet tea in the summer. Cross your heart, won't tell no other. And though I can’t recall your face, I still got love for you. Your braids like a pattern, love you to the Moon and to Saturn. Passed down like folk songs. The love lasts so long.”

“And I've been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad and that must be why. And I think you should come live with me, and we can be pirates. Then you won't have to cry or hide in the closet.”

august - 

“But I can see us lost in the memory, August slipped away into a moment in time. 'Cause it was never mine. And I can see us twisted in bed-sheets, August sipped away like a bottle of wine. 'Cause you were never mine.”

“Back when we were still changin' for the better. Wanting was enough. For me it was enough. To live for the hope of it all. Canceled plans just in case you'd call, and say, ‘Meet me behind the mall.’ So much for summer love and saying ‘us’, ‘cause you weren't mine to lose.”

“Remember when I pulled up and said, ‘Get in the car’? And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call? Back when I was livin' for the hope of it all.”

this is me trying - 

“I've been having a hard time adjusting. I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. I didn't know if you'd care if I came back. I have a lot of regrets about that. Pulled the car off the road to the lookout. Could've followed my fears all the way down.”

“They told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential. And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad. I have a lot of regrets about that. I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere. Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here. Pouring out my heart to a stranger, but I didn't pour the whiskey.”

“At least I’m trying.”

illicit affairs - 

“And that's the thing about illicit affairs, and clandestine meetings, and longing stares. It's born from just one single glance, but it dies and it dies and it dies! A million little times.”

“Take the words for what they are. A dwindling, mercurial high. A drug that only worked the first few hundred times.”

“And that's the thing about illicit affairs, and clandestine meetings, and stolen stares. They show their truth one single time, but they lie and they lie and they lie! A million little times.”

“And you wanna scream, ‘Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby". Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else. Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby". Look at this idiotic fool that you made me. You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else.’”

“‘And you know damn well, for you I would ruin myself a million little times.’”

invisible string - 

“Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

“Bad was the Blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to LA. You ate at my favorite spot for dinner. Bold was the waitress on our three-year trip, getting lunch down by the lakes. She said I looked like an American singer.”

“A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar. Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire. Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons. One single thread of gold tied me to you.”

“Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart. Now I send their babies presents. Gold was the color of the leaves when I showed you around Centennial Park. Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven.”

mad woman - 

“What did you think I'd say to that? Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? They strike to kill, and you know I will. What do you sing on your drive home? Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? Does she smile? Or does she mouth, ‘Fuck you forever’?”

“And there's nothing like a mad woman. What a shame she went mad. No one likes a mad woman. You made her like that. And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out, and you find something to wrap your noose around. And there's nothing like a mad woman.”

“Now I breathe flames each time I talk. My cannons all firin' at your yacht. They say ‘move on,’ but you know I won't. And women like hunting witches too. Doing your dirtiest work for you. It's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together.”

“Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy. What about that? And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry.”

“I'm taking my time, ‘cause you took everything from me. Watching you climb over people like me. The master of spin has a couple side flings. Good wives always know. She should be mad, should be scathing like me, but no one likes a mad woman.”

epiphany - 

“Keep your helmet, keep your life, son. Just a flesh wound, here's your rifle. Crawling up the beaches now. ‘Sir, I think he's bleeding out!’ And some things you just can't speak about.”

“Something med school did not cover. Someone's daughter, someone's mother, holds your hand through plastic now. ‘Doc, I think she's crashing out!’ And some things you just can't speak about.”

“Only twenty minutes to sleep, but you dream of some epiphany. Just one single glimpse of relief, to make some sense of what you've seen.”

“With you I serve, with you I fall down. Watch you breathe in, watch you breathing out.”

betty - 

“You heard the rumors from Inez. You can't believe a word she says most times, but this time it was true. The worst thing that I ever did, was what I did to you.”

“But if I just showed up at your party, would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself, or lead me to the garden? In the garden, would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything, but I know I miss you!”

“I was walking home on broken cobblestones, just thinking of you when she pulled up like a figment of my worst intentions. She said, ‘James, get in, let's drive.’ Those days turned into nights. Slept next to her, but I dreamt o’ you all summer long!”

“Yeah, I showed up at your party, will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything, but I know I miss you! Standin’ in your cardigan! Kissin' in my car again! Stopped at a streetlight, you know I miss you!”

peace - 

“But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade, ocean wave blues come. All these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret. The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me. Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?”

“Your integrity makes me seem small. You paint dreamscapes on the wall. I talk shit with my friends, it's like I'm wasting your honor. And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences. Sit with you in the trenches. Give you my wild, give you a child. Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother. Is it enough? But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the West, I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best. But the rain is always gonna come if you're standin' with me.”

hoax - 

“You know I left a part of me back in New York. You knew the hero died so what's the movie for? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars, from when they pulled me apart. You knew the password so I let you in the door. You knew you won so what's the point of keeping score? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars, from when they pulled me apart. But what you did was just as dark. Darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart.”

“My only one. My kingdom come undone. My broken drum, you have beaten my heart. Don't want no other shade of blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do.”

[doc-pickles]

livin’ for the hope of it all

Fun Fact: This is probably my favorite track from folklore (betty is a close second and they’re actually connected in the same storyline) so I created an AU College Sweethearts Jolex storyline just for this. I also needed to change things up because my fics for this week were feeling repetitive, but the good news is that I actually love the storyline and this piece!

(And while we’re at it, shout out to @odd-birds-and-booksellers for beta reading this and helping me clean this up for y’all. ILY and you’re the BEST!)

Also oops I slated this as angst and that just absolutely did not happen. It’s pretty fluffy but uh warning the ending is not happy… at all… So sorry about that.  So without further ado, the folklore fic that stole my whole entire heart!

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

“Alrighty boys, can I get anything else for you?”

“Yeah how about your number, sweet cheeks.”

Jo rolled her eyes, used to the degrading remarks she would often get as a waitress in the greasy diner. The table of young boys didn’t bother her, they were a dime a dozen working in a college town and it was a sure bet that one of them would say something stupid or degrading to Jo.

Ignoring the comments and laughs from the table, Jo began to walk away but didn’t get very far. The boy closest to the edge had tugged her arm hard enough that she went flying backwards, landing in his lap as one hand came up to hold Jo in place against him. 

“Aw come on baby, don’t you want this,” the boy was speaking directly into Jo’s ear, a clear attempt at seducing her that was failing miserably. She tried desperately to squirm out of his grasp, but he only held her tighter. “I can show you a good time.”

“Hey dick wad, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that the lady doesn’t wanna talk to you,” a gruff voice sounded above Jo, the speaker holding his hand out to help Jo up. She took it with a grateful smile and stood, wiping off her apron while he continued to stare down the table of now terrified boys. “And don’t forget to tip generously.”

Jo watched in amazement as the man went back to his spot at the counter, eyes trained on the newspaper before him. She rounded the diner once more before walking behind the counter to stand in front of the mystery man, refilling his coffee as she eyed him. 

“Thanks for doing that. Those losers can’t take a hint sometimes,” Jo offered her hand to the stranger, a small smile on her face. “I’m Jo, by the way. I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“Alex,” the man shook Jo’s hand, a crooked grin appearing on his stoic face. “I just finished med school last month, I finally have time to eat breakfast and enjoy a Thursday morning.”

Jo’s response was cut off by her boss yelling at her, her hand coming up to wave to Alex before she bolted to the other end of the diner. Her eyes flicked back to him once or twice, always finding him staring back already. The small action left Jo with a near constant blush on her cheeks. 

By the time Jo makes it back around, Alex is gone. His empty coffee cup sits on top of a $20, which she grabs with a grin. A corner of the newspaper rests on top of the bill, neat block printing across it that makes Jo’s cheeks flame once again. 

‘If you get sick of stupid frat boys, give me a call.’

+

“I hate to say it, but you might be better at darts than me,” Alex let out a chuckle and grabbed his beer, taking a long swig from it as he turned back to Jo. “You have nothing better to do than practice your aim?”

After her shift at the diner, Jo had sat in her car and hesitated all of thirty minutes before calling Alex and asking him to meet up with her at the bar down the street from her apartment. Nerves flying all around her, Jo had finally made it down to Red’s Bar and Grill, meeting Alex with a wide grin and the first round of beers on her tab. 

