#and then redirect into something a little less flippant | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevenuniversallyreviews · 5 years

Text

Episode 116: Gem Heist

“We won’t stand out if we play the roles we were made for.”

There’s nothing like a good heist. You’d think a plot with such a consistent formula (build a team, go over a plan, execute the plan and adapt to its inevitable failures) would get stale, but consider for a moment that Inception and Fast Five premiered within a year of each other, and are both heists following the same general beats, but they’re fully different experiences. I’m not gonna say which one is better, but only one of them has a car chase where a car is chained to a giant safe and uses it like a wrecking ball, so.

In some ways, Gem Heist drops the ball on what I want from a heist: there’s barely a planning stage, and the team is already together, so it’s all about the execution and the wrenches thrown at our heroes. But while it’s hardly the caper I hoped for from the title, I can’t help but admire how it takes the tropes associated with heists and uses them to comment on Gem society.

A heist is all about specialists with clear jobs. Safecrackers, getaway drivers, demolitions experts, con artists, the whole point is getting a bunch of talented people who are each essential to the group. This element is only briefly touched upon in the traditional sense in Gem Heist, with Steven referring to Pearl as “our hacker,” but in its place, our heroes must succeed by putting themselves into the very roles they escaped by becoming Crystal Gems. Sapphire is a wise advisor and Ruby a disposable bodyguard, and the two must be separated. Amethyst must be huge. Pearl must be lowly servant. And Steven, who can’t exactly take the leadership position of his Gem parent, must play the dumb human.

This conceit drives the episode and makes it unexpectedly solid in terms of characterization, given how bland its plot ends up being. This is basically an episode about walking through a hallway, and instead of a third act we just get two minutes transitioning Steven to the Zoo that could’ve been spent in our next episode (or heavily cut). Even Adventures in Light Distortion feels more meaningful from a sheer plotting standpoint, and that was literally just getting the Crystal Gems from Point A to B. But because of how fascinating the characters are to watch when forced into the positions they’d be stuck in had they not rebelled, I’m able to enjoy what would otherwise be a slog of an episode.

The surprise lead of Gem Heist is Sapphire, who takes charge of the situation right away and finally shines on her own. Ruby got a head start in Jailbreak in terms of screentime, and takes up more room when the two are together thanks to her louder personality, and has a whole squad of counterparts to define herself against, so I love seeing a focus on Garnet’s quiet half.

Sapphire’s serene baseline is portrayed so well by Erica Luttrell that she��s often played comically straight (her casually agreeing to call Steven “Esteban” is a great example here), but we already know from Keystone Motel that she’s more than just her calmness. It’s great to see her lose her cool so early in the episode, putting up a confident front while planning but getting frazzled with its inevitable failure before the team even disembarks. I wouldn’t quite call her a ham in the way Ruby and Peridot can be, but her overacting while narrating her activities to warn her friends of danger is wonderful. And of course, she gifts us with the universe’s cutest wink.

Charlyne Yi always brings a lot to the table as Ruby, and while she’s had more to do than Luttrell after Hit the Diamond, this is the first time since then that she’s voiced our Ruby. The line of the night is her furious declaration that Blue Diamond “hates fusion and love?”—it’s such a horrible thought that Ruby treats it like a question rather than a statement, because how hating something as good as love even possible? Still, Ruby’s bigger highlight is all in the animation as she runs up a locked door, claws at it while screaming, and admits defeat when this doesn’t immediately work.

youtube

Pearl also benefits from the visuals, which portray her humiliations in ways Deedee Magno Hall can’t in the moment due to her needing to be quiet. Which isn’t to say Magno Hall doesn’t do a lot with what she’s given, going from embarrassed and deferential around Holly Blue Agate to pissed off while alone with the Crystal Gems. And while Amethyst is the first Crystal Gem to go, Michaela Dietz picks up the baton from Yi and Magno Hall to play other amethysts; it’s neat to hear her turn down the playfulness for gruffness without completely removing the prankster edge from her voice. And what we do see from Amethyst is a reasonable amount of nervousness around a first encounter with her peers, which pays off wonderfully in That Will Be All (as does the actual sentence “That will be all” that Pearl will soon get the chance to redirect).

Steven is surprisingly low-key here, all things considered, but I suppose with all the focus he gets in the first two episodes of this arc, as well as our next one, it makes sense to look more deeply at the Gems; after all, they’re the ones who were born into an oppressive class structure that they must temporarily return to (give or take an Amethyst, but she still has plenty of issues stemming from societal expectations). He’s got some decent jokes, and dominates the last part of the episode when separated from the Gems, but the last part of the episode is so boring that I don’t really care.

Still, none of these characters would have the chance to shine without Holly Blue Agate, who comes in hot and seems physically incapable of chilling the hell out. Christine Pedi voices Holly in just two episodes of the original series, but boy does she know how to leave a mark. After seeing Homeworld loyalists from the bottom of the totem pole in Peridot and the rubies, a Homeworld loyalist who’s a known hero in Jasper, and two leaders of Homeworld in Yellow and Blue Diamond, we encounter perhaps the worst kind of zealot: middle management.

Holly Blue Agate is the Dolores Umbridge of Steven Universe. She’s not given the stage to become main villain material, but she sure knows how to be the most detestable kind of miniboss we could hope for. She’s a shameless sycophant whose worship of Gems she considers superior is matched only by her disdain for those she sees as beneath her, but because she actually has some authority, she’s able to be far more tyrannical than the likes of Peridot. She’s hardcore lawful evil on the classic alignment chart, but if we allow for variation to the classics, I’d consider her more petty evil than anything.

With one character, we personify the entire toxic class structure that the Crystal Gems were born to defy. And with every word, Holly Blue proves that our heroes were correct to abandon this caste system. She’s flippant in her physical abuse, and wears her bigotry as a point of pride, taking glee in enforcing the inferiority of every Gem around her but Sapphire, who earns the same kind of swooning she applies to Blue Diamond. This is all performed under the thin disguise of politeness, because again, this is Umbridge we’re dealing with. She yells that there’s no yelling allowed, then gets mad when an amethyst corrects herself by being too quiet. She either pretends to not understand human speech or genuinely doesn’t get that Steven is talking (I could get into a whole thing about the necessity of an unrealistic translator for the Gems, but first off they’re magic so unrealistic things are fine, and second off what’s clearly more important here is Holly’s attitude).

It’s almost a shame we don’t get more of Holly Blue, because she may be loathsome, but she’s the compelling kind of loathsome that makes an excellent villain. Aquamarine is similar in feigned sweetness and cruelty, but Holly lacks that Cartman-inspired awareness of how miserable she is, which makes her less extreme and more relatable to real-life monsters in our daily lives who are blind to their own awfulness. At least she gets one more episode to be horrible and receive some decent comeuppance for her behavior in Gem Heist.

As I’ve said, the actual story here is pretty dull. We get some hints at lore, as it’s now pretty clear that the Era 2 referred to by Peridot was separated from Era 1 by the death of Pink Diamond. We get further indirect characterization of Blue Diamond with Holly Blue Agate’s praise and Ruby and Sapphire’s scorn. And the final sequence, while feeling tacked on, at least gets some neat usage out of what looks like the same tech as Peridot’s gone-but-not-forgotten robofingers. But if not for the stark reminder of why the Crystal Gems’ ability to decide their lives is important, this would be one of the least consequential episodes of the series. Plenty of episodes have great characterization, this is Steven Universe after all, but most of those also bring more to the table.

I’ve never been to this…how do you say…school?

Second episode since Gem Harvest to feature the Floridoverse as the main promo, and while it’s a little unclear whether this is another Floridoverse promo where a new adult character is portrayed as a teacher (Holly’s uniform vaguely resembles Greg’s and Ruby’s) I’m gonna go ahead and hope the intent is for her to be a student because man, that vibe on a peer is in some ways even worse than on a superior.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Lousy plotting really knocks this one down, considering how great an actual heist could’ve been, but the character work barely scrapes this from an episode I don’t care about to one I enjoy. It straddles the line between Like ‘em and Enh, but I’ll be nice this time.

