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anonthenullifier · 3 years

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Makes me wonder how Tommy and Billy would handle being teens in a 50s sitcom.

You sent me down a rabbit hole of 1950s slang and 50s sitcom tropes for this story. I hope I succeeded slightly at giving you a 50s sitcom (laughtrack not included).

AO3 link

The lined paper rests unattended on the chrome rimmed table, Billy’s eyes straying away from solving for x and towards the counter. There’s a gaggle of his classmates occupying the stools, partially obscuring his view of the broad shouldered soda jerk. All Billy can really see is the scowl of concentration as the man wrestles with the fountain and the way his blonde hair is slicked back, not a single strand escaping from the paper hat he wears. One day Billy will sit at the counter and say hi. One day.

“You know what your dreamboat would notice?”

Billy tenses as he turns to face his twin across the table, Tommy’s grin as mischievous as ever. His first instinct is to deny the dreamboat descriptor but...if the shoe fits it fits, so he settles for what he hopes is a harsh and disinterested. “What?”

“A hot rod.”

“Not this again.”

A waggle of his white eyebrows confirms they are indeed having this talk again. “Just think about it. We convince mom and dad to get a screamer* and all you’d have to do is walk in here, tell ole dreamboat he’s the ginchiest** thing you ever did see, and then off to the passion pit*** for some backseat bingo****.”

“You know the deal isn't for a hot rod.” It is for a car, that much is true. Enough begging and pleading and logically explaining how much easier it would be if they had two cars for the family broke down their parents, an agreement in place that if they (Tommy, mainly) can go a month with no incidents then they can have a car. “We’ll be lucky to get a Metropolitan*****.” Tommy shudders at the thought, his eyes set on something much sleeker and faster, two things their parents will never get him, dad already dropping not so subtle comments about the hooligans that do street racing and how his sons would never be so reckless.

Despite the reality of the situation, his brother has deluded himself into expecting at least a green corvette. “Speaking of the deal, we gotta head out.” A surprising statement from Tommy, punctuality not his strongest skill.

“You gonna finish your malt?” It’s his brother’s fourth one, but still a waste to leave it behind.

“Bet I can finish it in five seconds.”

An easy feat for Tommy. “What do I get if you don’t?”

This gives his brother some pause, no doubt weighing how sure he is of success and how enticing of a prize he can provide. With a snap and smarmy smirk he lays it out, “If I can’t, then I’ll handle all of dad’s slang at dinner.”

Billy levels a serious stare across the table, first at Tommy and then at the three-fourths full chocolate malt. It’s melted a bit since he got it, suggesting that brain freeze is not as imminent as Billy would like. On top of that is the fact that being caught using their powers counts as an incident for their car deal...but for the prize offered, it might be worth it. “You’re on.”

Tommy loosens up his neck, head snapping from side to side, as Billy holds up a finger, waiting until the second hand of his watch hits 12. “In three, two, one, go.” The slurping is obnoxiously loud, the table next to them glancing over in disgusted interest, but Billy isn’t too bothered by it, more concerned at how there’s only about a third of the malt left after two seconds. Striving for subtlety, he flicks his fingers to the cup, thrilled at the way it slowly fills back up and at his brother’s increasingly angry slurping each time the malt reappears. “And time.”

“That was cheating!”

“You failed to set rules, so ain’t that a bite******.”

If not for the deal requiring they avoid a scene, he knows Tommy would have leapt across the table and smacked him on the arm, instead the fury on his brother’s face settles into a worryingly tight lipped smile. “Okay, dad,” for some reason he views being logical and rule oriented as an insult, but Billy readily accepts the compliment, “you win. Let’s go.”

They gather their homework into their satchels and get up. A “Have a nice day!” is lobbed towards them from behind the counter. Billy offers a sheepish wave at the blonde haired dreamboat and then exits. If only he’d remembered how a wronged Tommy reacts, his brother yelling back towards the soda jerk, “He thinks you’re a flutter bum G!”

Instantly Billy sets off down the sidewalk, desperate to get as far from the soda shop as possible and deciding that he can never ever show his face there again. It’s a shame that his brother is so fast, because he’s caught up within a couple seconds. “You mad?” Silence is the only way to get the teasing to stop, so Billy hunkers his shoulders down and keeps walking, unsuccessfully shrugging off the arm Tommy throws around his shoulders, “Aw well ain’t that a bite.”

“I didn’t publicly embarr--” a loud yelp and growl cuts off his sentence. “Say, what was that?”

Tommy zips away in a blur, returning moments later with a resolute nod. “Come on.” Billy follows his brother down an alley between the library and the suit shop, where there’s a scruffy dog backed into a corner by a group of three greasers Billy recognizes as a year ahead of them. “Hey,” Tommy wastes no time in giving away their presence, “why don’t you leave it alone.”

The group turns towards them, the leader sporting a deep sneer. “Why don’t you leave?”

Tommy stands taller at this, always looking for a fight if he can find it, sometimes even egging on a fight if he can’t. “Why don’t you duck asses******* take a long walk off a short pier, huh.”

Not that he disagrees with his brother but this isn’t really the time to provoke a group of people known for their antisocial behavior and proclivity for winning fights. Billy tries to cool his brother down, “Tommy, let’s just,” but It’s too late to de-escalate, Tommy already a streak of green running with his arm cocked and ready the second the leader of the group takes a step towards them.

Billy puts his satchel bag down with a deep sigh and approaches as well, hands held out and fingers bending in rapid succession to form what he hopes is a tight force field around their opponents to allow Tommy safety to do his thing. It’s a strategy mom and dad have practiced a lot with them in the backyard, one they’re only supposed to use in dire circumstances. This seems an appropriate enough time and is surprisingly easier than they practiced, the three guys not nearly as strong as their parents. It’s so easy, Tommy’s back at his side in less than 30 seconds, their opponents appearing dazed and terrified, especially when Tommy holds up their confiscated switchblades.

“What kind of freaks are you?” Billy glances down as the group shoves past them, torn between congratulating Tommy and yelling at him, knowing that this is going to travel fast and there are only so many more ways they can find to explain away something like this. The whispers about their parents are bad enough, if he and Tommy get thrown in as well, he can’t help but picture mom’s chilly anger and dad’s sorrowful disappointment. The only hope is that the greasers are too proud to admit losing a fight.

“Hey, calm down.”

Billy can’t believe his brother has the audacity to try and be soft with him, “I’m ca...oh,” The statement wasn’t directed at him, Tommy kneeling in front of the dog, hand outstretched to allow the cowering animal to sniff it before deciding he is safe. Billy grabs his bag and joins his brother, head cocked to the side as he watches the dog grow more bold in its affection seeking as it starts licking his brother's face. “Whose is it?”

Tommy runs a hand around its neck and shrugs. “No collar.”

“The pound’s not too far from here.” Tommy’s glaring at him. “What? We can’t take it home.”

“Why not?”

This is typical Tommy, act first and think never. “Well gee willikers Tommy, I don’t know, how about this is exactly the type of thing we’re not supposed to be doing this month?”

Defiance instills every ounce of Tommy’s body as he stands up to face him. “You really think mom and dad would be upset? We saved it! We’re heroes!”

“Yes. Not only did we have a brawl with our powers in public but it’s,” Billy looks at the dog, matted fur and muddy paws, big green eyes staring at him, its body still shaking slightly from the experience, and he can’t help but feel like an ass for even trying to argue against it. “Fine, let’s bring it home but we need to clean it and come up with a strategy for telling them, okay?”

**********

They stop outside the house, tucked around the corner so they can’t be seen through the main windows. Billy closes his eyes, fingers steepled as he reaches out for the mental waves of either parent, moving room to room until his assessment is complete. “Mom’s in the kitchen, dad’s not back yet.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Billy considers their options, the two best either being levitating the dog to their bedroom window or Tommy making a run for it while Billy distracts mom. The dog pants happily between them, tethered with a blue leash conjured up by Billy. So far it’s been calm and friendly enough, but there’s no saying how it'll react to levitating, or even if he can manage it without a lot of noise. “I’ll distract mom and you run him upstairs and give him a bath?”

“Okay.”

“Make sure to clean up after, got it?” Tommy flashes him a smile that does little to convince him his brother will follow through, but a car is on the line and Tommy hasn't been sent to the principal in almost two weeks, so there’s hope. “Okay, give me a few minutes and then go in.”

Billy closes his fingers tight around the strap of his satchel, knuckles growing whiter as he walks through the doorway, immediately greeted by mom’s cheerful, “Welcome home!”

He didn’t expect her to come out of the kitchen to greet him, but out she walks, lips spread in a broad, toothy smile. “Hi mom, um,” he has to get her away from the entry and the stairs, “gee mom, I'm awful hungry.” It sounds too fake, especially with the tummy pat he does along with it, and yet she cheerily waves him on into the kitchen where he takes a seat as an apple floats from the fruit basket and into his hand. “Thanks.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Oh, um he had to stop at the library,” as he says it he knows it’s the wrong lie and that mom’ll see straight through it. “I...I forgot my math book and we figured he’d get it faster, didn’t want to be late for dinner.”

“Well that’s very nice of him.” Crisis averted, for now. Mom sits down next to him, a position that allows her to see out the kitchen and towards the front door, a factor Billy hadn’t calculated for when putting together their plan. “How was your day?”

“Oh, peachy keen,” which is true, up until they left the soda shop at least, “got an A on my history exam and I’m thinking of joining the—“

“Hi mom! Bye mom!” The words whip through the air as Tommy bursts through the door and disappears upstairs.

Besides his brother’s inability to understand stealth, another part of the plan he didn’t think through was the fact that Tommy never skips grabbing food the second he’s through the door. Which must be why mom’s eyes seem to be boring into his soul. “That was odd. I hope your brother is feeling well.” The words are of concern but said with a sharp and prodding edge.

“Oh well,” the rush of water through the pipes cements the oddity of it all, Tommy definitely not one to bypass food for a shower. Billy struggles to figure out a cover. “He spilled some malt on himself at the soda shop, must be sticky?”

This seems to ease some of the suspicion, “What are you thinking of joini-” that is until a muffled bark can be heard followed by a crash. A simple lift of her eyebrows sends a shiver down Billy’s spine, a scarlet sheen developing around her irises as she informs him, “I should check on your brother.”

Billy bolts out of his chair with a quick and shaky, “I’ll check on him,” and races up the stairs before mom can even respond. On his way up he hears a car pull into the driveway, meaning dad is home and that itself will buy him some time since mom will never pass up their disgustingly sappy welcome home routine.

Without knocking he enters the bathroom, making sure to shut and lock the door behind him, even if neither can stop their phasing dad or telekinetic mom. Immediately he can tell whatever has happened up here is a disaster. The trash bin is knocked over, it’s contents strewn across the red and yellow tiles. There is mud and drops of brown water clinging to every surface. Even the shower curtain hasn’t been spared, hanging limply from the last ring that survived whatever battle occurred. “What is going on?”

“Well,” Tommy’s in the bathtub, stripped down to just his underwear and the slightly cleaner than before dog is laying between his feet, tongue lolling happily out of its mouth. “He put up a pretty good fight.”

Billy grabs a towel from the wall, jumping at the clatter the towel rack makes as it falls to the ground. “We’re screwed.”

“Don’t have a cow, just,” Tommy waves his hands vaguely through the air while making a whooshing sound.