“Mmm I practice between classes and work,” Jo rolled her eyes, throwing another dart and hitting just outside of the bullseye. “I’m about to start my last year of school at UI. Architecture degree, the boring stuff.”

“Hey hey, I don’t judge,” Alex shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m sure that doodling buildings is just as thrilling as cutting people open.”

Jo let out a laugh, her eyes roaming appreciatively over Alex for the first time. He wore jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his arms and torso, the dark blue bringing out the flecks of gold in his eyes. The low lighting in the bar didn’t help Jo as she tried to concentrate on anything besides the way Alex looked at her, cheeks flushing as she imagined his hands running over her body. 

“Oh you should see me in class, I’m the only woman in my major so,” Jo blindly threw her final dart at the board, relying on Alex’s shocked expression to tell her that she had hit close to her mark. “Had to find something to beat the boys at, keep their egos at bay.”

Satisfied with the dark look that came over Alex, Jo swigged her beer and took a step towards him, her fingers trailing over the collar of his shirt. She’d held back through the three rounds of beers and the pizza they’d shared, but she couldn’t keep her hands off of him any longer. 

“I don’t wanna be too forward but,” Alex finished his beer with one gulp, one hand moving to rest on Jo’s hip. “You wanna get out of here?” 

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” Jo breathes out, pulling Alex down to kiss her chastely before letting go and walking towards the exit. “Come on, Doctor Handsome. Let’s go.”

+

Two weeks after their first date, Jo is scrambling during the morning rush to touch each of her tables and makes sure they’re all taken care of. It’s just her and her boss Nancy working this morning, so she’s really busting her ass to make sure that she makes good tips. A hand reaches out, swiping her arm delicately and makes Jo sigh in relief. She was so used to the gentle brush against her arm that it felt like second nature at this point.

“Hey you,” Alex’s voice is soft, something that Jo can barely hear above the rush of the crowded restaurant. “Long morning?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Katie called out sick so there’s only two of us,” Jo groans as she reaches for the coffee pot to refill Alex’s cup. “I have the next two days off though so I’m just trying to make it through this stupid shift.”

Alex’s hand reaches out and grabs her wrist, holding it for the briefest second before letting her go with a grin. Jo can never seem to control the way her heart beats out of time around the man she just met, but she can’t say she hates the feeling of her heart fluttering nervously. 

“How about we drive to the lake and spend a day or two up there,” Alex shrugs, as if the idea of spending a few days away with Jo is the most natural thing in the world. “Just the two of us. I’ve got some camping gear and a hard top for the pickup. We’ll make a weekend out of it.”

Jo’s eyelashes batted against her cheek, eyes roaming over Alex with a focused stare. They hadn’t labelled whatever it was that they were doing (sleeping together, spending nights stargazing in the back of Alex’s truck, meeting up almost every night to drink cheap wine and order whatever takeout was offering a deal, actually just sleeping together) but spending a few days alone was something entirely different. Spending a few days alone was real. 

“You know what,” Jo laughed, leaning forward to peck Alex’s cheek. “Let’s do it. Let’s get out of this hellish town, god knows we both need it..”

The crooked smile that appears on Alex’s face made Jo’s heart stutter again, the look ingrained in her mind so well that she thought she might be able to paint it from memory. 

+

“I haven’t been up here in years, I didn’t realize how beautiful it was,” Jo stood at the edge of the small cliffside overlooking the water just a few feet down. Alex stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist and head propped against her shoulder as they both admired the beginnings of the sunset reflecting on the water. “I’m glad we came up here.”

“Me too, I’m glad I get to spend some time with you,” Alex turned Jo around, his hands squeezing her waist as he kissed her gently. “And I’m very sorry about this.”

Before Jo could respond to him, Alex had lifted her off the ground and jumped off the small dirt cliff, plunging them both into the icy water of the lake. When she resurfaced, Alex was already laughing at her shocked expression. 

“You’re gonna pay for that, Karev,” Jo laughed, feet treading water as she swam closer to him. “Oh you’re so gonna pay for that.”

Alex seized the opportunity in front of him, quickly wrapping his arms around Jo and pulling her body flush with his. His lips meet her neck as she tries in vain to squirm away from him, loud peels of laughter escaping Jo as she let herself relax into Alex’s embrace. 

It’s hours later when they’re laying in the back of Alex’s truck, eyes glued to the sky as they lay wrapped up in one another in a pile of blankets and pillows. There’s a discarded wine bottle next to them and the last embers of the fire they’d built are still glowing. It’s peaceful and quiet and Jo doesn’t think she’d ever felt so relaxed in her whole life. 

“The stars look way brighter out here,” Jo noted as she rested her head against Alex’s chest, eyes closing as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I wish I could stay here forever. It’s the perfect spot.”

“Well this truck bed is uncomfortable as hell so I don’t think us living in the woods would be great on your back,” Alex chuckled as Jo’s hand hit his chest with a soft whap. She sat up then, reaching for her overnight bag and digging through it. “What’re you doing?”

“I got you something! It’s not much but,” Jo pulled out an immaculately wrapped box and handed it to Alex with a wide grin. “I figured it might be handy when you become a hot shot doctor.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow at Jo, before unwrapping the box and popping it open. Inside laid a wrist watch, a silver watch face mounted on a thick leather strap. Jo revelled in the crooked grin on Alex’s face as he took it out and handed it to her, silently asking her to latch it onto his wrist.

“It’s vintage, I found it at a thrift store the other day and I couldn’t resist buying it,” Jo gushed as she adjusted the strap against Alex’s wrist. “I read somewhere that most doctors want to keep a watch on because they’re easier to check and more reliable than digital. And it helps with counting seconds an-”

The rest of Jo’s sentence melted away as Alex pressed his lips firmly against hers. Jo couldn’t help the smile that overtook her, a giggle escaping quietly as Alex leaned her back and pressed her into the truck bed.

“Thank you, you’re more than I deserve,” Alex kissed Jo once more before moving his lips to her neck. “Maybe I can show you how much you mean to me.”

“Mmmm that sounds like a fun way to end the night,” Jo giggled as Alex moved his lips further down her body. “A really fun way to end it…” +

Once the thrill of their spontaneous weekend trip wears off, Jo is surprised at how normal her relationship with Alex feels. It’s August now, Alex’s short break between med school and the start of his internship nearing an end. He had applied all over the country, but the county hospital had been the only one to accept him. 

“I didn’t hear back from Hopkins, Mass Gen, Seattle Grace, or UCSF, but they were all long shots anyways,” Alex shrugged, slinging his arm around Jo’s shoulder and bringing her closer to him on the ratty couch in her apartment. The movie they had chosen rattled on in the background, neither of them paying much attention to it. “Besides, staying here means I get to hang out with you all the time.”

Jo leaned into Alex’s embrace, eyes closing as she relished the feeling of his heartbeat pounding steadily in her ears. She’d become so comfortable in spending so much time with Alex that she didn’t know what she would do when he began to work long nights and days at the hospital. Of course, her own classes would begin in two weeks and then who knew where the two would land up. 

“Mmm yeah I don’t think I can let you go even if I tried,” Jo felt Alex’s hand slip into her own, squeezing gently as he kissed her head. “I’m pretty sure I love you.”

Jo didn't register the hitch of Alex’s breathing, she didn't even notice that he was staring at her so intently. She had dozed off in his embrace, head heavy against his chest as he watched her carefully. He only moved when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, stepping into the other room so he wouldn’t wake her. 

“Hello? This is him. Umm yeah, yeah absolutely. I’m definitely interested. I can be there, I will be there… Three days? Yup. Not a problem. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Thanks Doctor Webber, it’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”

+

“I have to take this stupid Calculus class and I can’t drop it and I already hate it,” Jo groaned as she plopped into the seat next to Alex. It was a Tuesday morning and the diner was near empty, allowing Jo a few minutes to breathe easy. “Honestly, I’m not excited to start classes next week. I’ve been absolutely exhausted the past week and I would rather just sleep until graduation.”

Reaching over, Jo grabbed Alex’s toast and took a bite and then returned it to his plate. She looked at him curiously, watching as he stared deep into his coffee cup and didn’t flinch at her quick action. Alex usually swatted her hand away when she stole his food, or at least said something to her. In fact, she didn’t think he had spoken more than a brief hello to her all morning. 