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

When It Rains

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist (barely!)

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

No Thanks!

6. Horror Club 5. Fusion Cuisine 4. House Guest 3. Onion Gang 2. Sadie’s Song 1. Island Adventure

#gem heist #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

27 notes · View notes

gimmetheheadcanons · 5 years

Text

don’t sit down, he’s moved your chair (1/3)

A/N: First Bonkai and barely edited so be gentle. Inspired by a funny post I saw on tumblr about purposefully hiring a nightmare Thanksgiving guest.

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

Break a mirror//Roll the dice//Run with scissors through a chip and fryer fight//Go into business with a grizzly bear//But just don’t sit down ‘cause I’ve moved your chair. ----Arctic Monkeys//Don’t Sit Down Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair

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

1. The Deal.

“You won't believe what bomb my grams decided to drop on me three frickin’ days before Thanksgiving Elena!”

“Was it - now my child, you are getting too old to sit on my lap.”

The voice Bonnie Bennett found on the other side was unsympathetic and unmistakably male. She had been lazily pushing her shopping cart through the narrow aisles of a busy grocery store when Mr. Not-Elena’s surprise impersonation of her grandmother brought her to a sudden halt. Cue the chorus of irritated tongue clicks, a barrage of choice curses (all very colorful) and echoing groans from the shoppers behind her.

Bonnie ignored them all.

Yeah yeah, we hear you, she thought as a train of angry customers and their carts passed her by, but only after an exchange of death glares as a final parting gift. No one wanted to be here running last minute Turkey Day errands. Least of all Bonnie. But she’d been bulldozed by her grandma and in no mood to be so agreeable again.

What a sham of a holiday.

When she was done redirecting traffic with her free hand, Bonnie turned to the man on the other line – the one inexplicably answering her best friend’s cell. Feeling even less festive than she did a moment ago she made her demand for answers.

“Who is this?” She snapped.

The stranger simply chuckled in return.

“I mean it pal.”

“Pal?”

Another mocking laugh.

“They're your minutes.” The stranger declared before lowering his tone to be more sultry. Another borrowed voice, this time a phone sex line operator with the intention to seduce Bonnie.

“Who'd you want me to be?”

Of course. The theatrics should’ve given it away, but then again ‘obvious’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘less infuriating’.

Bonnie rolled her eyes as she figured out which idiot it was she was dealing with.

“Oh God. Damon.”

“Ding ding, well done.”

Who else would take such delight in rubbing salt into her wound.

“Aren't you too dumped to be answering your ex's phone like this?”

“Eh we're trying the whole friend thing.” Damon Salvatore finally responded and in his own voice, flippant and full of trouble.

Bonnie shook her head as she always did when confronted by Damon and Elena’s drama.

“And?” She asked but stopping short of adding the intended (and wholly judgemental) final part of that sentence: What else is new.

“It sucks. Massively.” Damon whined, and it was Bonnie’s turn to chuckle at his misery.

It took her a while to warm to the man her childhood friend made the monumental mistake of getting romantically involved with. But Bonnie finally did and now cared enough to make a mental note to schedule another intervention for him once the holidays were over.

The break up couldn’t have come soon enough and Damon just needed to hear that.

Still, it must’ve hurt like hell.

“Tell me about it.” Bonnie said with a little more kindness. She too was recovering from the end of a rough relationship. There was somewhat of an odd camaraderie developing between her and Damon Salvatore and perhaps that was the reason for it – bonding over the shared humiliation of being jilted by a Gilbert.

Except Bonnie was sure she’d gotten the short end of the stick. Her Gilbert, sweet baby brother Jeremy Gilbert, turned out to be a cheat. Damon, on the other hand, was far more culpable than Bonnie when it came to his heartbreak.

“You should hang up. Before she sees you.”

“Sees me doing what? What’s a little chinwag between pals?”

With no longer a mystery to distract her, Bonnie resumed her shopping. Departing from her grandmother’s grocery list, she almost swept clean an entire shelf of sugary snacks.

Straight into the cart you all go.

Necessary reinforcements, something to get her through the misery of the next few days.

“Honestly you’re acting a little paranoid Bon Bon. What’s wrong?” Damon said, further insisting his innocence with an artificial sweetness that even Bonnie, with all her cravings, found a little too sickly.

“So, we're just gonna pretend you weren't snooping around in her mail box? See who Elena's texting now you're supposedly done done.”

“Ha! Trick question. She isn't texting anyone...not anymore anyway.”

“Damon! You ca-”

“One second, got a quick text I need to send.”

Cut off mid-speech Bonnie could still hear Damon in the background reading aloud the messages he typed out on his ill-gotten device. She’d been forcibly made party to this unethical intrusion into Elena Gilbert’s personal life.

Great. More relationship awkwardness on the horizon.

“New phone who dis…question mark. Send. Block. New phone who dis…question mark. Send. Block.”

Growing impatient with his behavior, Bonnie tried to get Damon’s attention by calling out his name and a couple important facts about boundaries – all of which his disturbing ass chose to ignore.

“Aaand send. Aaand block. Okay done now.”

Damon was back.

“Damon what di – ”

“Hey, call me back on mine?”

And just as suddenly, Damon was gone.

----------- Bonnie had been shopping for about fifteen minutes when phone rang. It had been a strangely peaceful fifteen minutes, the chaos all around the store provided the perfect backdrop for some pensive sulking. Deep in thought yet frustratingly unable to formulate a plan to get out of Thanksgiving dinner this year, moping was all Bonnie had and she was prepared not to have it interrupted by Damon Salvatore.

Pressing to reject had bought another fifteen minutes of peace and Bonnie accomplished plenty with that time. Groceries had been paid for, then bagged, and placed in her Prius. She still no plan but the self-pity had begun to wane enough for her to want to pick up should the phone ring again.

It did, whilst she was on route to return her now empty cart, and this time she answered.

“Damon?”

Silence on the other end.

Bonnie cursed the pettiness of the man she could clearly hear breathing.

“Damn it Damon. Hello?”

When Damon eventually answered, Bonnie had her finger on the end call button and her car keys in her hand. The sun hadn’t set yet, but the temperature dropped significantly since she’d first gotten to the store. She watched as a wave of new arrivals fought over parking spaces, the escalating drama made it impossible for other drivers to leave further exacerbating the situation. By the carts, under a flimsily built shelter, Bonnie hugged her body against the November cold and decided to wait it out.

“So bombs huh?” Damon asked, he sounded a little out of breath. He was somewhere outside too. Out walking. Bonnie couldn’t help speculating as to why he’d suddenly decided to brave the fierce frost.

“Where’s Elena?”

“Oh I don't know Bonnie!” She could hear him shiver before he spoke and imagined his lips turn a biting shade of blue to match his eyes. Icicles hanging from his black hair and that stupid leather jacket, like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon.

“I'm not her babysitter. Didn’t you get the memo – we’re finished.”

Bonnie scoffed before placing the phone in between her shoulder and ear to free up her freezing hands. She then pushed them into the warm pockets of her long, red winter coat and there felt around for a pair of thick gloves.

In the end, she was only able to fish out one.

“Fine,” said Damon, misconstruing Bonnie’s silence as directed at him disapproval. “If I had to guess I’d say…out looking for her phone.”

“Oh my God, move on Damon!”

“This is not normal behaviour!”

She hadn’t intended on yelling so angrily that her phone nearly dropped to the ground, but Bonnie was furious. She’d just bought those gloves yesterday to match her knitted beanie, how could one be gone already?

“Oh shush. It's perfectly Ross and Rachel, trust me. We're gonna get back together. Maybe. Probably.”

The battle for parking continued to wage on, as did the icy wind and Bonnie needed better shelter at least until one of those things passed. Defeated, she headed back to the store she’d thought she’d just escaped.

“You know what Damon, the most disturbing part of that is you're probably right. But I got too much on plate for your drama so good luck to you both I guess.”

Just inside by the entrance, Bonnie found a nice heating vent to camp next to. She flashed the large security guard at the door an awkward smile and pointed to her cell phone, pretending bad cell coverage was the real culprit behind her return.

