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davidpastrsnack · 4 years

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back for more - matthew tkachuk

a/n: first of all idk what this title is i just wanted to post this lol. back with more matty but this time with a splash of smut. wasn’t expecting it to be so filthy but here we are. let me know what you think! (it seriously means the world to get feedback)

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You grew up in St. Louis, becoming quite close with the Tkachuk family when they moved in next door. You were basically inseparable from Brady and Taryn, but Matthew had been another story. He knew exactly how to piss you off, somehow managing to strike a nerve with every comment he threw your way. It didn’t help that he made you so nervous, he was attractive and he knew it. No matter how much both your parents tried, there was no way you two could peacefully coexist. Safe to say you avoided him at all costs, which wasn’t a lot with how close your families were. When Matthew left for Calgary, you finally got a break, able to enjoy your time at the Tkachuk house without his constant bickering.

Fast forward four years and you were offered your dream job right out of college. But there was a catch: it was in Calgary. It wasn’t even a decision to be made, this was the opportunity of a lifetime and you knew that the city was big enough to avoid Matthew. Except apparently it wasn't, and now you were stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of winding up in his bed.

You were lucky enough to know one of the other girls that worked at your company, quickly falling into an easy friendship with her. It was Saturday night and you and Ella decided to go out, both looking your absolute best. You went for all black, throwing on your favorite jeans, v-neck bodysuit, and heeled booties. As soon as you walked into the bar, you were hit with the dense, warm air, your attention drawn straight to one of the tvs showing highlights of the Flames win that night. You scoffed, not even wanting to think about Matthew, and pulled Ella to go get your first round. Soon enough, you found yourself talking to a guy at the bar, the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. But little did you know the young guys of the Flames had just walked in, in the mood to celebrate their win. Matthew felt his breath hitch in his throat the second he saw you. He knew you had moved to the city, his mom begging him to reach out and make you feel welcome, but of course he hadn’t. What he didn’t know is how unbelievably good you looked. He had always harboured a crush for you, something about the sweet girl next door just doing it for him. But you quickly became close with Brady and he didn’t want to intervene if there was something there. So in typical teenage boy fashion he did his best to annoy you at all times. By the time it was clear that you and Brady were just friends, he had already established his dislike for you and felt that it was too late to backtrack. But now here you were. Maybe it was the way your jeans perfectly cupped your ass or the high he was still riding from scoring two goals just hours before, but Matthew headed straight towards you.

There was no denying that the guy in front of you was hot, but something about his personality was straight up boring you. Just as you began plotting your escape, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You eagerly turned, expecting it to be Ella coming back from the bathroom, but your face dropped when you saw him. “Matthew,” you sighed, a self-satisfied smirk already on his face.

“Long time no see Y/N, hmm?” he grinned.

You may have hated him, but you couldn’t say he wasn’t beautiful. He towered over you, messy brown curls falling onto his forehead just above his baby blue eyes. His black t-shirt fit him perfectly, tight on his broad shoulders and around his biceps. His scent was intoxicating, daring you to move closer to his frame. And that’s when you knew you were a goner.

He somehow charmed you into coming home with him that night, not that you were putting up much of a fight. Nearly two months later, you found yourself under his spell, spending night after night together.

Tonight was no different. After a long east coast road trip, Matthew was begging you to come over despite the early hour of the morning. And that’s where you found yourself, pressed up against his door weakening beneath his body. His hands were heavy on your waist, moving his mouth from yours to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. You whimpered as he started to suck your sweet spot between his teeth, feeling him smirk against your soft skin as he wound you up. “Matt- Matthew, please,” you begged, hands gently pulling his curls making him groan. With just a few touches he had you dripping for him, no one compared to the way he worshiped your body. He moved his hands down your body, splaying across your ass then your thighs. He gently tapped them urging you to jump, which you did right away, gasping when you felt how hard he was against you as you wrapped your legs around his hips.

“What do you want babygirl? You just gotta tell me,” Matthew whispered in your ear, making sure to grind into your core a little extra as he spoke.

“Fuck,” you whined. “Your t-tongue, your fingers. Please Matty.”

Matthew moved to carry you into his bedroom, continuing his assault on your neck. “Whatever my girl wants she gets.” You tried not to overthink his possessive language, and luckily you were quickly distracted as he dropped you on his bed. You couldn’t help but giggle as you bounced on the soft material, him grinning down at you, eyes full of admiration. It was moments like these that made you question the original agreement of just sex. He could be so sweet, so respectful. But you didn’t let yourself go there, knowing he had no interest in a relationship, especially not with his former childhood enemy.

Your thoughts were interrupted as Matthew went back to work, lips reattaching to your neck and rough hands slipping underneath your sweatshirt. You arched up into him in desperate need of more friction. He was taking his sweet time marking up your collarbone, but you couldn’t wait any longer, pushing him off your body so you could pull off your top.

“Someone’s eager,” he chirped with a smirk.

“Oh shut up,” you snapped back, pushing his head further down your body.

Matthew chuckled and wrapped his hands around your back, gracefully unclipping your bra and throwing it across the room. His pink lips trailed down, covering your boobs in fresh bruises, the partially healed ones still lingering from previous nights. Once he reached the band of your leggings he wasted no time pulling them off your legs in one swift motion, but he left your panties behind. He wasn’t quite done teasing you. Matthew hooked both your legs over his shoulders, settling in. His dominant hand moved to finally ghost your core, fingers faintly dragging up the black lace. He smiled up at you as he took in the sight in front of him. You were squirming beneath him, already losing control of your body completely. His thumb rubbed your clit in painfully slow circles, your arousal becoming visible through the material.

“Mattttty,” you whined, begging him to do something, anything.

He normally hated that nickname, it reeked of desperation from girls he had no plans of calling again. But when it fell from your lips he felt his dick twitch and his heart melt. No matter how many times he told himself differently, you weren’t just another girl and deep down he knew it.

“Okay, okay princess. I got you,” he cooed, finally pulling your panties off. “Fuck,” he groaned as he saw you glistening before him, “So wet for me baby.”

He delved right in, dragging his tongue up your slit, reveling in hearing your moans as he finally gave you what you needed so desperately. Your hands flew straight to his head, pulling at his curls making him moan into you. Slowly but surely he reached your clit, wrapping his swollen lips around it before detaching his mouth with a pop.

“Mhm, you taste so fucking good babygirl,” he groaned.

You didn’t have time to respond before he went back to work, tongue massaging your clit just right. You had learned very quickly that this boy knew exactly what he was doing. With one finger he teased your entrance, feeling you out before sliding it in.

“Fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, your back arching off the mattress as he curled it against your g-spot perfectly.

Matthew smirked against you, blue eyes lifting to lock with your gaze. He added another finger and picked up his pace. He knew you were close, and he also knew just how to finish you off. He flattened his tongue against your clit and shook his head back and forth, arm resting heavy on your waist to keep you from moving.

“Ma-Matty I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck,” you yelled out, not holding back in the least bit. His name continued to fall out of your lips in a chant as you reached your high.

Matthew milked you through your orgasm, making sure to look up and watch as you fell apart. It was his favorite sight: the way your back arched, face twisted, and legs shaked. He finally slowed his movements, pulling back to watch your cum spill out as he removed his fingers. You sat up on your elbows trying to regain your breath, in awe of the man in front of you and the earth shattering orgasms he never failed to give you. He locked eyes with you, a devilish smirk on his face as he moved to suck his fingers clean.

“Feel better?” He teased with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, dragging him up by his shirt to kiss him, sighing as you tasted yourself on his tongue. He gently bit your bottom lip, making you pull away to urge him to shed his clothes.

--------

Two more orgasms later, you fell back against the mattress, chest rising with each breath as your body started to come down. Matthew laid next to you, his head tucked into the crook of your neck and his arm heavy across your waist. The two of you stayed like this for several minutes, basking in one another’s warmth. Neither of you would ever admit it, but this was your favorite moment of the night. That short bit of time when it was acceptable for fuck buddies to hold each other right after sex. But eventually you found yourself fighting everything within you and escaping from his grasp, moving to the bathroom to go clean up. Like usual, Matthew loosened his grip on you and watched you walk away, the door closing behind you.

Normally he would push his feelings to the side and let you leave, but he didn’t know if he could handle pretending tonight. Before he could talk himself out of it, he got out of bed, throwing on a fresh pair of boxers and grabbing a t-shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed waiting for you to emerge, heart beating out of his chest.

When you opened the door, you were expecting to see Matthew already half asleep, mumbling a goodbye to you. Early on in your arrangement, he insisted you stayed over in the guestroom, not wanting you to go home alone so late, but you refused. The best he got out of you was a text when you got home safe. You just couldn’t allow yourself to wake up in his apartment, that would be a cruel joke to your true feelings. But tonight, he was waiting up for you, a t-shirt in his hand.

You gave him a confused look, suddenly feeling very exposed in front of him.

Matthew moved his hands out to you, urging you to grab the shirt.

“What are you doing?” you questioned. There was no way this was what you hoped it was, he wouldn’t.

“Put it on,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Wha-,”

“I can’t do this anymore, okay? I can’t watch you leave every night and then fall asleep alone wishing I was holding you. So put the shirt on and get back in bed.”

It was almost like you didn’t believe him. You gave him another quizzical look, to which he responded by gesturing it towards you again. You finally reached out and grabbed the shirt, slowly pulling it over your head. It was big, and you couldn’t deny that your heart fluttered as the soft fabric fell over your frame. You hesitantly moved towards the bed, climbing back under the sheets. Matthew slid in behind you, immediately reaching and grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You stayed silent for a minute, but your mind wouldn’t shut off. You couldn’t just pretend that this was normal.

“You know we have to talk about this, right? You’re not that dumb,” you mumbled at the end.

He scoffed, but it quickly turned into a chuckle as you turned in his arms and he saw your face, laced with confusion.

“What is there to talk about?” he smirked.

“Matty,” you warned, not blind to how his cheeks pinkened at the name.

Matthew sighed, “Look, Y/N, I don’t think you hate me as much as you pretend to. And I’m telling you that I never hated you like it seemed for all those years. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure we’ve been exclusively hooking up for a while now and fuck, I want more,” he declared.

You of course agreed with him, but you decided to have a little fun.

“How do you know you’re not just one of many on my roster, hmm?” you teased, but he saw right through you.

“You’re here almost every night I’m not away. I would honestly be impressed if you were doing that,” he laughed as he looked down at you, moving his hand to play with your hair.

You didn’t even have words, just cupping his cheek and pressing a slow kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, he was staring at you with the softest eyes, and after so long you finally let yourself stare back.

“Okay but I’m not telling our parents. That’s on you,” you spoke.

“Umm, about that, I already told my mom-”

“You told your mom that we’re fucking! What is wrong with you Matthew?” you exclaimed, playfully hitting his bare chest as he burst into laughter.

“No! I just told her we started hanging out a little bit. That’s all baby.”

“Oh thank god,” you sighed, relieved that the woman you basically considered a second mother didn’t know that your relationship with her son started as a Saturday night bar hook up.

After another fit of giggles, the physical and emotional exhaustion of the night finally struck. You turned into Matthew’s body and nuzzled into his chest, his arms holding you close. His lips grazed your forehead, whispering goodnight. But just when you felt your eyes slipping shut, you heard that voice one more time.

“I should probably tell you though, Brady knows about the fucking.”