“Are you okay? You seem off today,” Jo rested her hand on Alex’s shoulder, a pang of relief coursing through her as he leaned into her embrace. “What’s up? You stressed about your internship? Because you’re going to do great.”

“No it’s just,” Alex heaved a sigh and turned to Jo, his normally bright eyes a dull brown. He looked sad, upset almost, but Jo couldn’t tell why. “You know I love you, right?”

A brilliant smile took over Jo’s face, a distinct glow coming about her as she leaned her forehead against Alex’s. 

“Of course I do,” Jo pecked Alex’s lips quickly, one hand coming up to rub his cheek. “I love you too. You’re pretty special, you know that?”

Alex responded with a nod, leaning up and kissing Jo once more. She left the seat next to him after that, checking on her tables and refilling coffees before heading back to him. Alex was shrugging his coat on as she walked up, coffee cup drained and bill paid. 

“Heading out?”

“Yeah I got stuff to do,” Alex pulled Jo in close, lips meeting hers in a kiss that was much more passionate than what he’d normally reserve for the diner. He pulled back and stared into Jo’s eyes, a look of longing filling the dark orbs. “I meant what I said. I love you Jo.”

“I love you too,” Jo whispered back, leaning up and kissing Alex once more before patting his chest and stepping away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, I’m working a double today. Bye Alex!”

“Goodbye Jo,” Alex stood a moment longer in the doorway of the diner, watching Jo carefully as she flitted around the dining room. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool August breeze. 

+

“Hey pretty girl, where’s your hotshot boyfriend now? Dipped out on you?”

Jo tried as much as she could to tune out the catcalls and insults flowing from the rowdy table of boys behind her. What she would give for Alex to come swooping in to save her like he did that first day they’d met, but she knew that he wouldn’t. She hadn’t seen him in so long, the August weather turning darker and colder as the months shifted to autumn. It was November now and between classes and the diner, Jo barely had a spare moment to think of the man she’d fallen in love with. 

Except that she did. 

Every minute of the day all Jo could think about was Alex and how much she missed him. His phone number had been disconnected, his apartment was cleaned out, and she hadn’t seen his beat up red pickup truck since it was parked outside of the diner the last day she’d seen him. She’d even gone down to the county hospital to look for him, but a nurse had informed her that there wasn’t anyone under his name working there, much to Jo’s dismay. 

She knew she was being stupid, that Alex and her had just had a fleeting summer romance and she needed to let it go. There was not going to be a magical reunion like the beginning of Grease, there would be no singing and there would be no happy ending for Jo. But she couldn’t let Alex go, she didn’t think she would ever be able to.

“You need to calm down, I know there’s a lot going on, but you are not helping me out,” Jo sighed, eyes closing as she took a moment to press a hand to her protruding stomach. “I know you get excited when we’re here but today… I can’t deal with the constant kicking of my bladder little boy.”

You know when you’re already down and out and then something comes along and just knocks you flat on your ass? That’s exactly what Jo was experiencing. After spending two weeks straight crying over Alex and insurance commercials and the grocery store being out of strawberry ice cream, she’d finally realized that her period was late and that she just might be carrying the child of a man who didn’t want to be found by her. Three stupid plastic tests later confirmed just what Jo had thought: Come April of next year, she would be a mom. 

“We’ll get through today and all the days coming,” Jo sighed as she spoke to herself, a few tears slipping out and dragging down her cheeks. “It’ll all be okay, things will change for us.”

[spiderman-homecomeme]

off the record pt. 3

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

A/N: Hello friends!! The third part of my enemies to lovers from Spideychelle week is here!! currently, there are two more chapters left, so we’re getting close to the end!!

Enjoy 3.8k of Peter and MJ still fuckin hating each other, but then... a change of feelings perhaps??

Read here or on AO3

-

They had agreed to meet at the same coffee shop later in the week, Michelle finding herself mysteriously—and annoyingly—frazzled in the days leading up to their interview, especially the morning of. For some unknown reason, her normal morning routine is extended by at least a half-hour, her mind buzzing the moment she wakes up from a restless night. Her stomach twists as she looks at her planner, and she writes it off as the dread of having to actually converse with Parker again.

“Haven’t seen that dress in a while,” Betty smirks knowingly from behind her morning coffee, Michelle having not even noticed her roommate sitting there in the first place.

Michelle looks up, her eyes setting into a wary glare after the initial startle. “And?” She asks slowly as she puts a piece of bread in the toaster.

Betty tips her head, voice smooth and casual. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uh, nothing?” Michelle’s gaze darts left and right, her mouth setting into a frown as she walks to the fridge, pulling out the strawberry jam, her hands fumbling slightly with the jar. “Work?”

Betty taps her fingers against the glass mug, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Aren’t you interviewing Peter today?”

Again, Michelle looks away, blowing a harsh puff of frustrated air through her nose. “Shut up,” she mutters as her toast pops up. She can hear her roommate suppress a snort of laughter from behind her, the sound making her almost roll her eyes into the fifth dimension as she spreads the jam onto her breakfast.

“You like nice,” Betty offers, the playful edge still in her tone.

Michelle elects to ignore that particular comment, pointedly taking a bite of her toast with an annoyed crunch as she heads for the door, blocking out Betty’s final, “Remember the mission!” as she slams it behind her.

The beginning of the workday before lunch proves to be just as frustrating. Peter has the audacity to wave at her when she walks in, his mouth curved into a stupid, timid smile that she knows has to be just as forced as hers is. Her returning wave is stiff, and she trains her gaze on the ground as she hurries walks with purpose to her desk.

(Peter of course, takes issue with the fact that her tight-lipped, half-assed smile seems so disingenuous.)

Michelle can hardly get any work done, unable to stop herself from glancing up at him working at his desk every so often, feeling as if she has heartburn radiating from her head to her toes. And then, just as she’s leaving her office and out the door, just as she’s walking on the sidewalk, sirens blaring as police cars speed by, she gets a text from him explaining that he ran into some “family stuff” that he needed to deal with first, but that he would still be on time to the interview.

She stirs at her cappuccino, tapping the wooden stick on the cup before setting it aside. Her voice recorder sits to the side of her open notebook, and she twirls her pen mindlessly between her fingers. For a moment, she’s occupied with whether or not she should be toying with it when he walks in, or if it should be at the side, next to her paper—thinking that perhaps the latter might make her look more professional.

Then, in the next moment, she berates herself for worrying about such a pointless detail.

Besides; what did she care about professionalism?

He was the one who was currently eleven minutes late to their very scheduled interview.

But who’s counting?

(She is.)

It’s fine. Totally fine. It’s not like they only have an hour for lunch.

Then, as she starts to feel the real anger set in, she sees the jerk running outside the window, and she watches as he rushes to the entrance. As he flings the door open, the sharp ringing of the bell echoing in the cafe, she quickly averts her gaze down to her own coffee. She’s the very air of nonchalance as he approaches her booth, not even looking up as he flops down onto the bench across from her.

“Sorry—” He’s cut off by his own need to catch his breath. “Had a—had a… thing. With—”

“With your family?” When she dares to glance up at him, she’s alarmed at his disheveled appearance, his hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink.

In her mind, there are three possibilities as to why this is. One, being that he really did have a “family thing” and actually ran all the way here. Two, being that he had lied and just came from an intense workout at the gym. And three, being that he had been caught up in some hasty conquest of some kind.

The third doesn’t seem as likely, given that she’s never perceived Peter as being the “one-and-done” type of person, and he’s never mentioned anything about any significant other. And, of course, the idea that anyone in their right mind would want to sleep with this man just seems impossible to her. Still, the third possibility stays in the back of her mind, poking and prodding at her relentlessly as he blinks owlishly at her.

But, as bothered as she is, she doesn’t let it show (too much).

Peter huffs out a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Yeah…”

“No problem,” Michelle lies. She decides to just ignore his current state entirely, opening her notebook to a fresh page. “Let’s just go ahead and get started.”

Peter nods, lips pressed together in a small smile.

With a click of her recorder, she sits up straighter, taking her pencil in hand.

“How would you describe your relationship with Spider-Man?” She asks first.