All she got in return was that menacing security guard scowl.

Anxious to stay indoors, Bonnie found herself turn to the desperate act of pleading with her eyes; a survival tactic she picked up from orphaned pups in a kennel she volunteered at one summer back in high school. Every day there, she tried to adopt them all and every day she was told she couldn’t.

“Helloooo Bonnieeeee?”

She could hear Damon singing her name, off-key and right into her ear. Each time a little louder, little more annoying. But Bonnie couldn’t risk breaking eye contact with the guard. Her hazel eyes were beginning to sting, her face ached from the unnatural width of her smile; it growing increasingly more manic and pained.

No one loitering here. Nothing to see sir, please move on.

Strange as it was, it somehow worked. An incident came in over the intercom and the guard called to action. Bonnie could stay and not lose a limb to frostbite.

Thank God for Thanksgiving tantrums.

“I’m still here Damon.”

“Finally! So, what exactly did wily old Sheila do?”

Crap, she’d almost forgotten it. The problem, still intractable and inching closer.

“Oh nothing except invite my disaster deadbeat mom for Thanksgivings dinner. Three courses of sweet emotional manipulation followed by forced reconciliation over coffee.”

“‘Tis the season I guess.”

“‘Tis not fair is what it is.” Bonnie immediately howled back then felt ashamed closely after.

Damon sounded a little more serious when he spoke next.

“So…How many years has it been?”

She sighed before taken a moment to do the math. Talking about the woman who birthed her then ditched her was always a sore subject for Bonnie.

“Six and before that seven I think. She just showed up one night, stayed half a day and left before dinner. Pulled the same crappy move the time before that. Except, she brought me a stupid doll I guess.”

“I was childish enough to think it was awesome.”

The memory of that cheap doll flooded Bonnie’s insides with bitter rage. What she didn’t tell Damon was how she was pretty certain the doll was something Abby Bennett picked up at a gas station just outside of Mystic Falls. Bonnie figured that out last summer when she, Elena and their friend Caroline Forbes planned to take their college tour road trip. Except, she didn’t make it past Whitmore; somehow, even with all those miles between them, Abby managed to ruin that for her daughter too.

“Ouch. Sounds like mommy Bennett is gunning for the illustrious Lilly Salvatore Award for Monstrous Mothers and Their Tortured Offspring.

“Ouch.” Bonnie said, meaning it. Damon didn’t often talk about his parents but oddly enough when he did it wasn’t with Elena. It was something Bonnie remembered her best friend call attention to night after night during the build up to the end of their doomed romance.

He won’t let me in Bon. Each time, he either laughs or lashes out. How am I supposed to deal with that?

As her friend poured out her heart, Bonnie poured herself another drink and kindly pretended she didn’t understand the appeal of shutting down, of keeping your loved ones out and precious sunny moments away from dark storm clouds of your past.

“I don’t want to see her Damon.”

“So don't go. Problem solved.”

“But I promised Grams. I didn’t mean to, but she worked her magic and somehow got to me.”

“Then go and bail after you’ve had a mouthful of tasty bird.” Damon said making it sound all so easy.

“But bailing isn't my thing. So…other options? Please.”

“Fine, stay. All the way till pie, have said pie and chew slow. Very slow.”

She was losing his sympathy, Bonnie could tell. Life was always easy for the Damon Salvatores of the world, consequences be damned. The only options were their way or their way but a little bumpier, littered with the bodies he had to mercilessly mow down.

“I can’t stay either.” Bonnie admitted. Just the thought made her queasy. Being sat opposite Abby for an entire day, being made to bite her tongue or make empty conversation about God knows what. Swallow all that hurt then let it fester inside her for another six or seven years until it bubbled up to the surface at the most inconvenient of times.

No, Bonnie wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

“Then we’re back to option a) Don't frickin’ go.”

“But Grams -”

“Well then that sounds like a you problem Bon. I gave you all your choices. Now pick one or call a friend.”

“I thought I was calling a frie – hello? Damon? Hello?”

A cold dial tone emitted from her cell. Damon’s voice was long gone, and Bonnie was left standing with one less thing to be thankful for on this crappy holiday – her so called friends.

“Jerk. What did I even expect?” Bonnie found herself muttering, at first angrily and then louder.

“Not meaningful advice. Oh no! Never from you Damon, you bloodsucking cold-eyed asshole!”

With her call completed, her nemesis the store security guard reappeared ready to add to Bonnie’s misery and kick her outside to either face the mayhem or mace-like wind.

“Ma’am, you’re not buying so I want you out of here.”

“I’m going! Jeez, just give me a second.”

“Sure, you were.” He snorted as he grabbed Bonnie by her arm and without warning began to steer her towards the exit. When she resisted the niceties were dropped.

“Out. Now.”

Bonnie was about to give the unreasonable man a piece of her mind and teach him a thing or two about personal space when another person got there first.

An onlooker, male, maybe college-aged and casually munching on a bag of what looked like pork rinds.

“Hey man,” He called out to the security guard, his voice light and non-confrontational. “You wanna back off a little? Really wouldn’t wanna lose a hand.”

The guard stopped long enough for Bonnie to free herself from his grip. He watched the guy with wary eyes as if trying to discern if an actual threat was being made. Bonnie understood the hesitation, there was something off about the way the words were delivered and yet on the surface Pork Rind Guy seemed only interested in consuming his gross snack. The relaxed grin he wore on his face, akin to that of an entertained moviegoer not a someone roaring for a throw down with a much larger man.

Every so often, in between bites, he’d attempt to throw a piece in the air and catch it with his mouth but be left smacking his lips at air like a fish; each portion bouncing right off the short brown hairs on his head and onto the floor. There, he’d kick at them with the grim looking muddy sneakers he wore on his feet.

He was a child, a man yes, but barely.

A nuisance.

Bonnie could tell the guard decided the same thing and was ready to dismiss the interfering stranger as such when Pork Rind Guy opened his mouth to speak again.

“Yeah…especially that one.” He said pointing at the guard’s left hand. “With it being so close to the holidays you’re gonna wanna keep the company.”

Bonnie’s eyes widened.

With a twinkle in his blue eyes and no regrets, Pork Rind Guy made a lewd gesture with his own left hand and laughed.

It was a great laugh. Free and big. The kind of laugh you’d hear as you passed a playground. Yet, Bonnie felt embarrassed by it and everything else about him. The gesture included. It was immature, meant to grate on you and it made her cringe a little.

The gesture had a different impact on the guard. His face flushed red with anger and Bonnie knew it was time to throw in the towel and just go.

As she used the distraction to quietly slip away, she could hear the burly security guard bark at the younger man and Pork Rind Guy’s response made her smile a little.

“You need to get out of my face son.”

“Could you like – not wave that so close to my face?”

“Get out of here! Right now!��

Bonnie glanced back just in time to see Pork Rind Guy throw her a wink. It came right after he’d finally succeeded in catching a pork rind with his mouth.

How childish, Bonnie thought, shaking her head but this time smiling a lot.

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

By the time Bonnie got close to her car, the traffic situation had died down considerably and she didn’t expect to be held up much longer; and yet, in typical Thanksgiving fashion, she’d been too hasty in giving thanks.

“Hey.”

Pork Rind Guy, materializing out of nowhere and coming in between her and her car.

Startled, Bonnie frowned and looked around to see if they’d be joined by their old friend the security guard, finally able to do his job and provide said security.

The question is, however, would she be needing it.

Pork Rind Guy seemed oblivious to Bonnie’s alarm. His right arm reached deep into the jumbo bag of rinds he still cradled and not her throat like the parking lot assailant Bonnie worried he might be.

If this encounter were going to turn into an NBC Dateline special then it’d have to wait whilst he hunted for crumbs.

When done, Pork Rind Guy cast aside the empty packet and finally addressed the perplexed person he’d delayed.

“So I just wanted to tell you – before you go – there is always one other option. Bring a date. A human buffer.”