The suggestion isn’t a bad one, per se, really it’s the best option. Before doing anything rash, however, Billy thinks back to all the times mom sat him down to give him a lecture on when it is and is not appropriate to mess with reality and what the consequences are if it’s done too much. He’s already altered reality once today with the malt (admittedly something he shouldn’t have done) and he’s a bit wary to do it again if it’s not needed, even for something as small as fixing broken curtain rings. Which, really if he had to define it, maybe it’s not even reality altering but more so advanced telekinesis. Yeah, he could fix them by hand anyway, so it probably doesn’t count. “Fine, let me just,” gently he presses his powers out, feeling for the minds of his parents, careful not to fully touch them, lest they notice he’s prying, he just needs to know how much time he has. The quick sweep informs him that mom is currently halfway up the stairs. “Um, just stand still and don’t mess anything else up.”

“Roger that,” the salute is a bit much but still appreciated.

With eyes pinched shut, Billy throws his arms out wide, blue energy crackling along his skin. Once he feels stabilized, he opens his eyes and gets to work. The trash is whisked back into the bin, shower curtain and towel rod are pieced back together, and the mud and dirty water vanish from the walls, towels, and fixtures. At the sound of the door unlocking, a flick of his wrist closes the shower curtain on Tommy and the dog. “Everything okay up here?”

With a little too much cheerfulness he turns towards mom, her head leaning slightly to the side as she stares at him. “Everything’s just swell.”

The shower curtain parts slightly, Tommy’s face popping out and all Billy can focus on is his very noticeably dry hair. “Just swell ma. Gotta be squeaky clean for dinner!”

Billy finds his mouth moving faster than his thoughts, desperate to get mom’s attention away from Tommy, “Just want to look our best for dinner, they say it’s the most important meal of the day.” And he dies a little inside at how bad he is at improvising but it did at least take mom’s attention away from Tommy long enough to craft a shower cap over his brother’s hair.

What it didn’t accomplish was allaying any suspicion, mom’s already strained smile flickering with suspicion. “What are you two up to?”

Tommy’s, “Nothing at all!” is a little too fast and insincere and now that they’re looking at him again, Billy realizes the shower cap was a mistake as mom crosses her arms, the first sign that trouble is coming for them.

The second sign is the slow, dreadfully calm way she says, “Oh really?”

It is, of course, at this moment that there is a heavy flop accompanied by a panting sound behind the curtain. Mom takes a step towards the shower and Tommy, whose most consistent superpower is making a situation worse, ducks back behind the curtain and pants along with the dog, letting out a, “Man am I parched!” as if this is somehow a natural thing to say.

The third sign is the way mom’s head cocks to the side, eyes a bit dead and her hair the only thing with any liveliness. Then she smirks and he knows they’ve been caught. Billy lifts his hands at the same time as his mom, her scarlet energy ripping away the shower curtain and obscuring his own energy as he flails, hoping something happens.

“Mom!” Somehow the only sight before them is now a naked and soaking wet Tommy.

Billy sends a towel to wrap around his brother and tries hard to avoid making eye contact with either of them.

For their entire lives he has been lauded as the honest one, the mature one, the sensible one and all of that expectation is wrapped up in the way his name falls from his mom’s lips, “Billy?”

“I, um…”

A tinkling sound, like a wind chime, rises up from the floor and with it the crimson, vibranium laced head of their dad, “Wanda, darling, boys, time for,” he falters, face scrunching up before he sneezes.

“Vizh, are you okay?” All attention moves from the anomaly of the shower to the worryingly normal action of a sneeze coming from an unusual source.

Dad finishes phasing up through the tiles, pulling out a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat and dabbing his nose. “Oh yes, just allergies.”

“Allergies?”

“Yes, what a bother to deal with.” Dad says it so naturally and with such vim it’s hard not to believe he’s a long time sufferer of such an affliction.

Mom, however, remains dubious and transfixed, “Whatever are you allergic to?”

They all wait for the answer, curiosity thickening the air around them. Dad gives a little shrug and nonchalantly declares, “Dogs.”

Billy glances over at Tommy who angrily pantomimes that they need to keep quiet and pretend like nothing weirder than normal is happening. Thankfully their mom is still stuck on what their synthezoid father is saying, “Since when?”

“Since today!” An infectious cheerfulness abounds in dad’s explanation, hands moving about enthusiastically as he regales them. “At the water cooler everyone was complaining about their allergies and in order to be a cube******** I said something along the lines of ‘dog dander is just a yuck********* isn’t it.’ Then I realized that if any of my coworkers were to ever bring a canine around, that I would need to respond appropriately. Thus I heightened my olfactory sensors to recognize dog dander and reprogrammed my bodily response to be a sneeze if it’s presence is detected.” Dad leans towards them all with conspiratorial pride, “I even went to the pet store to test it out over lunch.”

“I wonder why your olfactory sensors thought there was a,” without even a hint of hesitation, mom’s scarlet tinged eyes snap back to them, “dog in the house?”

Billy considers phasing through the floor to escape but is rescued by dad, yet again, “Must have had some fur stuck to my jacket from the pet store. Knocked it loose when I came up to tell you all that dinner is ready and no doubt getting cold.”

Reluctantly mom drops it with a, “Tommy please put on clothes and both of you be downstairs pronto.”

Their, “yes, mom!” is synchronized and attempts to be upbeat.

Tommy waits barely two seconds after they leave to ask what’s been tumbling around in his mind, “Where did you send the dog?”

“I...I don’t know?”

“What?!”

Billy tries not to feel guilty about the mistake, especially since Tommy’s the reason they’re in this pickle, “It all happened so fast and I had to do something!”

Instead of responding, a gust of air blows past Billy as Tommy disappears and then reappears fully clothed. “We can figure it out later, I’m starving.”

******

At dinner Billy absentmindedly picks at his plate, stomach too unsettled by the unknown location of the dog and the seemingly omniscient stares from mom. “What do you all think?” Dad always asks this when he cooks, a question both from curiosity and pride of what he’s done.

Tommy, a human garbage pail, takes a break from stuffing his mouth, “It’s bitchin’.”

“Thomas,” this isn’t the compliment dad was seeking, “what have we covered about appropriate language?”

“Um,” they have covered a lot, or so Billy has heard from eavesdropping in, but Tommy always slips up anyways, the real test is in how he recovers. “I meant to say, gee it is just the bee’s knees.”

An appreciative nod from dad absolves his brother’s sin, “Well to that I say,” not that dad has eyebrows, in the traditional sense, but he is really good at giving the sense of wiggling big bushy ones in delight whenever he’s about to say something...youthful, “I dig it.”

Tommy, true to his loss at the soda shop, doesn’t flinch and even takes it a step further, “Anything you cook is made in the shade*********, dad.”

“That is a good thing?” Only after Tommy’s thumbs up does dad’s face break out into a victorious grin, “well cowabunga!”

“Vision, dear,” mom’s voice is amicable but far less complimentary than Tommy’s assessment, “Are you sure you used paprika?”

This seems to warrant investigation, dad standing up and hovering towards the stove, crimson fingers searching through the spices. It’s while everyone else is focused on the spicy answer that Billy senses another presence, a light tap tap tap drawing his eyes to the fluffy fur and bright pink tongue of the dog making its way towards the table. Billy tries to shoo it away with a couple of sparks of blue, but the dog persists, coming to sit right next to him. “Oh, it was cayenne!” With the dinner revelation concluded, Billy knows he only has seconds to act. Quickly he guides the dog under the table with a piece of chicken, his legs forming a makeshift cage around it.

Mom’s voice forces his attention back to the table, “Maybe you should leave the paprikash to me next time.”

“Oh Wanda, one day I will master i—achoo!” The sneeze is strong enough to send dad halfway through his chair, body solidifying once he’s floated back up to his seat, “Excuse me.”

Both Tommy and mom are staring at Billy now and he can’t decide who to acknowledge.

Mom smiles too sweetly at him. “What did you boys get up to today?” Each syllable is sharpened to perfection, an interrogation about to commence.

“Well, um, as I told you earlier,” having one conversation is difficult, especially when it’s tense and sure to be filled with lies, but having two is even harder. Billy sends a thought into his brother’s head, detailing where the dog is and that he is going to send the dog to Tommy who then needs to get it away from them. “We had school,” Billy opens his legs and nudges the dog with his foot. Instead of moving, it places its head in his lap. A tendril of blue leaves his finger and pulls the tablecloth over the the dog’s snout, “got our history tests back”

“Achoo!!”

“Went to the soda shop.”

“Achoo!”

Billy does his best to ignore his dad, too preoccupied with trying to pull the dog away with his powers, “Then we um,” but the dog thinks it’s a game and keeps coming back, “came home.”

“Achoo!”

“Where’s the dog?”

Mom’s voice leaves no room for disagreement or excuses, and yet Tommy still valiantly tries. “What dog?”

“Achoo!”

“This is ridiculous .” Three words and suddenly they’re all glowing red and five feet off the ground, the table going with them, leaving only a dogless floor below. “Billy, where’d you put it?”

Sweat has accumulated on his forehead from the energy it’s taking to keep up the ruse, “I don’t know wh,” and then there’s a woof! loud and clear from the basement. He hangs his head as he sends his powers down and phases the dog back up to the kitchen. Only then does mom put them back on the ground. “We were going to tell you.”

“Word from the bird L we were,” Tommy adds with utmost sincerity.

“I think,”

“Achoo!”

Mom rolls her eyes, her lips perking up at her husband’s plight. “Vision, can you turn off your allergy please?”

“Oh yes, of course.” All it seems to take is a quick shake of his head, nose crinkled for added effect, and his sneezing subsides. “I am now cured.”

“Wonderful, dear.” The sweetness in her voice segues to an uncomfortable neutrality. “Whose dog is this?”

Billy looks at Tommy and Tommy at Billy, neither seeming to be willing to talk. Billy mouths You lost and even though it is an admittedly weak argument, it seems to be persuasive. “We don’t know. Found it in an alley with no collar. He needed a bath,” understanding dawns on mom’s face, “and then we were going to tell you, honest.”

“William, Thomas,” full names always precede a lecture from dad, “I believe I speak for your mother and I when I say we are disappointed that you kept such a secret from us,” mom nods in agreeance, Billy’s heart sinking at the words, “we have tried to raise you to be comfortable with speaking to us and it is saddening to see you keep such innocuous secrets.”

“We’re really sorry,” and Billy means it.

“Never again,” Tommy’s sentiment is truly sincere but also more than likely a lie.

It’s enough for their parents, dad’s disappointment replaced with gratitude at their apologies and mom’s anger fading away as she speaks, “Thank you for the explanation.” Their parents share a little knowing look. “You know, your father and I…”

Dad takes over, turning his loving gaze towards his sons, “Yes, your mother and I have been talking about getting a family pet for some time now.,” He pats his knee, the dog happily trotting over, its tongue flopping about as dad scratches behind its ears, “it seems one managed to find us.”

“Cut the gas********! Are you serious?” Tommy is vibrating from so much excitement Billy won’t be surprised if he makes a hole in the floor.

“We are.” The dog barks, tail wagging as if it knows what’s going on. Dad bends lower to be level with their newest family member’s face, “What say you, Sparky, you want to stay with us?” Another bark confirms it, mom conjuring up a green collar with a diamond tag around its neck.

Billy can’t help but smile; it seems their misadventure didn’t go too poorly, something Tommy will no doubt brag about for months to come. “Oh and boys?”

“Yes, mom?”