“Mathewwwww,” you groaned into his skin, feeling your body shake as his vibrated with laughter.

Even though you had a lot of explaining to do back home, you were so happy to have the pest by your side through it all.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk smut #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl smut #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey smut #my writing

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daveeddiggsit · 4 years

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The Plan

WIDEOUT MASTERLIST

Series: WIDEOUT (chpt viii)

Note: Thank you @braidedchallah for proofreading. Reminder — before you kill me — there is one chapter left (and an epilogue). Keep that in mind. Enjoy. Feel free to yell at me afterwards. If you’re reading this, I’m sorry for what you’re about to experience.

Word Count: 12.2k

Pairing: Football Player!Thomas Jefferson x Tutor!Reader

Warnings: angst. possible breakup. perhaps some crying. implied sex (more than once). thom being a perfect boyfriend. thom looking fine af in denim (i’m trash).

Summary: Goodbyes are hard.

Tags: @coololdsoulpoetlove @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @lilangeldevil006 @pana-ce-a @merrahonthawall @katierpblogg @thespianbooks @a-hopeless-fan @uniquelystarchildthedragon @wcreech @sabbrriiinnaa @imperial-martian @harpersmariano @icanneverbesatisfied @underthewillowtreerycb @i-know-i-can @astralaffairs @braidedchallah (if i forgot anyone i apologize, just lemme know for next time)

As one of the smartest kids in your graduating class, you have a certain reputation to uphold. Maintaining a perfect 4.0 GPA isn’t easy, which means that you have to choose all the right answers and make all the right decisions.

As it turns out, you seem to be pretty good at that. Being right about a lot of things, academic or not, seems to come naturally to you. Especially when it comes to a certain curly-haired athlete who also happens to be your boyfriend of over a year.

You had been right when you told him that he would recover from his ankle injury on the night it happened. Well, you can’t be entirely sure of that yet since he’s still not clear to engage in full-action sports, but it’s incredibly clear that he’s well on his way to recovering fully.

Almost exactly seven weeks after the incident, he’d gotten his cast removed and replaced with a boot so that he could put weight on his ankle again. Since then, he’s been in physical therapy almost daily in order to make sure that he’s healing the right way. According to him, he’s progressing well every week and is slowly regaining his mobility, strength, and speed. Just two weeks ago he ditched the boot so that he could finally put on a pair of shoes; you remember the grin on his face when he gave you a little dance to show off the new kicks he’d gotten as celebration.

He’s not 100% healthy yet, and he certainly won’t be back on the field (or track) for another couple months until he’s clear to practice, but you’re proud that he’s been able to recover as much as he has in relatively so little time.

On the night of his injury, you’d also been right about another thing: the fact that Thomas would receive college offers.

And that’s what you’re celebrating today.

After weeks and weeks of advocating for himself and sending his player reel and personal letters to the head coaches of schools he wanted to attend, he finally got an offer from one of his top college choices: the University of Virginia.

While their football team isn’t the most notable in the nation, their program is one of the best in the state of Virginia at a Division I level, and that’s pretty much all Thomas wants. After he recovers fully, Thomas will make an excellent asset to the team since one of their starting wide receivers is entering the NFL Draft after this year.

At UVA, Thomas would get the play time he needs to shine and show his true colors and talent as a wide receiver all while having a coaching staff there to support him and his every need. Their academic program for liberal arts is also something Thomas has been looking at in a school since he plans on majoring in English.

With all of that said, the Jefferson household decides to host a special dinner for their son in celebration of the wonderful news.

And while under normal circumstances, you would feel happy and excited for your boyfriend and his amazing accomplishment, instead you have a voice that lingers in the back of your mind reminding you of the similar news you had received just a week prior.

Thomas isn’t the only one with a huge scholarship offer.

After applying to many different schools with somewhat notable engineering programs in-state (because let’s be real, out-of-state tuition is absurdly expensive), you’ve received only a few grants from NYU and Syracuse University, but it isn’t enough to cover all of tuition.

But when you’d received an email last week from the one out-of-state school you had applied to last minute, your heart had just about dropped from your chest.

UCLA is offering you a full-ride.

You should be happy that you have an incredible offer. You should be elated for Thomas with his scholarship offer, too. However, you can’t help but feel a looming sense of stress every time you think about telling him.

That’s why you haven’t told him yet; it’s been nine days.

“Y/N?”

Thomas’ voice snaps you out of your thoughts and suddenly you are brought back to reality. You’re dressed up and sitting at the dinner table with Thomas across from his parents. The menu of the night consists of a couple different French dishes that his mother had learned to make a few years back when they visited Paris for an entire summer. His mother’s rendition of the food is nothing short of amazing.

Your eyes meet the warm brown ones that belong to your boyfriend as you turn your head to glance at him next to you. “Hmm?”

”You didn’t hear anythin’ I said, did you?” Thomas chuckles, biting his lip as he watches you put on a guilty simper.

“No, sorry.” You breathe out a small laugh in order to cover up your underlying nervousness. “I zoned out for a minute there. What were you saying?”

“Well, I’m arguin’ a case here. Technically, a hot dog — a piece of meat held together by two pieces of bread - is a sandwich, right? In simple terms and by definition this should be true, so don’t overthink it. My dad keeps saying it’s not, but please, Y/N, you gotta side with me this time.”

You take a breath in and click your tongue. “I don’t know, Peter, I think I gotta go with Thom on this one.”

“Yes!” Thomas celebrates, throwing his arms up dramatically. “I told you!”

Mr. Jefferson’s mouth drops at your response. “How dare you take his side. Did all those other times teaming up at dinner and making fun of him mean nothing to you?”

If it hadn’t been evident prior to this moment where Thomas gets his overdramatics from, then it’s certainly clear now.

“Case closed.” Thomas smirks, crossing his arms, proud of himself.

“What are you talking about? The case is far from closed.” His father retorts, splaying his arms out, causing Thomas’ mom to speak out.

“Hey, calm down, you two. You’re gonna make a mess if you keep on bangin’ the table like that.” She chastises them. They both mutter their apologies before Thomas’ father continues on defending himself.

“Y/N, why’d you choose his side? You know I’m right. Don’t let that boy guilt trip you; he’s still gonna love you if you disagree with him.”

“Sorry, Peter.” You shrug, sneaking a glance at Thomas who’s watching you with a glint in his eyes. “As much as I don’t want to agree with your son on this one, I unfortunately do.”

Thomas pauses to narrow his eyes as you in puzzled manor. “‘Unfortunately?’ Your words wound me, sweetheart, really.” He says in a teasing tone before his smile turns smug as he directs his attention towards his father. “But you see, Dad? It’s 2 against 1. ‘M sorry to say, but your opinion is overruled.”

Mr. Jefferson waves his son off dismissively. “That’s horseshit; your mother hasn’t sided with anyone yet. We still have one more vote to count.”

“Language, Peter.” The woman in question warns, giving him a look that’s only half serious.

“Well, honey? You agree with me, don’t you?” Peter asks his wife with pleading eyes, causing her to roll hers.

“Sure, sweetie.”

You shake your head and smile, leaning back in your chair to watch the antics unfold.

“What? Ma, why you takin’ his side?” Thomas jumps in. “I’m supposed to be your favorite, you know.”

“Of course you’re my favorite; you’re my only child, Thomas.” His mother deadpans, causing Thomas to frown.

It’s Peter’s turn now to smirk at Thomas and you. “See? Now we’re tied. Opinion very much not overruled, thank you.”

“Wait, what was your side of the argument again?” Mrs. Jefferson asks her husband. “You said a hot dog is a sandwich, right?”

“No, that’s what I said.” Thomas interjects.

“Oh, well then I agree with Thomas.”

“Ha!” Your boyfriend exclaims, pointing at his dad. “I told you! Your opinion is not valid. Hot dogs are sandwiches. End of story.”

“They are not sandwiches! They are a different entity. How can you compare a ham and cheese to a weiner between two buns? Well I’ll tell you. You can’t!”

“For the last time, Dad. It’s a piece of meat in between two pieces of bread. That is classified as what? A sandwich!”

“With that logic, you’d say that a burger is a sandwich, too?”

“Yup.”

“There is somethin’ wrong with y’all.” Peter shakes his head, picking at the leftover food on his plate. “I thought I raised you better, T. Y/N, I expected you to take my side on this one.”

“Sorry, Mr. J.” You shrug. “Tommy’s right. A piece of meat in between two pieces of bread does indeed technically classify it as a sandwich.”

“Y’all got me thinkin’ that I’m the crazy one now.” Peter sighs defeatedly.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that nonsense.” Thomas’ mother chuckles, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “Thomas, honey, your father and I are very proud of you and are excited for your opportunity at UVA.”

“Thanks, Ma.” Thomas grins. “I’m excited, too.”

Under the table, Thomas’ hand finds yours and laces your fingers together. Its warmth is comforting and the small moment makes you forget about everything for just a moment. A small silence stretches on for a bit before Peter speaks up.

“So, Y/N, how are your college applications going? Have you gotten any scholarships yet? I feel like you’re too smart to not get anything.”

Your stomach drops at the question. You really hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like this, and while it is a simple question that you should be able to answer quickly… you don’t. You hesitate and Thomas notices.

You want to tell the truth, you really do, but you can’t. This is Thomas’ night to celebrate and the last thing you want to do is mess it up with news that you’d be going to school across the country. Tonight is supposed to be about him, not you.

So you lie.

“Oh, um, no, not yet.” You chuckle nervously. The hand holding Thomas’ fidgets slightly and he squeezes lightly to try and help calm your nerves. “I mean, I’ve gotten into NYU and Syracuse so far. Still waiting to hear from Columbia. I haven’t heard much as far as scholarships, though, unfortunately. I’ve received a few grants here and there, but nothing too big.”

“Columbia, wow. What’s their acceptance rate? 10%?” Mrs. Jefferson asks, seemingly interested.

“6%.” Thomas jumps in to answer before glancing at you with a small smile. “I don’t think Y/N will have any trouble getting in, though.”

You send him the biggest smile you can muster, though you feel like it sort of comes out as a grimace. “Thanks, T.” You say softly.

Beat.

“What time is it? I think it’s past my bedtime.” Peter yawns, checking his watch. “10 o’clock? Where did the time go? Y/N, are you going to be okay driving home this late?”

“It’s not that late, Mr. Jefferson. I should be fine.” You’ve definitely driven home from Thomas’ place past 10pm before (multiple times), but you’re not telling him that. “I do think I should probably leave soon, though.”

“You wanna go get your things upstairs, then I can walk you out?” Thomas asks you with a mischievous look in his eye. Knowing him, he probably just wants to get you alone for a bit before you leave. Even through your nervousness to tell him the truth, you can’t deny his charm.

“Yeah, that sounds good, Tommy.”

Then, both you and Thomas excuse yourselves from the table. You make sure to thank Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson for dinner and the invite. You’re always honored to be included in their family events even if it’s something as small as dinner on a Friday night.

When you make it up to Thomas’ room, he doesn’t waste another moment before he kisses you softly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek after he gently shuts the door.

“Been waitin’ to do that all night.” He grins afterwards, softly brushing over the skin of your cheek with his thumb.

You smile as you bring your hands up to his shoulders, wordlessly leaning forward to sweetly press your lips to his again.

“Missed you.” He mumbles as he pulls away to lean his forehead against yours. “Feel like we haven’t been seeing a lot of each other lately.”