It took Bonnie a full minute to gather her wits enough to follow what Pork Rind Guy was trying to tell her. She still didn’t understand how he managed to get away from the guard and out to the parking lot in time to catch her, why he did so and if he was a danger.

Keys readied in her fist, Bonnie asked for an explanation.

“Excuse me?”

Pork Rind Guy smiled and again it was full of boyish charm.

“Someone to draw fire and guess what? I got the perfect shirt for that!”

He puffed out his chest and pulled at the bottom of his t-shirt to straighten it out.

“See?”

What Bonnie saw was a logo, right in the middle and against the blueish gray of the rest of his shirt. It was red and round, like a bullseye but probably belonged to a band she’d never heard of.

“Draw fire at dinner.” He repeated, and this time Bonnie understood.

Pork Rind Guy was referring to her earlier conversation with Damon about Thanksgiving dinner with her mom.

Bonnie felt a chill and it had nothing to do with the weather. Had their run in earlier been planned and if so why? She examined the parking lot for others and was relieved to find they weren’t alone. Several shoppers still close enough to call on if things got unsafe.

Nothing about this guy felt right and Bonnie had heard enough. She snuck quick glance at the car sat behind him, her ticket out of this progressively creepy conversation. Good, Pork Rind Guy didn’t seem to be blocking the door. In fact, there was plenty of space behind him where Bonnie could pass him by and then get the hell out of there.

“Uhm thanks but I gotta go.”

“Hey hey hey! Wait a minute.”

In one quick motion, Pork Rind Guy positioned him directly against Bonnie’s door and successfully cut her off from her escape route.

Bonnie braced herself for worse to follow, but was surprised to see him then, just as smoothly, step aside. Nothing about this guy felt right, Bonnie knew that and yet she didn’t get in her car and drive away.

“What do you want?”

His lips curled into a satisfied smile when she turned to face him.

They were now stood a little too close for comfort. Bonnie could feel the hot air of his breath on her lips, see the goose bumps on the pale skin of his exposed neck and decided that’s where the sharp end of her keys would go if he took one more step towards her.

But Pork Grind Guy didn’t. In fact, he fell back, held up his hands and apologized.

“I'm sorry. That was weird right? Kinda? A little?”

Bonnie didn’t respond, just watched him with narrowed eyes as he took it upon himself to tally up all the reasons why everything he’d done up until now was inappropriate.

“No it's alright to admit it...that was weird. With me just showing up at your car like that. Outta nowhere with all this information about a conversation we personally didn’t have. I know, I know. I’m an eavesdropper. I admit.”

Another smile, brief and full of humor.

“And then that proposition? Yikes! What even was that? No, no, no. No good. at all!”

Bonnie relaxed a little but not enough to put away her car keys and retire her plans to go for the jugular.

“Let's try again. Hi, my name is Kai. Well it’s actually Malachai but since I'm trying not to frighten you away with a name straight out of Necronomicon I think Kai will do just fine.”

“By the way, have you seen that film? God, Bruce Campbell. What a guy right?”

“Sorry, rude again. What's your name?”

“Bonnie and I gotta head home now.”

“I’m expected.” She quickly added, angrily wondering why she told him her real name. Was it because earlier, he was essentially asking for her home address and this was the lesser of two evils?

Either way, she wouldn’t slip up again.

“I need go home now Kai. It’s cold and I’m very tired.”

Pork Rind Guy – no – Kai dropped his jaw when she said his name. It was exaggerated for effect, but she could see he was somehow flattered by the show of trust when she told him hers.

“Bonnie.”

He celebrated by repeating her name back to her, saying every letter with great purpose and pleasure.

“Nice to meet you Bonnie.”

“Well Bonnie, it sounds to me like you were having a rough day. Got a bit of a situation at the home front huh?”

“I wanna help with that.”

Bonnie blinked as confusion set in once again.

“Excuse me.”

“For the reasonable price of one home cooked Thanksgiving dinner. I, Kai Parker, will be your date.”

“Eh yeah…No thanks.”

Bonnie felt a little relieved but also self-conscious, was Damon right, was this perfectly normal and she just not to used to guys hitting on her?

“Oh no, you got it all wrong. I'll be your date. The one all girls sooner or later bring home to screw with their parents. I'll be the mistake.”

Kai continued to explain, and Bonnie again found herself not walking away when she easily could have.

“I've been told, on many occasions, that I'm every parent’s nightmare. Imagine, Grams drops a bomb and you Bonnie, drop a nuke.”

Every parent’s nightmare, why did Bonnie have no trouble believing that. Kai was cute but on balance also a major creep with awful taste so no, of course most girls would have no interest in inviting him home to meet their families. End of November and he’s dressed like a stoner extra in a bad nineties high school movie. Faded t-shirt and long sleeves combo, three-quarter cargo pants and sneakers.

In this weather.

Who does that?

Valid question Bon.

“And why would I invite a perfect stranger into my home?” She asked him, for the first time saying more than four words. He must’ve noticed too, how her curiosity got the better of her because his face lit up like a Christmas tree. It was too soon for that crap, Bonnie thought, gripping her keys a little tighter.

“Because that's the beauty of it! After Thanksgiving, I go back to being a perfect stranger. Who else can say that?”

“No baggage.”

“No offense” Bonnie said flatly and with all the offense. “But that sounds like BS.”

Kai appeared unfazed by her bluntness. As usual, the lack of warmth in her voice made him work only harder.

“If you ask me - which I know you're not but hear me out anyway – if you were asking me… what sounds like bullshit is having to spend Thanksgiving with a woman who gets to choose to walk in and out of your life at a moment's notice.”

“You should be able to the same Bonnie.”

“That's what I think.”

Bonnie inhaled deeply, thrown by the sudden sincerity with which he delivered that final line. She let a calculated stillness wash over her as she dealt with the sweltering emotion under the surface. She’d been affected by Kai’s words, the notion behind them appealing not to her but directly to the pain her small body had housed for all the years.

“Pork rind?”

Out of one of his pocket, Kai spontaneously produced a handful of the snack Bonnie saw him finish then offered it to her.

Bonnie’s eyes zeroed in on the lint particulars stuck to the grease of the rinds and declined.

“I can see why you're so eager to worm your way to our dinner table.”

Kai shrugged and stuffed the rinds back into his pocket. Eyes fixed firmly on hers, Bonnie knew there was another offer he was eager to see if she would accept.

If not rinds Bonnie, how about retaliation?

“What about your family? Won't they be expecting you?” She asked changing the subject.

“Not if they changed the locks as they promised they would.”

Again, Kai surprised her with his openness.

“Harsh.” Bonnie said yet not feeling the need to press Kai for any further details. In all her anger, she’d forgotten there were people out there who simply didn’t have families to spend Thanksgiving Day with.

“Not everyone takes to my winning personality as you have.” Kai replied appearing to have sufficiently recovered from the solemnness of the moment.

Bonnie laughed and saw Kai’s entire face beam as if the sound of her laugh had been his goal all along.

“Hold your horses buddy. I haven’t agreed to anything just yet.”

“Sorry manners.” Kai said before he began to obsessively kick at the gravel and the dirt under his feet.

“What is it now Kai? Dropped a pork rind?”

Satisfied he’d made enough of a clearing, Kai Parker got down on one knee and held up a single pork rind in between his fingers like an engagement ring.

Mortified, Bonnie’s face flushed at the sudden interest passing shoppers were beginning to show and the several prying looks being thrown their way.

Kai cleared his throat.

“Bonnie, will you let me spend Thanksgiving Day with you and your family? I promise to be on my worst behaviour. Promise to shake your poor unsuspecting mother to core and show her the dangerous road her awful parenting choices may have led her beautiful baby girl.”

A nod from her was enough of a signal for Kai to jump up to his feet and throw the absurd edible ring Bonnie refused over his shoulder; freeing up his hand for a more formal shake.

“Oh my bad.” He said only remembering to wipe the food grease from his palm and onto his pant leg after noticing the look of disgust on Bonnie’s face.

That look didn’t change much when finally, clean enough to be once more presented to her, Kai simply held his hand up to his face and grinned.