“About the car,” Tommy can barely contain his joy at what this day is turning into, “I think this little incident resets your month.”

And joy exists no more in the Maximoff household, or so Tommy’s betrayed, “You can’t do that!” suggests.

Dad merely shrugs, “Rules are rules, Thomas, and I believe it is as you and your brother like to say: ain’t that the bite.”

1950’s language translator (for phrases not commonly used today):*

*Screamer: a hot rod ** Ginchiest: someone who is either very attractive or has a really nice personality *** Passion pit: Drive-in theater **** Backseat Bingo: making out in a car. ***** Metropolitan: type of car in the 1950s. I googled the worst cars of the 50s and it was high up on many lists. It was super compact and apparently not very fast. ***** Ain’t that a bite: Too bad ****** Flutter bum: very attractive man ******* Duck ass: type of hair style that is greased back into a ducktail like shape. ******** cube: normal person ********yuck: displeasure, annoyance ******** made in the shade: guaranteed success ********* word from the bird: no lie, I’m telling the truth **********Cut the gas: quit it, stop joking

#Billy kaplan #Tommy shepherd #vision #wanda maximoff #the maximoffs #scarlet vision #ask anon #replies #deathofink #mine #apparently tumblr won't allow for superscripts or multiple spaces in html anymore #so sorry for wonky formatting

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srhlsx · 4 years

Text

Rewritten & Reposted March 24, 2021

MASTER | Ch. 16 | CHAPTER 17 | Ch. 18

Not long after both yours and Bokuto’s teams both qualified for the Spring Nationals Tournament, another habit had been formed.

On non-school nights, Bokuto would come over to have dinner and hang out with you and your siblings. He still made a point to meet up with you after practices and walk you home during the week when he could, and there had even been a time or two when you skipped out on your free period and met up for an extended lunch - he claimed he had a free period too, but you weren’t too sure about the honesty in that.

“Are you sure you have a free period right now?”

You looked up from where your hand was entwined with Bokuto’s to see a devious look in his eyes as he led you around the streets of Tokyo. It was right before the lunch rush so the streets weren’t as busy as they could be, still the noise left you having to speak a little louder to be heard.

“I feel like if I text Akaashi right now-”

“No!” He interrupted, stopping in his tracks and grabbing your face in his hands. “Don’t do that, he’ll be so mad.”

“I knew you were lying!” You laughed, grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from your face, giving him a teasing glare. “You cannot be just skipping your classes!”

“Listen, I couldn’t pass it up when you said you wanted to meet up for lunch.” Bokuto tried to reason with you. “So really, it’s your fault.”

You attempted to give him your harshest look and turned to walk away from him, but that didn’t last long as he easily caught you. Grabbing onto your waist and pushing you up against a wall outside of a random storefront, you squinted up into Bokuto’s eyes in an attempt to be mad at him. It didn’t work.

“Don’t be like that,” He laughed, burying his face in your neck and tickling you with his breath. When your arms remained limp at your side in defiance, he decided to take drastic measures to get on your good graces again.

You felt a light peppering of kisses on your neck, making you start to squirm, but you held out - you weren’t going to lose this battle. You turned your head away, knowing he’d try to kiss you eventually but you weren’t going to let him woo you so easily. He continued to pester your sensitive skin, eventually you felt him press against a particularly ticklish spot and…

You broke.

Laughing, you grabbed his face and pushed him off you, realizing that you actually were in the middle of the streets of Tokyo still and should probably behave. He looked into your eyes with a flush on his cheeks, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. You shook your head and leaned into him.

No labels had been put on anything, and you never brought it up, but during those moments that he pressed his lips against yours (and those moments were often now) you knew what you meant to him and what he meant to you. You were with him and he was with you, through everything that life as a teenager had decided to throw at you.

Bokuto was like a breath of fresh air in a time when you thought you were drowning and barely clinging to life. He came swooping in, all finesse and flair, grabbing a hold of your heart and refusing to let go or even loosen his grip for a moment lest you completely slip away from him. He had saved you from an impending spiral you hadn’t even known you were falling into until he plucked you up and stood you on your own two feet.

Were you in love with him? Definitely.

Was he in love with you? Most certainly.

That Friday night was no different. Bokuto had stopped by a restaurant on his way over, a bag of takeout food in his hands as Yua greeted him at the door and Eiji set the table. You smiled over your shoulder into the kiss he subtly placed on the side of your mouth, keeping it PG for your younger siblings who had more than once caught the two of you hotly pressed against the kitchen counter after you thought they’d gone to the other room.

You were reaching up into the cabinet to grab a few glasses as you felt Bokuto’s strong, muscled body pressing just slightly into you from behind. He had a way of making it look like an accident, but the way his hands lingered at your hips told you it was anything but. You were thankful in that moment that you weren’t facing him, sure that the heat you felt rising up your neck was showing.

“Hi,” He mumbled into your neck, making you squirm just slightly. You pushed back against him, making him grunt deeply and take a step back, you smiled a little wicked grin at him from over your shoulder.

Down the hall, you heard the distant sound of a door opening and closing. Surprised, you looked to Bokuto with your brows scrunched together as you gently moved him aside and walked towards the hallway leading to the front door. An excited scream rang out, and a moment later a grunt and a laugh you recognized but hadn’t heard in quite some time.

Your dad came around the corner to the kitchen, holding Yua on his hip as she talked his ear off. He smiled tiredly, but nodded along anyways. He stopped when he finally saw you standing there, Bokuto behind you with a mild look of fright on his face and eyes bugging out of his head. That was your dad and here he was, just a moment ago, pressing himself up against you like some pervert.

“Uh, hi… dad.” You said, almost sounding like you were asking a question. “You’re… home?”

You weren’t afraid of your dad seeing Bokuto over at your home, caring about something like that ended a long time ago when he stopped coming home at normal hours. However, you could feel the tension coming off Bokuto standing behind you as he subtly tried to step away from you and create some respectful distance.

“Got off early for a change,” He had the audacity to laugh about it, as if you hadn’t been begging for such an action for months. You noticed the way his eyes wrinkled more than they used to, the beard he was sporting was speckled with a light dusting of gray, but his voice was still the same deep tone you always knew.

“Uh, we were just setting up dinner.” You mumbled. “This is Bokuto.”

You looked behind you and awkwardly jabbed a thumb back towards where Bokuto was standing, not sure exactly how else to introduce him beyond his name. You looked to Bokuto for a little bit of help in this situation and he picked up on it easily. He stepped forward, hand already extended towards your dad.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Please,” He responded, giving Bokuto a good shake as he kept holding your sister, telling him to call him by his name.

“Eiji, why don’t you grab another setting?” You called out.

“No, no,” Your dad waved you off, setting your sister down and watching as she scurried off to the other room. He looked up at you and Bokuto and smiled as he leaned against the counter. “It’s still pretty early. Why don’t you kids head out for the night? Do whatever you do these days on Fridays, head to an arcade or something?”

“You are wildly embarrassing, dad.” You shook your head.

“Well, whatever is cool to do these days, go do it.” He straightened up and gave you a more serious look. “Really, (y/n), I owe you… I can- should be their dad.”

You nodded silently, showing him where the takeout food was warming up in the oven, being sure to describe in explicit detail how Yua specifically liked to eat her food, then giving Bokuto’s wrist a little squeeze as you passed him and went to go grab a few of your things from your bedroom. You weren’t entirely sure leaving him alone with your dad was the best idea, but you changed clothes quickly and were back in the kitchen in time to see your dad laughing at something Boluto must’ve said.

“This is terrifying,” You mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with the instant familiarity they seemed to have. Your dad chuckled as he reached out to shake Bokuto’s hand once more after you grabbed him to drag him away.

Your walk was silent for the first few blocks of your journey, you weren’t even sure where you were going. You slowed down and let Bokuto catch up to you and slip his hand into yours, making you sigh. “Sorry if that was uncomfortable for you,” He said.

“It’s fine,” You half lied, he knew. “Just wasn’t expecting it. Acting like he’s this cool parent who lets his daughter run off and do whatever on a Friday night. I mean, he doesn’t even know you? Don’t parents normally interrogate boyfriends?”

“Well, maybe he’s trying?” Bokuto said, tugging on your hand to lead you in a new direction. You followed along without question, hugging yourself a little closer to his warmth. “He looks pretty young, definitely a lot cooler than my old man.”

“Yeah, my parents had me when they were barely twenty,” You mumbled. “And he was cool before everything happened, it’s just that after being completely absent from things and all that we went through-”

“(y/n), I know I don’t have any clue as to what it was like for you,” Bokuto stopped and tugged you back as you took a few steps forward. “But maybe give the guy a chance? He’s trying now.”

“I guess,” You mumbled. You could’ve been mad at Bokuto for taking your dad’s side after he knew how hard it had been for you, but you knew he was really just trying to be helpful so you didn’t snap. “I hate that you’re being reasonable right now.”

You actually felt a lot less mad than you thought you would be at your dad for just showing up. The more you thought about it, actually, the more the anger and embarrassment disappeared. Damn you Bokuto and the effect you have…

Bokuto smiled, twirling you around in the glow of the neon lights from the stores around you, making you laugh. “Comeone, let’s have fun - just you and your boyfriend.” He sang the words in an obnoxious tone.

“That-That just slipped out.” You immediately turned away from him, horrified he caught your word vomit and trying to get out of his grasp. You were sure the heat crawling across your cheeks was visible, but if it was Bokuto made no mention.

“I’m glad,” He beamed at you, a bright smile making his eyes close in delight. “I’ve thought of you as my girlfriend for a while I just… forgot.”

“Forgot?” Your eyebrow jumped up in question.

“To ask,” He shrugged like it was nothing, pulling you along to continue your journey. “Anyways, now we can have a proper night together!”

“What can I expect?” You asked as you looked up at him with a wild excitement in your eyes. You could feel the thundering of his heartbeat against your own as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed.

“Let’s see what Kuroo’s up to.” He said, pulling out his phone and quickly dialing the number of his sideways smiling friend.

#bokuto koutaro #koutaro bokuto #bokuto x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!!#hq

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theartoftiinyideas · 5 years

Text

first meetings and near-death experiences

[kageyama tobio x fem! reader]

a/n: my first ever post here, hope you enjoy a flustered blueberry boy and the gigantic amount of headcanons i spat out for him on a whim of inspiration. stong language ahead!

word count: it’s so fucking long you don’t even wanna know but it’s good shit i promise

summary: a lot of interesting people roam the train station late at night. at one moment, they appear to be stealing your precious volleyball. the next, they save your precious life.

