disclaimer: I'm still not owning it.

author's note: My contribution to the diary!fics right hurrr. :D There are references a-plenty to two of other ones roaming around out there, where the sun don't shine by Lovely Amelie (ngl I shamelessly stole the method of dividing up the entries from you, Ava xD) and Here I Am, Once Again by DramaticStarlet. Also, I think it's been established by now that my endings will forever suck. TRY TO IGNORE THAT PART. And enjoy, because I loved writing this. BD

Hey, Beck?

FUCK YOU.

.x.

No, not literally. In fact, fucking is exactly what's not going to be happening to you for several dozen years. Possibly forever.

You do realize this notebook has a unicorn on the cover, right? I eat unicorns.

Raw.

Also, to reiterate: FUCK YOU.

.x.

Okay. Maybe he isn't reading this. I would totally be reading his girly little diary if he had one, but apparently he respects my privacy or something. I know, what up with that. But still. What would possess him to gift me with… this? I much prefer gifts involving pain.

Or sex.

Possibly both, if I'm feeling kinky enough. Which I pretty much always am, so.

Maybe I'll leave this in class where Tori can 'accidentally' find it. I know she'd read it, since she would know it's mine. This is because I've taken the liberty of carving my name across the unicorn's body.

.x.

"Oh my God babe why did you deface the unicorn it was so nice and beautiful and now its flesh is destroyed if that was a real unicorn PETA would arrest you and I might just have to let them—"

SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU ARE SUCH A WIMP.

I told Beck, "I'm going to make sushi out of your fish."

He said, "You don't like sushi."

ALSGJSKLJ;FLDKA. That is NOT THE POINT. It was THREAT on your retard-edly named excuses for pets. I hope they all die in a simultaneous combustion of sheer stupid. If we have sex anywhere but the bed I can feel them… watching. From their lame ass fish tank. And I am not being constrained to fucking in a bed just because Beck has perverted voyeur sea-creatures inhabiting his RV.

.x.

That's it.

The fish die at midnight.

.x.

…

Or not.

So, basically, I kind of got distracted before I could perpetuate fish murder. It was an epic plan, too. I was all "Hokay babe, going home to make sure Mom isn't dead or knocked up or something," because both are equally possible with my mom, and then I was going to lie in wait in order to eventually ninja my way back inside once Beck went to bed and KILL THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS. (Don't worry, I moved my crap-ass car by an empty house down the street beforehand. I'm James Bond, bitches.)

Unfortunately, this did not happen. The fish are still tragically alive, swimming about and being little slut-faces, while I chill in the back of Beck's truck because there's no way I'm going home without getting the all-clear from Mom first that she isn't busy having an orgy or something. And she hasn't answered my last six texts, so that is what may actually be happening.

Um. Ew.

BUT. Life does not in fact fully suck. Because I have a sandwich.

…Alright. If you're curious (as a… notebook… that is capable of feelings such as curiosity… Oh whatever, it's like three in the morning, I can rationalize this tomorrow). It went down like this:

I was up at Beck's actual house, sitting on the swing-y thing that takes up like half the front porch, waiting for Beck to quit watching Full House and go to bed. (He's such a fucking pansy, I swear.) It was eleven-thirty-ish, and then the lights in the RV went off and I was like "FUCK YEAH. FISH, PREPARE TO DIE."

And then someone tapped me on the shoulder and I very nearly punched them in the fucking face.

Which would have been bad, because as it turns out Beck's dad had been watching me bemusedly from the living room. That's how he does everything, by the way. Bemusedly. Like our weirdo human actions make no sense to him.

"Jade," he said, looking down at me all head-tilty and confused-smiley. "Is there any particular reason you are staking out the RV?"

"Um," I answered. Because, here's the thing:

Wait, hold up.

BECK. IF YOU EVER DECIDE TO BE A BITCH AND READ THIS, I SUGGEST STOPPING RIGHT HERE BEFORE YOU ARE TOTALLY SCARRED AND NEED INTENSIVE THERAPY BECAUSE I AM SURE AS SHIT NOT PAYING FOR IT.

Alright.

Basically.

Beck's dad is kind of hot.

…I AM JUST SAYING.

I'd do him.

If he wasn't thirty-five. And I wasn't dating his son. And if any children we produced wouldn't be so intensely white it would cause blindness in various bystanders, which I guess isn't cool. …Except if it's Tori. If she goes blind she can't go around tonguing other people's boyfriends. Always a plus.

But back to the point.

So Beck's dad was all standing over me, and I was kind of busy thinking "If Beck and I ever break up I am becoming his step-mom instead GOOD FUCKING LORD." And so after a semi-awkward pause I was finally like, "I'm going to murder his fish."

Way to keep it cool, Jade. Way. To. Go.

"Oh," said Beck's dad, whose actual name is James, by the way. But I just call him Beck's dad, because it reminds me why I can't fuck him. NOT THAT I WOULD. It's just some extra reinforcement. Possibly an alternative to just referring to him as Dad. Which I think would weird Beck out, so I try not to (me considering my boyfriend's feelings, whaaat?). Because it's not like I have issues revolving around my lack of father or anything.