“Gotta make it legit right?” He told her before spitting straight onto his skin.

“No backsies.”

One look at the wet hand in front her and Bonnie knew her instincts were right.

Kai Parker was the worst.

Yet any hesitation she may have grappled with since meeting him was gone at the mere prospect of her mother coming to a similar conclusion and doing so over a plate full of turkey at Grams’s house. With a grin of her own and a generous amount of spit, Bonnie Bennett shook on the deal; feeling for the first time all day, especially thankful for the perfectly awful Thanksgiving dinner to come.

#bonkai #bonnie bennett #kai parker #tvd #r: gimme a platform #fanfiction

34 notes · View notes

wordsonpages1-blog · 7 years

Text

Up Close and Personal part 3

hello my loves i am so sorry for being so absent lately i hope you know how much i love you all and missed you all! SO i have been getting a lot of asks about a third installment to my Up Close and Personal series so here it is! I hope you all enjoy it! Its pretty long but unfortunately no real smut in this part sorry for those who were after some! There will be a smutty part 4 though so keep an eye out!

the whole fic was posted on AO3 so find part’s 1 and 2 there if you want to refresh or read for the first time here is the link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226914/chapters/27775992

sorry again and thanks for your support xxx

“Do you know if Jughead’s going to Cheryl’s party?”

Betty’s eyes widened at the implications behind Veronica’s deliberately flippant words. She blanched as her thoughts whirred messily around her brain.

“B?” her dark haired counterpart, nudged her side.

Shaking her head to regain coherent thought, Betty looked over at her best friend.

“Uh I’m not sure, sorry,” she answered, green eyes scrutinising Veronica’s face.

They continued walking for a moment, the air between them silent while the hallways filled with white noise of slamming lockers, and medial teenage chatter.

Stealing her nerve, Betty decided to further engage the topic. She was a little unsettled by the nausea bubbling in her stomach and the bile in her mouth at the thought of Veronica pursuing Jughead. It wasn’t like he was hers- she didn’t have a claim on him. But they were… something.

“Is there a reason you’re asking V?”

Veronica paused and then turned to face her with a perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched in a way that suggested mischievous intent.

“Just that if he was going, I thought I might make a special effort to extend my hospitality. I mean being new is difficult, I would know.”

Betty rolled her eyes. Usually her friend’s cleverly crafted words that basically translated to looking for a new male conquest would entertain her. However, the subject matter it was directed at only served to ignite a green fire within her.

“Veronica he was a student here before you and only transferred to Southside for a few months,” Betty pointed out dryly. “Admit it- you just want to get in his pants.”

Veronica gasped dramatically, though her eyes were shining and Betty knew she wasn’t really offended.

“Can you blame me? He’s hot. How come you never mentioned you grew up with this generation’s James Dean as part of your golden trio?”

Betty bit her lip. She knew he was hot. God she knew it a lot better than Veronica did. She had seen the abs beneath his flannels and black t-shirts. She had seen his hair wild and beanie-less, after it had been thoroughly tugged by her own hands. She had seen his eyes darkened with lust and heard the low tenor of his voice in the throes of passion. And now would probably be the perfect time to mention that she knew all of this. But for some reason the words wouldn’t come.

Whatever it was she and Jughead were doing- and god were they doing it a lot- they hadn’t really talked about it. It was just a thing. A thing that was good. A thing that was just between them. A thing she didn’t know if he would want to be disclosed to the public. A thing that was so wonderfully simple yet so damn complicated at the same time.

“What are you wearing to the party anyway?” Betty asked deciding a change of subject was much safer territory yet staying on topic enough to not be suspicious.

“Well I just got the hottest outfit online-“Veronica began before her eyes widened and her mouth immediately clamped shut. “Speak of the outrageously attractive devil.”

Betty looked at her in confusion, but just as she opened her mouth to question what the raven haired girl was on about a strong hand reached out to grab her wrist. Electricity sparked beneath her skin, alighting her whole body.

“Sorry, Betty can I borrow you for a sec?” Jughead’s deep voice spoke confidently, leaving no room for objection. His blue eyes peered down at her piercingly, making her breath catch in her throat.

“Yeah, V I’ll see you later,” the blonde quickly dismissed tearing her eyes away from Jughead’s for a moment before turning around to follow him down the crowded halls.

His strong grip didn’t falter as he almost dragged her to the Blue and Gold “office”. His determined steps and focussed gaze made Betty’s stomach flip with anticipation. She recognised that look and her pulse was beating frantically at the ideas it conjured within her mind.

Within seconds of reaching their destination Jughead had Betty backed up against the door, the lock clicked into place and his mouth was on hers.

She gasped at the passionate attack, her hands fisting in his shirt as his body pressed up against hers. He smelt faintly of cigarette smoke and spice and that combined with the way his mouth was slanting hotly over hers was affecting her like a sedative, making her knees weak and her brain fuzzy.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she gladly opened her mouth wider. Her own tongue moved to dance with his, stroking erotically while she pressed herself impossibly closer to his warm body. One of his hands was pressed against the door next to her head caging her in while the other was making an arousing trek from her hip to her ribcage, thumb grazing the underside of her breast through her sweater.

“Mm Jug,” she mumbled when his mouth broke away from hers to trace sinfully down her neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin as her hips rocked into his own.

Betty could feel his smirk against her skin. Not to be outdone she hitched a leg up around his hip and grinded against the growing hardness beneath his jeans.

Jughead let out a low sound akin to a growl and slipped both his hands into her back pockets squeezing firmly as his mouth once again found hers. They languidly entertained the passionate push and pull of lips as she tugged on his dark locks, displacing the beanie from his head. Without warning Jughead moved his hands out of her pockets and onto her thighs to lift her. Instinctively her legs wrapped around his hips and they let out simultaneous groans as the change of angle aligned their centres more acutely. He could feel the heat of her wanting through her jeans at it made his kisses all the more aggressive.

Their mouths synchronised to the frantic movement of their hips as they devoured one another. Betty felt hot all over as she let herself be consumed by Jughead. It was so unlike her- or rather the her that she had to be at school- to do something so scandalous; like make out furiously with a newly minted Southside Serpent who wasn’t even officially her boyfriend in the news room.

The danger only excited her further. A particularly well angled push of his hips forward caused her to break away with a heavy pant and her head fell back against the door with an audible thump.

“Hi,” Jughead murmured, warm breath fanning her face while his darkened blue gaze consumed her with heat.

“Hey,” she breathed back, willing her racing heart to calm while trying to ignore her desperate need for friction with the way he was still holding her and they were still pressed together.

“So this is what you needed me for?” Betty teased lightly. Her chest contracted at the twinkle in his eyes and the sly smile he offered her.

“You don’t seem to be complaining.” Jughead punctuated his words by grinding his hips against hers and moving his hand up to cup her breast firmly. Betty whimpered at the feeling, eyes falling shut.

“Definitely not, just wondering what brought on this sudden need.” Her mouth was working its way along his jawline now tantalisingly.

“Those jeans,” he moaned as he moved his head so that she could have better access to his skin.

Betty’s wicked smile against his pulse point quickly turned into a breathy laugh as he quickly gripped her tight and moved so that she was perched on a desk and he was standing between her thighs.

“I have a feeling they’ll look much better on the floor though.”

“Betty when did you get so good at this? Actually scratch that- when the hell did you even learn how to play?” Archie asked incredulously as he dropped his game controller on the ground next to him.

Betty laughed from her place on the couch her long legs sprawled across Jughead’s lap. She shrugged modestly, placing her own controller to the side.

“Juggie taught me.”

Said boy looked over at her fondly, one of his arms resting on the back of the couch. Her fingers itched to reach up and lace with his.

Archie glanced over his shoulder at her, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“When was this?”

Jughead raised a brow at the red-head. “You’re not always here you know,” he deadpanned.

