And if it makes you less sad We'll start talking again And you can tell me how vile I already know that I am. I'll grow old and start acting my age I'll be a brand new day in a life that you hate A crown of gold A heart that's harder than stone And it hurts a whole lot But it's missed when it's gone. Call me a safe bet I'm betting I'm not. I'm glad that you can forgive I'm only hoping as time goes You can forget. If it makes you less sad I'll move out of the state You can keep to yourself.
I'll keep out of your way And if it makes you less sad I'll take your pictures all down Every picture you paint I will paint myself out. It's cold as a tomb And it's dark in your room When I sneak to your bed to pour salt in your wounds So call it quits or get a grip Say you wanted a solution You just wanted to be missed.
Call me a safe bet I'm betting I'm not I'm glad that you can forgive I'm only hoping as time goes, you can forget So you can forget, you can forget. You are calm and reposed Let your beauty unfold Pale white, like the skin stretched over your bones Spring keeps you ever close You are second hand smoke. You are so fragile and thin Standing trial for your sins Holding onto yourself the best you can You are the smell before rain You are the blood in my veins.
Call me a safe bet I'm betting I'm not I'm glad that you can forgive I'm only hoping as time goes You can forget. Quiero recibir notificaciones de artistas destacados y noticias. Compartir en Facebook Compartir en Twitter.
The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot If it makes you less sad I will die by your hand I hope you find out what you want I already know what I am And if it makes you less sad We'll start talking again And you can tell me how vile I already know that I am I'll grow old and start acting my age I'll be a brand new day in a life that you hate A crown of gold A heart that's harder than stone And it hurts a whole lot But it's missed when it's gone Call me a safe bet I'm betting I'm not.
Compuesta por: Jesse Lacey. Betty shrugs. Well, a foal, and it was so cool. She let me and Polly name it! Archie starts bouncing his basketball again as they walk towards the hoop in his driveway. Betty rolls her eyes. I have to dig it out of my suitcase and I have stuff for Jug and Jellybean too.
She knocks incessantly on his front door, unable to stop herself. His mom opens the door, Jellybean on her hip. Immediately Jellybean starts kicking and babbling, wanting to be put down. Gladys reaches down with a small frown to pick up Jellybean, probably to keep her from running, the three-year-old is a firecracker.
Betty nods and heads back down the front steps to go around to the back of his house. What could be so wrong that it made Jughead exile himself to the treehouse and not come down, even for food? He adored Jellybean. His house was infinitely more fun than hers, Jellybean was always getting into something and his parents treated her as one of their own, she never waited for an invitation to come over, she just knew she was always welcome.
Betty hates how Polly teases her. Betty shields her eyes from the sun, pouting at the sight of the treehouse and how the rope ladder was pulled up. She crosses her arms the way her mom does when she means business. What happened? Betty climbs up as fast as she can. Her exuberance causes him to stumble, but he still holds onto her tightly. He holds her for a long moment, longer than she expected, and she pulls away to look at his face.
Something is wrong so just tell me what it is. Betty follows suit and tries not to notice how he moves away when their knees touch. He pulls out the brown leather wrist cuff, his fingers sliding over the embroidery. Are you okay? I thought it was a cute. Jughead sniffles and Betty watches as a fat tear rolls down his cheek. Even though he is so upset, being this close to him is the first time she felt peace in ten days. It took a few minutes, but finally Jughead pulls away with a blush creeping up his neck.
Betty just smiles at him, slipping his hat off his head to run her fingers through his unruly locks. Did your parents finally tell you where theirs are? You believe it too, right? She helps him snap it together and smiles again as he looks down at it fondly. Are you going to stay up here forever? Am I going to have to move in when we grow up? Remember, they said it can feel funny to talk about. Talking about getting her first period was just not something she felt comfortable with.
Who will keep Jellybean out of trouble? I need running water, Juggie. Jughead smiles at her, all warm and like before when he never doubted what they were to each other. Now, come on, we have to tell Jellybean her big brother is moving back home.
His mom comes out onto the back porch and looks down at her children with a knowing smile and winks at Betty, who nods back at her. Jughead steps back, shaking his head, and curling his fists together. I only ever see you in school, the most time I get with you is during recess, and even now all you want to do is hang out with Archie. Betty nods and begins to stumble back away from him.