——————

it was a really late Friday night and you were walking to the train station after your practice, gym bag slung on your shoulder and volleyball in your hand

you play beach volleyball, so you were sticky with sand and sweat, pleasantly tired but wanting to just go home after a long day and do absolutely nothing on the weekend

when you got to the station you almost smacked the information board with your ball, groaning about the fact that your train was only due in 30 minutes

stupid Miyagi public transportation and their stupid schedules

there was literally no one around this late, just some guy sitting on the other side of the tracks, and you grew bored in exactly 0.6 seconds

you decided to play around with your ball to kill time, but you were deadass tired, and one wrong move sent the ball flying in a direction you did not intend it to go to, whooshing over the train tracks and landing on the other side of the station, bouncing away as if it were laughing at you

now this station had their deep-ass train tracks running in the middle, so you would've had to cross over by the railway bridge to get your ball back, but there was no way in hell you were doing that as it would require you to physically move

meanwhile Kageyama's sitting on a bench with his earphones in, listening to his rage playlist and cursing that dumbass Hinata in his mind because he made him stay for extra practice, which caused him to miss his train and now he has to wait and ugh, shut it Tobio, nobody's buying your crap we know you like practicing with Hinata

so Kags is kinda pissed and zoned out, but he sees something bouncing from the corner of his eyes and wait just a second is that a volleyball? how'd that get there?

you're intensely brainstorming about what you should do when you spot the guy you've seen earlier get up to retrieve your ball and you let out a sigh of relief, thinking the situation was handled

but instead of throwing it back to you, the guy just kinda... stares at it with heart eyes questioningly

okay, that’s fine, he probably didn’t see you, you just have to make him notice you somehow and- woah woah wOAH

the guy had the audacity to actually start examining your ball, testing it out in his hands and throwing it against the wall like he's checking the quality before planning to s t e a l i t

and you're getting pissed because uhh excuse me wtf that's clearly not yours pal so you start calling out to him but he either doesn't hear you or doesn't want to hear you that little thief

thinking it was right damn time to resort to drastic measures, you begin full-blown screaming and frantically waving your limbs around to try and get his attention

meanwhile Kageyama is still trying to figure out the mysterious appearance of the volleyball because this boy can be lil dumb sometimes, but hey, what's that sound disturbing his loud ass music

he takes out an earphone and almost topples over from surprise because who the hell is screaming but then he's turning around with his angry af Tobio expression activated because who the hell is screaming ffs?¿

“well fucking finally, you asshole, at least we know you're not completely deaf. now give me back my ball.”

and Kags is even more annoyed now, scowl deepening and imaginary fire erupting behind him because who does this random girl think she is your future gf tobio but sshhh

and really the only defense mechanism Kags knows for screaming is evEN MOrE scREaMInG

“how the hell do I know this is even your ball, dumbass?!

*crosses arms over chest* “well, is it yours?”

that question catches Kageyama off guard and he suddenly becomes a whole lot more nervous because you don't seem to be angry anymore, actually you're really chill standing there with your eyebrows raised at him and oh god what does he do now???

“uhm... no?”

yeah tobio, real smooth, you totally got this under control

“wooww, you’re killing it, sherlock. since you're such a genius, solve this: only the two of us here! to who else could that stupid ball belong to?''

“okay, okay, fine!”

Kags' ears are totally red from embarrassment, his lips angrily jutting out as he stalks toward the train tracks, gripping that damned ball between his fingers and praying to every god out there that his hair concealed most of his face

it didn’t, and Kageyama knows immediately from your amused grin that you're enjoying his suffering and now he's feeling even more awkward and salty

his usual comfort is volleyball ofc, so instead of acting like a normal person and throwing it back, he tosses the ball perfectly into your waiting hands almost on instinct

and you're just standing on the platform edge with your ball now in hand, gaping at this actually pretty handsome guy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), because damn, you may have screamed his head off seconds ago, but that was a scarily accurate toss

Kageyama would rather die than admit it, but he felt a sting of pride hAH, fricking take that annoying girl as he watched your amazed expression, taking note of how you were also wearing a post-practice sweatsuit, your hair an absolutely mess but looking good anyway and wait what oh shit why are you smiling was he staring for too long shit shit abort-

“gotta hand it to you, that was a great a toss! how long have you been playing?”

Kageyama's just so confused like how do females work istg you were ready to murder him and now you're being all friendly and cute and asking him questions about v o l l e y b a l l is this real?? have the angels answered his prayers??¿?

he somehow manages to reply without embarrassing himself any further, and even though it's just short answers and questions, you're actually having a conversation

at this point you're both just rolling with it cause this whole situation is surreal enough as it is

Kags' natural trademark scowl is ever present but inside he's kinda grinning because wow he's talking to a girl and it's not super awkward because it's about something he loves doing if only the team could see him now

“for almost 8 years now. this is my first year in a high school team.”

“hey, mine too! but i've only been playing for 3 years total. man, you must be pretty good then, huh?”

“yeah, i guess.”

you almost let out a little 'aaawwww' because this guy just scratched his neck shyly, his ears turning kinda red at your compliment and the sight way beyond adorable

“let me guess, you're a setter?”

“yeah, it's the best position.”

“hah, you whish.”

“it is the best... what- um, what position do you play?”

you cannot even begin to fathom the colossal amount of effort and bravery kageyama had to collect just to utter that one question. he was starting to understand the troubles of tanaka and noya; talking to girls was hard as fuck

“oh, well, how do i explain this? there are no fixed positions in beach volleyball.”

i’m terrible sorry kageyama.exe has stopped working

“what do you mean there are no positions??”

“exactly that. no positions.”

“but how? and.. and why??”

“hey, chill out, dude, there are only two people on a team, we kinda have to do everything.”

“...what kind of stupid volleyball is this??”

“hEY you takE THaT bACK!”

aaaand you're arguing again; Kageyama absolutely outraged that his precious setter position is non-existent on a court full of sand while you loyally defend your sport because beach volleyball is better in any kind of aspect anyway

“the two of us have to have the skill set of eight people on your court, so excuse me if we're better than you.”

“eight people?! there are six players in normal volleyball, dumbass!”

“whatever! like i would vonultarily waste my time trying to remember the rules of something so basic!

“oh, i’m sorry, basic? basic?! have you ever attempted to—just once—sync together with five totally different people?? i don’t fucking think so, so get outta here with your ‘we’re better than you’s!”

you would forever take this to the grave with you, but in the instant after that last jab, your treacherous tounge always ready with a witty insult has failed to back you up and you had nothing to throw at this jerks head. but were you going down without a fight?? fuck no

“well, i, uh... setters suck!”

“you suck!”

“spiking is cooler, anyway!”

*very offended gasp* “you did not just say that!”

fired up and fumming, Kageyama just goes off on this insane rant about how you're exactly like this one annoying guy he knows, and he's super serious and angry the whole time, gesturing with wild hand movements as he paces up and down, and it's so funny you can't find yourself to be offended so you just burst out laughing

irk marks explode on Kags’ head and he almost blows up again because this is of upmost importance, but then he sees your toothy grin, your eyes crinckling in amusement as your natural laughter fills the space and echoes of the station walls and oh no, Tobio, your ears are turning red again

you quiet down after a while and flash a smile at Kags who just stiffens because goddamnit that's attractive and you just go “you're insufferable, you know that?”

LOOK WHO THE FUCK IS TALKING PLS in that moment Kageyama is completely done with girls forever until you decide to open your mouth again and change his opinion in 0.034 seconds

“but, you're pretty cool, and you play volleyball, so i can't really stay mad at you. so with that said, wanna pass the ball around until our trains come to celebrate our truce?”

Kags gives you a tiny, microscopic smile and says “sure” all nonchalant and breezy but inside he is s h o o k. he is the equivalent of asdfghjkltiwnz because you find him pretty cool?!?! okay, he can certainly roll with that

so you pass the ball back and forth from different sides of the train station, taking care to be extra accurate with your aim so the ball won't drop into the deep gap between you two

this goes on for a while until it's Kageyama's turn to pass the ball back to you, but suddenly the loudspeakers come to life, screeching an announcement nobody cares about, and it startles our dear Tobio, making him give you a longer pass then he intended to

you move to reach the ball but you come short, and when your hands connect with the ball, it drops straight into the large gap where the trains move. the absolute worst place it could’ve have chosen to land honestly

man your ball sure is being a sneaky little shit today

Kags is just basically the embodiment of “oh shit”, feeling stupid for messing up, but it's kinda your fault too, because he wouldn't have been distracted if it weren't for that goddamn loudspeaker and the cute face you were making while concentrating buT THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW

your frustrated expression just makes him feel worse and both of you are thinking the unspoken question of how the hell are you going to get the ball back from there

“sorry. the pass was too long.”

“nah, it's fine. i should've been able to get that.”

and suddenly you're dropping your gym bag to the floor and walking to the platform edge to straight up hop down to the train tracks and Kageyama is internally losing his shit because what the actual fuck do you think you're doing

he has to inch closer to the platform to even see you cause the gap is so deep it swallowed your entire figure

“oi, dumbass, what the hell are you doing?”

“paying dora the explorer, what do you think? this is my only ball; i'm not going to just let it be squashed.”

“well, hurry up.”

“would you relax? i'm fine. besides, the train isn't going to be here anytime soon--”

*hhoooooonnnnkkkkk*

turns out you should have listened to that announcement because it said that the train will be arriving early and oh would you look at that it's here

you're frozen on the spot, terrified, staring at the two bright headlights that are approaching way too fast for your comfort

then Kageyama's shouting and cursing and it suddenly clicks that you will die if you don't start moving now

you throw the ball out of the gap, scrambling towards the side to climb out but the pavement looks far more out of reach then you'd imagined

you try jumping to get ahold of the edge so you could pull yourself up, but it's no use, and you begin to panic, desperately clawing at concrete because the train is not slowing down

then Kageyama's face pops up from above, the same panic shining in his eyes as he reaches down to you as far as he possibly can and he's screaming at you to jump and grab his hand

you hear another honk and feel the ground shaking underneath you as the train rapidly approaches, and with one last strain of energy you jump as high as you can, grabbing onto Kageyama's hands as they lock around yours in a death grip

you're being pulled up, up, up; your legs climbing the sides, and with a final yank you land on top of Kageyama, the train zooming past you seconds later without even bothering to stop

your breathing is heavy as you hold onto Kageyama tightly, his strong arms still around you, both of you being too shocked to care about the compromising position you're both in as the train clears out

you manage to roll off Kageyama several minutes later, laying beside him as you try to calm down and think of cute kittens and puppies because holy shit you just almost died

it's quiet for a while, both of you strictly looking at the ceiling as you try to figure out what to say to the other after a disaster like that, but before you could think it through your running mouth just comes and ruins it

“i’m like 80% sure that train was supposed to take me home.”

“... what. the. fu-”

Kageyama is visibly shaking (from rage, you persume), his face furious as he's wildly pointing at you, shouting and rambling so fast you can only make out the words idiot and dumbass, which are what most of his speech consists of anyway

you can't get him to stop, so you hug him, making him immediately shut up and go rigid as he stares dumbfounded in front of him until you pull away

your knees are almost touching while you two sit on the floor face to face, but neither of you could bring yourself to care too much about the sudden closeness. a lot of shit has happened tonight

you can't help but laugh then, if only to break the tention, but it's clearly strained, and Kageyama sucks in breath to calm himself because one more of your aggravating, doesn’t-make-any-sense-at-all reactions and he’s going strangle you—

“i'm sorry, you're right. i shouldn't have done that. i am a dumbass.”

well fuck he wasn’t expecting that

it’s clear you were still shaken up, but kageyama never had the words to comfort someone, so like any other time, he went with the first thing that came to his mind

“well... yeah.” so fucking smooth tobio i cant even

it got a giggle out of you, so it wasn’t a complete disaster, but soon you became serious again, your piercing eyes never leaving Kageyama's as he stared back, unable to look away

“you saved my life back there, so, like, thanks a bunch.”