…

I have so many issues, good God.

SO.

Moving on.

Beck's dad was kind of staring at me. "What did the fish do to inspire your ire?"

You see? Who can talk like that and still be hot? No one but James Fucking Oliver, I'll tell you that much. (And if his middle name is not in fact 'Fucking,' he should deeply consider getting it changed.)

But then I was like "shit," because there's no way it would be socially acceptable to be all "The fish watch us when we have sex" to his dad. I mean, I'm pretty sure he's kind of peripherally aware that we do so, because come on. We're sixteen. I practically live with him in an RV. THERE IS FUCKING GOING ON.

I had to lie, though. Which is good, because it happens to be one of my talents. "They bit me," I said, rocking on the swing.

Beck's dad furrowed his brow. Unf. "Why were you sticking your hand into the fish tank?"

Okay, lying is one of my talents when it's not almost midnight and I'm not attempting to kill my boyfriend's beloved pets. Fuck you, random guilt.

"Crap," I said. "Fine, they're just REALLY stupid and I hate them SO MUCH."

Jade West. Keepin' it cool, as always.

I groaned and put my head in my hands, still rocking on the swing. "I'm not going to kill the fish, am I?"

"Highly unlikely," admitted Beck's dad. Then he patted my shoulder. "…Would you like a sandwich?"

Marry me now, James Oliver.

.x.

SHIT. SHIT. MOTHERFUCKING SHIT.

CRISIS LEVEL FUCKING FIVE. SHIT.

Last night. I was writing by the light of my phone, except then it went dead, and I was like, "Fuck." So I grabbed the blanket Beck keeps in his truck and slept in the back because I don't even know, I didn't feel like walking to the RV and admitting my murder plans involving the Fucking Fish (AKA what I've decided to call them from now on).

And then in the morning Beck came outside and was all, "Jade in my truck, WTF?" Which in my head he said in a valley girl voice, because when I get bored I imagine Beck saying everything that way. And he was like, "Holy shit, was she actually writing in the diary I gave her? FUCK YEAH." And being the caring boyfriend he is, he went to take it off my stomach, where I'd left it open from my writing binge last night.

HE SHOULD HAVE CLOSED HIS MOTHERFUCKING EYES, GOOD GOD.

.x.

I'm in study hall now.

Pretty sure everyone's staring at me. I don't particularly care, but I can only gnash my teeth at people so much before my incisors start aching.

Apparently, the fact that I find his dad like 5690839834 different kinds of attractive puts Beck off a little bit. We were discussing it on the way to school this morning. And by that, I mean I was trying to keep him from driving into a tree in the midst of his mental freak out.

"Oh my God!" is mostly what he yelled. Along with various swear words. Okay, that part was pretty hot. The rest of it, not so much.

"Dude, calm down," I tried to tell him. "You just ran a stop sign. You're the kind of person who gives teen drivers a bad name."

"Oh. My. God."

"Well, you shouldn't have read it," I snapped, because really? Really? "I wrote a warning and everything. So. Your fault."

"Warnings don't work if you read backwards!"

By then, I was getting pissed. "Who deserve the blame there, Mister 'Oh Jade, Have This Girly-Ass Diary to Write All Your Thoughts and Feelings in, Except if They Involve my Unduly Attractive Father'?"

"OH MY GOD JADE, MY DAD IS NOT HOT!" Beck yelled desperately, apparently not noticing that we had pulled into the school by then and both of our windows were open.

Fuck my life.

.x.

So Tori comes up to me in English and is all ~adorably confused~ or whatever and goes, "Beck thinks you think his dad is hot."

And, being me, I'm like, "Beck knows I think his dad is hot."

SO SUCK IT, VEGA.

…Never mind. She shouldn't suck anything because IT WOULD PROBABLY END UP BEING MY BOYFRIEND'S DICK. alkjhalkfhkal.

She would probably talk dirty to him in Spanish, too. I heard her saying "Vamos a la playa" to herself once. I bet that means FUCK ME BECK, YOU SEXY BEAST. Which only I am allowed to say. Not that I would, because it sounds retarded. So of course it's something Tori would say right off that bat.

Why don't I know another language? The most I can do is say 'shit' in French. (It's merde, just so you know. You, the… journal… ugh, fuckin' a). I'm too hideously white to know anything else. Beck can semi-speak Hindi, thanks to his crazy-ass aunts and his half-Indian-ness.

It's really fucking hot, too. Just saying.

Some people don't agree with that assessment, sadly. Every time we walk past the freaky grey building a few blocks away, people come out to tell us Jesus is saddened by the fact that Beck has the audacity to date me and not be noticeably white. That's the point where I start making out with him.

Then they go away.

Do not ever doubt the powers of tongue.

.x.

Hnnnnng.

Lunch.

Beck.

Awkward.