Peter had been nervous about this before, but no amount of stress could compare to what he felt in this moment. He coughed, clearing his throat. “Um, well…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, his heart hammering as she gets ready to write whatever nonsense he says. “I’m his photographer, but… I’d actually say that we’re pretty old friends.”

Michelle briefly glances up from her notes. “So you’ve known him a while.”

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “Since, uh—since freshman year of high school.”

“Wow, so a long time.” She takes a moment to finish that particular note. “Did you know him before he was Spider-Man?”

Peter takes another pause, disguising it as another cough, trying to decide the best way to answer. “Uh, yeah. Yeah I did.”

“It’s safe to say that you know him pretty well then?”

“Oh, yeah, you could say that,” Peter says, though there’s a hint of something in his tone that Michelle can’t quite place. “I probably know Spidey better than I know myself,” he jokes half-heartedly, his breath catching when she looks up at him again.

“You must be close, if you’re the only one who knows who he is.” Michelle observes. She knows she’s going off book, but the more he talks, the more she realizes that this is going to have to seem more genuine, that this shouldn’t feel like an actual interview if she wants to get any actual information.

Peter needs to feel comfortable.

Little does she know how impossible that is given what the interview is actually about.  

Peter chuckles quietly, nodding. “Very. We sometimes joke that we’re pretty much the same person.” He bites his lip, and she misses the brief look of panic that flashes across his face as she goes to take another sip of her coffee. He’s too quick to continue, and she doesn’t stop him. “I mean, we’ve had our ups and downs. There are times where he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, and—and… there are times, I guess, where I feel like your articles you write about him aren’t all that far off…” He trails off with a faint laugh.

Her lips twitches upward as she huffs in amusement before her expression turns serious again. There’s a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Is there a romantic nature to your relationship?”

“What? Oh—no,” Peter sputters. “I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with that at all, but…” He coughs. “I’m single. He’s single. We’re just… We’re…” He pauses, trying to find the best way to word it without giving away his secret identity (in other words, what he’s been trying to do this whole damn interview). “...best friends.”

Michelle nods slowly, her expression still holding the faintest tint of skepticism, before she looks back down and continues writing.

After a heavy beat, Peter opens his mouth again.

“We’ve been through a lot, though,” He continues, leaning forward on his forearms. “We, uh, kinda had a falling out… back when my Uncle died, and—” He swallowed, not entirely sure why he’s even saying any of this, and he wonders if Michelle would be willing to keep some of it off the record. Still, he keeps going, unable to stop himself. “And our friendship after that was kinda shaky. But… after a while, I realized that living without him was pretty much impossible.”

“So you just learned to tolerate him?” Michelle jokes, earnestly for once, not as his expense.

Peter laughs softly. “In a way, I guess.” He shifts awkwardly, his fingers twiddling together, fearing he’s definitely said too much. “He’s a cool guy though. Solid dude.”

He holds her gaze for a moment before she remembers herself, eyes shifting down to her notes again.

She stares at her next pre-written question, wondering if this will induce the same word vomit as the first. Though, surprisingly, as annoyed as she might have been before at his incessant talking, here she finds that she almost doesn’t mind, and she justifies this new feeling as the product of knowing that his rambling is only helping her. It’s what she wants.

“Would you say that you admire him?” She asks, looking up again. His surprised face when she meets his gaze makes her stomach do an unexplained flip.

And truthfully, Peter’s not sure if there’s a safe answer to this question, or at least one that he can easily elaborate on. He falters for a beat, mentally weighing what he should say. “I’m not sure,” he says finally. “I mean, he’s been a part of my life for so long, it’s hard seeing him how normal people see him, you know? I mean, I admire him for what he does; looking out for the little guy, I guess. Just helping out because he can. But…”

Going into this interview, he hadn’t had the slightest idea that it would turn into some kind of introspective therapy session for himself.

“There are things he can do better—things we can all do better, obviously—but, I don’t know. He’s so busy keeping track of the city, he doesn’t really make time for the people in his life. And he knows this, and he tries really hard.” Again, Peter laughs, sadly. “But this whole superhero thing… it kinda gets in the way. He just… he has a really hard time keeping friends. I don’t know.”

“You’re his friend,” Michelle offers.

“That’s because I tolerate him. Remember?”

The same half-smile pulls at the corner of her lips, and she almost damns herself for letting it show. But once again, she remembers herself, and why she’s here in the first place.

“What’s the origin story of Spider-Man?” She gets right back to business.

“Oh, it’s kinda… It’s kind of a long story,” Peter says with a slight flinch, scratching the back of his neck.

Michelle looks up from her notes, hand frozen, eyeing him expectantly.

“Well, um—” Peter lets out a breathy chuckle. “Back in high school. Freshman year. We were, uh, we were on a field trip to Oscorp—for uh, science stuff. They had this exhibit on gamma radiation, and we had to put on this like, protective gear before we could go in the room, and when he was putting his on, there was a spider in there—one that I guess got trapped in there, I don’t know—and it bit him—” He shrugs, before hastily continuing. “I mean, I was there but, like, I didn’t see it happen or anything like that. That’s just what he told me.”

“So a radioactive spider?”

“I mean, I guess, yeah? Not really, but… Yeah. Sure.” He sits, mouth twisting in thought before he speaks again, voice slightly lowered. “ My working theory is that the spider was hit with gamma radiation. Just like Dr. Banner, you know?”

Michelle only offers a quick nod before continuing. “What exactly are his powers? What can Spider-Man do?”

“Whatever a spider can?” Peter jokes lamely.

Michelle stares unimpressed. “So, inject venom into your prey and digest their organs and then slurp up their insides? Because that’s what spiders can do.”

At that, Peter lets out a genuine, if not a little grossed-out, laugh, a sound that surprisingly doesn’t make Michelle want to throw her coffee in his face.

“God, no,” He replies. “No. Like, I just meant climbing walls. And he’s got synthetic webs and webshooters. And this like… sixth sense. Really, the walls thing is the only spidery thing about him.”

“Anything else?”

“Um… Advanced healing, super strength, enhanced senses like hearing and sight, powerful, unyielding charisma…”

She looks up at him briefly, eyes narrowed.

“Just to name a few,” he adds innocently.

Michelle opens her mouth to speak, a snarky response at the ready, when she’s cut off by the wailing sirens in the distance. Peter cranes his neck, looking past Michelle. She turns. The TV in the corner of the coffee shop shows the scene outside one of the nearby banks, the news anchor’s voice reporting a hostage situation.

When she turns back to face Peter, his eyes are wide, and after a beat, he hastily pulls his phone out of his pocket. He holds up a finger, obviously pretending to take a phone call from someone named May . Apparently, she’s facing quite the inconvenience, judging by Peter’s overacting.

“Sorry, Michelle,” Peter says as he scrambles up from his side of the booth, nearly tripping on his way out. “I—I gotta go,” He stammers, throwing a stiff thumb over his shoulder. “My uh, my aunt… Needs help…”

She fixes him with a skeptical glare.

“We’ll finish this at my desk? Tomorrow? With Coffee? I’ll buy!”

Before she can even respond, he’s rushing for the door, running as soon as his feet hit the pavement outside.

Michelle can only watch, sinking back into her seat, her arms folded across her chest. This had certainly gone better than she expected. Sure, there’s still a lot of things left unanswered, given that they’d only made it about half-way through her list of scripted questions. But, she’s not completely in the dark anymore.

If there’s one thing Michelle’s sure of—100%, to be exact—it’s that Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

--

Okay, maybe he’s not. Maybe she’s only 67% sure.

Michelle knows that she shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions, and although the thought hadn’t immediately crossed her mind, she knows that confirmation bias can be a dangerous thing. After a semi-solid night’s sleep, as she’s walking into the Daily Bugle offices, she decides that this isn’t something she should rush into. She needs to keep investigating. She needs to keep talking to Peter, getting to know him.

Just so she’s really sure.

Then, and only then, can she make her move.

Besides, if she’s going to ruin this guy’s life—whoever Spider-Man happens to be—she needs to really make sure it’s the right guy.

After finishing up the interview at his desk—even after he willingly and thoroughly answers all of her questions—she still feels as though she needs more evidence that he is, in fact, Spider-Man. So, she asks him to meet with her the next day.