He’s right. With both of you not having any classes together this year, you both worried about college applications, Thomas not in football season anymore and in and out of PT almost constantly, you two haven’t been seeing each other as much as you’d like. Another reason why you haven’t been able to tell Thomas about UCLA (aside from the fact that you simply don’t have the guts to do it).

“I know.” You sigh, looking off to the side for a second. “I’m sorry.”

“‘S not your fault. We’ve both been busy.”

“Yeah, but still.” You say softly. “Feels bad. I miss you.”

He chuckles. “Well, I’m right here, baby. Don’t need to go far.”

You smile haphazardly and roll your eyes as you bring your hand up to the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss. Who knows how many more of these you’ll get before you both graduate and have to go your separate ways.

Before it can go too far, you pull away again.

“T?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m so proud of you.” You say genuinely because you really want him to know. You feel like you don’t tell him enough (even though that’s not the case). “Really, I am. You deserve that scholarship and so much more.”

“Thanks, love.” He murmurs while a soft smile adorns his face. “Hey, if none of these in-state schools give you anything, I think you’d have a good chance at getting something at UVA. They have an honors college that gives up a ton of grants and shit, you should look into it. I’m not sure if the applications are still open, but worth a try.”

You purse your lips before you give him your response. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

“I’m sure you’ll get something anyway, but just wanted to bring that up and let you know.”

“Appreciate the thought, Thom.”

Thomas grins, giving you one last peck on the lips before finally turning away to remove his overcoat. He double takes when he sees your face drop slightly. His eyebrows furrow as he notices your mood shift. “Hey, what’s wrong? Somethin’ botherin’ you? Not gonna lie, you’ve been a little off all night, sweetheart...”

You hesitate, not able to look him in the eye, the guilt eating you alive. The pressure of holding everything in is building up and while Thomas is normally your rock, the one you can go to for anything, you can’t this time, and you can feel it wearing you down.

You take in a shaky deep breath before you go to sit down on his bed, eyes cast towards the ground. “I’m okay, T, I’m just… stressed. With school.” You say, finally willing yourself to look up into his caring gaze. It hurts to lie to him, but you keep telling yourself that it’s his night.

“You sure?” He asks, taking a seat next to you to gently grab your hand in his. “Seriously, baby, I know when somethin’s up. What’s on that brilliant mind of yours, huh?” He lightly bumps his shoulder against yours in a teasing gesture, causing you to let out a half-hearted chuckle. He always knows how to get a laugh out of you, doesn’t he? “I know you’re worried about more than that stats test you have next week. Tell me what’s really botherin’ you.” He says softly, catching your gaze again.

Sighing once more, you tear your eyes away from his pleading ones. “I um…” You trail off after trying and failing to come up with another lie or excuse.

Thomas always draws your worries and frustrations out of you; he knows you so well to the point where he knows exactly what to say to convince you to tell him something. Honesty has never been a problem in your relationship, and the last thing you want is to push it to a point of no return. You already feel terrible for withholding the truth; you want to be free from this secret you’ve been holding.

And suddenly seven words echo in your head:

“Tell him. He’ll understand. He loves you.”

Your eyes flit back up to meet his concerned gaze. Here it goes.

“I did get a scholarship. All tuition and expenses paid. I got the email a week and a half ago and I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

His eyes widen at the confession, taken aback by how big the news is.

“Holy shit, Y/N, that’s… that’s amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you. Not surprised, but proud nonetheless.” He says genuinely, a smile evident on his face before it drops slightly. “Why didn’t you wanna tell me?” There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. “Wait, why’d you lie at dinner when my dad asked?”

You give him a sad smile before you look away again, fidgeting with your fingers on the hand that Thomas isn’t holding. “I didn’t want to take over your night, T. And I didn’t tell you when I found out because… the school’s in Cali.” You say, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

He cocks his head to the side slightly, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “I thought you only applied to schools in-state.”

You shake your head, pursing your lips before you respond. “That’s what I had planned originally, but my advisor pushed me to apply for this scholarship program at UCLA and… well, I got in.”

Thomas goes silent for a few moments as he looks off to the side, breathing deeply. It’s hard to tell what he’s feeling. Then, he lets out a low whistle. “Full-ride to UCLA, huh?” He says softly before he turns to look at you.

“Thomas…” You start, your voice soft and full of worry, but he continues to talk.

“Are you going to accept it?” He asks and you nod slowly.

Ideally, you have no other real choice; by going to UCLA you’d graduate with zero debt. And with UCLA’s engineering program and opportunities that other schools can’t fulfill, it fills all the boxes you want in a university.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Really. I’m glad they recognize how amazing you are.” The tone in Thomas’ voice is fond and he’s absolutely sure of the words he’s saying. “It’s far away, I know, but we can make it work.”

The emotions in his eyes are conflicting, but they still hold unrelenting love and support in them. When you hesitate to respond, his eyes search yours, trying to find some sort of answer in them, but before he can decipher anything, you tear your gaze from his.

“Right?” He asks as his grip on your palm loosens until your hand falls back into your lap, the warmth from Thomas’ fingers completely vanished. “Baby, talk to me. Please.”

“Thom, I… I want to think that but I’m not sure.” You admit quietly, and having said that, you can see something in Thomas’ composure crumble.

He shakes his head. “Nah, don’t you say that. We can make this work, Y/N.” His voice wavers slightly as he stands up and runs a hand over his curls, smoothing them back and away from his face. “I haven’t accepted the offer at UVA. I can decline and apply to UCLA—”

“T, I’m not going to ask you to do that—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to ask me, love. I’m willing to do this all on my own. Like I said, we can make this work. I’ll improvise. My parents can afford it, then I can just join the football team as a walk-on. I’m confident I’ll make it. Since they didn’t give me an offer I’ll prove them wrong and be the best damn walk-on they ever had.”

“Thomas, don’t—”

“I can also have my dad send the head coach a letter. I didn’t wanna pull that for any other schools because I wanted to earn all my offers — and because of the whole nepotism thing — but I’ll make an exception for—”

“Thomas, please!” You raise your voice and when he finally stops, you immediately regret it. You’ve never raised your voice like that with him before and doing so right now feels terrible.

“Please, T, just stop. I don’t want you to do any of that for me. How long have you been waiting for UVA to give you a chance? How many letters have you personally written to Coach Michaels, begging him to consider you for one of their open receiver positions?”

Thomas is silent as you speak, knowing full well that you have a point. You continue.

“You’ve been set on UVA as your top school for a couple months now. Don’t forget how hyped you were when you finally got the offer this morning. And now you want to just throw that away? No. I’m sorry, Thom, but I am not going to be the one to take it away from you.”

“You’re not.” He says earnestly. “Taking it away from me, I mean. I want to do this for you. For us. UCLA has a good football program, too, all I have to do is pull some strings if you’ll let me.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay, well I’m not letting you do that. Thomas, it’s not as easy as you’re making it seem. Think about this, okay? Think about yourself and your football career and all the opportunities that you’ll have for yourself down in Virginia. Don’t let me get in the way of that! I don’t want each of us to be an obstacle in each other’s successes.”

Thomas gives you an incredulous look and stills himself. “Are you serious? Is that what you consider our relationship? An obstacle?”

You look away, sighing. “No, T, I… I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.”

“No, Y/N. I don’t know that.” He looks at you with a distressed gaze, all traces of comfort and playfulness gone and replaced with hurt… caused by you — something you never would have thought you’d see in his eyes.

“Look, I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Today’s supposed to be your day.”

“Let me get one thing straight, Y/N. Our relationship is not an obstacle… it never has been and it never will be.” Thomas says coldly and you cringe when he calls you by your full name in a tone that’s less than friendly.

“I just don’t want our love for each other to get in the way of…” You trail off, but decide against speaking mid-sentence. “You know what, nevermind.”

“Get in the way of what?”

“Thomas,” you start, making eye contact with him once again. “I don’t want to get in the way of your football career. It’s unfair; I can’t do that to you, T. You deserve to make the most of your career in college so that you can make it to the NFL. That’s your dream, right? To play in the NFL for the New York Giants like your father did. Am I right?”

His jaw clenches slightly as he nods, and you continue.

“The coach at UVA believes in you — even through your injury. Why are you going to throw that away? In order to be with your high school girlfriend? Do you see how childish that sounds?” A beat of silence passes before you continue in a softer tone.

“I just… I don’t want you to do that, Thomas, it’s too big of a risk. You have a solid spot at UVA to prove yourself on the field. If you drop that for a walk-on position at UCLA, it’ll be a mistake. Instead of proving yourself to NFL recruiters, you’ll be set on proving yourself to college coaches just to get a chance on the field. I want you to have the best chances at making it to the NFL.” Now it’s your turn to stand up. You pace away from him as you continue to speak.

“Let’s say you do follow me to UCLA and join the football program. What if… what if something happens while we’re in college and we’re not together anymore? What will happen? You’d have potentially messed up your career for me and I don’t want that to happen, T. I’m sorry but I won’t let that happen.”

Thomas holds a hand up to stop you from your ramblings. He speaks his next words slowly. “Wait, wait, hold on now. You think we’re going to break up in college?”

You roll your eyes in frustration, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s not what I said—”

“No, no that’s exactly what you said.” He responds coldly, narrowing his eyes at you. “I’m starting to question our intentions in this relationship, Y/N. Did you ever plan on us being long term?”

“See, this is why I didn’t wanna tell you. I didn’t want this to happen.” You say, annoyed that it’s gotten to this point of you two having an argument.

“You just gonna ignore my question?”

“Before applying to schools, T, I wasn’t even thinking about the future. I was taking things day by day. We were both pent up in our little perfect world, but right now we need to face reality.”

“Okay, so then why’d you keep this a secret from me? Were you plannin’ on keepin’ this to yourself until graduation? I don’t know if you knew this, sweetheart, but a relationship is a two-way street and involves a little somethin’ called communication.” His snarky tone fills the room and has you rolling your eyes again. “Girlfriends aren’t supposed to lie to their boyfriends and then get mad at him for reacting a certain way when she finally decides to tell him huge news.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” You say, breathing out another sigh and softening up at his last sentence. He’s right; you shouldn’t have kept it a secret. “I wanted to tell you, I just, I don’t know what’s gonna happen after we graduate, okay? And I’m scared.”

“You don’t think we can work through that together? As a team?” Thomas’ eyes are begging you to reason with him. “I’m scared, too, but we’ll figure something out. Right?”

The look in your eyes is distant as you cast them down to the ground. “Yeah.”

“Maybe we could do a long distance thing. I’ve seen other couples do it.”

You fiddle with a loose thread on your sweater. “I don’t know, T. We’ll see if we can come up with something.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs out a hot-tempered laugh. “Okay.” He says shortly.

“What?”

“So you don’t want me to drop everything and go to UCLA with you, which is fine. I understand that. But now you’re telling me that you don’t wanna do long distance?”

“I didn’t say that, I just— we need to be realistic, Thom.”

“What does that even mean?!” He yells, and it’s the first time he’s ever raised his voice at you. You hate it.

“We have to keep the future in mind!”

“I want you in my future! Don’t you want me in your future?”

“We both have different ideas of what we want. Different dreams, okay? You can’t have your dream of making it to the NFL and also have me when I plan on going to an engineering program across the country!”

You’re deflecting and he knows it.

“Answer the damn question, Y/N.” He says lowly, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Of course I want you in my future, Thomas!” You say exasperatedly, looking at the ceiling. “What kind of question is that?”

