Roseanne fic: Gotta Wear Shades, Becky/Mark
Title: Gotta Wear Shades
Author: escritoireazul
Written for: aea who requested Roseanne - chrome.
Author's Note: This is a transformative work of fiction set during seasons four and five of the television series Roseanne. Remember, you can request ficlets for the December Drabbles on LJ and on DW.
Rating: 13+ (reference to underage sex)
Word Count: 800+
Summary: Becky is nothing like her mother.
Becky is nothing like her mother. Roseanne is loud and brash and bossy and annoying as hell and she settled. God, did she settle, with this life in this town with no future.
There’s no way Becky’s going to do that. She’s smart and she’s pretty, she’s been told that her whole life. She’s going to graduate and go to college and get out of this town that devours people and their dreams until all that’s left is an automaton who doesn’t realize what she’s missing or even remember what it was like to want something more.
Until all that’s left is her mother.
#
Becky’s not stupid, she knows what happened. Roseanne met Dan and that was it, she gave up everything for a boy in a leather jacket on a big black motorcycle. Sex and drugs and rock and roll, baby.
She knows what happened. She’s just too smart to let it happen to her.
#
It’s not that she doesn’t love her parents. She does. They’re just weird. And annoying. And sometimes embarrassing. But she loves them. They work really hard and life hasn’t been so bad, not really, she’s never gone hungry and offbrand items don’t really taste that bad. They’re weird and annoying and embarrassing because they’re so rambunctious, so outgoing and full of life. They talk over each other and laugh so loud heads turn and love her so much she can’t hardly stand the weight of it sometimes. Those aren’t bad things, exactly.
Becky loves them. She really, really does. She just doesn’t want to be them.
#
Mark’s bike glistens, the black sleek, the chrome shiny. He leans against it, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. His hair’s messy, his eyes smolder. Becky used to read about that, girls swooning over guys whose eyes smoldered, and she always thought it a ridiculous description, but that’s exactly how Mark looks.
He’s not mad at her, which is good because she’s not done anything wrong, but it’s like he’s mad at the world. She understands that feeling well. Sometimes, behind her bright smiles and good girl gloss, she rages. It’s just not fair, how much her family struggles, how much she has to sacrifice because her mother got them all stuck in this life in this place.
Something tightens low in her stomach and she bites the inside of her mouth. Mark smiles at her, this slow, dark smirk that twists his mouth and her pulse races.
Becky has goals and dreams and a whole future spread out before just waiting for her to step into it. She’s not stupid and she’s not her mother. She’s not going to let some boy get in the way.
But the future feels far away and Mark with his motorcycle and his snarled hair and his black leather, he’s sexy and tempting and real.
#
Mark’s hands are thick and rough and callused, mechanic’s hands, but his touch so light when he slides his fingers across her skin. It gives her chills, makes her shudder and bite back her moans and raises goose bumps down her arms.
That doesn’t mean she’ll ignore her homework and let her grades drop and give up on college. She’s going. She’ll graduate soon and get out of this town.
His kisses are so sweet and leave her lips tingling. She touches him, puts her hands on his arms, trails her tongue down the side of his throat, wraps her fingers around his dick in the darkness, and lets him sink inside her. She presses her mouth to his shoulder and lets her love skim across his skin.
#
There’s no money in her college fund. There’s no money for her future. There’s no future here, stuck in this house in this town with her parents who have failed and failed and failed again.
Becky sits on the edge of the bathtub, her arms pressed to her stomach. She’s been sitting there for awhile, she doesn’t know how long exactly, afraid if she moves she’ll throw up. She’s just so furious and so scared and so sick with disappointment.
College was everything. It was her doorway into a new world. And now it’s gone before she even had a chance to try.
She has no future and Mark is leaving because he has no work here. Lanford is destroying them just like it did her parents. She’s becoming them, but worse, because she’s not even going to have the guy she loves. She’s alone with no future and no hope and everywhere she looks, all she can see is failure.
Becky shoves her hands against her eyes and presses hard, trying to drive away the images filling her head.
#
Mark cups the back of her neck with one hand. He loves her, she knows, and he wants her to go with him to Montana. He wants her to marry him, to stay with him forever. He doesn’t push, just stands there, touching her and waiting in silence.
#
Becky’s nothing like her mother, wooed by a sullen boy with dark hair and a chromed-out bike.
This entry was original posted at http://escritoireazul.dreamwidth.org/311432.html with
comments. Reply here or there.