Kags just nods, stretching out his hand and introducing himself, you doing the same as the tense atmosphere slowly evaporates

“so, uh.. you up for more tosses, Kageyama?”

utterly lame joke, Kags is not amused whatsoever and flat out says no to that question for probably the first time ever which is a huge deal, you should've recorded it feeling that today was filled with more than enough practice

instead you two opted to go find your ball, again, passing the time with small conversations and comfortable silences, Kageyama waiting with you for your train to arrive, even though it meant he had to miss another one of his

and when you waved goodbye to each other, Kageyama had another tiny, microscopic smile on his face

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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heartfulmind · 5 years

Note

Do you have any headcanons about Shinsou's classmates we've seen so far? Like the Gen Ed students we see cheering for him during the SportsFest, or the ones who criticized Class 1-A during the cultural festival then apologized.

Hello Anon, I just need to say, thank you for watering my crops and clearing out my acne with this ask, truly, it isn’t that often that people ask about the General Department students so I’m eager to answer this one ♡ If anything, I’m caught up with the main manga and anime so far, so I’ll be basing my response from those two sources (mostly manga). Additionally, I just read a small sample of the light novel so that it could help me bump this response a bit further.

I’ll be splitting this answer into 2 sections: headcanons built from what we can see aka theories and studies, and headcanons I like to imagine or have built from what we gathered aka the “fun” headcanons. With that said, let’s get this bread.

Let’s start with what we do know; Class 1-C, D, and E are all classes from the General Department, the department where UA puts the rest of the hero hopefuls that couldn’t make it to the Hero Department :^) I’m doing this smiley face :^) because I’m feeling salty about that my unnamed children from Gen Ed that deserved better :^) but also, it houses students who just sought out for its high education, it’s what the General Department is. I’m setting this note down because it’s important and relevant, helping us understand why we see the General Education students the way we do. Now seriously, I’ll take us to our first section.

Theories and Studies Time

Here’s what I’m going to do in this section:

Show a shot of the manga/anime.

Describe what’s going on / what we can see.

Then make assumptions.

Chapter 24 (btw, the source I use for the manga is this one: https://www.mangareader.net/boku-no-hero-academia/34/8 )

Here we have Present Mic introducing the Hero Department, enthusiastically announcing their debut in the arena, then plainly announcing the entrances from the following departments. In the left corner, we can see Shinsou looking at his classmates who voice their opinions about the way they are being introduced, evidently unsatisfied.

Here, I got a close shot of the recurring students of 1-c. Now I’ll talk about this panel and what I see. Shinsou, a serious student, shows interest in what his classmates talk about, peeking at them and hearing a conversation he wasn’t involved in. His expression is blank, not mad nor upset, just nonchalant. He isn’t that far from them and the fact he turned a bit at the sound of their voice means that he can hear it all. Not appearing upset and also being attentive at what his classmates are saying, Shinsou is observant of his peers, a trait that can be overlooked or never thought of because of his “lone-wolf” and “I’m not here to make friends” persona. Also, the fella who rants uses words like, “us” and “we”, grouping all of them in the same boat.

Our first study: Shinso is attentive to his classmates and his classmates consider them all equal and undeserving of the low-quality intro they got.

Still Chapter 24

Midnight announces Bakugou up to deliver a speech since he placed the highest in the entrance exam. His classmates, astonished, are given light by the girl from Class 1-C that it was because of the entrance exam results.

The shot in which we see the Gen Ed trio here we see them unsatisfied an unimpressed. Both of the fellas have their arms crossed and look at the hero dept. with narrowed eyes. A sigh bubble comes from the girl. By this point, Shinsou isn’t looking at them, just straight ahead, hands in pockets. But once again, he hasn’t strayed himself far away from them, so surely he hears what his class is saying.

Our second study: The Gen Ed students are tight-knitted; Shinsou doesn’t distance himself from those two and those two don’t keep the brainwasher at an arm’s length. They are comfy with each other’s presence. Shinsou doesn’t mind them acting sassy hehe.

Chapter 34

I’m just gonna combine the explanation for both pages into one paragraph. After Shinsou’s fight with Midoriya and not emerging victorious from it, Shinsou looks down, upset. However, hearing the first cheers from his classmates, he looks surprised and looks up at them. Multiple kiddos from his class and pro-heroes alike are in awe of Shinsou’s capabilities. Shinsou then vows to Midoriya that he won’t give up.

We can see the shadow that casts over Shinsou’s face, but the moment he is given admiration, he is clear of any shading. I think this represents how he became illuminated by their kind words, meaning that he holds them with high regard. And how one of them chimes, “Can you hear them Shinsou?” after the pro-heroes compliment signifies that they keep a note of other people’s opinions from the audience. So if any of them had the audacity to talk bad about him, then that means that the students would’ve kept track of it too. They were attentive about anyone that spoke about their classmate Shinsou.

Our third study: His classmates aren’t wary of Shinsou since they were the first ones to say admiration to Shinsou, almost prideful that they have someone like him in their class. They hold him highly with their praises like how he deeply takes in their words, shortly after their words as if he was inspired. Words carry much meaning in their class.

Chapter 121

Okay uh, I won’t focus much on dialogue since every manga scan translations are different depending on the sources and all that jazz. Anyways, Basically, the Hero Department disrupts the flow of the line and Iida tells them to calm tf down desperately after Shinsou speaks up about it. His classmates follow Shinsou from behind.

We see the 1-c girl peek from Shinsou. Her face doesn’t look blank, but I wouldn’t consider it entirely emotionless. I think it’s more astonished, especially at the fact that her otherwise quiet classmate spoke up. Asides from the Sports Festival, Shinsou is leading them the way again.

Our fourth study: Every since his display at the Sports Festival, Shinsou gained some sort of respect that allowed him to be in the front lines. As if they want him to be representing their class and see him fitting of their role, letting him tell the Hero Dept. to get their act together.

Chapter 171

So this panel introduces two new students from the General Department, Tsutsutaka Agoyamato and Chikuchi Togeike. (I find it interesting that these two have names, but not the other kiddos we’ve seen- Also, we don’t know if they’re from Class 1-C, or if they’re even first years. Although, I don’t think they are from Class 1-C since they were able to freely check out Class 1-A’s show instead of being present in the haunted house, but idk.) Moving on, they basically critique Class 1-A’s decision of making a concert for everyone. They glare at the Class 1-A. Bakugou notices this. They engage eye-contact with Bakugou himself.

Our fifth study: They aren’t intimidated despite Bakugou’s famous aggressive nature. Either that they haven’t witnessed the Sports Festival, or truly, aren’t afraid of him, and nobody from the first years of the Hero Department since they speak at their hearing range. They do not need their approval as they criticize about the fact that the Hero Dept is doing this for the rest of the departments.

Chapter 173

Just focus on the bottom portion of this page. It is Class 1-C preparing their exhibit for the Cultural Festival. We see more new faces. Fellas are carrying boxes and another fella is near a table. The girl we occasionally see from Class 1-C has a sort of tool that helps with cutting wood. She comes at Shinsou with it, but only to look astonished by his strength as this bithc tears up a whole piece of wood with his bare hands.

Our sixth study: Class 1-C girl is amazed at Shinsou’s prowess, and while most of his classmates seemed huddled up, Shinsou might’ve been by himself. Maybe she was with him the whole time and at some point either must’ve told him, “hold up imma be back with the goddamn axe” or walked up to him by maybe noticing him without any tools from afar. For the millionth time, they look out for each other.

Chapter 182

Let’s focus on those fellas that look down on the Hero Dept. Chikuchi says, “At the end of the day, you won’t be pleasing anyone but yourselves.” They remain disdainful at first, but as the show progresses, they turn a new leaf and find themselves moved by the display of the Hero Dept.

Our seventh study: These kiddos are moved easily, implying a soft heart.

Chapter 183

Chikuchi and Agoyamato burst out an apology to Class 1-A, admitting that they wanted to critique their performance. Then immediately they leave.

Now, you see how blushy they look and how nervous they got when they shuffled away?

Our eighth study: This department has soft students that look out for each other and follow one another’s lead. It’s as if their hearts are in sync since both apologized and felt the same way of what they did. They can’t bring themselves to outright hate the hero department. After all, they wanted to be in that department themselves.

Still Chapter 183

This page features the attractions of this event, in the bottom left corner we see Class 1-C’s Haunted House exhibit. Shinsou hangs from the ceiling, successfully scaring students from Class 1-A.

Notice the plain white long sleeve shirt that has handprints? I like to think that the entire class contributed a handprint on that shirt- But on a serious note, Shinsou’s expression is blank. Perhaps his classmates had trust in him that he’d do the right faces. Little do they know that their brainwasher is just, poker-faced.

Our ninth study: Either the entire Class 1-C class was in agreement to ask Shinsou to be their guy for this attraction or Shinsou nominated himself for this role. No matter how it went, it means that this class all cooperated and discussed their display. This signifies strong teamwork and no one was scared about sharing their ideas.

And boom. I’m done analyzing every possible panel of them from the manga. Thank you for sticking with me this far. Now let’s head into the Light Novel. I’ll be using this source: https://shimikonde.tumblr.com/post/184554154892/ua-school-festival-light-novel-pg-52-55-for-my

Y’all should read it if you want more depth but in summary, Shinsou helps his class out with the haunted house attraction and then muses as he takes a small walk on his lonesome. He questions his worth and what would transpire once he moves to the Hero Department.

Okay, now I’m going to extract the notable details from this page. And from the segment of the light novel, I will make a small analysis from the quote.

Watching his classmates laugh, alone, Shinsou picked up the unneeded wood. “I’ll pick up some paint while I’m throwing this away.”

He walked away in silence as the voices of his classmates thanked him from behind.

Shinsou keeps tabs with his peers even if he isn’t around them. He lets them know what he’s going to do and his classmates are grateful when he helps them out with the trash stuff. This might’ve been something new for his classmates since they were quiet at first, but afterward, they thank him! And multiple of them!

It was only after he sent in his application to transfer that he began to grow accustomed to the atmosphere of his class. When should he tell them? He wondered if it would be too late if he waited until the transfer was set in stone.

Shinsou hasn’t told him what he’s been up to. He kept this a secret from his class, which I don’t think that makes him a bad person. He’s just having a hard time wondering when he should break it down to his classmates.

Would he really be able to make it into the Hero Course? He was afraid that once he took that first step, he’d find that he didn’t have any place to place his feet. Unable to land, he’d become like a cloud in the sky, pulled along by the wind, never to be seen again. It was because of this lack of confidence that he’d been unable to tell his classmates about his transfer.

Realizing he’d become pessimistic, Shinsou rubbed the back of his neck a bit and started walking again.

Shinsou is feeling insecure about himself. And it is these negative thoughts that impeded him from telling his classmates about his decision to transfer. He wants to be his best for his class, so he cuts his sad musings in order to get the job done for his classmates.

As Shinsou took in the sights around him, a thought suddenly occurred to him. This might be the first and last Cultural Festival that he does with Class C.

Now this one is really heartbreaking for me- He thinks of Class 1-C, the class that will turn out to be just his freshman classmates, he won’t grow up beside them no more, but with the Hero Department. This is the last activity that he will ever do with this class and he thinks hard on that.

Oh look we’re done sIKE- Horikoshi’s Ultra Analysis Book gives us a whole fucking meal about the Class 1-C: Little does Shinsou know, Class 1-C plans on throwing him a party to congratulate his transfer :’)

I don’t even have to explain it that is already a whole gem.

Phew, now that I’m done analyzing the manga and light novel and the analysis book, we can now move on to building fun headcanons from the studies we’ve made! Let me take us to the second section of this post:

Fun Headcanons

Do you remember how the girl from Class 1-C is the one that often speaks up between her and her buddy and how Chikuchi is always a space bit ahead of Agoyamato? And how she’s been like that with every panel she is with her buddy? It’s like the females from this class play mother hen. They’re queens.

