#askedforthis

[blamedyou]

❛ I don’t mean to be an asshole. It’s just… genetic. ❜

✧ ( SHAMELESS SENTENCE STARTERS. || accepting !

SWEET BECK. you don’t even know yourself. it’s like spending all that time with those friends of yours has made you view yourself in a different light. you judge everything you do so critically, yet you allow others to behave like animals around you. i’ll never understand, beck. you deserve better than that. you deserve the truth. “ hey, you were just being honest with me. i get it. i needed it. so really, i should be thanking you. unless - were you planning a big romantic gesture here ? was this a proclamation moment & i ruined it, or ? ” teasing her brings him joy. their light banter kept the tensions between them light. took them out of the darkness & guided their way back. he loved that. after any argument all she really needed was a smile, & slowly they’d be on the track to something better.

[heathcliffdarchive]

             𝐰𝐞  𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞  𝐰𝐞  𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤  𝐰𝐞  𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞  -----  chbosky. a fourteen-year-old girl comes into mooney’s with a few dollars and self-esteem issues. she walks around for a few minutes, thumbs a few spines, maybe checks her phone once or twice to make sure her friends aren’t having too much fun at jamba juice without her, and finds the now a major motion picture section mooney had me set-up. and she thinks. and she waits. and she thinks that if she waits long enough, she’ll buck up the courage to buy the book with emma watson’s face plastered on the front to help with her self-diagnosis of depression because she’s just that desperate to find excuses for her own shitty self-worth. oh, beck. that’s the problem with kids these days -- this generation glued to their phones, reading buzzfeed quizzes to figure out how society’s fucked them up in a way they don’t know how to deal with, and they wash it all down with a nihilistic crywank into the early hours of the morning.

but that’s not us, beck, is it? you, maybe. sometimes. it’s something i plan on asking you about, when we get to know each other better -- maybe wrapped up in sheets in our bed with your slick thighs and sweat glittering on your forehead and your head’s just swimming with how thigh-trembling, nail-raking and name-screamingly good i am with my tongue, but later. we’re not there yet. but you’re never gonna have to worry about that kind of thing with me, because i’ll take care of you. i’ll do your laundry, and tidy your apartment -- i’ll show you how deserving you are of someone better than the guy who sticks his dick in anything with a pulse, and i’ll help you see that i’m not just another notch in your bed post. i’m the one.

and that’s why i’m here, beck. and god, have you meant some sacrifices -- i’m at your apartment at six when you roll out of bed. i say good morning, from across the street, but you won’t have to worry about that -- i’ll wake up before you, treat you with coffee and breakfast in bed before your busy day. you work so hard, it’s the least i can do. we go to work together, and you look so good in those leggings, i just wanna join the mommies on a fitness kick. so today, i do. it’s not that weird, beck... we’ve been on a couple of dates, everything’s going great -- i want to know you. i want to see where you work from inside the studio. i want to get you a smoothie after your class and walk with you over to your next. so i’m up, six-am sharp, and i walk with you to work.

                      “--- hey, stranger. got room for one more?”

@askedforthis.

[beckaleash]

“Are you attracted to me?”

meme.

you stop, because you’re not quite sure you know what she wants you to say. for a moment, there’s panic that bubbles in your stomach and threatens to crawl its way up your throat, because for a moment, you think back to your laptop. (password protected. beck wouldn’t sift through your files, and there’s no way she’d find anything unless she knew what she was looking for. password protected, like that means anything when it comes to this kind of situation). maybe she hasn’t found it. you hope she hasn’t found it – you’re not sure how you’re going to be able to explain anything without a whole slew of questions and accusations sticking like shit. you don’t do that.

(but of course you do. she’s – beck. beck is… radiant. kind of makes you want to stay here and show her that – you think about her lips, when she smiles, and when she pouts, and you think about the way your fingers would feel, running through her hair, and you think about the way she’d kiss you, and touch you, and how her fingers would dip down your stomach and slide between your thighs – but she’s your friend. best friend. since brown. you both make your way into the big city itself and build new lives for yourselves. that’s – it doesn’t come into it. but part of you wishes it did.)

                      “what?”       it snaps you back to reality, after what you think must be too long a pause to be able to scour the truth away from what’s so blatantly cranking cogs in your brain. but you’ll try. because you’re not…– you know?

         “becks…”     you turn it back to joseph, because you’re not quite sure how else to answer it. if she knows about the pictures, you aren’t sure she’d still be here, trying to talk to you. right? (you hope you’re right. beck’s your best friend. you’ve done everything together over the past few years. you’ve slipped pills and swilled rosé until early in the morning when beck finally takes a break away from her blank word doc, and it’s been fine. it’s all been fine.)

              “if this is about the creepy retail loser not telling you you’re badass and beautiful, of course i think you’re amazing. but i’m not – i’m – don’t be ridiculous.”

i’m not, and you can’t say it. because you’re not. and you don’t think about her like that. you’re best friends, and you’re not. you’re a saIinger, and you’re perfect, and your parents both talk about you like you’ve never set foot out of place, and you’re not. you’re not.

            “i think you’re beautiful. and you’re my best friend – how could i not, beckaIish? you’re beautiful, and you’re so talented, but i don’t… not like that. now will you please put some makeup on? we’re going to be late, and annika’s going to be on her third glass of white, and you know how she gets after three.”