“Forgive me if I’m strugglin’ to believe that when you’re actin’ like this.” He says, his voice taking a more neutral tone, but he sounds exhausted. “You’re going to school across the country and you were hesitant to tell me - fine. I fucking get it. But you can’t just say that we’ll probably break up in college and think that that is fucking okay. It’s not! And you can’t say ‘I don’t know’ about dating long distance when that’s literally the only other option we have.”

“That’s the thing, Thomas. I don’t know if that’s the only other option we have.”

His face looks puzzled as he looks at you for a few seconds before realization finally settles in. Thomas narrows his eyes at you once again, his gaze cold, making your heart drop in your chest. “You wanna break up, don’t you?”

“No.” You state, choosing your words carefully. “I don’t want to. But we have to think about—”

“Our future, yeah. I get it.” Thomas snaps, cutting you off. “You know what? You want to talk about the future? Fine. Maybe we should.” He says simply, crossing his arms. “If you think we’re just going to break up in college anyway, maybe we should just speed up the process and get it over with.”

You shake your head at him. “Thomas, don’t do this. That’s not what I want.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s not.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe.”

“I’m done arguing with you, Jefferson.” You breathe out tiredly, running a hand through your hair.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He looks completely drained as he speaks again, his voice now calm. “What are we doing here, Y/N?”

A small silence fills the air before you answer quietly. “I don’t know, T.”

What are you both doing? Arguing about whether or not your relationship should continue after high school? Maybe you are being a little irrational about it, implying that you should break up before college and all. Thomas’ reaction to it all is understandable because he doesn’t want to lose you. However, he needs to be truthful to himself. Is this relationship going to work when the two of you are seeking entirely different career paths on opposite coasts?

What a fucking mess.

You hate that it’s gotten to this point. Your fear about telling Thomas and it going downhill has come true, and knowing that makes you even more emotional.

“Tommy… I…” You say sotto voce, on the edge of tears as you slowly reach for him, but he puts a hand up stopping you from moving any further. He turns his face so you can’t see his expression.

“Don’t, Y/N.” Thomas’ voice is firm, but it breaks slightly when he says your name. “Just don’t.” He whispers.

You watch him and he struggles to keep himself together. You hate that you’ve done this to him, that you’re making him feel this way… you hate that you’ve caused this.

“I’m gonna go…” You voice (barely above a whisper) after a long silent pause, not trusting your normal voice due to the shaky deep breaths that begin to rack your body. You’re on the verge of breaking down.

Thomas nods. “I think you should.”

And that breaks your heart.

You feel weird leaving like this, gross even. You don’t want to leave things off like they are. You don’t want to leave things unresolved and you don’t want to leave with Thomas still angry at you. Still, though, you grab all your things and head to the doorway of his room.

Pausing to look back at him, you open your mouth to say something, but hesitate. Deciding against it, you turn to open the door and leave without another word.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━ ♛ ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You call Maria as soon as you get to your car. She helps you keep your composure as you drive to her house, keeping you company via phone. You make sure to send your family a quick text of your whereabouts and that you plan to spend the night at Maria’s place.

As soon as you arrive in her bedroom and drop your bag to the ground, you break down and begin to sob, crashing into the welcoming arms of your best friend. You cry until you can’t anymore, and Maria is there for you the entire time hugging you and easing you through it.

She stays there, quiet and still, allowing you to let out all of your emotions. You don’t tell her the details about what happened until after you have no tears left to cry.

“Don’t be mad at T, please, none of this is his fault.” You sniffle, wiping at your nose with a tissue Maria gave you. “It’s all mine.”

“Y/N, don’t blame yourself for all this. You just want what’s best for the both of you in the long run. If he doesn’t understand that, then he’s just not seeing the whole picture.”

“I just hate arguing with him, Maria.” You say weakly, wiping at your face to dry your tears. “This is our first fight and I hate how I feel right now. I don’t want things to end on bad terms. How am I supposed to get over this feeling once we… if we break up before college?”

“You don’t have to end things on bad terms, Y/N.” Maria says softly. “You both need to be on the same page about this. If you both make a plan and sort things out, then maybe you can leave things on a positive note. Not as a goodbye, but as a see you later, you know? And if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. You’ll meet again one day and you can pick up where you left off. But if it’s not, then at least you guys can cherish what you had when you were just two kids in high school who didn’t know any better and made the most of their teenage years.”

You nod slowly. She does have a point, and this is all what you were thinking when you had even brought up the thought of breaking up after graduation.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“It’s my best friend superpower. I can’t help it.” She shrugs, making you laugh, even if it was only a half-hearted one. “Seriously, though. You two need to have an honest conversation with one another.”

You sigh, wiping the rest of your drying tears away with the tissue. “I think we both could use some space right now, though. I’m going to wait until Monday.”

Maria nods. “Monday. But you have to talk to him. You can’t chicken out. I know you, Y/N.”

“Sometimes a little too well…”

“All for the best.” She grins.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━ ♛ ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

After a long and lonely weekend, Monday finally comes and you make sure to wake up earlier than usual in order to make it to school in time for when Thomas comes out of his physical therapy session with his track trainer.

You haven’t called, texted, or seen each other since Friday night and the guilt and heaviness from what happened still weighs on your chest despite the reassuring words from Maria.

Patiently and nervously, you wait outside the boys’ locker room like you have countless times before, only this time, things feel much different. The anticipation lingers in the air surrounding you and you feel the stress push at your shoulders until the door finally opens and Thomas walks out.

After over a year of dating, you still get butterflies at the sight of him even though he’s just wearing simple black jeans and a t-shirt.

As he shrugs on his jean jacket and backpack, he glances up through a few stray curls that fall down in front of his eyes. His eyes flicker to you as he walks in your direction before he rips them away quickly.

“T, hey how was…?” You try to speak to him, but he just continues to walk past you.

You watch him as he goes on like nothing, completely disregarding your presence.

“You’re still mad…” You trail off, falling into step with him and his pace doesn’t falter.

He doesn’t say a word.

“Listen, I know you probably don’t wanna see me right now, but please hear me out.”

Still nothing.

You know he’s still upset; he only gets quiet when he has a lot on his mind or he’s going through something. Taking in a deep breath, you speed up so that you can get in front of him.

“Thomas, hey, stop.” You say, putting a hand on his chest. You know that if he really wants to charge past you he can, but instead he stays there, halted by your touch. He looks down at you, his face nearing yours, and your eyes plead with his. “Please.” You whisper, your fingers curling into his black shirt to hold him there (or maybe it’s more of a way to ground yourself).

Thomas’ detached gaze lingers on your face and as your eyes search his, you note just how devoid of energy he looks.

“I just want to talk. I…” You watch him as he breaks your gaze to look at the ground. “I know I fucked up; I said some things I shouldn’t have. Just please let me make it up to you. I need you, T. I want to fix this while we still can.”

You sneak a glance around you to see that you’ve attracted some attention from your fellow classmates who are unapologetically staring. Do they know about you and Thomas’ fight? How could they possibly know? You two are hardly making a scene, but then again… people are vultures who will perk up at even the slightest bit of drama.

“Can we go somewhere private? Please? Just the two of us.”

Thomas licks his lips as he looks around, then back at you lazily. “Can this wait? We have class in six minutes, you know.”

“Let’s skip.” You say, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. “This is more important than class today, okay? How about we go to that diner down the street?”

“It’s a little too early for a milkshake and fries, isn’t it?”

“They have eggs and waffles, too.” You say, your eyes pleading him to accept your offer. “Please? I know you love breakfast.”

He’s quiet for a few more minutes and you wait in anticipation for his answer. Just when you get your hopes down and think he’s going to reject you, he speaks up.

“Okay.” He responds finally. “But only because I really don’t want to watch boring presentations about the social cognitive theory in my Psych class…”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “That’s good enough for me, T.”

“Bribin’ me with breakfast. You know that shit’s my weakness…” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head. You’re not sure if he’d meant for you to hear that, but either way it makes a hint of a grin form on your lips.

“Come on, I’ll drive.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━ ♛ ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

When you get to the diner, it’s fairly empty except for an elderly couple at a booth and a man at the counter drinking a cup of coffee. The smell of eggs and bacon wafts through the air and enters your nostrils as you breathe in.

A waitress greets you when you two slide into a booth, sitting across from each other. She hands you both menus and gets your drink orders before she’s off.

Silence fills the air between you as you both look over your menus. Thomas doesn’t say anything and it feels weird, suddenly reminding you of why you’re here in the first place. While from an outside perspective it may look like a normal outing between you two, you can feel the lingering tension in the air that’s leftover from Friday night. Unspoken feelings and unresolved problems still remain.

You sneak a glance at him over your menu only to find him already staring back at you. As soon as your eyes meet, he looks away.

“I feel really bad about Friday.” You finally break the silence, your voice small. Wanting nothing more than to let him know how you feel, you try to catch his gaze. When his brown eyes finally meet yours, you continue. “I hate the way we left things…”

“Me too.” He finally says softly. You two stare at each other for a few more seconds and Thomas opens his mouth to continue. “I…”

Then, the waitress comes back with a couple water cups and two black coffees, interrupting whatever it was that Thomas was about to say. You and Thomas direct your attention to her with fake smiles as she asks for your orders.

After she takes your menus and leaves, you let out a sigh as you look down at your fidgeting hands.

“Listen, T…” You begin, regret and guilt evident in your voice. You make sure to look up and meet his gaze one more time before you continue. “I'm sorry for lying to you and your family — I should have told you the day I found out, but I was too afraid of losing what we have. And I'm sorry for fucking up your day when we were supposed to be celebrating instead.”

You stop to take in a shaky deep breath, looking down at your hands once again. “I’m so sorry if I made it seem like I was doubting our relationship or… or if I made you feel like I didn’t… like you weren’t…” Struggling to find the right way to express how sorry you are, your tone gets more and more emotional as you stumble over your words.

Thomas saves you from your struggle, however, as his hand reaches across the table to cover yours, causing you to look up at him with surprise. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“What?” You voice breathlessly. “I… I thought you were still mad. It shouldn’t be that easy. Why are you…?”

He shrugs slowly. “Because you’re not entirely at fault… and as much as I want to stay angry, I can’t stand seein’ you in distress like this.”

You purse your lips and squeeze his hand in yours. “I’m still really sorry, T. I want you to know that. I said some things I regret and…”

“I know you are. Especially after seeing you try to fix things today by not takin’ no for an answer earlier. We both said some things we regret and it’s okay, Y/N. Really.” His voice is soft as he responds. “I’m sorry for yellin’ and not fully listenin’ to what you were sayin’. And for bein’ kind of a dick to you earlier when I ignored you. I was in denial. I just felt like you were givin’ up on us too quickly and I… I don’t wanna mess up what we have. I really don’t.”

Your eyes soften at his words. “I know. Me neither.”

You both are quiet for a few seconds as you both struggle to find a way to address the elephant in the room.

Luckily, you both get interrupted by the waitress again who comes back with your orders. You let go of each other’s hand when your plates are placed in front of you. Your mouth waters at the sight of your food, and you thank your waitress before she leaves again, telling you to let her know if you need anything else.

A comfortable silence falls in the space between you and Thomas, and though you feel that the tension from Friday night has now dissipated, the stress of the upcoming conversation still sits on your shoulders.

Surprisingly, Thomas is the one who initiates it.