Talking shit about the Hero Department is a conversation that brings them all together-

Class 1-C lowkey wishes to tell Shinsou to brainwash people to do funny stuff with his quirk, but are shy about asking him.

Since Shinsou has a tendency of being by himself and hear convos from afar, the Class 1-C students raise their voices in conversations intentionally so that they can let Shinsou hear them as a way to include Shinsou in talks but not force him in the group.

Whenever Shinsou speaks during class, his classmates make sure that everyone shuts up at that moment. like, “SHSHSHSHSH EVERYONE STFU SHINSOU IS GOING TO SAY SOMETHING-” It doesn’t bother Shinsou since this is their way of giving him respect and he finds it cute-

All of the ladies and the fellas unanimously agree that Shinsou is the cute guy from the class. Only they call themselves plain-looking so that’s why they got mad at Present Mic when he basically labeled them as “fillers”. They acknowledge that Shinsou has a cool appearance.

One of the Class 1-C students said, “Shinsou should participate in the Beauty Contest of the Cultural Festival-” and then the entire class went fucking quiet because they were nervous they were going to set Shinsou off, but then Shinsou shyly replies that rather he looks like something from a horror movie. And then his classmates got inspired by his words to come up with the Haunted House attraction and that’s how it came to be. No, I don’t take criticism.

I headcanon my Shinsou to know sign language so- Anyways, his classmates were impressed to learn that from Shinsou so they only asked him to teach them the alphabet, just a small sample of it. So that when they have multiple-choice quizzes, they lowkey cheat by helping each other out and do the sign language alphabet under their desks to the right answers. When the entire class has obtained the answer, they let each other know by doing this 👌 before they proceed to the next question.

They’re really open-minded! Have y’all seen Agoyamato’s pompadour? Chikuchi’s ponytails? Shinsou? They don’t give a damn how you look like.

#im sorry this is long and i took a while answering this ask anon ;; i only hope i dont bore you with it haha #its so messy im sorry about that too aaa-#honestly? i had fun with the 'Fun Headcanons'#. THEY CAN'T BREAK ME AS LONG AS I KNOW WHO I AM ( HEADCANONS. )#. I AM MADE TO UNDERSTAND NOT TO BE UNDERSTOOD ( CHARACTER STUDY. )#. I AM A QUESTION TO THE WORLD ( ANSWERS. )

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lifeofbouyd · 5 years

Text

Wet Wet Fantasy

Now, I have always been a bad boy, always getting called up for the worst kinda shit. I got called up so often it felt like a daily routine. Even when I did nothing wrong, my name was always the first to be called. I didn’t let that stop my shine tho. Now that I think about it, most these girls dated me because I was a bad boy. I certainly wasn’t and still isn’t the cutest, but I have done well for myself when it comes on to women. I’ve dated chicks I still can’t believe would date someone like me. Famous celebrities today, but this ain’t about them. Throughout my early teens, I learnt three key things about women. Firstly, women know what they want. You might see her acting shady and think she’s a fool, but most times you’re just not what she needs. Secondly, if she puts her mind to it, nothing but herself can stop her getting it. Thirdly, women are better at cheering. In other words, when it comes on to covering up shit and selling lies, they stand dominant. I’ve always had a taste for independent/mature women. Twice my age or just out of school. Girls my age back then we’re more focused on fucking taxi men and conductors or hype dudes who were always called up for the worst kinda shit. Although I was amongst that batch, I wanted more than the average school girls. I wanted girls who were working, girls who could buy me lunch and especially girls who could sleep over. I wanted teachers, the sexy ones, the pretty ones, the ones who seemed like they’d be good to fuck.

Francene: Bouyd, I notice you’ve been hanging out with the wrong crowd and I’d like for you to change that. If you keep this up, you’ll be out of school in no time

I stood there looking at her waist, trying to glimpse a print of her pussy through her tight skirt. Bouyd, I am serious. Are you even listening to me?

Me: I heard every word you said, just preoccupied looking at your skirt.

She slapped herself on her forehead and shook her head. She turned around to walk away but turned back with a smile like she had an ingenious idea.

Francene: I know you like the view around there. How about you be a good boy and I’ll let you see all this without clothes?

🤤 like what the fuck? Why is she fucking with my brain like this? Does she even know how badly I want to fuck her? I bet this is a prank. But, that ass tho, is it worth a termination, will it be anything like I’ve imagined, will she scream the way she does in my mind when I jerk off at nights? I stood there shocked, not sure what to say or how to react. My mind was all over the place

Francene: 18764478396, save my number and message me when you decide what you want.

She walked away without even looking back. Shaking that big ass I wanted to slap so bad. I messaged her, asking for specific details of what she wanted exactly, trying to get an insight of what or who to be. She claimed to be single and heartbroken. “I see the potential in you I guess, I just want you away from those boys,” she said. We went from texting right throughout the day to talking late at nights. Before long it became a relationship. Who would have thought I’d actually get myself a teacher? Not me for sure lol. She made me look at life differently, made me realize what’s out there. Back then I was already dating someone, someone who’d slap a bitch if they got too close. Someone who’d kick my ass if she had the slightest idea I was cheating. But I just wanted to fuck Francene so bad. She talked about sex I’m a sense it seemed like a sport. At age fifteen I had already had sex with quite a few girls so I wasn’t shy or afraid to go for what I want. But when it came to her, I couldn’t decide what I wanted. Pussy, love, money? Somewhere along the line I did fall in love, at the beginning I wanted her Pussy and in the long run, came money. She changed the way I dressed, the way I talked and my chill habits. I remember her claiming to be sick one evening. She asked me to drive her home so she could get some rest. Of course, I did, she didn’t have to ask twice. I pulled up to her house and escorted her in with expectations of leaving shortly after. She gave me an ice cold magnum from the fridge and a fifty bag to roll two spliffs while she took a shower. I made myself at home on her sectional couch. Her living room seemed way too expensive for a teachers budget, hundred thousand dollar couch, a tv that had to cost at least another one hundred and mahogany furniture. I couldn’t help but notice a portrait she had on the wall. A done to detail painting of her and dude who seemed like a billionaire.

Francene: Bouyd, can you come to the bathroom, please? I need the towel but I can’t step out wet on the floor.

It seemed like a noble request, it’s just a towel. What could possibly go wrong? I walked into the bathroom only to see the towel hanging from the shower curtain bar. “It’s on the curtain bar,” I said. Expecting her to pull it down and wrap herself up. She slid the curtain across, standing there but naked, all soaped up. My dick became steel hard and my brain stopped functioning. She was way more than I had ever masturbated to. My imagination had done her no justice. “Be a good boy and come bathe with me please?” she said. I took my shirt off without even pulling a button, my shoes without untying and my pants without unbuckling my belt. I slid out my clothes with my dick so hard it was jumping. I floated to the shower. I grabbed her by the neck and braced her against the wall. “Don’t start what you can’t manage?” she said. I braced my hard dick against her pussy. Slowly rubbing it between her clit. She turned the shower on. It was warm and tingly. Making me even hornier than I was before. I grabbed her nipples and sucked on them like a newborn. She shivered from the feeling. Hot cum ran down my fingers. I raised one leg and slid my hard dick in. I sucked on her lips as if I wanted to suck them off her face while I stroked her hard and deep. Within a minute if not less, she came. Meowing like a cat, squirting like a broken pipe. I grabbed her by both legs and held her high on the wall. Giving me clear access to her dripping pussy. We kissed and fucked and kissed and fucked some more. We left from the shower to the face basin, the living room, the bed, then the floor. I fucked her until we were both cramped. She took every last drop of my kids deep inside her. I fell asleep shortly after as I was near as fuck. I never woke till the next morning. I was shocked as fuck, I didn’t even bring extra clothes to go to school. Luckily, she was smart enough to machine wash them from overnight. We both showed up late that morning as I had to fuck her again to believe we actually fucked.

I went to school that morning smiling like a mad man. I didn’t even bathe that morning because I wanted the fuck scent to remind me of her bomb ass pussy. I had dethroned the queen and finally fucked a teacher. Two birds with one stone. I was so eager to fuck her I didn’t remember I drove to work until I saw my car the next day. I had made plans with apple to take her out but I didn’t remember shit. I rushed to her class with an apology only to get dumped. Which I did deserve but got damn, I apologized. She could have at least given me another day to make up for it. A few days passed and I wanted to be deep inside her again. I couldn’t help but think about. I needed her to feel alive. I pulled up to her house uninvited and unannounced, hoping she’d let me in. She came out in nothing but her robe on. She adjusted my seat and hopped on top without an early warning. She dragged my pants down and made herself at home on my dick. Again I fell asleep. We were both knocked the fuck out in the car. Lucky enough it was Sunday. She made us breakfast then packed a bag and got dressed for the beach. She reclined the passenger seat and placed her legs on the dashboard. We stopped and fucked twice on the way as we were both dying for each other. I felt like I couldn’t get enough and she just didn’t know how to say no. We were like this for months. Fucking like wildlings, not giving one fuck about anything else. We went as far as fucking in the teacher’s bathroom. I admit, some days were hornier than others and it was just too much to bear. I went to see her on my lunch break and we started kissing. I fingered her for a while but we both wanted my dick in her belly. I told her we could go to my place and fuck but she preferred to be daring as always. She dragged me behind her to the bathroom where she stripped butt naked. She slid my throat down her throat then sat on the toilet top. I fucked her until sweat ran down my back. Cumin all over her sexy body. She missed her period that month, I guess she intentionally didn’t take her pills. I was so excited about it I changed her name to “Le Bebé Mama”.

She was pregnant, for four months, of that I was sure. But something happened and she had a miscarriage 😔. My dreams crumbled, my heart sunk in my chest and her love for me somehow died. I guess she couldn’t bear to see me and not be carrying my child. It fucked me so I can only imagine what it did to her. I tried to mend us but she kept crying when we were together which only pushed us further apart. Before long we didn’t even communicate, and by the time I had realized she had already moved on.. she even had the audacity to message me to stop calling her name. I hadn’t even mentioned fucking her to myself. I was too afraid of what could happen if I did so I just kept my mouth shut. I didn’t reply to that message or any she sent after because I took it as an insult. I was minding my own business one day when this dude walked up to me with her keys. He bragged about how he fucked her and she said I was a wimp. Deep down I wanted to knock him out, but somehow my conscious side stopped me from doing so. That was it for me, obviously, she had moved on and wanted me to know. Why wait for someone who’s never coming back? I moved on with my happy life and acted as if she didn’t exist until she texts me one day. “Meet me in the teacher’s bathroom, I need to talk to you” mmmmmmm. I wondered what the fuck she could possibly want to talk about in the bathroom. “Fuck da gyal yah a look eno, she think she smart.” I waited for about fifteen minutes before making a move, thinking of every possible outcome. She was butt naked when I got there. Looking at me from head to. “Fuck me, hard and long,” she said. “A wa she tek this ting fah, she think she can diss me den strip naked an it good, she mek a sad mistake”. I stood there hard as steel steering at her amazing body. I turned around acting like I wanted to leave, just for show to see her reaction. She jumped me with a knife, threatening to kill me if I leave. “A bet mi buss yuh blood cloth throat if you ramp wid mi,” she said. Like a bitch, I lapped my tail between my legs and did exactly as she asked. I held the hand with the knife and started on her breast, up to her neck, then long lingering kisses on her lips. She released my belt and took my shaft out. Slowly rubbing it against her soaked pussy. Teasing herself to an orgasm. She pushed me on the toilet and slid her way down my dick. With her hands on my shoulder, she leaned back and gave my dick a lap dance. Cum ran down my nuts. She screamed and moaned and broke down in tears. Talking all kind of shit. “Breed mi, breed mi, breed mi to bloodcloth”. She hugged me tight and worked her way to a tummy full of kids. Fresh semen swimming around.