He's watching me write. Like, right now. RIGHT NOW. And eating that disgusting BLT. I'll bet the pig they made the bacon from was diagnosed with rabies. Fucking pigs.

Beck was just like, "If you're writing about how hot my dad is, AGAIN, can you please not?"

Gee, Beck. SAY IT A LITTLE LOUDER THANKS, I DON'T THINK THE CHINESE HEARD YOU.

"You are such a bitch," I told him, which would be when André walked up, holding a salad. His attractiveness just multiplied about sixty-seven times. "See, André eats salads. Because they're healthy and non-fattening."

"This is for Tori," Dread-Man corrected.

"Fuck," was my eloquent response.

"Not now," Beck answered, apparently forgetting he vaguely hates me right now in order to make that joke.

Oh, Cat's walking up. What joy is my life.

.x.

dklhaflkhfa

ngkls;hshsg

FUCK.

I'm pretty sure I use that word too much, but what the fuck ever.

…

Shit went down like this:

"Omigod Jade, that's such a cute diary!" Cat squealed as soon as she saw me. To quote Beck in times of trouble: DEFCON 4. DEFCON 4.

"Cat. Cat. Shut the fuck up. Cat," I hissed, but it was too late, because every in a twelve table radius was already staring when she went on, "The unicorn on the front is soooo pretty!"

WHY HAVE I NOT STABBED HER YET I DON'T EVEN.

So, now the whole school knows that I a) find my boyfriend's dad extremely attractive and b) own a diary with a unicorn on the cover.

What the fuck is my life.

.x.

Maybe I should tell Beck about the plan I had to kill his Fucking Fish. And then he would understand the intense love for his dad I had at the time, because COME ON, the man made me a cheese sandwich at ten past midnight on a school night. He's the most badass adult I know, not including my mom, who earns that title just for not giving a shit about the fact that I stay over at my boyfriend's house (/recreational vehicle, whatever) for weeks at a time.

I may have to strip her of that honor, though, because that last time I was home she made me test out the fake ID one of her boyfriends made for me and I almost got arrested trying to buy her tequila.

Beck's dad would buy ME tequila.

I rest my case.

.x.

Thought about it.

If I did get arrested, Beck is the one who would bail me out of jail.

…Okay, he wins.

Dammit.

.x.

Cat just texted.

Sorry I yelled about your diary at lunch. :(

Texted back: Quit calling it a diary! & thanks. I think. Why are you suddenly sorry?

Because, for real. She didn't even care about the acres of crap she unloaded onto my life when she screamed about my unicorn-embossed-notebook-that-is-not-a-diary-that-my-pansy-boyfriend-gave-me-and-that-already-had-like-a-million-pages-ripped-out.

I think I'm abusing these dashes.

Another text from Cat.

What should I call it? Oooh can I name it? :D Beck told me you got embarrassed & I felt bad. Don't be mad at meee. :(

…

no he did not

I DON'T GET FUCKING EMBARRASSED YOU DICK.

alskfhalhgdkjg

BRB STABBING BECK IN THE FUCKING THROAT.

.x.

...

Okay. Maybe not.

My name's Jade, I really love my diary that my amazing boyfriend Beck gave to me to the point that I write in it when I should be doing other fun things with him.

Ew. Beck's handwriting.

Also, we all know "fun things" = sex. But I'm busy so he just needs to stfu for five minutes and let me write this shit, god.

…So I got to the RV earlier and I kicked in the door like, you know, always, because I actually do have a key but who the fuck needs a key when you have a foot, right? And Beck was watching TV, laughing at DJ and Stephanie's antics because he's a lame ass, all "Oh Michelle, you're so adorbz!"

Then I was like "Hey, BITCH ASS" and I unplugged the TV because oh my God that show makes me want to drown Romanian orphans. Beck tried to say something but I cut him off with, "Why would you tell Cat she embarrassed me at lunch?"

"Um," said Beck. "Because she did?"

"NO!" I yelled. Yelling makes everything better, y'know. "Also, shut the hell up about the thing with your dad, good God, just be glad I didn't go all murderess on your fish and their voyeur asses! Fuck those fish! He made me a sandwich! Jesus CHRIST!"

…Which, in retrospect. Really didn't make a lot of sense. At all. So I kind of fell onto his bed, conveniently beside him, and said, "I don't like your dad that much."

And oh my God my voice was all soft and stupid because I actually felt BAD. What am I turning into?

Beck just grinned at me. "It's okay. I mean, I have half the guy's genes, so I guess it's kind of a weird inverse compliment."

…

Okay.

Okay.

OKAY.

I love him. Like, a lot. Epically.

"I would much prefer marrying you to your dad," I added, just to make it clear.

"Well, thank God."

He was joking but I'm not gonna lie, there was totally some kind of relief in his tone. So I kissed him. Because I do appear to have some sort of heart-like object residing within my body, even if it does pump blackness and death and doom and whatnot.

…And a make-out session did thus commence.

And it was beast.