“So…” He starts after chasing a mouthful of pancakes with a sip of water. “I’m guessin’ you won’t be comin’ back to town on holiday breaks?”

You cringe at the bluntness of the question. “What made you assume that?”

He shrugs, chewing his food before swallowing. “Just the way you were so helpless with your options. Thinking back to it, I figure that you probably wouldn’t have jumped to the possibility of breaking up unless you’d already thought things through somewhat.”

Very observant of him.

You nod before letting out a small sigh. “Yeah. My family’s planning on moving to Miami once I move out. Apparently they’re tired of the cold weather and wanted to wait to move until I graduated high school. They let me know when I told them the news.”

“Erik, too?”

“He’s staying in Philly until he graduates next Spring.”

“Well, that sucks.” He says, picking at the leftovers on his plate.

“Yeah.” You reply softly. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore, Thomas. I thought the answer was clear, but now I’m not so sure.”

He sighs, putting his fork down before looking up at you. “I think I do.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you tilt your head in confusion.

Thom sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Well, for starters, you’re always right, let me just put that out there.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Well, for this instance, at least.” He says simply before he continues. “As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think we’ve got options here.”

“Yes we do, you said it yourself, T.”

“We don’t, Y/N, you were right. I didn’t wanna believe it before but now, I don’t think I have a choice.” He says, holding your gaze firmly. “The two of us going to the same school is out of the picture. Especially with application deadlines already being passed - I checked and I don’t know what I was thinking on Friday. And with us not going to be able to see each other even on holiday breaks… I don’t think that leaves anythin’ else on the table.”

“Thomas, really, you don’t have to do this. Don’t let me pressure you into something you don’t wanna do. Like you said, a relationship’s a two way street. We can work something out. I don’t know what, but we’ll try something else.”

“You’re not pressuring me, Y/N. What would that ‘something else’ be? Long distance? The chances of us visiting each other are slim, especially since I’ll be stuck at UVA for the majority of summer break for training camp. Especially since you’ll be in California and especially since you have no incentive to come back to town after you graduate.”

“You’re my incentive, T.”

He licks his lips and lets out a small laugh. “Baby, don’t fight me on this; you wanted this. Why the shift?”

“I don’t wanna lose you.” You say, voice quiet and close to tears.

Thomas reaches out across the table for your hand again. You lace your fingers with his and hold tightly. “I know. I don’t want to lose you either, but you were right, sweetheart. Seeing each other once a year isn’t good enough, let’s be real. I think we’d be hurting more than we'd be happy.”

You let out a long, deep sigh, squeezing his hand. He’s absolutely right and you knew this when you started this conversation on Friday — doesn’t mean that you don’t want to avoid it, though.

“We… we should…” He hesitates to continue the sentence. “We— God, why is this so hard?”

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, T.”

He takes a deep breath before the words finally come out. “We should break up. This summer.”

It sounds foreign coming out of his mouth and his change in viewpoint surprises you still, even after talking it through with him.

“I don’t wanna be your shackle, Y/N.” He says, squeezing your hand comfortingly. “I want you to do great things without worryin’ about me. Just like you were sayin’ on Friday. And I don’t wanna risk getting to a point where we grow too distant we lose all hope.”

Your eyes tear up a little bit and you reach up to wipe at your eyes with your free hand.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you off easy, missy.” Thomas looks at you pointedly, his voice wavering slightly. He lets out a small bittersweet laugh before he continues. “I’m gonna consider this more of a ‘see you later’ than a ‘goodbye forever’ kinda thing. At some point, I don’t know or care when, we’ll continue where we left off. Mark my words.”

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. You’ve definitely heard those words before. “Have you been talking to Maria lately?”

He gives you a confused look. “No, not since we went on that double date with her and Ellie like two weeks ago, why?”

“She said a similar thing to me when I vented to her this weekend.”

“Really? Oh. I thought I was clever for that one.”

“You were.” You smile, rubbing small circles on the top of his hand.

A comfortable silence settles. The waitress comes back with the check and you give her your card against Thomas’ protests. It’s not long before she comes back and wishes that you both have a good rest of your day.

“This is gonna fucking suck.” Thomas suddenly says bluntly.

“Yeah, it is.” You sigh. “But you know what? We’re gonna make the most of the next three months. We’ll laugh together, we’ll cry together, we’ll enjoy the good times, and when the time comes… we won’t look back. Then, maybe one day, when I’m an engineer and you’re in the NFL… we’ll meet again.”

He sends you a watery smile, giving your hand a small squeeze. “I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart.”

You reciprocate his smile as a small silence stretches in between you two.

Thomas’ eyes fall onto his untouched (and probably now cold) coffee and with his free hand he reaches for the cream. You take that as a sign to let his hand go to let him tend to his glorified bean water, but as you try to withdraw your fingers from his, he just holds on tighter.

“Um, excuse me? What do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, glancing at you like you just committed a sin.

“Don’t you need to pour creamer?” You raise an eyebrow, wondering what the big deal is. “I don’t want you to spill it.”

“Girl, I can pour creamer with one hand, thank you very much.” And there’s the Thomas you know and love, not that he was ever absent in the first place, but it’s good to see him messing around again. “Let me hold your hand in peace because God knows how many more times I’ll get to do it. I gotta savor it.”

“Stoppp.” You whine, drawing the word out. “This is how you’re gonna act until graduation, isn’t it?”

“You complainin’, sweetheart?” He fake pouts as he carefully pours the cream in his coffee and stirs with a spoon. “I thought you loved me.”

You roll your eyes. “You know I love your dramatic ass.”

“Mhm. In more ways than one.” Thomas hums before he takes a sip of his coffee. He cringes when he realizes it’s cold and you laugh at his reaction.

“Ready to go yet?” You ask, amused.

He nods. “We’re not going back to class, though, are we? Because if that’s the case, then no.”

“What? Hell no. Who do you think I am?” You say as you both mutually let go of each other’s hand to get up from the booth.

“A goody-two-shoes, that’s what you are. Really, baby, I didn’t expect you to mention skipping class. That’s like… blasphemy for you.”

You shrug as he holds the front door open for you. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

Thomas gives you a suggestive look and that causes you to smack his arm. “God, Thomas, not like that. Jesus.”

He lets out a full-bodied laugh as you approach your car and he grabs you by the waist as he leans back against the driver’s door. He presses a kiss to your forehead, hugging you close to him. “Just messin’.”

You roll your eyes before you pull back to look him up and down.

“When’d you get this jacket? Haven’t seen you in it before.” You muse, bringing your hands up to grab the denim on each side of his collar.

“A week ago? Maybe two? This is my first time wearing it, though.” He answers before he smirks. “Why? You like it?”

“Yeah, you look good in denim.”

“Do I, now?” He cocks his head slightly, amused as your face drifts closer.

“Mhm. The jacket really suits you.” You hum, releasing the material with one of your hands to slide it up to his jaw. You give him a soft kiss on his lips before you pull back. “Might look better on the floor, though. I don’t know. We’ll have to try and find out.”

Thomas’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise; he hadn’t expected you to turn the suggestive talk around on him. A smirk forms on his lips as he presses them to yours one more time.

“Your parents home?” He mumbles against you.

You pull away slightly to think about it for a second. “No, actually.”

“Well, then I guess we’re about to find out.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━ ♛ ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Over the next few months, you and Thomas keep the promise you gave to each other at the diner. You’ve stayed positive and lived in the moment and, to be honest, those three months have probably been the best three months of your life.

You and Thom are both making the most of your time, making sure to spend almost every weekend together.

You study together even though you don’t share any classes. Most of the time is spent doing homework in silence, but you still enjoy each other’s presence.

For spring break, you go on a trip to the beach with Thomas, Maria, Ellie, James, Aaron, and a few more mutual friends. The week is full of banter and lots of fun-filled memories that you’ll remember for many years to come. It’s definitely one of the many highlights of senior year.

Thomas, being his over-the-top self, asks you to prom by spelling ‘Prom?’ out with bouquets of roses on your front lawn. And as if that isn’t enough, you wake to the sound of a live orchestral quartet playing your favorite song. You groggily walk over to your window to see where the sound is coming from and you’re met with the sight of your boyfriend grinning up at you with his arms gesturing around him proudly.

Of course you say yes.

You would have said yes even if he had asked you casually — but what can you say… you’re a sucker for flowers and he knows it.

Prom night is an absolute blast. You feel like a stunner in your dress and Thomas looks unbelievably handsome in his fitted tux. You stay together the entire night, dancing, singing, laughing, and joking around with both your and his friends.

You almost lose track of the amount of date nights you have with Thomas. You have movie nights, some nights you go rollerskating, concerts, restaurants, hell, you even go paintballing together, which is something that neither of you had ever thought you’d get into.

But as June grows closer and closer, you can’t help but feel that heaviness settle back into your chest. You’d be lying if you said that you haven’t thought about backing out of this agreement the two of you have. In fact, you’ve spent countless nights lying wide awake (sometimes right next to Thomas), trying to figure out how things would go if you decide to stay together.

With your parents deciding to move down to Miami a week after you graduate, it pushes the day you move out to LA earlier than you had originally intended, which makes the idea of staying together seem next to impossible. Your mother says that it’ll be a good opportunity for you to get to know the LA area before classes start in August.

This causes you and Thomas to have a more in-depth conversation about the plan and it ends with you two deciding to break it off a week before your big move. Both of you are in agreement that it would be best for the both of you, so that you have some time to recover. You figure it will be easier that way.

So, when the time comes to start packing your things for your move to California (and your parents’ move to Florida), you get stressed out. You notice that Thomas’ and your enthusiasm/positivity starts to fade as the date of graduation creeps closer and closer.

Which brings you to the present.

On the day of graduation, reality finally hits you. Because not only are you recognizing the fact that you’re leaving the love of your life in eight days to go to school in Cali, you’re also leaving Maria who has been a constant in your life since elementary school.

Maria plans to stay in town and go to community college to knock out all her general education classes before she transfers to a four-year university. Luckily, her girlfriend Ellie has the same idea, so they’ll be taking the same path after high school.

At least they will be together.

Unlike you and Thom, who are currently posing for a photo together for his and your parents who stand behind their phones grinning and teary eyed. You both give your best smiles to the cameras, trying to preserve the memory as best as possible without breaking.

Surprisingly, you and Thomas have stayed strong despite the impending suspension of your relationship that lingers in the atmosphere between you. Although teary eyed because you are saying goodbye to a lot of friends and faculty you’ve gotten to know over the years, you and Thomas don’t cry on graduation day. You don’t cry during the ceremony, you don’t cry during the many pictures you take that day, and you don’t cry at the large family dinner the Jefferson household holds for both you and Thomas.

You’ve both toughed it out both privately and in public. But graduation day eventually comes to its inevitable end, and the day after begins, marking your last day with Thomas Jefferson as your boyfriend.

The two of you make your last day special and have a day-long picnic in a nearby park. You wake up early and spend the entire day together, laughing, kissing, talking, and having as much fun as you can with the inevitable future looming over your heads. You both make the best of your time together, and that’s really all you can ask for.

As the day goes by, your time together begins to run out. And both of your composures begin to fade as each second passes.

While your curfew to be back home is 10pm, you and Thomas decide to hold onto each other a bit longer, so he drives you home and you sneak him into your room when your parents are too busy packing in the basement. They know that this is your last day with Thomas, so when you’re distracting them while Thomas makes his way up the stairs, you tell them that you’re going to sleep early. They comfort you for a few minutes but leave you to your own grief, knowing to respect your wish of ‘sleeping the night off.’