And the next.

...And the next.

At this point, the questions aren’t even about Spider-Man anymore. Perhaps finding out more about Peter’s own personal life will give her insight as to how he could manage such a time consuming alter-ego. And she trades this information with her own personal anecdotes.

You know, to make him feel like he’s her friend. That’s how she justifies it.

Peter Parker is surprisingly funny, Michelle finds. And, just in general, not as terrible a person as she’d initially thought. She even lets him start calling her MJ. His little smiles and waves don’t grate on her as much as they did just a few days ago.

Really, if Michelle didn’t hate him so much, she might thing they were actually becoming friends.

Betty seems to think so as well. Or at least more than that.

And she lets Michelle know this information while she’s mid rant about something funny-slash-stupid he’d said during their fourth consecutive “interview”—this one being after work, dinner at a semi-fancy restaurant. Something ]that seemingly had nothing to do with Spider-Man at all.

Betty has the gall to actually suggest that instead of hating Peter, Michelle might like him.

Like-like him, she dares to say.

MJ, of course, shuts that shit down as soon as Betty even thinks to mention it, mocking the very idea for sounding so juvenile while at the same time finding her face unbearably warm.

And, on his side of their tiny world, Peter’s in about the same position. He’s had to stop talking to Ned about the whole thing because the guy just keeps pushing this whole “You’re actually in love with her, you idiot,” narrative that’s frankly not true at all. Ned just doesn’t understand how annoying MJ really is, how annoying the way she just smirks at him is, the way she just deadpans almost every joke she has, or the way he finds himself laughing at said jokes…

The way she tucks her curly hair behind her ear and looks away from him like she’s shy or something…

Okay, so he might not actually hate her, but actually, genuinely falling for her has to be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. Though, he’s surprised to find himself seeing her more and more as a friend everyday. It’s weird.

But what did it matter that they’ve started going out to dinner to discuss her article? He’s just following the plant. There’s nothing else to it.

So what if he takes a split-second to admire the way she looks?

Unbeknownst to the other, they both feel the same strange warmth between them, and their smiles are starting to become genuine. While there’s still the annoyance that’s always there, it’s accompanied by a new, unknown, strange feeling. And with this new, tingling feeling comes a tugging guilt, one that’s faint and easily ignored, but certainly there.

Michelle, for writing this exposé in the first place. Though, the feeling is fleeting, as she’s reminded by another email from Jameson asking for another Spidey article. She knows that her next step is to just keep hanging out with Peter, just to be sure that he’s not Spider-Man himself, to somehow meet his friends, maybe see who’s the flake he’s told her all about. And for once, the idea doesn’t make her want to throw up.

That, and she still has to interview Spidey.

She knows she just has to stay with the plan, and everything will be fine.

And that’s what she reminds herself as she’s called to her boss’s office, and especially as Jameson grills her for not responding to his emails regarding his demand for more Spider-Man articles. Of course, in the midst of all the prep and interviews, Michelle had neglected to tell her boss that what she had in store was better than anything he could possibly want her to write.

“JONES!” Jameson barks. “You better have a damn good reason for dodging my emails!”

Michelle barely flinches, able to maintain a sense of coolness in the face of danger. “It’s actually—”

“And I mean really good! Like dead grandma good! Is your grandma dead?”

“...No. I—”

“Wait, I take that back, I don’t care about your grandma!” He waves her off aggressively. “I expect this shit from Thompson or Parker, but not you!”

“I’m sorry,” Michelle says, her tone flat and even, though she feels the slightest bit hesitant to further explain herself. “I’ve been working on something else.”

“Something else?!” Jameson balks. “What else could you possibly be working on?! My assignments not good enough for you?! I tell you what, whatever you’re working on better be—”

Her own internal turmoil as to whether or not she should tell her boss about her plan, quiet as that turmoil is, is enough to put Jameson’s angry rant on mute, at least for a moment. Truly, she’s unsure where this sudden trepidation is coming from, but she assumes it’s because she wants to have as little input from her boss as possible.

“—It better be big! What are you doing?! Finding out his secret identity?!”

At that, Michelle jerks her head back, mouth parted as she blinks in surprise. “That’s… That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Oh!... Oh?” Jameson stops, frozen, and for once, he speaks in lowercase letters. “Well. Uh. Good.”

Still in shock that he was lucky enough—she’d say smart, but that was a bit of a stretch—to guess it on whatever try it was, she nods. But then, she remembers the inevitability that Jameson’s going to spread this around the office, maybe as some sick form of motivation for her poor coworkers.

Which would lead to Peter finding out…

“I’d prefer if we kept this conversation between us, though,” Michelle says, to which Jameson’s only response is a confused quirk of his brow. “I want it to be this big shock to everyone , you know?”

Jameson nods slowly, mouth pressing into a thin line. Clearly, he buys it. “Yes… Yes… You’ve got a point there, Jones.” He claps his hands together, the sound echoing in his office. “Alright! Well! Get back to work then! Find out who Spider-Man is!”

God, at this point he’s already told everyone, she thinks, hiding the way her eye twitches in annoyance.

Michelle dismisses herself, moving to leave without another word. As she opens and starts pushing the door behind her, she startles seeing who’s waiting on the other side.

“Oh! Uh, hey!” She tells herself that the smile on her face is only out of politeness. “Peter!”

Peter clutches at the strap of his camera bag. He gives a single, stiff nod, his mouth pressing into a tight, thin smile as he rocks back on his heels.

He looks as if he’s about to say something when Jameson’s booming voice cuts him off.

“PARKER! GET IN HERE!”

“Good luck,” Michelle teases under her breath.

Peter forces another smile before pushing past her and into the office.

It leaves Michelle in the near-empty hallway, staring at the closed door, confused—and with a strange, unwelcome sinking you-fucked-up feeling in her gut.

[noorakardemmomesaetre]

Through the Snowfall - The Final Chapter

Or Read It On Ao3

Pairing: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: The Coopers and Andrews have rented the same cabin in the woods every holiday season since their kids were two years old.

And with Archie and Betty leaving for college in just a few months, Betty is determined to make this Christmas a memorable one…by telling Archie how she really feels.

What she doesn’t plan for is Archie bringing his best friend.

Or the way her gaze is suddenly lingering on the wild dark curls peeking out from beneath a crown beanie rather than the ginger spikes she’d set her sights on so long ago.

Note: I hope you all had the most wonderful holiday season celebrating however you’re happiest celebrating! ❄️☃️

This is the first multi-chapter fic I have finished in over a year and a half and, as sad as that is, I can’t thank you all enough for deciding to go on this little holiday journey with me 💙 you’ve all been so kind and lovely, truly.I hope you enjoy this last chapter!

xx B

Chapter Five: Sunrise

Betty’s just finished buckling the strap of her heels when a knock sounds on their bedroom door. Veronica is FaceTiming Cheryl and Toni, showing them the Swarovski crystals that are delicately sewn into the elaborate neckline of her gown.

Betty opens their bedroom door and tilts her head knowingly when she sees Archie standing there, already dressed in his favorite classic black-and-white tuxedo. “Can I help you, Archie?”

“Is Ronnie in there?” He’s wringing his hands nervously in front of him, though his smile is relaxed and Betty nods.

“Veronica, you have a visitor!”

Veronica makes her way over, waving at Toni and Cheryl before handing the phone to Betty. Her mouth parts when she sees Archie standing here, but her expression is nothing compared to his. His eyes are wide as he takes in her deep red satin gown and elegant chignon. If her life was a cartoon, Betty’s sure his heart would be physically beating out of his chest.

Betty leaves them, knowing Archie is asking her to the soiree, and it makes her heart swell with happiness for them. She’s glad that, despite the miscommunications and her lack of awareness about her own feelings, they found each other.

“Betty dearest, you’re sparkling.”

Cheryl’s voice interrupts her train of thought and Betty turns her attention to the phone screen. “Oh yes! Do you like?”

She moves the phone screen down so that her friends can see her full look. A form-fitting rose-gold glitter gown with a thigh high slit she normally would never have been brave enough to try on let alone buy (though she’d gone shopping with Veronica and that should be explanation enough) adorns her body.

Her hair falls in waves that compliment her face and the dark maroon color painted on her lips makes her feel somewhat like a movie star.