Again, she broke down in tears. “One piece a cow bawling”. She held the knife to her knock and threatened to kill herself if I didn’t take her back. 🤦‍♂️ like what the fuck is she playing at? Is she crazy? I sat there on the toilet, mute as I was confused. She could have simply asked me to take her back. That would have been easier. Not all this crazy drama shit. I wanted to say no but I was afraid she’d kill me and kill herself. As much as I wanted to be on tv, I didn’t want to be dead in a bathroom. I agreed to be her man after all. It’s not like I had a choice. We fucked for months like nothing happened, trying to fix our whatever that was. Or maybe I was just fucking to stay alive. Sometime mi feel seh mi attrak some bad duppy eno. I was out with Apple one day when her car drove up, and the same dude who was bragging about her months ago jumped out. I’m the kind who premeditates and calculates every possible outcome of every situation. From the way he jumped out and at the speed he was walking towards me I knew some shit was about to go down. He attacked me, accusing me of fucking his girl. He claimed he saw cum on the front seat and messages in her phone about last night. Like who the duck he think he is? Although I did cum on the front seat of “her” car. She said she wasn’t seeing anybody but me, she said they broke up. So why the fuck this dude fight me? Or was she lying? Either way, I didn’t intend on getting my ass kicked. We wrestled and hurled punches at each other till I pushed through a store window. Now Apple and I were just getting back together, trying to fix our relationship and this happens 🤦‍♂️. I think I’m cursed. Funny enough the cops let him go and took me in for questioning. I had just completed one year of my anger management class and this piece of shit made me get another six months. Apple left me, again, and Francene took his side. As bad as I felt, I was happy she left. Francene that is.

I’ve learned from that mistake, and I don’t intend on making it again. Never stay with a psycho chick. If she’s willing to kill herself for you, she’ll kill you just the same. A woman will love you to death and still ditch you and act as they’ve never seen you in their life. Women think they can do anything and make it up to you with some real, good sex. But sometimes we need more than that. I just can’t see past you letting another man fuck you, suck his dick, then turn around and say you made a mistake. How did that happen? He slipped between your legs while you were wet without you noticing? Did his dick magically appeared down your throat? Too grown for that bullshit honey. But on the other hand, we men are just the same. Some of us deserve that shit. But there are good men out there like “Me” who wants to be the best man, who wants to treat “women” like queens. But y’all make it so hard. Y’all can never be pleased. So when good men find good women, we go treat you like the typical, because we ain’t know who’s what and who’s not. Sigh.

Forever searching.

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weelittleweasley · 6 years

Text

I Don’t Like Change | Sweet Pea x Reader

Prompt requested by anon: After transferring to Riverdale High, your relationship with Sweet Pea is put to the test.

Request status: Closed

Warnings: Profanity, ANGST

South Side High was being shut down. It was unfathomable to you that Mayor McCoy would have the audacity to shut down a place that she knew so many kids benefited from. Yes, the school wasn’t great, but it was a place that had no judgement. A place where kids felt safe. But of course, South Side kids never got what they wanted.

Multiple students where being transferred to Riverdale High on the North Side of town. Thankfully, the majority of you and your friends were all transferred to the same school. One of them being your boyfriend, Sweet Pea. You and Sweets had been dating for three years, and people knew you as South Side’s power couple. The two of you were inseparable. Your relationship was put to the test multiple times: when you told Pea you were joining the Serpents, getting involved with the drug business, family issues, questions of loyalty. But no matter what, you somehow always found a way to work through it.

The day of the transfer came and you were not excited to say the least compared to Sweets. “I don’t get why you are so happy about this,” you huff as you hop off the back of his bike. You fix the lapels on your leather jacket and untuck your hair from the back. “We are being thrown in a pool of self-righteous pricks.”

Sweets rolls his eyes and slings an arm around you, walking with a few other Serpents. “Think about it, baby. New textbooks, clean classrooms, toilets that actually flush?” The excitement was evident in his voice and it made you worried. “Think about the opportunities we are gonna have here,” he tells you as you roll your eyes. He groans and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Come on, let’s go.”

With that, you all walk into Riverdale High. The first impression of the school was Is this what a normal high school is supposed to look like? The walls were not peeling with paint, dilapidated from lack of attention. The lockers were all uniformly painted and locked adequately. But just because it had a pleasant exterior did not mean everything else was just as pleasant. When you step in, Veronica Lodge greets you. You had heard many mixed things about her from word of mouth. Jughead claimed she was harmless, but there was something about the way she spoke and the designer clothes that she wore that rubbed you the wrong way.

As you are toured quickly through the school, you show no emotion. This wasn’t where you wanted to be. This wasn’t South Side. This was the enemies territory. You looked at the other Serpents to see their reactions to all of this. Sweets, Fangs, and Toni all wore small smiles as you remained in shock. People were actually enjoying themselves? You looked at Jughead and saw that he wasn’t too happy about the transfer either. “I’m beginning to regret coming here today,” you huff to him as he nods his head.

“I’m with you,” Jughead agrees.

And that statement remained true for the weeks to come. Within days of you transferring to Riverdale High, Serpent behavior was banned along with forcing South Side High kids to dress in a school uniform. This was discrimination. You hated this place with every fiber in your body and it was clear to all of your friends that this was the last place you would like to be. But you and Jughead were the only two Serpents who felt this way.

Sweet Pea on the other hand was loving the switch. He was taking advantage of every opportunity given to him. You weren’t mad about that, he should be. The academia was better. But the fact that he was participating in Varsity sports and just adapting more to the North Side ‘way of life’ made you sick to your stomach. You could see that you were losing him to Riverdale High.

You were at your locker, tossing books into it as Sweets came up to you. “Hey, you,” he smiled as you turned to him with a small one. He pressed a kiss to your lips quickly before noticing your quiet nature. “You’re quiet.”

Shrugging, you sigh, “It’s been a weird day.” Closing your locker, you lean your back against it, Pea resting his hand next to your head, leaning over you.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks as you shake your head no. You slither your hand to the back of his neck to press your lips against his. He smiles into the kiss as you keep your hand on the back of his head, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

Smiling, you reply, “I love you, too.” The bell abruptly rings as you throw your head back and groan, causing him to laugh. “What are you doing after school? Do you wanna come over to my place?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

He gives you a sad smile. “As tempting as that sounds,” he pecks your lips. “I have basketball.” His words make you slightly angry, but more sad that he would put something like this ahead of your relationship. “The weekend is almost here. You’ll have me all to yourself then,” he suggests as you roll your eyes. “I’ll catch up with you later.” With a kiss to the cheek, he dashes off.

The days go by and the increasingly frustrated you become. The more time you spend at Riverdale, it seems the South Side kids become more and more adapted to the new environment and you can’t help, but hate what you see. The only other person who understands is Jughead. Over the past few weeks, you’ve been confiding in Jughead, rather than in Pea, revealing how worried you are for you and Pea’s relationship. Instead of spending more time with you, he’s made excuses to stay at the school to play basketball, study, or just say he doesn’t wanna head back to the Wyrm yet. It drove you crazy to think that you could be losing him. “Y/N, losing Sweet Pea should be the least of your worries. He’s whipped,” Jughead teases you as you just stare at him, completely serious. “Look, I understand where all of this is coming from. And to be honest, I have the same fears but for different reasons. All I know is that something explosive is going to happen and it’s going to happen soon,” he confesses as you sigh. Nothing seemed right anymore.

And today was your breaking point. You wanted to be with Pea today after school, but again, he had basketball practice that he claimed he couldn’t miss. Toni told you to lay off of him and give him some space to which you replied to her to mind her own business. This was your relationship and you weren’t about to let someone else take the reigns.

Sitting on the cold tile floor, you wait for the basketball practice to let out and for Sweet Pea to come out all sweaty. And there he is, leaving the gym, his tank top soaked in sweat, one ear bud in his ear, blasting music. Standing, you call after him, “Hey, you.”

He recognizes your voice and turns around. “Hey,” he beams as you walk up to him, him kissing your lips sweetly. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

You sigh, “I wanted to see you. I haven’t seen you in what feels like forever.” You lace your fingers with his as you both walk outside. “Now that you are a big shot basketball star.”

Sweets laughs. “Well, Coach says if I continue to play like I’m playing, he’ll put me in as starter for our first game,” he tells you with a smile. His words make your heart beat faster, palpitating with anxiety. He sounds like them. You speak your thoughts to him as he furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

Grabbing both of his hands in yours, you tell him, “The crazy basketball practice hours? Warming up to Reggie fucking Mantle? Are you listening to yourself, Pea? I’m losing you to the North Side.” You couldn’t hide your fears anymore. This was spiraling out of control and you can’t handle it anymore. “You are turning into a different person. Someone I don’t know...” Sweets sighs and shakes his head. “You know I don’t like change, Pea.”

“Serpents don’t shed their skin that easily. Y/N, you’re overreacting,” he tells you as you scoff, repeating his words. “Just because I take advantage of the opportunities that are given to me here, which mind you were never given at the other hell hole, doesn’t mean I’m any less of the person I was.” You shake your head in disbelief. “I don’t understand why you can’t be happy for me for once.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. “You’re kidding me, right? I’m sorry that I’m upset because my boyfriend of three years has been treating me like garbage. You don’t talk to me anymore, I haven’t hung out with you in two weeks. Every time I try to talk to you, you brush me aside and run off to who the hell knows where! It’s like I don’t exist!” you tell at him.

He becomes increasingly more and more angry. “Fine, you want to act like this? We can act like this. Do you want me to even bring up you and Jughead hanging out more often? What’s that? I see you hanging out with him during lunch and before school and after school. Do you want to explain that, princess?” he uses an endearing term against you as you scoff.

“Jughead has actually been there for me unlike you. He actually listens to me,” you spit at him as he laughs, shaking his head. “At least I know I have someone to go to to talk to because you’re too busy fucking playing basketball like a fucking North Side prick!”

Sweets pulls at his hair, “Jesus Christ, how about you fuck Jughead?! Huh? He’s single? His blonde bombshell doesn’t want him anymore, maybe this is your chance!” His words hurt you as you feel a lump well up in your throat. “Is that what you want?” he yells at you.

You inhale through your nose, looking away from him, not daring to let him look at you crying. It wasn’t like this was your first fight, but it seemed to hurt a lot more than others. “You really are a no good son of a bitch,” you huff underneath your breath.

He says, “And you are a whiny bitch.” Before you can register, what is happening, your hand slaps him across the face, the sound echoing through the parking lot, haunting you. He is unphased by the blow as he rolls his neck. “Are you done?” he asks, anger in his eyes. It terrifies you. You have never seen him like this before and you don’t dare to respond. “You know what?” he asks. “Maybe we should just take a break.”

As the words fall from his mouth, your heart shatters. You don’t even wanna believe what he’s saying. At the same time, he can’t believe he uttered the words. He wishes he could take it back. He wants to take it all back and take you into his hands and pepper your face with kisses and says he doesn’t mean any of it. But before he can say anything, you say, “Maybe we should.”