Little do they know, you and Thomas decide to have one more special night together.

When you finally make your way up to your bedroom, Thomas is sitting on your bed, glancing at the half-empty boxes in the corner of your room that need to be filled. Half of your room is packed up, but you’ve put off packing lately to spend time with Thom before you physically can’t anymore.

You let out a sniffle and you don’t realize that you are on the verge of crying until you see Thomas begin to break, too.

“Come here.” He murmurs, standing up from your bed to pull you into a tight hug.

You both cry into each other’s shoulders, fully letting yourselves go emotionally as you let out your pent up sadness. You’re getting each other’s clothing wet with tears, but neither of you care as you cling onto each other, not wanting to let go.

You don’t know how long you stay there or how long it takes until both of you calm down enough so that your tears fall silently.

“I told you this was gonna fucking suck.” Thomas mumbles against you, causing you to let out a laugh and sob at the same time.

You don’t respond, but after a few seconds, you pull away from his shoulder to look at him. Silence stretches between you before you whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you.” He echoes without hesitation before he leans his forehead against yours. You both bask in each other’s presence for a few more beats until Thomas speaks again, his words shaking. “Football won’t be the same without you, Y/N. I won’t be the same without you.”

“You played football for years before I became a part of your life. You’ll be fine, T.” You say quietly, though you are absolutely sure of your words. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek and wipe some of his tears away. “You’re gonna move on and be great and show people what you’re capable of.”

Silence stretches between the two of you before you take a step away from him as you remember something. Thomas frowns at your sudden withdrawal, but you explain yourself as you both wipe at your faces to dry them as best as each of you can.

“That reminds me…” You say, digging into one of the open boxes in the corner of your room until you feel a familiar piece of fabric. You pull out Thomas’ purple hoodie — the one he gave to you the night you officially became a couple. Damn, it feels so long ago now, but it hasn’t even been two years. “Here. You should probably take this back.”

He lets out a small laugh and takes the purple fabric from you to examine it. He seems lost in thought, but after a few moments, he shakes his head and hands it back to you. “Nah. Keep it.”

When you don’t take it, his hand reaches out to one of yours and he wraps your fingers around the fabric. You try to protest, but he continues.

“Don’t want you forgettin’ about me, now, do we?” He chuckles dryly.

“I won’t forget you, Thomas.” Your voice sounds so sure of your words that Thomas has no choice but to believe you.

He swallows and looks down for a second before he glances back into your eyes. “I know.”

“You’re gonna forget about me, though.”

Thomas shakes his head and his eyebrows scrunch together and he looks like he’s about to break again before he reaches out to pull you close.

“Never.” He mumbles into your hair before he pulls back. “Hey, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I will never forget you, Y/N Y/L/N. I couldn’t even if I tried.”

He brings his hands up to cup both sides of your face. His thumbs brush some fresh tears away before he continues to talk. “These eyes? Unforgettable. This beautiful face? Ingrained in my brain forever, sweetheart, I promise you that.” One of his thumbs lightly brushes over your lips. “Don’t even get me started on these lips. I’ll miss them for sure.”

Thomas pauses for a second before his beautiful brown eyes gaze into yours, letting you know that he truly means his next words. “I’m never going to forget any part of you, Y/N.”

You stay there, gazing at one another with nothing but pure love and admiration. Without breaking eye contact, you gingerly put Thomas’ hoodie (which is apparently yours now) back in the box you removed it from. You reach up to pull Thomas’ lips down to yours passionately.

Thomas responds, instantly reciprocating the kiss with the same amount of emotion that you pour into it. He moves his hands from your cheeks to pull your body closer to him. Your hand digs into the material of his shirt and suddenly, you can’t get enough of each other. You both need more — to be closer — but neither of you rush anything. You take it slow and try to take in every little detail about each other.

As layer after layer of clothing comes off, you two savor the feeling of each other’s lips, bodies, and touch. Every soft moan, every sigh, every gasp, every kiss… each and every moment that you spend with each other is savored in one final heat-filled act of love.

Afterwards, you both lie in your bed under the blankets, Thomas’ arm around your naked body and your head on his bare chest. You cherish each other’s presence for one final time, basking in silence until Thomas finally breaks it, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You still sure about this, sweetheart?”

You are quiet for a few seconds before you answer, sotto voce. “Yeah, T.” You listen to his steady heartbeat as you bring your hand up to rest on his torso. “You?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

A few seconds pass and you subconsciously trace little circles on his abdomen with your thumb. Thomas’ arm tightens around your waist as he pulls your closer.

“I’m sorry things have to end this way.” He mumbles against you, his deep voice reverberating throughout his chest.

“Don’t be.” You murmur, exhausted from the emotional toll this day has taken on you. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world — unless there’s a way where it doesn’t end with you and Thomas going your separate ways.

You shake your head at yourself for thinking so negatively. You promised each other something back at that diner.

“It’s not the end, T.” You speak out loud, shifting so that your head rests on the pillow and you’re face to face with Thomas. “You said it yourself before and now it’s my turn to say it: this is a ‘see you later,’ alright? So I better fucking see you later, or else.”

He laughs (oh, you’re gonna miss that laugh) and his hand slides up the curve of your hip to pull himself closer to you. “Back at ya, princess.”

You both sniffle, but you know that your time together, for the time being, at least, has come to an end — especially as both of you begin to drift off no matter how hard you try to stay awake.

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” You whisper in Thomas’ warm embrace.

Thomas responds after he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to.”

So neither of you do.

And you both fall asleep, bodies entangled with one another, content to be in each other’s embrace one last time before you move away.

The next morning, Thomas wakes up before you do and he slowly untangles himself from you as he wills himself to stay strong. He dresses himself as quietly as he can before he presses one last kiss to your temple.

Then, he takes one last look at your sleeping form before he leaves, keeping his word to you and not giving either of you a chance to say your goodbyes.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━ ♛ ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A week later, your heart beats frantically as you drop a box of things you plan on leaving behind against the wall outside of your room.

It’s minutes before you’re supposed to leave for the airport — you want to leave early in case something goes wrong and you get delayed. Sighing, you walk back into your empty room to check for any last things you may have missed packing into the many boxes that are already stashed into your parents’ car.

“Y/N?” You hear your brother call out from downstairs. “I think there’s someone waiting for you outside.”

Who could it be? You’ve already said your goodbyes to Maria earlier that day when she’d helped you finish packing.

Erik gives you a sad smile as you pass by and you give him a confused look.

“What? Who is it?” You ask, eyebrows raised. “You know we have to leave in a few, right?”

“You’ll see.” Erik says, causing you to sigh.

After determining that your final sweep (even though you’ve done it three times now) is done, you make your way past Erik and open the front door. When you make it onto your driveway, you’re shocked to see Thomas Jefferson standing there with a sheepish grin and his hands in his pockets, looking as handsome as ever.

“Thomas…” You trail off, surprised to see him after your last day together the week prior. “What are you doing here?”

Your boyfriend (well… ex now, technically) walks closer and takes his hands out of his pockets. You can see him fidgeting with his fingers as he speaks. “I uh…” He breathes out a nervous laugh before one of his hands reaches up to rub the back of his neck.

You watch him from a few feet away as he struggles to get his words out.

“Well, I… as your… not-boyfriend wanted to say goodbye.” He says softly, shifting his eyes to the ground briefly before looking back up to gaze into yours. “I changed my mind. Leaving without saying goodbye just gutted me and made me feel like we had unfinished business. I had to see you one more time, Y/N. I-I’m sorry.” Thomas’ voice is unstable as he apologizes and you feel tears well up in your eyes as he continues. “I know this breaks our agreement and everything, but I couldn’t just let you leave before—”

You cut him off by stalking forward to wrap him into a crushing hug — a hug the two of you desperately need at the moment. Thomas doesn’t waste a second before his arms encircle your waist to hold you just as tightly to him.

Even though you had spent the entire day with each other just a week prior, the need to see each other — to feel each other — one last time has consumed you both. You agree that waking up to an empty bed without saying a proper goodbye (even though it’s what you had initially wanted) had crushed you, and it had caused you to be an emotional wreck to the following two days.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, sniffling before letting out a bittersweet laugh. “I just made this so much more fucking difficult for us.”

“It’s okay.” You reciprocate his laugh as tears stream down your face. “It’s so worth it, T.”

A few minutes pass by as you hold each other close.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I’m really gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, T.” You say quietly. “So much.”

You’ve lost track of time and your mother is the one to finally bring you and Thomas back to reality.

“Y/N, we gotta go, honey…” Your mom speaks as softly as possible from her position at the front door, and you can see the guilt on her face as she watches her daughter’s heart break. “You’re gonna be late for your flight.”

You turn back to Thomas and give him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. You gave me the best year and eight months I could ever ask for… so thank you.”

You look up at him for a second before you sob and crash into his chest. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.” He replies softly before he steels himself. “But you have a flight to catch. Which means you need to go.”

You give him one last kiss, it’s watery from both of your tears but neither of you care.

“Go be great.” He says when you pull back. “You deserve the world, Y/N.”

He holds your hand until the grip slips when you take a step towards the car.

“See you later, Thomas.”

He smiles through his tears before he replies. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

You get in the car and a few seconds later, your mother pulls out of the driveway (apparently Erik and your father are going to drive separately). As the car drives away, Thomas waves from your driveway until you can’t see him anymore. You know that’s the last you’ll see of him for a while.

And maybe, just maybe, you regret leaving him behind.

But a voice lingers in the back of your mind that gives you some sort of relief:

If it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be.

#thomas jefferson x reader #daveed diggs x reader #jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #daveed diggs imagine #high school au #hamilton fanfic #thomas jefferson fanfic #wideout #feel free to yell at me #but on the bright side #GET READY TO MEET NFL!THOM #what a man

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niphredil-14 · 4 years

Text

Arthur, Napoleon, Leonardo, and Comte With an S/o Who Kicks Ass In a Cat Fight

Requested by: @hitsuhina4ever

I am so sorry, I couldn’t think of anything for Theo! My bad!!

Arthur: Now, women fight much differently in the twenty first century than they did in older generations. So, no wonder Arthur was caught off guard when he witnessed the absolute monster that you are when one of his ex-flings starts shit with you. “He’s mine, you whore! Mine!” The girl shouted, drawing attention to you and your boyfriend who were standing across from a hysterical, jealous woman in a bright dress. Arthur was about to step in, but was left with no time to as you pulled him into a deep kiss with your hand entangled into his hair and his arms around your waist, all while you stared the woman down. After a few seconds, you pulled apart, with a string of saliva still connecting your lips. “If he were yours, sweetie, I wouldn’t be able to do that, now would I?” You spoke confidently, placing a hand on your tilted hip and smirking in such a way that would put Theo to shame. The woman let out a shriek and rushed forward, raising a hand to slap you. Her hand was easily dodged, however, and it was no more difficult to deliver a swift punch to her jaw, that was much stronger than expected, and sent her sprawling onto the pavement, dizzy, and almost unconscious. Vic barked happily, but his master was left speechless, watching you wring out your wrist and dust off your skirt. It wasn’t until you walked up to him, intertwined your fingers with his, and asked if he was ready to go, that he started freaking out, marveling at your skill, but then telling you that you could’ve gotten hurt. You better believe that he is taking you right home to check you over and make sure that you aren’t hurt, despite the fact that your opponent didn’t lay even a single hit on you.