While Cheryl and Toni toss compliments at her like they’re confetti, she can’t help but hope that a certain someone is also blown away by this look.

“Well, I’ve got to go check on mother, kisses to you Betty. Have a wonderful time!” Cheryl blows a few kisses and makes her way upstairs, leaving Betty with Toni.

“Cooper,” Toni starts and Betty arches an eyebrow at her best friends’ girlfriend, who has also become one of her closest friends. “Something’s got you distracted, or should I say someone?”

“Oh no,” Betty shakes her head quickly, moving into the bathroom in case Archie can hear her over his and Veronica’s excited giggles. “I’m just excited for the soiree, Toni, I promise.”

Toni smiles at her knowingly through the screen, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “As long as this soiree is nice to you and good-looking, I’m excited for you too.”

Betty rolls her eyes, but the grin on her face is undeniable.

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

Archie escorts them both down the stairs and their parents gush over them like it’s their first prom. She smiles her brightest Cooper-esque smile, although her eyes are trained on the staircase as though he’ll suddenly appear on the steps at any moment.

But when he doesn’t come down twenty minutes later, she heads over to Archie.

“Where’s Jughead?”

Archie turns from where he’d been placing his mug in the kitchen sink and smiles sadly at her. “He’s not feeling well, Betty, he said he’ll catch up with us later.”

Her heart drops and she glances up towards the boys’ bedroom again. “Does he need anything? I can stay with him-”

“He’ll join us in a little while, Betty, he just needs some rest I think.”

“Okay,” she accepts softly, though her disappointment is obvious. She’d been hoping he’d see her walk down the stairs in her gown and make-up and finally realize she’s everything he could ever need.

But seeing as that’s not happening, she reluctantly joins her family in their car. They’d hired a driver for the night and he seems nice enough as they make their way down the few miles towards the transformed rec center.

The Winter Wonderland-themed center is packed and Betty recognizes a few people from previous years spent at the cabin. She’s making small talk with different people as Archie and Veronica find their seats at their designated table, their hands never leaving one another.

Her thoughts drift to Jughead again and again, even whilst she’s in conversation. Is he okay? What’s he doing? How did he get sick? Is he even sick? Perhaps he’s lonely and she should join him?

Her father sits next to her during dinner and provides enough of a distraction to keep her from bolting out the doors and back to the cabin. They discuss a new car he’s been dying to renovate after he speaks to Alice about cutting back at the Register. Betty tells him good luck with that and they share a laugh that earns them a glare from her mother.

The dance floor is soon cleared, blue and white lights swirling around the hall to enhance the mood, and people move to the music. Veronica and Archie are talking, their heads close together as though they’re whispering secrets.

She’s sitting there, surrounded by her friends and family, the bass of the music thumping through the ground and the sparkles of the snowflakes whirling around her, and all she can think about is him.

She can’t do this.

So she squeezes Veronica’s arm conveying meaning with which only her best friend could understand and takes off towards the main doors.

Snow has started to fall, slow and steady, but she hardly has the time to acknowledge the beauty of it all as she jogs as quickly as she can in her heels towards their car.

“Elizabeth!”

Her mother’s shriek pierces the air and stops Betty in her tracks. She can feel her mother’s nails digging into her arm as she pulls her around to face her and, in this lighting, the lines between her eyebrows are more present than ever.

Mary just catches up to them, pulling her coat on as she watches the two of them with concern.

“Elizabeth, where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to go home, Mother, I don’t feel well.” The lie is more than obvious, but Betty can hardly find the energy to care. All she wants to do is see him. Make sure he’s okay if he really is sick. Make sure he’s okay if he isn’t.

“This better not be about that boy,” Alice spits and Mary arches an eyebrow in warning at her friend. “I expected this of your sister, but for you to throw your life away for some boy named Jughead no less, when Archie is right inside-”

“I wouldn’t be throwing my life away if I went to Jughead!” She’s yelling. She know this because her mother rears her head back as though Betty’s lunged for her and Mary’s mouth is parted in both disbelief and pride. “And if you can’t see that, Mother, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Alice shakes her head, her lips twisted in a disgusted grimace. “Elizabeth, if you get into that car, you are making a dire mistake.”

“Staying here for this long, with you, is the only mistake I’ve made tonight,” Betty retorts in just above a whisper, closing the space between her mother and herself. Mary remains a few feet away, watching the two of them carefully and Betty knows she’ll intervene if necessary. “And Mother?”

Alice arches an eyebrow.

“I’ve applied to only out-of-state universities and I intend to leave in the fall.”

With that, she turns on her heel and rushes to the open door of the car waiting for her. As soon as she’s seated and buckled up, her chest heaving with the adrenaline of what has just happened, she glances out of the window.

Her mother is storming inside and Betty hopes she doesn’t snap an ankle with the way she’s stomping on her heels. Mary is still standing there with a look of pride that spreads a warmth through Betty’s heart. She nods at her as the car pulls away and Betty offers her a wave of gratitude.

She’s got her phone out, her finger hovering over Jughead’s name, but her cell reception is non-existent this deep in the forest and she groans. It feels as though the car is moving in slow motion and she keeps looking through the windows as though Jughead may materialize through the density of the trees.

When they’re about a quarter of a mile from the cabin, the driver stops and turns to Betty with a frown. “My apologies, Miss Cooper, but I cannot go any further than this. I won’t be able to turn around.”

Betty glances down at her heels, sighing inwardly. She’s so close she can practically smell the cinnamon on his flannel jacket. But she can’t possibly run that far in her heels, that would be completely outrageous.

The driver is still looking at her, concern etched across his face, when it hits her.

“Of course!” She turns around to find their snow gear still settled in the back of the car from their last snow day. She reaches for the first pair of snow boots she can find, thanking a higher power that they’re Veronica’s, and quickly unbuckles and kicks off her heels. She slides on the boots, buttons her jacket, and waves goodbye to the driver.

The snow is fresh, pillowing around her boots like clouds, as she huffs her way through it. She can just make out the lights of their cabin in the distance and all she can think about is rushing to the warmth of the fire, or the warmth of his arms. She’d much prefer the latter, but these temperatures have her accepting what she can get at this point. Her breath falls from her mouth in what looks like puffs of smoke and she folds her arms across her chest in an effort to keep warm as she moves.

“Cooper?”

His voice rings gently through the snow falling around them and Betty lifts her gaze to find him standing a few feet in front of her.

Her breath catches as she takes in his svelte all-black suit and bowtie and she can’t help but think he’s quite actually the most beautiful man she’s ever seen.

He’s currently sliding out of the jacket he must’ve borrowed from Fred, quickly closing the space between them so that he can wrap the jacket around her shivering shoulders.

“It’s freezing out here, Betts, what are you-”

“I thought you were sick-”

He stops speaking, his face only inches from hers, and concern tugs at the corners of his mouth. She wishes she could reach up and sofly trace the freckles along his face before pulling his lips to hers by his chin, but he’s now stepped away from her.

He runs his fingers through the thick waves of his hair and it’s then that she notices he’s pulled his beanie off, clutching it between his fingers.

“I’m not sick.”

Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at him through the snowflakes swirling between them. “Then why didn’t you come with us to the soiree? I would’ve waited for you-”

“I couldn’t come,” he interrupts her, the pain in his eyes gripping her heart like a vice. He takes a deep breath before meeting her gaze once more. “I couldn’t bear to watch you look at Archie all night the way I wish you would look at me.”

The words catch her so off guard that they leave her breathless.

He shakes his head as if even just saying what he’s said is shameful. “But then I realized how fucking selfish that is, Betts, and if he’s who you want, than I support you. I will always support you-”

“I don’t want to look at you the way I look at Archie.”

He stops speaking and a sadness colors his facial expression as he nods in acceptance. “Of course not, I don’t know why I thought-”

“Because I look at Archie like a brother,” she clarifies softly as she steps closer to him, a small smile gracing her lips as he blinks in confusion. “And I certainly don’t look at you that way.”

She carefully wraps her arms around his neck, again stepping closer to him as realization dawns across his features. He looks so shocked by her confession she has to draw her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from giggling.

“I just have one question for you, Jones.”

“I’m an open book for you, Cooper,” he says quietly and with so much honesty she has to fight the urge to press her lips against his in response.