By the time she was eleven, Jughead would be turning twelve less than two months later! She hates feeling so young. She was talking at ten months old, walking too, and her mom worked with her so much at home that she knew how to read before first grade even started. They stay like that for a few minutes until everyone on the playground starts running towards some kind of commotion near the chain-link fence at the edge of the field.
Jughead is in front of her, a bush still smoldering with the grass around it now black, with soot on his face. Betty feels as though her feet are glued to the ground. Jughead started a fire? How, with what? Suddenly the teachers usher them back inside the school, but Archie and Betty both stand still.
Then Jughead finally looks up at them, and Betty makes a move to rush forward. She looks back towards her soulmate and sees him walking away toward the police cars with the principal, his head twisting back to meet her eyes, silently pleading with her. He turns just in time to catch her in his arms.
Ever since she was four years old, Jughead has always been there. Being away from him makes her want to pull her hair out and rip her skin off. Jughead is being released, coming home to her, finally. They ask if they can come by the house after school, but his parents say they needed time to sort things out with him, to talk to him alone without a social worker or counselor, and she understands, she really does, but—she misses him so much that her bones hurt.
So she finds herself tip-toeing around the neighborhood at three AM wrapped in a blanket instead of a jacket with a flashlight in her hand. Betty uses the flashlight in his window, turning it off and on to get his attention. The sight makes her breath catch. Betty sprints for the treehouse, cursing herself for not planning ahead and dressing appropriately.
So without thinking, she had grabbed a blanket, put her stupid bunny slippers on and snuck out through the basement door. Less than five minutes later she hears Jughead making his way up the ladder. Jughead slowly lowers them to the ground and holds her tightly, and she vaguely notes Jug had carried up more blankets. Betty clings to the lapels of his jacket, not pulling far away even when she is done crying. Did they treat you well?
Your parents said you needed the time to understand that your actions had consequences, consequences like not being able to talk to me. Did they decide on anything? I swear Betty, I did everything they asked me to just so I could get out for you. I ran for help as soon as it happened. I admitted I did something wrong, I told them I knew it was stupid, I knew it was my fault. They said accepting that was a big deal or something, and that I ran for help was good on my part.
A rumor spread that you were trying to light the school on fire, but Archie and I told everyone it was an accident. Jughead looks down, ashamed. Then all of a sudden he was home all the time and drinking even more.
He tried to keep it a secret, but eventually he got caught. He lost his job, Betty.
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Her hair, previously in a messy bun because it is longer now than ever before, falls around her shoulders in waves, full and heavy. The smell of her shampoo fills her nostrils and she shivers again as the tendrils tickle the top of her breasts, which are now sensitive and causes her whole body to break out in goosebumps. Betty swallows visibly, but nods. She waits until Jughead is on his knees between her legs to answer.
He goes straight for their mark and attends to it thoroughly using his teeth and tongue, every lick and nibble causing Betty to moan and arch her chest closer to him. She grabs onto a hunk of his hair to do her best to keep him there. Jughead guides the undergarment down her arms then tosses it aside. He licks and sucks and kisses, making her writhe and moan under his touch.
By the time he reaches her panties Betty feels like a livewire, like electricity is coming from her fingertips and snapping in the air surrounding them. Jughead situates himself between her legs and before Betty can even start to get nervous again his fingers separate her bottom lips so he can lick up her slit. He likes the encouragement and repeats the action, this time flicking his tongue, making Betty grip the sheets and mewl for more.
Jughead takes his time with her, learning what she likes and what makes her tug on his hair or swear. He sucks hard on her sensitive nub before his finger enters her. It does feel weird at first, Betty thinks, but then he crooks his digit and hits a spot that makes her practically yelp. Waves of pleasure wash through her, they are large and powerful, like a tsunami, destroying everything in its wake.
The rumble is welcome against her chest. I wanted to make sure it was good for you. You hear how so many girls fake it or whatever. I never want us to be like that. You mean you watched porn and called it research? Surprisingly there are quite a few articles written on the art of eating out a woman. There were flow charts, diagrams, pictures of a clitoris, how to find the g-spot, and the best way to stimulate it. She swings her leg over his hips and takes hold of his still hard erection.
I mean, your research worked out so well. Jughead gasps and strokes the base. She puts a little in her hand and starts rubbing him up and down slowly. Betty takes her time exploring him too, kissing down the V at his hip bones, scratching at his happy trail, letting her breasts skim over his penis, her hair tickle his tip. Well, she was very boy crazy, so I listened when I felt the information was useful. Jughead lets out a heavy breath and wraps his arms around her. Besides, with my working off and on for Fred all summer, along with the Drive-In, I have plenty of money saved up.