Napoleon: Napoleon wasn’t even there when the fight began. You had gone out to buy groceries when a lady decided to start talking shit, and if being from the age of the internet has taught you anything, it’s how to yeet a bitch into oblivion. Napoleon had also been out, teaching his fencing classes when he heard shrieking and yelling. He told his students to stay put before he went out to investigate. Needless to say he was surprised to see you side stepping a punch, only to grab to woman you were fighting’s upper arm with one hand, and lower forearm with the other, only to proceed to literally throw her over your shoulder, face first into the ground. It wasn’t until you placed your heel atop her skull and yelled, “Talk shit again, hoe! I fuckin’ dare you!” That the emperor decided to step in. He gently placed a hand on your upper arm and pulled you off of the woman. “Come on, Nunuche. Let’s go, you can tell me what happened later. He’ll take you back to his fencing class, and afterwards will help you finish grocery shopping before taking you home. He’s wasn’t that surprised that you’re strong, he’s seen that fire in your eyes, he knew you could kick ass.

Leonardo: Leonardo hates the idea of you getting hurt, so he has always tried to diffuse any situations where you might end up in a fight. Luckily for you, though, your dear boyfriend wasn’t around to get in the way of your fight this time. It wasn’t even your fault! That woman should have known better to talk shit when you were in a pissy mood. All that, “Leonardo deserves so much better than you!” Shit. She really should have seen that punch coming. Even though she didn’t expect your fist colliding with her stomach, she was more than ready to come springing back, claws out, all for a good cat fight. A second punch to the boob, and a kick to he gut, followed by a leg sweep was enough to get her to walk (read: hobble) off. It was only when you turned around, about to walk off, that you saw Leonardo in the crowd, approaching you. He was surprised, he knew you were strong, but he didn’t realize the true extent of your strength. His surprise was overtaken by his worry when he saw the slight bit of blood dripping down your cheek from your opponent’s nails. He quickened his leisurely pace to a near-sprint, only to lightly trace your cut with his fingertip, picking up a bit of the blood onto his index finger. Though his thirst was screaming at him, he still refused to drink your blood, and instead opted for picking you up in his arms, bridal style, quietly whispering, “Cara mia...” and walking you home to the mansion.

Comte: You had been forced to watch woman after woman flirt with your boyfriend. Sure, the ceiling was a glimmering gold, making it seem as though you were standing right below the sun, and the food and drink were not only refreshing and nourishing, but also delicious, but none of that made any difference when your skin was practically turning green with envy. The current woman was much bolder than the previous ones, and had the audacity to place her hand on your man’s chest. That was when you passed your drink over to Leonardo, who had attended the ball with you and Comte, and now was standing next to you at the food table, making up stories about each woman daring or stupid enough to attempt to sway a taken man into adultery. And in his defense, his company had helped you cope with watching Comte and his flock of female fans for some time, but this one had gone too far, and it was time for you to step in. You eased the scowl from your face, and in its place put that signature fake smile that most people from the twenty-first century can do as easily as breathing, and waltzed forward, towards your lover. When you reached him, you gracefully grabbed hold of his elbow and upper arm while pressing your chest into him, and greeting his ‘fan’ with, “Oh, hello! I see you’ve met my boyfriend. Isn’t he just so sweet?” The woman scowled, before replacing it with a snake-y smile to match your own, and then excused herself. With your man looking only at you now, you pulled him down for a deep kiss before pulling away and excusing yourself to the bathroom with the excuse of, “Leonardo gave me way too much wine while we were forced to watch you with those hoes. I’ll be right back.” You went and did your business in peace, but was greeted with an unsightly face upon your exit. A few exchanged words with one another, and a jealous spat had turned into a cat fight. She couldn’t compare to you, and was getting her arse handed to her. She went for one final punch, hoping to land at least one, when your lover appeared in front of you, catching her hand before it could hit you. You were having none of that, though, you didn’t need to be saved. So, you ducked under his arm and delivered a swift upper cut to her jaw, sending he to the floor. That’s when Comte decided that this was the time to leave, and went with you to round up Leonardo, only to find him asleep in a spare room. The two of you knew better than to wake him, and figured he’d get home just fine on his own. When you were in the carriage however, he confronted you. He cradled your face in his large, warm hands, and softly said, “You know you have nothing to be jealous of, ma cherie, you are the only one in my heart.” To which you leaned your head into his hands, closed your eyes, and sighed.

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tomsrebeleyebrow · 4 years

Text

together | ho x fem!reader

@allegra-soleil asked: Chérie, ma belle, that last blurb BROKE ME. Can I have something similar but with Haz? Cuz we both know he is more hot tempered, and would probably make things worse before making them better, yelling and crying later when he realizes he really fucked up💔 Maybe he was the jealous one? Feeling left out by your sudden friendship with Tom? Mercy, baba. Je t'adore💖💖💖

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST including language/swearing, harsh arguments, screaming, cries, insecurities, anxiety, lots of emotions tbh BUT FLUFF at the end because we want happy endings in this house, dammit!

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: ALLIE. MY GORGEOUS ALLIE 💞 your request turned into an oneshot because, well, inspiration i guess? 😂🙄🙊 so this one is for you bae, an angsty as hell but with that fluffy ending we all want 🥰🥰🥰 love you girl and as always, stay safe sweetheart 💖💗

‘Stay safe, Cheer up’ blurb event

masterlist | taglist | your support

Despite whatever people say, no human on Earth could escape the reality of how feelings work. No human was perfect, that was for sure. Not even Harrison. And now, the boy was massively experiencing jealousy at its best. Or maybe at its worse.

Which actually lead to now, when you tried to catch up your blond boyfriend as he stomped towards his bedroom, at Tom’s house.

“What was that just now?” you yelped as you were now both in the bedroom, Harrison facing away from you and not a single word addressed since what happened just before.

“What?” Harrison said with a harsh tone.

“The way you just addressed both Tom and I a minute ago, acting like a complete douchebag. Care to explain?” you asked again, slight irritation now audible in your voice.

“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your private time with Tom!” scoffed Harrison while turning towards you, and your eyes widened at what you were looking at.

The face of your boyfriend displayed a look of mixed emotions you never knew was possible; anger, disgust, sarcasm and pure jealousy. His whole body screamed tension but the worst part must have been his voice, each word accentuated by the fakest playful tone of all time.

And that vision was almost scaring you.

“What are you saying, Haz?” you demanded with clear and proper authority, the need to know what was going on in your boyfriend’s mind being your main goal at the moment.

“What am I saying, you’re asking!?” Harrison sneered at you, “I’m just noticing that my own girlfriend looks like she’s having the blast of her life with my freaking best friend ever since we started the quarantine, is what I’m saying!”

Harrison’s voice got louder as the sentence kept going, each word heavy enough to weight more and more upon yourself.

“Are you joking right now?”

Now you were expecting anything, but that.

“I’m just by myself mostly all the fucking time like I don’t even exist in this house! But don’t mind me, really, it’s not like I’m your damn boyfriend in the story! So don’t waste your precious time with somebody like me and just go back to your dear Tommy to laugh and be lovey-dovey like two stupid kids!!”

“Are you out of your mind or what?!” you retorted before Harrison had the chance to continue, your ears still not believing what you just heard.

“If you wanted to go out with Tom Holland himself, you should have said no to me in the first place, instead of using me all this time to get closer to him-”

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Harrison?!” you shot, you voice getting as loud as Harrison’s one.

The back and forth argument kept getting worse, you two now becoming entire messes as both your faces were reddening at the same time your words got louder.

The scene definitely drew the attention of the other residents of the house, the first one being Tuwaine as the man was passing by and just stopped at the doorframe, not believing what was actually happening. Soon Harry followed, the screams loud enough to wake up the deaths or the neighbours next door, or even the entire neighbourhood.

“Oi guys, what’s up in there?”

And obviously, the next and last person to arrive was Tom.

“Why the fuck are you all screami-”

Just then, you simply exploded like a grenade that waited and took too much already on yourself. Your voice was screaming of anger now, but also distress and sadness, the rage definitely showing now from head to toes that you shocked all four boys, Harrison included.

“FUCK YOU HARRISON! JUST- FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING DAMN ATTITUDE!” you raged and kept going in one breath, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I DID TO DESERVE BEING TREATED LIKE A- LIKE A TOTAL SLUT BUT IF Y-YOU CAN’T TRUST ME ENOUGH OR EVEN BELIEVE IN THE LOVE I FEEL TOWARDS YOU, I-I JUST- AT LEAST FREAKING TALK TO ME BEFORE ACTING LIKE A FUCKING TOSSER Y-YOU DAMN BASTARD!!!”

That was it. You lost it, all your usual nice and sweet composure just vanished in a snap. But you felt hurt, badly hurt like you never once thought you would be that your feelings just washed over you that you had to scream as loud as possible.

You never had that kind of harsh arguments with Harrison, even knowing the boy was sometimes short tempered but right now, everything he said to you still resonated in your head. Every words. All of them. Even the degrading ones. Each of them were said with pure and bad jealousy, something you couldn’t imagine coming from Harrison.

In the end, even him was capable of hurting people.

Your face was now a red mess, your entire body tensed but at the same time shaking, and your eyes full or tears that soon started rolling down your cheeks when you finished screaming to his face.

Then a cold, tensed and awkward silence settled in the room. No one dared to say a word. And after a loud sob escaped your lips, you ran outside the room, not even glancing once more at the blond guy in front of you, nor at the other boys as you made your way past them. Your cries echoed in the hallway as you then barged inside the “office” room, slamming the door behind you with such violence it made everyone jump, locking it right after. Finally alone in your own despair, you slid your back down the door and sat against it, the back of your head slightly bumping onto the wooden door as you now let out your sobs openly.

“The actual fuck was that just now?!” Harry finally dared to speak, snapping out after what he just saw and heard. “Did you literally accused (Y/N) of cheating on you?!”

“Were you out of your mind to be rude to her like that?!” Tuwaine added, dumbfounded by all the argument.

Harrison was not moving, not a single inch. He was like petrified on the spot, now standing alone in his bedroom as his friends were still staying outside of it. But compared to a few minutes ago, his face now lost all colour, being as pale as if he saw a ghost.

He was completely shocked at himself.

“Mate” Tom addressed his friend, the tone of his voice calm even after being badmouthed by his own best friend, the one who just stood there like a lonely and wandering soul.

Not really expecting an answer from Harrison, Tom slowly walked inside the room, to then stand in front of his blond friend.

“That’s totally normal to get jealous, you know?” Tom began in his most understanding and serious voice, “But jeez, (Y/N) is like a sister to me! Never would I see her more than that!”

Tom’s words were making their way though Harrison’s brain, but the lack of reaction from him was getting really worrying.

“But mostly, I’d NEVER betray my best friend! Never, you hear me Harrison?” Tom insisted firmly. “And just now, you completely misunderstood everything and hurt (Y/N). And yourself.”

And at that moment, Harrison felt like the entire universe fell on top of his head. For good. He finally realised he badly fucked up.

* * * *

It’s been four days since the argument. The four longest and tougher days of Harrison’s life.

Since then, you’ve closed yourself into the office room, not wanting to be near or see your boyfriend after everything he said to you. You ate there, slept there and cried there. You just locked yourself in, as if wishing for everyone to forget you were even there. But that was impossible for Harrison.