It was true, Archie and Jughead alternated shifts helping Fred at the construction site and on top of that Archie had football practice and music lessons, leaving an empty house. And often Betty would come over and keep Jughead company while the house was in such a state. She tried to fight off the blush that was rising rapidly to her cheeks at the thought of all the explicit things they did while no one else was home-and sometimes while they were. Though at the mention of it, she realised that for as much time as they spent making out and having sex since that first time, her and Jughead had begun to do a lot of other medial things while hanging out alone too; such as him teaching her to play videogames.

Archie nodded.

“I didn’t realise you two were spending so much time together,” his tone was not unfriendly or accusatory, but the way his gaze narrowed in on Jughead’s hand stroking the smooth skin of her calf did not go unnoticed by either party.

“Yeah well,” Betty articulated awkwardly, making a non-committal gesture with her hand before redirecting it to smooth back loose strands of hair falling from her pony tail.

A heavy silence fell over them.

Suddenly a shrill buzzing broke through the air, Jughead’s phone on the coffee table vibrating with it.

The dark haired boy sighed before picking it up.

“Yeah?” He answered, voice reserved.

There was mumbling on the other end.

“Okay be right there.” He hung up abruptly and then proceeded to gently shift Betty’s legs off of his lap, rising from the couch.

“I gotta go.”

“What where?” Betty sat upright, worry filling her veins in an icy fashion.

“I just have to go,” Jughead threw over his shoulder, his voice a dark warning to not press the issue as he walked toward the front door, only pausing to throw a specific leather jacket over his shoulders. Usually he wouldn’t leave it out in the open, but Fred was in Chicago for the weekend finalising some paperwork for the divorce.

Betty frowned, shrinking back at his shortness.

“Jug-“ Archie began only to be interrupted.

“Don’t wait up.” The door slammed shut behind him, leaving a thick tension hanging in the air, dwarfing the previous awkwardness all together.

“Shit,” Archie sighed, running a frustrated hand over his face.

Betty fell back against the cushions. She had to admit seeing him in that jacket did things to her; dirty sinful things. But the ache between her legs and the fire in her belly was instantly quelled by the anxiety growing in her chest. She hated when he did that. She hated when he was with them. She understood to a degree that the Serpent’s were like the family he didn’t have- they were there picking up broken pieces left behind by an imprisoned father and runaway mother- but it didn’t mean she liked the idea of him sneaking out into the night to participate in gang related activities.

“I hate it when he does that. I can’t relax,” she admitted after a minute, turning to look at Archie.

Her long time neighbour nodded solemnly before fixing her with an intuitive gaze.

“He’s our friend Arch.” Betty prayed her voice was convincing.

“And there’s nothing going on between you guys?” He pried.

Betty rolled her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat lying always caused.

“What else would we be?”

“I don’t know but you looked awfully cosy a moment ago and it sounds like you’ve been spending a lot of time together lately….” Archie continued, cautiously.

“Like I said we’re friends.”

Friends.

The word echoed in her brain almost tauntingly. They were friends. And really they hadn’t spoken about being anything other than that. Sure she didn’t fuck her other friends or spend her time thinking about when she could next get them out of their clothes, or how their hands felt gliding over her skin, or whispering naughty things in her ear. But they were friends and neither one of them had extended an olive branch suggesting they wanted to be anything other than that besides the physical aspect of things.

So why did the title suddenly leave an ache in her chest?

Two days later she discovered why.

It was Sunday afternoon. Betty had gone over to the Andrew’s after church, telling her parents she was going to Kevin’s to work on a history project, and therefore, wouldn’t be joining them for brunch. She could only imagine her mother’s reaction if she found out she was actually next door lying in bed with Jughead Jones, wearing nothing but his flannel after engaging in some serious sinning and eating some overly sugared cereal straight from the box.

Jughead was propped up against his head board, clad in only a pair of black boxers, legs stretched out and arms folded behind his head, while she sat next crossed legged next to him.

“Shakespeare or Hemingway?” Betty asked, through a mouth full of Lucky charms.

Jughead scrunched up his face at her in mock disgust to which she just opened her mouth wider.

“You’re gross,” he commented sardonically.

“Says the guy who once ate ten burgers in one sitting. Answer the question.”

“Hemingway. Cats or Dogs?”

Betty snorted at which Jughead quirked a questioning eyebrow, reaching into the cereal box himself.

“Deep.”

“We’re playing ‘This or That’ Betts, it’s not exactly a game of intellect,” He retorted, his hand retreating from depositing the food in his mouth and coming to rest on her thigh, fingers idly stroking the skin.

“Both,” she finally decided with a grin. “Food or sex?”

Jughead’s eyes flashed wickedly, but before she had a chance to become concerned his hands reached out to grab her by the waist, pulling her over his body so that she was straddling his hips. Betty squealed at the action, one hand clutching the box while the other rested on his deliciously bare chest.

“Both,” Jughead smirked at her, eyes raking over her playfully. “Actually right now is perfect.”

Betty laughed, revelling in this playful side of him so few got to see and rarely even her in the past few months. Shaking her head she placed the box down beside them, bringing her hand up to rest on his shoulder.

“Shut up,” she breathed, smile not leaving her face as one of his hands carded through her blonde curls, pushing the wild tresses off her shoulder; his other stroked lazy patters against her hip.

Leaning forward his lips hovered over hers for a moment before they came down in a soft kiss. It was unlike their others. This was… tender. It was lazy and sweet, not passionate and full of lust. Yet it still took her breath away as his lips delicately coaxed hers into an intoxicating push and pull. The hand on her hip trailed down her thigh and then back up, his fingers warming the bare skin where his shirt had ridden up on her in their current position. What took her by surprise though was that his movements didn’t radiate with sexual intent like they usually did when they ended up in a position like this. Rather it felt oddly intimate in a completely new way.

And that’s when she realised the ache in her chest was asking for more. It was asking for this. This domesticity, this blissful peace. Betty found herself a little off kilter with the realisation.

Breaking apart his forehead rested against hers. A lazy smile on his lips, while her hands pushed his ebony locks away from his forehead.

“Juggie,” she whispered, as his eyes fluttered open. They were startlingly blue and her heart skipped a beat.

“Hmm?” he sighed contently, hand still making those treacherous movements on her skin.

“What are we doing?”

He went rigid beneath her hands, his own freezing in place.

“What do you mean?” His voice was soft still but suddenly guarded and Betty swallowed down a lump in her throat.

“I mean this. You and me. What are we doing?” Her green eyes searched his pleadingly. She needed to be grounded, she needed to find somewhere safe to land.

Silence.

She held her breath.

“I don’t know Betts,” he sighed finally, his jaw tense.

Betty felt her heart sink a little, though she couldn’t blame him. She was just as lost. She didn’t know what she was hoping for subconsciously, but it was more than that.

“Okay.”

“Juggie,” Betty answered a suggestive lilt in her voice; after all it was 12am on a Saturday night, what else would he be calling for?

The other end of the line remained silent and her face scrunched in confusion.

A sharp, staggering breath and a wheezing cough made her chest squeeze uncomfortably.

Something was off.

“Jughead?” she tried again, barely managing to keep the panic out of her tone, while she mustered her best authoritative voice.

“Hey Betts,” his gravelly voice finally spoke.

The blonde shot up in her bed, the anxiety she was trying to keep at bay rapidly encroaching upon her body. He sounded weak and in pain. His words had come out almost as a groan and she could’ve sworn she heard a wince, even though she knew he had mostly pulled away from the speaker so that she wouldn’t.

“What’s going on?” Betty pleaded, doing her best to remain calm and not get caught up in the plethora of horrible situations that were running through her brain that would have ended with him in a state of pain.

“Everything’s fine okay.” Jughead tried to placate obviously picking up on her growing worry, though the sharp inhale mid-sentence did nothing to quell her fear.

“Bullshit,” she spat back at him, her anger ignited by that fear and growing.

Jughead sighed and this time she was sure she heard a wince.

“There may have been a slight motorcycle accident. And I may need you to come and pick me up.”

“An accident,” Betty repeated as her free hand clenched into a tight fist at the image her brain concocted of his mangled body, black leather scraping across asphalt. Her nails scraped against her skin.