Betty sits up as she opens it. My parents never bothered to truly stick around, and even though I pushed you away time and time again before we marked you never budged. Her eyes water as she stares at it. Betty smiles in victory before popping a small fry into her mouth. Jughead settles back against the booth and wraps his arm tighter around his girlfriend, shaking his head as she empties his never-ending fry plate.
Betty takes a long sip from her vanilla milkshake and hums without realizing it. Jughead laughs before stopping abruptly. Archie had spotted her almost immediately and is already at the booth when she stands up. He laughs at her lame joke. He scratches the back of his neck and she sees red start to bloom on his skin. You guys have a good rest of your night, all right?
Just as he disappears, Jughead returns. Betty puts her arms through the black and white flannel and lets Jughead drag her out of the diner. When they hit the street Betty tugs on his hand to pull them to a halt. She nods before getting up on her tiptoes to kiss him quickly. Did you give her the letters I sent? Is she okay? Where is she? Betty feels her fists close, but manages to resist the urge to dig her nails in.
So what, you just—you told a seventeen year old girl to pick between her boyfriend and her strict parents and expected the outcome to go in your favor? A choice that felt like mine, but was really orchestrated by you? Like everything in this family always is? I learned so much this summer, Mom, so much and parts of it were overwhelming in the best way, but most of the time I just wanted to be here. But I was gone because I felt like I had to do this internship to please you, to have an opportunity you never did, to never let you down.
She chose that horrid family over her own flesh and blood. Give it up for adoption, have an abortion? And you are going on the pill! You disconnected her phone, probably took all her electronics, did you even let her pack a bag, or did you just throw her out on the porch? Or did Polly break the image of the perfect Cooper family and it was a necessary evil to save face? She shakes her head before ascending the steps two at a time, her hands in fists. In the throes of executing a full-on teenage tantrum she slams the door behind her, and squeezes her eyes shut.
How could they just turn their backs on her like that? Disowned her just like that? Tears stream down her face as she muffles the sobs into her knees. Moved out? Into that horrible castle they call Thornhill? That is a place ghost stories are made of. Polly used to hold a flashlight to her chin under a blanket and tell Betty stories that made her almost wet the bed. One more year before Polly left home for college.
One more year together doing makeovers and giggling about their boyfriends. One more year of eating junk food during their periods and crying over stupid Lifetime movies. You go and experience everything you can. This is chance for you to get out from under their thumb like I always wanted.
Polly said they would talk every day, and for about a month they did. They spoke once a day and sometimes even Facetimed, even if just for a few minutes. She called and there was no answer. She called again and again still with no answer. Then, the next morning her phone was disconnected. Her Facebook deactivated.
Her Instagram and Twitter silent. Betty asked her parents what was going on, but was stonewalled every time. She wrote letters, asked Jug and Archie to look for her, to pass along messages, but they never saw her. Her letters went unanswered.
Another phone number never supplied. Her parents deflected every question, gave her vague no-nonsense answers, and it was enough that Betty gave up. Her parents kicked her out, told her to choose between them and her child, and she chose the baby growing inside her. It was a picture Kevin took of him, her hands squishing his cheeks together. He hated the picture, but she adored it. Betty scoots away from the door and leans against the sink so he can get in. Betty melts into his chest and lets herself finally really cry.
She did the right thing, the same thing I would have done in that position. Makeup is probably streaking down her face, and after crying so hard she has a headache, plus feels gross from traveling. Betty opens her mouth, but he cuts her off before she even begins. Betty shakes her head at him. She smiles weakly, then just holds her arms up like a little kid. Jughead takes the hint and slips her shirt off. He closes the shower door behind him and Betty pulls him under the warm spray, their hair becoming matted to both their heads, and goosebumps breaking out over their skin.
So many things had changed when Betty was gone. It made her wish she never went to Boston, never left when things at home were so fragile, apparently in more ways than one. Polly was unreachable, for now. Thornhill was serious business, it even had security, and just showing up was last on the list of her ideas for how to get in contact with Polly.
Her and Jug were likely to be strip searched or just thrown out on their asses, hopefully the latter in all honesty. But the situation with Archie and Jug? That was tangible, that was something she could fix, because boys are stupid and Archie is so much more easily crackable than Jughead. He reaches across the table and squeezes her hand.