“That day we made snow angels and I told you my secret,” she whispers as snow continues to fall into their hair, speckling the deep color of his waves with white. “You were about to tell me something. What was it?”

He searches her face for only a second before a wide smile that matches the pure happiness in his eyes dances across his lips. “I was going to tell you that I applied to schools in those very same states.”

Her lips are against his before he has time to finish his sentence and she giggles against his lips when she realizes she’s taken him by surprise.

But then his hand cups her cheek, his other wrapping around her waist to pull her flush against his own body. His lips part against hers and she can taste him in every way she’s wanted to since she slipped her hand into his upon their first meeting.

And despite the dropping temperatures around them, Betty’s never felt warmer.

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

Epilogue: Almost One Year Later

Snow is falling gently about her as she leans against the Jeep her father and she had restored before she’d left for NYU. She feels the vibration of her phone in her coat pocket and she answers the FaceTime call with the brightest smile she can muster in the cold.

“B!” Veronica squeals, her face filling the screen. She can just make out Archie packing the last few articles of his clothing into a suitcase behind her.

“V!” Betty responds with just as much enthusiasm as she waves at the screen. “Are you guys leaving soon?”

“Five minutes, right Archiekins?” Veronica turns to Archie who grins and waves at the camera before confirming only five more minutes.

“Those nicknames are borderline nauseating,” Betty teases and Veronica rolls her eyes before they both break into giggles.

“Don’t be jealous, Betty!” Archie calls and Betty flips off the camera only to receive the same gesture from him in response.

“Ohmygosh, can you two behave for two seconds?” Veronica manages through her own laughter before turning back to the camera. “Are you leaving soon?”

It’s then that she sees him leaving his apartment building, his dufflebag casually thrown over his shoulder. Her heart beats to a rhythm that’s theirs and he stops, tilting his head towards her with a playful smile.

“B?” Veronica’s voice drags her back to reality and she raises her eyebrow expectantly. “Are you guys about to leave?”

“Yes,” Betty finally confirms, fighting the urge to return her gaze to the man who stole her heart only a year ago. “We’ll see you guys in like 45 minutes?”

“Sounds good! Enjoy your man!”

He closes the space between them just as she hangs up, sliding her phone back into her coat pocket. Her arms wrap around his neck as his wrap around her waist and she presses her lips to his in a kiss that still triggers butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against her lips and she smiles into their kiss before pulling away.

“I was just here last weekend, Juggie,” she teases, her fingers playing with the collar of his infamous flannel jacket he’s yet to get rid of.

“Any moment without you is a moment I’m missing you,” he says softly, pressing his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss before smiling at her. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?” she asks, still feeling a bit breathless being this close to him.

He chuckles and shrugs, tossing his duffle bag through the open passenger door before turning his attention back to her. “I can handle your mom. Especially now that Cheryl and Toni will be there as well.”

Betty giggles and nods in agreement. Her parents had agreed to allow the “kids” to rent a cabin next door this year (although Betty thinks her mother’s motive may be to avoid Betty and her beau, not that Betty minds) and Betty had jumped at the chance to invite her other friends to join them.

She’s looking up at him, taking in the way his stance is so easy and comfortable with her, and he lowers his gaze to meet hers.

“Everything okay, Betts?”

“I love you.” The words fall from her mouth in just above a whisper and his expression softens. It’s not the first time they’ve said it, but each time feels like a more comforting and honest version of the first.

“I love you too, Betty Cooper,” he whispers against her ear as he pulls her into a warm hug and she can’t help thinking this Christmas will be even better than the last.

That every Christmas with him will be more magical than she could have ever imagined with anybody else.

[lovedholic]

folklore sentence starters

under the cut are #100+ sentence starters from taylor swift’s newest album folklore. some of the lyrics have been tweaked to fit rp purposes, but feel free to change anything to your liking !! i hope you like these as much as i did  ♡

the 1

i'm doing good, i'm on some new shit .

i thought i saw you at the bus stop, i didn't though .

you know, the greatest films of all time were never made .

well, i guess you never know .

if you wanted me, you really should've showed it .

it's alright now .

but we were something, don't you think so ?

i had this dream that you were doing some cool shit .

you know, the greatest loves of all time are over now .

if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?

you would've been the one .

cardigan

when you are young, they assume you know nothing .

but, i knew you? .

baby, kiss it better .

you said i was your favorite ! 

a friend to all is a friend to none .

i felt like i was an old cardigan .

to kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed .

you drew stars around my scars .

i tried to change the ending, but . . .

i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs .

i knew i'd curse you for the longest time .

i knew you'd come back to me .

the last great american dynasty

how���did a middle-class divorcée do it ?

the wedding was charming, if a little gauche in my opinion .

ah, there's only so far new money goes .

their parties were tasteful, if a little loud .

she stole his dog and dyed it key lime green !

fifty years is a long time, you know   .

i had a marvelous time ruining everything .

exile

im holdin' all this love out here in the hall .

i think i've seen this film before, and i didn't like the ending .

you're not my homeland anymore .

so what am i defending now ?

i can see you starin', honey .

second, third, and hundredth chances . how many more do you want ?

i'm not your problem anymore !

there is no amount of crying i can do for you .

we always walked a very thin line .

you didn't even hear me out .

you never gave a warning sign .

i gave so many signs .

i never learned to read your mind .

you never turned things around .

my tears ricochet

and if i'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too .

even on my worst day, did i deserve all the hell you gave me ?

i loved you, i swear i loved you .

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace .

i'm dead to you, why are you at the wake ?

you know i didn't want to have to haunt you .

you used to tell me i was brave .

i can go anywhere i want, just not home .

you would still miss me in your bones .

i still talk to you when i'm screaming at the sky .

you turned into your worst fears .

you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain you have inside you .

mirrorball

i'll show you every version of yourself tonight .

i know they said the end is near . . .

i can change everything about me to fit in .

you are not like the regulars .

i'm still a believer, but i don't know why .

i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me .

seven

please, picture me in the trees .

i was too scared to jump in .

are there still beautiful things ?

sorry, i can’t recall your face .

i love you to the moon and to saturn .

i've been meaning to tell you this, i think your house is haunted .

your dad is always mad, though ?

i think you should come live with me .

we can be pirates !

august

i never needed anything more .

are you sure ?

will you call when you're back at school ?

i remember thinking i had you .

it was never mine .

i can see us twisted in bedsheets .

back when we were still changing for the better . . .

for me, it was enough .

i canceled all of my plans just in case you'd call .

meet me behind the mall .

so much for summer love and saying "us"  .

you weren't mine to lose .

get in the car !

this is me trying

i've been having a hard time adjusting .

i didn't know if you'd care if i came back .

i have a lot of regrets about that .

i'm here in your doorway, where are you ?

i just wanted you to know that this is me trying .

fell behind all my classmates and i ended up here .

i’m pouring out my heart to a stranger .

it's hard to be anywhere these days when all i want is you .

illicit affairs

make sure nobody sees you leave .

tell yourself you can always stop .

well , that's the thing about illicit affairs .

don't call me baby .

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me !

you showed me colors you know i can't see with anyone else .

look at this idiotic fool that you made me !

you taught me a secret language i can't speak with anyone else .

and you know damn well that for you, i would ruin myself .

invisible string

i used to think i would meet somebody there .

were there clues i didn't see ?

she said i looked like an american singer, how absurd was that ?

one single thread of gold tied me to you .

now i send their babies presents !

mad woman

what did you think i'd say to that ?

what do you sing on your drive home ?

fuck you forever !

what about that ?

there's nothing like a mad woman .

what a shame she went mad .

you made her like that .

and women like hunting witches too .

it's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together .

i'm taking my time .

you took everything from me .

epiphany

sir, i think he's bleeding out !

there are some things you just can't speak about .

with you, i fall down .

this is something med school did not cover .

doc, i think she's crashing out !

you only have twenty minutes to sleep .

try to make some sense of what you've seen .

dream of some epiphany, okay ?

betty

i won't make assumptions about why you switched your homeroom but i think it's 'cause of me .

one time i was riding on my skateboard . . .

when i passed your house it's like i couldn't breathe .

have you heard the rumors from inez ?

this time it was true !

the worst thing that i ever did was what i did to you .

if i just showed up at your party, would you have me ?

would you tell me to go fuck myself ?

what if i told you it was just a summer thing ?

i know i miss you .

i know where it all went wrong .

i hate the crowds, you know that .

plus, i saw you dance with him .

get in, let's drive .

i dreamt of you all summer long .

i planned it out for weeks .

right now is the last time i can dream about what happens .

the only thing i wanna do is make it up to you .

peace

suddenly, it's clear .

i never had the courage .

as long as danger is near .

and it's just around the corner, darling .

all these people think love's for show .

i would die for you in secret .

the devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me .

would it be enough if i could never give you peace ?

it's like i'm wasting your honor .

is it enough ?

i'd give you my sunshine, my best, anything .

but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me .

hoax

this has broken me down .

give me a reason .

your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in .

don't want no other shade of blue but you .

no other sadness in the world would do .

you know i left a part of me back in new york .

you knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart .

you knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score ?

what you did was just as dark .