Author: escritoireazul
Written for: aea who requested Roseanne - chrome.
Author's Note: This is a transformative work of fiction set during seasons four and five of the television series Roseanne. Remember, you can request ficlets for the December Drabbles on LJ and on DW.
Rating: 13+ (reference to underage sex)
Word Count: 800+
Summary: Becky is nothing like her mother.
Becky is nothing like her mother. Roseanne is loud and brash and bossy and annoying as hell and she settled. God, did she settle, with this life in this town with no future.
There’s no way Becky’s going to do that. She’s smart and she’s pretty, she’s been told that her whole life. She’s going to graduate and go to college and get out of this town that devours people and their dreams until all that’s left is an automaton who doesn’t realize what she’s missing or even remember what it was like to want something more.
Until all that’s left is her mother.
#
Becky’s not stupid, she knows what happened. Roseanne met Dan and that was it, she gave up everything for a boy in a leather jacket on a big black motorcycle. Sex and drugs and rock and roll, baby.
She knows what happened. She’s just too smart to let it happen to her.
#
It’s not that she doesn’t love her parents. She does. They’re just weird. And annoying. And sometimes embarrassing. But she loves them. They work really hard and life hasn’t been so bad, not really, she’s never gone hungry and offbrand items don’t really taste that bad. They’re weird and annoying and embarrassing because they’re so rambunctious, so outgoing and full of life. They talk over each other and laugh so loud heads turn and love her so much she can’t hardly stand the weight of it sometimes. Those aren’t bad things, exactly.
Becky loves them. She really, really does. She just doesn’t want to be them.
#
Mark’s bike glistens, the black sleek, the chrome shiny. He leans against it, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. His hair’s messy, his eyes smolder. Becky used to read about that, girls swooning over guys whose eyes smoldered, and she always thought it a ridiculous description, but that’s exactly how Mark looks.
He’s not mad at her, which is good because she’s not done anything wrong, but it’s like he’s mad at the world. She understands that feeling well. Sometimes, behind her bright smiles and good girl gloss, she rages. It’s just not fair, how much her family struggles, how much she has to sacrifice because her mother got them all stuck in this life in this place.
Something tightens low in her stomach and she bites the inside of her mouth. Mark smiles at her, this slow, dark smirk that twists his mouth and her pulse races.
Becky has goals and dreams and a whole future spread out before just waiting for her to step into it. She’s not stupid and she’s not her mother. She’s not going to let some boy get in the way.
But the future feels far away and Mark with his motorcycle and his snarled hair and his black leather, he’s sexy and tempting and real.
#
Mark’s hands are thick and rough and callused, mechanic’s hands, but his touch so light when he slides his fingers across her skin. It gives her chills, makes her shudder and bite back her moans and raises goose bumps down her arms.
That doesn’t mean she’ll ignore her homework and let her grades drop and give up on college. She’s going. She’ll graduate soon and get out of this town.
His kisses are so sweet and leave her lips tingling. She touches him, puts her hands on his arms, trails her tongue down the side of his throat, wraps her fingers around his dick in the darkness, and lets him sink inside her. She presses her mouth to his shoulder and lets her love skim across his skin.
#
There’s no money in her college fund. There’s no money for her future. There’s no future here, stuck in this house in this town with her parents who have failed and failed and failed again.
Becky sits on the edge of the bathtub, her arms pressed to her stomach. She’s been sitting there for awhile, she doesn’t know how long exactly, afraid if she moves she’ll throw up. She’s just so furious and so scared and so sick with disappointment.
College was everything. It was her doorway into a new world. And now it’s gone before she even had a chance to try.
She has no future and Mark is leaving because he has no work here. Lanford is destroying them just like it did her parents. She’s becoming them, but worse, because she’s not even going to have the guy she loves. She’s alone with no future and no hope and everywhere she looks, all she can see is failure.
Becky shoves her hands against her eyes and presses hard, trying to drive away the images filling her head.
#
Mark cups the back of her neck with one hand. He loves her, she knows, and he wants her to go with him to Montana. He wants her to marry him, to stay with him forever. He doesn’t push, just stands there, touching her and waiting in silence.
#
Becky’s nothing like her mother, wooed by a sullen boy with dark hair and a chromed-out bike.
This entry was original posted at http://escritoireazul.dreamwidth.org/311432.html with
comments. Reply here or there.