You must have freaked. Yoongi grunted in agreement, the music was poor in taste and the beer was cheap, tasted twice as bad as it smelled. Yoongi, although he hated most frats and the type of people with alpha male complexes that normally joined them, knew that frat parties tended to be the best ones to attend.
Yoongi was used to an endless supply of alcohol and decent beer, music that could be felt in his bones, and a bedroom that reeked of weed in which people came and went. The mornings that followed were always accompanied by a pounding headache and endless cups of coffee. He made his way past the crowd of drunk students dancing sloppily in the middle of the living room towards the direction of the kitchen where Yoongi knew the cheap beer and shitty tequila was.
If he had to endure some poor excuse for a frat party he at least wanted to be drunk. The kitchen was crowded but less so than the living room where obnoxious music and loud talking could still be heard. The kitchen, much like the rest of the frat house, was trashed with red cups lying about, half empty beer cans forgotten on every surface, making them sticky and reek with the stench of alcohol. There was a rowdy game of beer pong going on at the dining room table that had been shoved against the far wall to make room for a keg.
After silently weighing his options Yoongi ultimately decided against it in favor of the cheap beer. He elbowed his way past people over to the keg, seemingly forgotten about in exchange for the intense game going on, to fill his own solo cup. Yoongi decidedly ignored the drunken babble of those around him and idly wondered how long he wanted to stay.
When Yoongi turned to look at the person he completely forgot what they had said. The stranger gave him a quizzical look, his eyes rimmed in dark eyeshadow and liner, a loose fitting white tee hung off of him, exposed the tan of his skin and his collar bones. Yoongi thought he looked vaguely familiar--maybe they had passed one another on campus or had run into each other at another party, but a part of Yoongi wondered if that was the case then how come he never made a move on him.
Yoongi swallowed thickly. Or underneath him. Even the way his adam's apple bobbed and a bit of beer ran down his chin was absurdly attractive to Yoongi. The stranger threw his head back with a loud, melodic laugh that Yoongi decided on the spot that he wanted to hear more of. Yoongi noted that his eyes curved upwards and smiled with him too. How endearing. The party and the world around them melted away until the only thing Yoongi could focus on were the lips on his, the hand on the back of his neck and warmth pressed up against him.
As suddenly as it had began, it ended. Yoongi chastised himself for chasing after the lips when the stranger chuckled. He would never admit to wanting to pull the stranger back in again. Before Yoongi could say anything else, maybe ask if he wanted to get out of there, an energetic ball of a drunken mess threw their arms around the guy.
Yoongi felt awkward as he watched the two, obviously familiar and comfortable enough with each other for easy, intimate affection. The stranger laughed and now Yoongi was certain that he wanted to hear more of it. Yoongi hoped that he would see the stranger again.
He was half tempted to ask Hoseok if he knew the kid, because Hoseok somehow knew everybody, but decided against it at the prospect of being on the receiving end of relentless teasing. Three weeks after Yoongi had the pleasure of getting acquainted with the stranger, or rather his lips, Yoongi ran into him again at another party. With a beer can in one hand Yoongi made his way past loud conversations and a game of flip cup to the back door.
As soon as he stepped outside the first thing Yoongi noticed was the distinct smell of weed. Yoongi noted there was someone next to Hoseok, slouched down in his own chair as the two of them shared a blunt, his back to Yoongi. He held it in for a moment then exhaled, the smoke lifted up into the night air and slowly dissipated.
As Yoongi took a seat, adjusted himself until he was comfortable, Hoseok introduced him to the person sitting on his other side. The most prominent of all were his plump lips that instantly brought Yoongi back to three weeks ago, when they had been pressed against his. Even though their conversation at the time had been brief, Yoongi knew there was no mistaking that voice, deep and heavy with an accent.
Jimin offered the blunt to him with a smirk but when Yoongi went to take it from his noticeable small fingers, Jimin pulled his hand away. Now, however, as Jimin sat forward to close the distance between them, Yoongi found his mouth dry and the only sound he could hear was the deafening sound of his heartbeat in his ears.
He was so close that Yoongi could smell just the faintest hint of his cologne underneath the strong, overpowering smell of weed. He was tempted to lean in, just the slightest bit, to close the distance and get those lips on his again. A low whistle from Hoseok broke the moment and then Jimin sat back in his chair with a lazy smirk. Yoongi had forgotten Hoseok was there, watched the two of them momentarily lost in their own world.