“Yeah… Betty I’m fine but my bikes not exactly rideable otherwise I wouldn’t be asking. And I know your parents are probably gonna kill you and I’m sorry I just don’t have anyone else to call,” He rambled while the sounds of uncomfortable shifting echoed in the background, leaking through the speaker.

Betty’s chest ached at the reminder of his hardship, while butterflies swarmed in her stomach at the knowledge he had called her. That even when everyone else was disappearing from his life, he trusted that he had her and that she would show up.

Both emotions were quickly subdued though as he grunted and worry crashed over her again like an ice cold wave.

“Where are you?”

“On the Southside, just over the border,” Jughead relayed cautiously, though Betty wasn’t shocked by the revelation.

“Okay I’m coming.”

Betty spent the entire drive to the Southside clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. She couldn’t think clearly, her mind was a mess and her skin felt much too small for her body. Her clothes were suffocating, and her rational mind thanked god for the warm weather, as she could get away with just her sleep shorts and t-shirt without catching her death.

The worry and anxiety was eating her alive. All she could think about was Jughead and how badly bruised he would be when she saw him. She was terrified. And it was that trepidation that made her terrified for a completely new reason. Because this wasn’t the kind of fear someone felt for a “just friend”. This was the kind of fear that made you literally ill. The kind of paralysing worry that kept you up at night and made you feel like the earth was caving in. And she was feeling it now for Jughead. It terrified her to think about how deep she had fallen into this thing with him. It terrified her to realise how much her own existence had become entwined with his. And they weren’t even together.

After what felt like forever but was barely a twenty minute drive at this time of night Betty was crossing the border that separated the North and South sides of Riverdale. She kept her hands steady on the wheel while her eyes darted around nervously, searching for Jughead. After another few minutes, she spotted him down the road just past the highway entrance.

Her breath came out choppy as she took him in slumped against a tree trunk, his mangled bike a few feet away. It was completely wrecked. But from her place in the car, cloaked in darkness bar the headlights she couldn’t make out his injuries.

Pulling over she scrambled out of the car, fighting off the bile bubbling up her throat.

“Juggie!” she cried frantically, running over to him.

Jughead looked up, and staggered to his feet biting back a wince. She reached him quickly. They stood inches apart, heavy breathing filling the air between them. There was a rip in the thigh of his jeans, dried blood visible there and on his hands. Yet, despite the site making her cringe with worry, she felt like she could finally breathe again in his presence, her heart hammering against her chest, but not feeling quite so cracked anymore.

Betty’s eyes were wild and searched for his. Jughead however, had his head cast down and wouldn’t look at her properly.

“Jug,” she whispered gently, her hand resting gently on his cheek to pry his head up.

Reluctantly Jughead raised his head to look at her, his eyes devastatingly blue yet distant, jet black hair falling over them, while dried blood caked his forehead. Betty gasped though as she took in his whole face and realised his right eye was bruised and swelling, while a cut decorated his cheek bone just below.

Her hand gripped his cheek more firmly and Jughead let her tilt his head to the side to inspect better. He knew the look on her face was one of pure determination and not to be messed with. Because Betty wasn’t just worried now, she wasn’t just scared. She was really fucking angry, though he wasn’t yet sure if it was with him for lying or not.

Her brows were creased and her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as her vibrant eyes scrutinised his face.

Meeting his eyes again, some of the fire in her own seemed to diminish. Stroking his cheek tenderly Betty let out a sigh.

“You said it was an accident,” she whispered.

“I know,” he replied cautiously, placing his large hand on top of her delicate one where it rested against his cheek.

“You lied.”

He let out a shaky breath, swallowing his pain.

“Not here,” he whispered meaningfully nodding toward where her car was parked.

Betty looked like she wanted to protest but nodded stepping back from him and taking slow steps toward the vehicle. She didn’t ask if he was okay, she knew he wasn’t but he would say he was.

Jughead’s hand reached out suddenly to grab her own, halting her movement. He inhaled sharply as the sudden bend caused the burn in his side to flare obnoxiously. Betty’s face contorted with concern as she gripped his hand back tightly.

“Thank you,” he said lowly, the sincerity behind the words and the earnest look on his face making her chest contract and her stomach flip.

“Of course,” she replied with equal conviction and the air felt thick around them for reasons more than the humid night.

Helping him into the car she quickly rounded on her own side, and turned the ignition.

“Home?” she asked, looking over to where he was sprawled against the passenger seat eyes closed.

“Yeah, but not the one you’re thinking.”

A short while later they pulled up outside his dad’s old trailer. The air was eerie as the engine cut out, the night still, bar a few resounding echoes of parties and drunken yelling in the distance.

Betty unbuckled her seat belt and quickly moved round to the other side of the car to help Jughead. He was already out of his seat and closing the door when she rounded on him. He refused to let her help him inside insisting he was okay, but his limping gate and stuttering breaths propelled her to wrap an arm around his waist anyway.

Digging into a flower pot he produced a spare key and unlocked the door.

She flicked the light switch and helped him to a chair by the small kitchen while the lights buzzed bathing the room in a dim yellow glow.

“First aid kit?” Betty asked tying her hair back out of her face.

“Betty you don’t-“Jughead began to protest but the pointed look she shot him made it clear any objection was futile.

“Cupboard above the sink,” he sighed nodding toward the kitchen.

Betty turned on her heel, quickly moving to the disclosed location. She didn’t let her eyes linger on the small signs that somebody lived here, or rather once did. Technically it was still Jughead’s dad’s home, but he was in prison and it was uninhabited. It was as if they were in a museum. Left exactly as it had been, untouched, fossilised. It caused a shiver to run down her spine, but she quickly ignored that and the heartache she was feeling all over again at the reminders of a harsh life lived by an undeserving boy.

Rising up on her tip toes she was able to reach the first aid kit. She then grabbed a clean looking dish towel from the bench and ran it under the tap before she returned to Jughead.

Sitting down in the chair next to him Betty began sorting through the contents of the plastic box. Despite feeling somewhere between hellish and dead Jughead couldn’t help but smirk a little at the way her brows furrowed in concentration as she pulled out some alcohol swabs, gauze and bandages inspecting each.

“Satisfied Doctor Cooper?”

Betty looked up from her task, a small smile playing on her lips at his teasing. The mirth in his voice and eyes was reassuring but the visual of his injuries quickly sent her back into nurse mode.

Raking her eyes over his form from his cut and bruised face to where he was clearly gripping his side in pain to the open gash across his thigh, Betty tried to weigh up the best course of action.

“Can you take your clothes off?”

Jughead’s smirk widened, raising his eyebrows at her. He opened his mouth to make another witty remark but Betty wasn’t in the mood for teasing, she was emotionally exhausted and worried, and upset and she didn’t have it in her to pretend everything was fine right now; it wasn’t.

Jughead must have sensed her intolerance because he quickly shut his mouth and stood carefully. Slowly he removed his leather jacket, his t-shirt following closely behind, before undoing his jeans and leaning his weight on the back of the chair to step out of them.

Betty sucked in a breath. As much as she wasn’t in the mood for teasing and their usual flirtatious banter she couldn’t help her bodies response to his well-toned one clad only in a pair of boxers. She felt hot, thighs squeezing as she licked her lips unconsciously. If Jughead noticed he didn’t comment.

Her focus was quickly returned though as she could now take in the full extent of his harm. The cut on his thigh wasn’t as bad as she had originally thought. While there was a fair amount of blood surrounding the damaged skin there didn’t seem to be much asphalt stuck in the wound and she didn’t think it would take too long to clean. The removal of his shirt revealed some more minor scratches up his arms and on his chest. However it was the large bruise developing on his side that made her stomach churn with nausea. Almost the entire left side of his torso was starting to become stained in a deep purple colour. Just like the black eye and cut on his cheek, she couldn’t conceive how that would logically be caused by a bike accident.

Biting back a sob Betty set to work cleaning the wound on his leg, hoping her down cast head wouldn’t allow him to see the tears springing to her eyes.