[noncommited-writer]

WARNING FFH SPOILERS!!

Basically all my thoughts!

.

.

.

Okay can we just talk about literally the beginning??????

'I Will Always Love You' memoirs??? Holy shit I was cackling but also crying inside when they showed pictures of Tony

Then the whole plan??? To get MJ??? Oh my god, I fucking melt. I want a man like Peter who will confess to me on top of the Eiffel Tower and buy me jewellery based on the shit I'm passionate about!!!!

Also, that scene at the shelter? When he becomes overwhelmed by the mention of Tony, I started to think he might have PTSD or some sort of knee jerk reaction whenever he hears his name. The way he was already teary eyed after swinging away. I couldn't deal with that.

Then the whole plan failing on the plane and oh my god the bathroom scene?? When he starts cleaning up oh my god that's just pure cinnamon roll Peter, I die I swear.

Theeen Betty and Ned???? OH MY GOD SUCH CUTIES!!!!!! AHHHHHH they were so fun to watch istg "babe?" "babe."

When they had the whole montage of Peter just trailing around MJ and being sulky over Brad like an adorable puppy. Then getting that necklace??? Ooooof ugh kill me with your cuteness istg.

Then the whole thing with Peter not having his suit with him??? And wearing that festival mask? Shit cracked me up

And dear god save this kid from the never ending concussions from the bell tower.

Then the whole conversation between Talos Fury and Peter in his hotel room. Literally two very different energies meeting to a head. It was glorious.

Also when they introduced Quentin?? I was like fucking shOOk. For two reasons

One because he was such a dramatic, unsubtle, little bitch talking about his family's death and praising Peter like Tony did!

For another, BECAUSE HE HAD LOWKEY DADDY ENERGY AROUND PETER AND THE WAY PETER LIGHTS UP WHENEVER HE PRAISES HIM OH MY GOD IT REMINDED ME SO MUCH OF HIM AND TONY. FUCK.

ALSO UNIVERSE 616?? CMON BITCH HOW DARE YOU PULL THAT STUNT. MARVEL YOU COP OUT! :(

Then the inevitable glasses. Dear lord. Fuck me up with the whole Iron dad (or starker) feels that whole scene gave off. My heart hurted.

Then that scene when he had to take off his clothes to wear his suit fUCK! Lowkey tho I felt hot. Then Brad walks in and then tells him he's gonna tell MJ?? Like who the fuck????

Then that bus scene. Oh my god, shit made me laugh so hard istg. When he punched Flash and actually had to web the freaking air strike drone he sent in!!!!!!! Hswhhdhhe Peter is a fuckin mess.

EDITH :(((((( even dead I'm the hero. My fucking feelings took a fucking dive. "He always did love his acronyms" and the way Peter just chuckles, looks away with tearing eyes, voice cracking as he says "Yeah he did"

God fucking damn it.

Istg Marvel is just playing with my feelings now. It's so fucking unfair.

And then that whole fighting scene with the Fire Elemental? When I saw one of the drone take the hit, I was like. Wait a fucking moment.

Also, I caught this thing where Mysterio's magic hits the windshield of Fury’s car but instead of cracks like it should be, I saw bullet holes. And I took a moment to notice that.

NIGHT MONKEY! NIGHT MONKEY!

Then that bar scene!!!! Jesus christ. That was a whirlwind of emotions. The way Peter's smile just dropped when Beck wore the glasses and saw Tony within him. God.

Also like those backstories????? Damn. Legit. I got no other words.

The way that Peter seemed soooo disappointed when MJ lied about the reason why she kept staring at him? Ugh my heart.

YAS GIRL DO IT FOR ALL OF US! TURN AROUND!!!! (Also what the fuck that cute little chub on Tom's tummy before he tenses up for the camera is so fucking cute oh my god I fucking melt, I wanna hug him)

"It's not a competition." Yea sure, Ned. Sure.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. HOLY FUCK.

THAT WHOLE ILLUSION SCENE?

One of the best things ever. It reminded me so much of the intros to the James Bond movies. All the smooth transitions and stunning fx. Fuck. It was all trippy.

And jesus. Using MJ like that????

Also What The Actual Fuck. When he made an illusion of Tony rising from his grave.

When I saw that tombstone, I already knew what name on it was. Didn't make it easier to see it with my own eyes.

I cant with this movie its too much for my poor heart to take.

Jesus christ when he got hit by the train.fuck nylife.

Then happy?

Oh no, I actually pretty much died at this scene.

The way Peter was so desperate on who to trust and the way he just relaxed when he realised Happy wasn't an illusion. The way Happy just went with it immediately, having similar past experience with Tony's paranoia. The way he held Peter in his arms, confused but so so so worried. The way he takes care of Peter's wounds and tries to calm him down. The way Peter breaks down over being alone, his friends being in danger, hurt over MJ, not being enough to measure up to Tony, all of his emotions coming to head. That was probably the most grounding scene I've seen of Peter ever. It really hurt in all the best ways.

"You can't measure up to Tony. No one can. Not even Tony." That line was so good because he knows the weight thats on Peter's shoulders, he knows that Peter feels pressured to take on the world, unwavering and brave and so sure of himself like Tony was. But the truth is, Tony was exactly like him behind the scenes. Tony was always breaking down, lagging behind and alone. So when he sees Peter break down, it's like seeing Tony all over again. And he can't help but soften.

"I don't think Tony would have done what he did if he didn't know you were going to be here after he was gone." And that just shattered me. He basically said that Tony would've done it all over again if he knew Peter was going to come back.

That moment, when he stares at Peter, that moment when he notices something that twists and warms his heart at the same time. When he sees Peter handle that tech and holograms seamlessly like Tony did, the way he runs his mouth with his genius, the way he seems so excited over the tech, you can see in Happy's eyes that all he sees is Tony. Tony imprinting the best parts of himself onto Peter.

He knows Peter can handle it.

And jesus christ, baby no. Its not led zeppelin, cmon.

That whole fight scene was fucking lit! I can't really explain much but wow MJ!!!! GO MJ AND BETTY!!! AYYY.

Fuck and the way Peter used his Peter Tingle to fight off the rest of the drones. That was so cool. Then when illusion Beck was handing him the glasses, he already knew that it wasn't the real him.

That heartbroken look in his eyes when he realised he can't save Beck.

His voice cracking when he wants to know theres no more illusions.

That peck? That kiss? That makeout???? These two ooze so much chemistry it actually hurts.

Ahhh that hand brush and them actually holding hands!!!!! That!!!!!!

Then flash with his mother not being around comment, fuck that kinda hurt me in the feels.

Peter having an intervention with Happy and May???? Holy shit I need more of that.

Then that date? Where they swing??? Wow goals.

And fuck Peter getting exposed. I swear my heart dropped down to my stomach.

ALSO J JONAH JAMESON HOLY SHIT I WAS SHAKING BECAUSE OF THAT!!!!

Credits scene:

Fury taking a vacation but not really is such a mood. Like he'd like a vacation but he also has to work. Idk but it might be hinting at the next captain marvel movie!!!!

Ahhh

This movie is a treasure. I am most likely going to watch it again because wow. I don't think I can take it all in 100% without watching it twice.

I saw it only a few hours ago but I already love it with all my heart. ❤️

I cant believe Marvel has me hooked with their Peter Parker. ❤️❤️❤️