He carefully eyed Jimin, that strange anomaly of boy with a thick Busan accent who teased and flirted as if it were the most natural thing, but also broke out into high pitched whines and laughter and had a natural flush to his cheeks that made him look more boyish and cute. How strange Yoongi found him, but stranger was the fact that Yoongi wanted to know him better, be around him more.
The next time around Yoongi was luckier. He happened to run into Jimin just four days after the last party, after the trio had sat in the backyard all night with a blunt shared between them until Jimin decided he was going to go get a drink and dance.
Yoongi had watched him walk back into the house with bloodshot eyes that lingered for a moment too long. Hoseok saw Jimin first as the two of them walked across campus from the library. Jimin parted from the group he was talking to with a sheepish smile and jogged over to Yoongi and Hoseok. Yoongi eyed him carefully, from the sleeve of his cardigan that were too long to the way his hair was pushed back and exposed his forehead.
He was endearingly cute but insanely attractive at thee same time. It dumbfounded Yoongi as to how the boy could possibly pull off both looks at once. They parted ways with Hoseok and Yoongi followed Jimin back to his dorm. On the contrary, Yoongi felt comfortable in the silence.
Behind them the sun dipped low in the sky, which started to cast the skin in soft hues of orange and pink. A flock of birds broke the silence when they flew overhead in the opposite direction. They passed by other students on the way back to their own dorms, or perhaps to the courtyard or the library. At this hour, late in the evening just before the sun was going to set, the campus buzzed with life.
Jimin lived in a dorm with three other roommates. There were two bedrooms with a shared bathroom on each end of the dorm, with a shared kitchen and living space. Yoongi knew other people that lived in the same building and every time he stepped foot into one of the dorm rooms he was secretly thankful that his only roommate was Namjoon.
When Jimin opened the door one of his roommates that Yoongi recognized as the boy from the first party eagerly greeted Jimin from where he sat at the bar top. As soon as his face broke out into a boxy grin Yoongi realized that he was the guy that Namjoon had chatted up just four days ago. Namjoon somehow managed to sweet talk his way into getting the guys number by the end of the night.
Before anything else could be said Jimin returned from his bedroom wearing a hoodie with a faded logo across the front that showed that it was well worn and well loved. Taehyung wiggled his fingers in a parting wave to Yoongi and Jimin as they walked back out the front door and headed down towards the hallway.
The two were quiet, the only sound between them was the sound of their feet hitting the hardwood and then the creak of a door opening once they reached the end of the hallway. Yoongi followed Jimin up the two flight of stairs until they reached the top landing. Jimin roughly pushed open the door and Yoongi tried his best to even his breathing from the small jog up the stairs.
It looked liked someone had set up an area specifically for the purpose of hanging out. A couple of old lawn chairs sat in a semicircle facing the edge of the building and the city skyline. In front of the chairs was a beat up coffee table that had been painted an ugly shade of green at one point but now was chipped away.
On top of it were two ash trays and an assortment of forgotten about beer cans and bottles. It was all makeshift and old, none of the chairs matched and Yoongi was almost certain the table was older than he was, but it gave off a feeling of comfort and solace. A secret spot to hang out, smoke, and watch the sky change different colors along the horizon.
Jimin plopped down in one of the chairs and propped his feet up on the table. Yoongi sat down in the chair next to Jimin and watched as he pulled out a small tin and lighter from the front pocket of his hoodie. Inside the tin were joints that had already been rolled in advance. Jimin plucked one before he closed the tin again and shoved it back into his front pocket. I know a few other people in the dorm know about it but I never see them up here. Taehyung, the roommate you just met, bought the table at a flea market.
He flicked his thumb against the wheel of the lighter and brought the flame to life. Jimin lit the joint and inhaled deeply. Yoongi eyed him carefully, counted the seconds between his inhale and slow exhale. Without looking at him Jimin held out the joint to Yoongi who took it from him gently.
Silence grew between them as the sunset across the sky and the joint slowly dwindled down but once again Yoongi found the silence comforting. There was no pressure or need to force conversation. Every so often, when Yoongi would hand the joint back or when Jimin was too distracted to notice, he would steal a glance for a second or two. As the sun lowered behind the buildings the sky melted into vibrant shades of pink and orange. With the coming of night came the chill it always brought but Yoongi felt warm where he sat next to Jimin.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow that made Jimin throw his head back with a laugh, his eyes turned up into the same shape of the crescent moon that hung above them. Once his laughter had died down he gave Yoongi a sly smile.
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