The air falls silent and cold. You just stand there, looking at each other, both of your hearts broken. You let a sob escape your lips before walking away to your car. You can hear Sweet Pea call out your name, but you don’t want to look at him. You’d just be reminded about all of the things you failed at.

Days went by without Sweets and then weeks. Life was dragging on at a snail’s speed. Neither of you wanted this break up. It was evident. When the news was shared with everyone else, people were shocked. The South Side’s, and maybe Riverdale’s, longest power couple was done. It was no more. Just like that. And for what? Over a time management problem? It was stupid. It was silly. People told you that you should just talk and rekindle the romance.

But both you and Sweet Pea were far too competitive to cave in before the other. That’s why he never came to your locker again, or picked you up on his bike, or sent you good morning texts. That’s why you never came to a basketball game, or waited for him at the Wyrm, or called him at three in the morning just to hear his voice. Those were the reasons that pushed you to go on more dates, see new people, and to at least try to get yourself back out there. But every thing led back to Pea.

Your heart still longed for him. Whenever you caught a glimpse of him in the hallway, your heart would race and your palms would sweat. But you would force yourself to look away, knowing that this was over. The same went for him. He’d see you laughing in the cafeteria with other friends and he’d smile to himself, knowing that you were happy. He’d secretly wish that he was the one making you laugh, your dimples ever so prominent. He’d wish that he had one last chance to kiss your chap stick covered lips and smell your rosy perfume. But that was all over.

Since you were both Serpents, there was no true way to escape each other. Boiled down, you had the same friends, the same family, the same hang out spot. Seeing each other was unavoidable. But you would try your best to leave the Wyrm when he entered, Toni insisting you stayed for a little while longer, Sweets praying that you would obey. You would just brush her off, making the excuse that you were too tired to say any longer when everyone knew that you just were going home to an empty house to mourn.

Today, you stood behind the bar of the Whyte Wyrm, cleaning glasses. The bar was almost completely empty. That was before he walked in. You tensed up at the mere sight of him. He wore a flannel and grey t-shirt, that same fucking leather jacket he refused to take off. He still looked so damn good. As you took him in, he did the same for you. You wore a black t-shirt and jeans, simple, but beautiful. Your hair was tied back in a ponytail, keeping the hair out of your face as the light from the bar made it seem like you had a foggy halo over your head.

Sweets stepped further into the bar and spoke, “Hi.”

His baritone voice reverberated as your heart stopped at the sound of it. “Hi,” you mirror.

The room falls silent as he sits on one of the bar stools. You continue to clean the glasses. “You look great,” he compliments. He wanted to tell you that you looked fucking beautiful and he missed you so much. He wanted to tell you that he hasn’t been able to sleep right without you. His body ached for your touch.

“I feel great,” you lie, trying to dig into him. You wanted to tell him you felt like shit. You wanted to tell him that you were languishing without him. You wanted to tell him that you should have been more supportive of him and what he wanted. You wanted to tell him that you watched him play last game from outside the gym. He was good. Really good.

Sweets smiles. “I’m happy to hear that. Truly,” he tells you and you softly smile.

Placing a glass underneath the bar, you speak, “Congrats on the playoffs. That’s great.” He thanks you and the room falls silent again. There is an electricity between you two, an unspoken tension that you both want to act on, but don’t. Again, that same power struggle. “Have you been seeing anyone recently?” you break the ice, popping the question that you were dying to know the answer to.

He shakes his head no and a weight is lifted off your chest. “I heard you’ve been on a couple of dates. How did that go?” he asks, hoping that you were going to say horribly. That all of them were awful and you miss him just as much as he misses you.

You shake your head. “Nothing worth while,” you admit. A weight is lifted off his chest. “Did you...want anything?” you ask.

His eyes widen before he realizes you mean anything to drink. “Oh, uh, no. I’m fine. Thanks,” he answers as you finish putting away glasses. The room falls silent yet again. You exit the back of the bar, wiping down tables now as Sweets watches silently.

This cycle of weird questions and chaste answers continue until you walk back to the bar, tossing the towel behind the bar as your hands brush against each others. The contact makes you yearn for more, but you don’t do anything.

But he does. He takes your hand in his and you look at him confused. “Pea, what are you doing?” you ask as his heart skips a beat at the sound of your nickname for him.

“Just let me,” he says before connecting his lips to yours. The kiss is warm and tender. It’s sweet, but lustful at the same time. His lips are still soft and comforting like you remembered them to be months ago. The scent of cheap cologne and leather has not left him as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. His hands rest on your waist, pulling you into his body, craving more contact than what you are currently giving him. Sweets pulls away prematurely and says, “Y/N, I-”

“Shut it,” you say before connecting your lips again, him smiling as you do so.

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hsews · 6 years

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SOUTHAMPTON, N.Y. – I’m sorry.

Those are the first two words Phil Mickelson should say publicly Sunday morning after a fitful night of sleep.

I withdraw.

Andrew “Beef” Johnston was right next to Phil Mickelson for the mess on the 13th hole. Let him tell you what happened, in his own words.

“Sometimes in these situations, it’s just easier to take the two shots and move on,” Phil Mickelson said after he hit a moving ball with his putter to card a 10 on the 13th hole.

Zach Johnson said he feels for the Shinnecock Hills membership, as well as spectators at the U.S. Open, who “are seeing pure carnage” during a tough Round 3.

2 Related

Those are the next words Mickelson should say on his way out of the U.S. Open and into a better and brighter tomorrow.

Mickelson made a mockery of his sport’s national championship on his 48th birthday, and he should now do the honorable thing and remove himself from the tournament. He hit his moving ball out of frustration on the 13th green at Shinnecock Hills, and then told a counterfeit tale about his intent. Mickelson said he took a strategic whack at his rolling putt as it headed downhill to accept the two-stroke penalty rather than risk playing the ball conventionally and taking a score more damaging than the 10 he posted on the par 4.

The coverup is always worse than the crime. Mickelson turned the one major championship he has failed to win into a mini-golf misadventure, minus the windmill and clown’s mouth. Now it’s time for him to pick up his ball and go home.

“… if somebody’s offended by that, I apologize to them. But toughen up, because this is not meant that way. It’s just simply, I wanted to get on to the next hole and I didn’t see that happening at the time.”

“I didn’t feel like continuing my display, and I gladly take the two-shot penalty and move on,” Mickelson maintained. “I don’t mean it [to be] disrespectful. If you’re taking it that way, that’s not on me. I’m sorry you’re taking it that way. It’s certainly not meant that way. Sometimes in these situations it’s just easier to take the two shots and move on.”

Actually, sometimes in these situations it’s just easier to tell the truth, apologize and withdraw.

After finishing up his round of 11-over 81 that left him at 17-over for the tournament, Mickelson spent forever in a scoring room surrounded by reporters waiting outside. If he devoted most of that time crafting a story to feed the news media beast, he came up with a doozy. Mickelson emerged to say he was merely using the rules to his advantage. Asked if he was concerned that his standing as a wildly entertaining player might’ve just taken a lethal strike, Mickelson had the audacity to suggest that those who had a problem with his stunt needed to quit acting like wimps.

Phil Mickelson answered all the questions. It doesn’t mean the answers were all that satisfying. Dennis Schneidler-USA TODAY Sports

“I don’t see how,” the five-time major champ said of potential harm to his reputation, “and if somebody’s offended by that, I apologize to them. But toughen up, because this is not meant that way. It’s just simply, I wanted to get on to the next hole and I didn’t see that happening at the time.”

Only there was a problem with Lefty’s story, a fairly big one. His playing partner, Andrew “Beef” Johnston, said he told Mickelson, “Sorry, but I can’t help but laugh at that. It’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.” But Johnston also had this to say of his exchange with Mickelson: “He said, ‘I don’t know what that is. I don’t know what score that is, or what happens now.’ And he started speaking to the rules official. It was one strange moment.”

The standard bearer with the group, Connor Buff, a 19-year-old from Smithtown, New York, and a student at the University at Albany, said he heard Mickelson tell the rules official, “Whatever I get, I get. Just let me know what it is.”

No, as Mickelson’s Tuesday golfing partner Tom Brady once said, “This isn’t ISIS. No one’s dying.” Mickelson’s legacy as an all-time great and all-time lover of all things New York doesn’t go up in smoke because he lost his cool like an overheated motorist on the Long Island Expressway. But he should have come clean on what was clear to all astonished witnesses.

Mickelson has finished second in this championship a record six times, four times in the New York area. The futile pursuit finally broke him. Lefty was on his way to shooting his worst U.S. Open score in more than a quarter century, and he snapped and did something, as Johnston said, “you might see at your home course with your mates or something. … I think it’s just a moment of madness.”

And one that left the USGA with a tradition like no other — a rules fiasco that swallowed its signature event whole. John Bodenhamer, a USGA suit, explained that Mickelson was assessed a two-stroke penalty under Rule 14-5 for hitting a moving ball. Bodenhamer conceded that had Mickelson used his putter to stop the ball, rather than swat at it, that action might’ve compelled the governing body to disqualify Lefty from the field.

But USGA law also says that a “serious breach” of Rule 1-2, which prohibits a player from taking an action with “the intent to influence the movement of a ball in play,” may cause its committee to “impose a penalty of disqualification.” A serious breach is defined as an action that allowed a player to “gain a significant advantage.” Even though he was a million miles out of contention, Mickelson claimed that he hit his moving ball to gain a scoring advantage.

As he jogged after his going, going, almost-gone putt at unlucky No. 13, and then hit it before it stopped moving, veteran golf reporters watching the televised image couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Were they watching a tape of a practice round? Was this some kind of practical joke?

Mickelson is the Arnold Palmer of his time, a go-for-broker who never met a layup he didn’t hate. Like Arnie, Phil learned early to bring the crowd into the experience with his style, his eye contact, his head nods and thumbs ups and with the time spent signing autographs before and after his rounds.

The fans love him for it, too, and always thank him at the U.S. Open like they did Saturday, after Mickelson’s meltdown, by continuing to shout and sing “Happy Birthday” to him as he walked the course.

But the ever-playful Mickelson took it way too far this time. Maybe he was affected by the rollicking presence of Beef Johnston, golf’s burgeoning answer to Charles Barkley. Or maybe Mickelson just forgot for a second that he was playing in the U.S. Open, and not some rowdy, anything-goes pickup game with friends. Whatever.

Either way, he embarrassed himself Saturday by pulling a page from the John Daly playbook. If you believe Mickelson, you know that he effectively cheated the game and intentionally violated the spirit of a rule. If you believe your own eyes and ears, you know that Mickelson dishonored the championship that he covets the most.

Hitting a moving putt at the U.S. Open en route to shooting an 81? It’s like an angry linebacker in the Super Bowl — with his team down four touchdowns late in the third quarter — kicking a fumble into the stands rather than recovering it.

Mickelson did himself no favors by explaining that he should’ve called this audible a couple of times at the Masters at the 15th hole. (Yeah, that would’ve gone over well with the green jackets.) When he was done selling his story to reporters outside the scoring room, Mickelson accommodated an endless line of thrilled autograph seekers, and heard one man invite him to the beach for a beer.

Phil always does the right thing for the fans. Now it’s time for him to do the right thing for the game by saying he’s sorry, saying goodbye, and telling everyone he looks forward to seeing them at Pebble Beach next June.

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