The already stale air of the trailer grew thick as silence cloaked them bar the sounds of Betty fiddling with something every few minutes and Jughead’s sharp intakes of breath of small winces as she cleaned out his wound.

By the time she finished patching up the gash on his leg Betty felt like she was going to combust with frustration and curiosity. She had tried not to dwell on the unknown reality of whatever had led them here tonight but she couldn’t. She was never good with patience or subtlety.

“So are you going to tell me what the hell happened?” Her voice was horse with disuse.

Jughead’s eyes followed her movement as she dragged her chair closer, the noise splitting in the empty air. His eyes found hers as she reached up gently to clean the dried blood from his forehead and cheek. Seeming to lose any resolve he had to keep the information private at the evident distress shining in Betty’s orbs, Jughead nodded.

“I was riding home from the bar. A car starts approaching on the other side of the road, nothing out of the ordinary- though I must admit it was a bit odd for a car that nice to be coming from North to South so I should’ve realised,” He kept his eyes straight ahead, his voice even.

Betty’s hand stilled, bringing the cloth away from his face as she listened intently. She worried her lip beneath her teeth at the implications. His pause, complimented by side eyeing her, made her quickly gesture for him to continue though as she did the same with her own task.

“So before I know what’s happening, this car swerves to my side of the road, I managed to avoid most of the impact but they got the back of my bike. Next thing I know I’m on the ground and the bike spinning out. Then these two guys get out the car, both of them wearing letterman jackets.”

She’s not even pretending to focus on his injuries now. Her eyes are wide, one hand clenched into a fist on the table top while the other still rests on the side of his face. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly as she feels the rage and panic well inside her.

“Bulldogs?” Betty manages to choke out.

Jughead nods once; curt.

“So they come at me. One starts kicking me in the side, yelling shit while the other just watches, egging him on like he’s some kind of fucking hero,” his tone is harder now, his eyes darker and she sees the dangerous steel she saw his first day back when he pushed her up against the locker and had a hand wrapped around her throat. The gang member in him coming out, looking to fight back, to protect.

Her hand trails down his neck, over the planes of his chest to where his side is painted in dark colours all on its own. Her fingers trace patters over the smooth skin gently, her breath hitched. His gaze follows the movement, just watching for a moment, a slight frown on his face. But he doesn’t ask her to stop.

“Eventually I managed to roll onto my back, and pull his legs out from under him. So now we’re both on the ground and I knew he would probably start throwing punches. He does, a good one too, thus, the black eye,” Jughead drawls sardonically.

Betty is not deterred though, the rage inside her flickering like a candle as she becomes immersed in his story telling. He’s captivating, the far off look in his eye as the events play over in his mind, the way his jaw clenches, the way his skin battered and bruised is illuminated in the dull lighting, the sharp angles of his body. She was enthralled.

“I got some in too, but I mean they fucking hit me with their car, so it wasn’t much of an even fight and my body felt like it was on fire so…” he trailed off, his head ducking as if it’s suddenly too hard to look at her.

“So?” Betty prompts, she refuses to be left hanging like that.

Jughead sighs, long and deep.

“So I pull the knife out from my jacket. Scared the shit out of him and they take off, not before reversing back into my bike though.”

He looks up, black hair falling temptingly over his eyes which are somehow vulnerable and guarded all at once. He’s anxious Betty realised. He’s anxious as to how she’s going to react. He’s afraid he’s going to scare her.

“I meant it when I said I wasn’t scared of you Jug,” Betty’s voice is quiet but strong as her hand stills against his side.

Jughead doesn’t say anything for a moment and the silence stretches been them. Eventually he shakes his head and then looks at her with such a broken expression she wants to cry.

“Maybe you should be.” He gets up then, not so carefully removing her hand from his abdomen and begins to pace. His gate is awkward with his slight limp and his hands are tugging at his hair. His face is dark now, the vulnerability she saw a moment ago washed away by an inner demon she doesn’t know.

He moved so quickly like her touch was burning him and then she’s burning inside. Angry.

“What the hell does that mean? If anything right now I’m scared for you!” she seethes, arms crossing tightly over her chest as she appraises him with narrowed eyes.

“It means I’m toxic, and it’s worse now, on the North side I’m like a poison!” Jughead combatted, his flames meeting Betty’s own head on as she rose to her feet.

Her voice had risen an octave higher when she speaks again, exasperated.

“It’s this town that’s toxic Jughead. And I don’t care how everyone else treats you. I’ve never felt more liberated from all of the suffocating bullshit than when I’m with you. So screw them-“

“And what if I’m scared?” Jughead cut her off abruptly, his words imploring her. They were stark. His voice wasn’t loud like it had been moments ago, but rather low and almost sinister.

Betty felt her own anger dissipate a little with the shift in dynamic. Her fury dying, as she took a step closer to him, green eyes still homing a hard tint.

“Scared of me? I’m not just going to up and leave when things get hard and dark like your mum did.”

Her heart’s pounding erratically. Something has shifted, she feels it in her chest building like an ache but sweeter, she feels it in the air, thick and tense. She feels dizzy from the complicated circles they’ve been spinning in all evening, her emotions short circuiting at the rapid changes being demanded. Their broaching sacred ground here, the unspoken words finally taking verbal shape and it’s terrifying and thrilling simultaneously.

“That’s exactly why I’m scared. You saw what happened to me tonight Betty. What if you stay and something like that happens to you? I couldn’t live with myself.”

It’s Jughead’s turn to step closer now. The earnest tone of his voice makes her lungs malfunction and her heart stutter. She’s not used to seeing him this raw. He doesn’t look vulnerable though, rather he looks powerful; a force to be reckoned with as he closes in on her personal space, until there’s barely a breath between them.

She feels the heat radiating from his body and the hairs on her arms are standing on end. Goose bumps are breaking out across her skin, and his breath on her face is making her dizzy. But the flame inside her is still begging to exacerbate, so she meets his eyes letting their gazes drown one another in an ocean pool of blue and green before speaking.

“Well I don’t think I can live without you anymore.” It’s barely a whisper, and she holds her breath while it sits in the space between them. She doesn’t look away though, she won’t back down. Her feelings being publicised to him was a ticking time bomb anyway.

Jughead doesn’t say anything for a moment-a long moment- and she can see the war raging within him. His eyes give away his inner conflict, and he looks almost pained.

But then his hands are cupping her face and pulling her lips to his and everything else disappears. The anger, the frustration, the confusion, the pain, it all evaporates into the air and now it’s just them standing in the middle of an old dimly lit trailer, him practically naked, her clad in pyjamas, kissing in the early hours of the morning.

Jughead’s lips are demanding on hers, coaxing them into a passionate rhythm as her arms wrap themselves around his neck, her hands tangling in his hair. This kiss feels different to the previous ones they’ve shared. It holds the same want, the same passion, the same fire and ache for one another but somehow feels more intense, more important. It dawns on Betty that this is exactly what it is- more. And god did she like more.

As Jughead’s tongue slips into her mouth and erotically strokes against her own she pushes herself onto her tip toes and presses her body closer. His hands thread through her hair, pulling the loose ponytail out and angling her head where he wants it, demanding more and getting exactly that. The way the minty taste of her mouth mixes with the sweet one of his [in the back of her mind she recognises it as the coke he was probably drinking earlier] is intoxicating and she whimpers when he nips at her bottom lip.

They break apart when the need for air becomes vital both breathing heavily. His breath stutters more than hers does and Betty’s lust induced smile quickly morphs into a frown when she notes the grimace on his features. She moves to back away immediately, afraid she’s hurt him but Jughead doesn’t let her get far his arms wrapping securely around her waist to keep her body against his.

“Be mine,” he whispers into her ear, lips pressing gently to her neck just below.

She sucks in a harsh breath completely unprepared for those words to fall from his mouth. Jughead pulls back slightly, his expression unfaltering but so completely open and honest she feels like her heart might just explode. Betty doesn’t hesitate to raise a hand to cup his cheek and press her forehead to his.

“Oh Juggie, I already am.”

He kissed her again.

#Bughead #bughead fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones

97 notes · View notes