When Tom somehow brought back his friend to himself, after being completely out of his mind like he never did, Harrison panicked and just wanted to rush back to you. Tom, Harry and (mostly) Tuwaine could hold him back, even when he started screaming your name for you to forgive him, pure agony in both his voice and written on his face.

After, Harrison was like an undead. His usual shining blue eyes were no more, but replaced by empty one, completely dull and lost into nothingness. His body was even too heavy for him to stand properly, as if everything he told you came back to him to just put the blame on him and only him, the guilt heavier like an entire building. He even lost his appetite and his sleep, not finding any purpose to any matter while being away from you after what he did. What he made you endure.

You didn’t want to see him anymore, and just kept ignoring him while he stood on the other side of the door for hours, pleading for you to open and talk about it together. Nothing. You never replied. If you ever needed something, you would simply ask to Tom, Harry or Tuwaine by text. But never Harrison. Never. And Tom would have to drag his friend away from the door as he would just start crying, desperately trying to open it or even bang his forehead on it on total despair.

That situation weighted on everybody else, too. The once joyful house became a pure living hell of agony, the air thick with tension all around. Being under lockdown for so long was already a pain in general, so nobody needed that kind of additional stress to make it worse.

It had to stop, but not any which way.

On the sixth day, Tom was cooking some lunch while Harry and Tuwaine were in the backyard, enjoying the beautiful weather that London was offering them. And Harrison was at the exact same spot he occupied since the incident, slumped onto the couch, head thrown on the back to fix the ceiling for hours.

“Hey, Harrison.”

The blond lightly glanced at Tom, his body not moving, as the brunette stood next to the couch with a tray in his hands.

“Do you want to bring this to (Y/N)?” asked Tom to his friend.

Harrison’s head slowly turned towards him at the sound of your name.

“She doesn’t want to see me anymore” whispered Harrison almost inaudibly, his eyes red and puffy after so many sleepless nights spent with cries.

“If you just force yourself into her like you did the past days, like a mad man, for sure she’ll just keep ignoring you...” sighed Tom, trying not to sound so done with his friend during that tough path he was going through. “Man up, be yourself and go.”

Still hesitant, Harrison looked between Tom and the tray in his hands a few times, before slowly sitting down properly on the couch. Tom nodded at him to encourage him a bit and after what seemed like the biggest effort of his life, Harrison finally stood on his own two feet, now facing Tom.

“Come on and make up properly, idiot” ironically chuckled Tom, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

He held once again the tray out for Harrison to take, insisting. Gulping, the blond boy lifted his arms to soon grab the tray, hands still slightly trembling. Tom waited for his friend to calm down, knowing perfectly his mind was just a complete mess at the moment as so many scenarios of what was about to happen kept playing on and on, each of them at the same time.

Once he emptied his mind from the negativity invading him, Harrison took a deep breath in before holding the tray properly by himself. Tom gently patted his shoulder, another supporting move of his and moved aside to let his friend walk past him.

His steps were as light as a feather, not wanting to make too much noise on his way to the office room. Harrison’s heart was beating like crazy, each beat almost wanting to break through his ribs, the pain almost unbearable.

But there was no coming back. Not anymore. Harrison was so scared to mess everything up again, like he did when he started an argument that was not even supposed to exist. But he brought it up, like the dumbass he was sometimes. And now, he had to made up for all the abominations he said to you. So yes, Harrison was scared and even worse... he was scared to loose you.

Without realising it, the blond boy was now standing in front of the wooden door. That door that could be the epitome of your heart right now, completely closed and unknown to him, acting like a barrier to protect you from more sadness you may not be able to handle anymore. But Harrison had to make the first step to you because he was the one who caused all this.

He had to fix his mistakes, once for all and good.

“... (Y/N)?” the boy called in what sounded more like a whisper.

He clicked his tongue, sure you didn’t even hear him. After glancing at the living room and noticing Tom had left to join the boys outside, Harrison cleared his voice and tried again.

“(Y/N)... It’s... it’s me.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, you were curled up onto the couch that became your bed for almost a week. Your lack of sleep was beyond your own understanding, as not even a single one of your college projects managed to keep you awake at night. Your body has been aching and heavy, the simple fact of rolling over being painful to you. And the painkillers did nothing to your constant headaches that kept coming and going whenever they wanted. You were sad, hurt and now tired.

But out of nowhere, you caught a faint voice coming from the door. At first you were not really sure as your mind was rambling all over the place, but then you heard it again, and a bit clearer. That familiar voice you knew too well, that particular one you were trying to avoid at all cost since the argument.

Harrison.

Hearing it now awakened all your senses again, against your own will but you preferred to stay quiet, bringing your knees closer to your chest and hoping he would just go away.

“Please, (Y/N)... I-I’ve brought your lunch...”

You gulped, hiding your face into your knees. His once energetic voice was no more, sounding now more morose and... hurt. And somehow, it still saddened you a bit. The silence invaded the place again. Now you felt torn between two rather difficult choices: still ignoring him because the hurtful words he screamed at you that day were the cause of your sleepless nights, or... maybe confront him and see how it goes. Maybe.

“Fuck, what did I expect really... Of course you’re still angry at me, and you have all the rights to be” Harrison murmured along with a sigh.

Lowering his head, Harrison’s eyes fell on the lunch tray Tom kindly prepared to you and mindlessly inspected it. The smell was mouthwatering and the steak sure looked delicious, but Harrison couldn’t help but note you always liked your meat less cooked and with a lot of oregano. And regarding the sides, the boy was pretty sure you would leave the cucumber slices of the salad, as you liked more carrots instead.

All these little things, even the most insignificant ones, were part of your being. And Harrison learnt to know all of them by heart, and to cherish them. And so did you, ever since you started dating. The specific tea he loved to drink depending on how he was feeling, the vegetables he couldn’t look at - even after you desperately tried to cook them in many different ways -, what to do when he was feeling tired and grumpy, the movie he could binge-watch all the time, and so on...

Harrison loved you as much as you loved him.

And he had to fucked this up like a bastard to finally realise he just imagined the stupidest things ever, and hurt you in the end.

“... I’m the fuckin’ worst.”

As any chance of this door opening vanished into thin air, Harrison loudly sighed, badly depressed but still trying his best to contain his tears a bit more, and put the lunch tray down at the door to then walked away.

But after only taking two steps, two click sounds suddenly reached his ears which made him stop on his track, turning quite fast towards the door to see it... slightly opening. And that was when Harrison caught sight of you and his body froze, eyes wide open.

Through the half-open door, you were there, your entire frame partially visible but still. He was finally able to see you and notice how fragile you looked. Facial features slimmed down, dark circles and red eyes. You were a mess, just like Harrison was during the past few days. After what seems like hours of total silence, both your eyes finally met, hesitant at first but then, you slowly opened the bedroom door a bit more. The heart of Harrison started beating all over again, his lungs working fully as if he learnt once more how to breath.

“... Harrison.”

Oh, your voice. Hearing it after so long brought shivers down his spine.

“(Y-Y/N)... I-”

But words got suddenly mixed up in his mind as Harrison wanted to tell you so many things at the same time. How much he was sorry, how much of an idiot he was, how much he regretted, how much... he missed you. So much. But then, he remembered Tom’s advices.

“If you just force yourself into her... like a mad man... she’ll just keep ignoring you...”

Harrison had to think calmly, but most importantly wisely. So he decided to stay quiet waiting for you to speak first, if you ever did.

You’ve never seen Harrison this tense like he actually was. Never this... all over the place. Hair sticking in every directions, his stubble more visible than ever and baggy clothes. Well, you were pretty much the same anyway. But what saddened you more was the look in his eyes. His ocean eyes you loved getting lost into turned into two empty orbs, dull, deprived of any joy but tears, now.

“... We need to talk” you muttered in a low tone, your hand grabbing the door harder to get you some extra support, you hoped.

As you slowly lowered your body to take the tray off the floor, Harrison got quicker and grabbed it before you. This brought you two face to face, crouching with only the space of the tray between you, eyes locking for some seconds. No word spoken but only looks, and that was a lot.

You averted your eyes at the same time before getting up again, a bit awkwardly. Harrison followed you inside the office room while you closed the door right after him. Not paying too much attention at the mess around, he went to place the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch and stood there, not knowing what to do or if he could talk. Silently, you advanced to then sit on the said couch, pushing away the blankets and pillows you used to sleep on the side. You patted a few time the space next to you while looking at Harrison or, at least, trying to draw his attention as the boy was looking anywhere but at you, fidgeting with his fingers like a child who just did something stupid.

Well, maybe that was the case, actually.

Finally, Harrison heard the muffled sound of your hand against the couch and, after looking at you like he wanted your approval, slowly but surely walked and sat next to you. He brushed his thighs a few times, feeling his muscles stiff but still trembling. His heartbeat kept pounding on inside his chest, one foot slightly tapping in rhythm on the carpet. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to remain calm. But Harrison knew he had to speak first. After all, everything was his own fault.

“(Y/N), listen I’m-”

“I’m sorry...”

Harrison stopped and looked at you, mouth still open as he was not sure if he heard right. Now frowning, he noticed your head dropped as you were desperately fixing your knees, the grips of your hands on your sweatpants making your knuckles slightly turn white.

“I’m sorry, Harrison” you repeated once again, your voice trembling and just above a whisper. “I-I shouldn’t have insulting you l-like I did. You deserved it b-but I said such horrible things to you, instead of talking about it with you... I-I’m an idiot, I should have-”

“W-Wait (Y/N), what are you saying? I’m the one who has to apologise to you, not the other way around!” retorted Harrison, quite shocked and confused by your words.

“But I just got things worse, Harrison! A-And in the end, we were just screaming at each other a-and I-I-”

Your body started shaking again, your throat tightening as more words wanted to go out, soon followed by sobs. Your breathing became halting and tears were forming at the outside corners of your eyes, you couldn’t stop any of this as guilt kept growing inside of you during these days.

Harrison couldn’t handle seeing you like this anymore, nor hearing accusing yourself for what happened to you both. That was impossible, and it had to make it stop. He had to make you understand that any of this was not your fault. He had to comfort you as much as you needed to be.

So the boy slid from the couch, both knees on the carpet as he was now facing you. He pressed his torso against your knees, trying to be as close as possible to you, and put his hands on your thighs. The touch brought you out of your inner upheaval and your teary eyes met again.

“Listen, (Y/N)” began Harrison, gulping, “I’m the one who started all this mess whereas nothing of this would have happened, okay? I-I’m the stupid one here, the selfish one, the... jealous one who imagined horrible things because I got... I got insecure and lonely. I shut myself away enough to awaken the worst side in me. And like a complete asshole I accused you of... of cheating on me. You, the person I love the most and that loves me so much in return. The person I trust with all my heart. I just- I fucked up so bad a-and-”

Harrison didn’t notice the tears already rolling down his cheeks until now.

“I-I’m just the worst boyfriend- no, the worst human being ever-”

But then, your trembling but soft hands gently raised to wipe his wet cheeks with your thumbs making him stop spouting any more gibberish about himself. And it was like your touch instantly appeased him, like the best medicine that could exist and just closed his eyes, his breathing slowly calming down.

By instinct, his bigger hands raised to gently rest on top of yours and just leaned his face on your palms, appreciating the skin contact he missed since then. God did he miss your touch.

You both sniffled, forehead resting against each other as you leaned more towards the blond boy. The tears kept going for some time actually, neither of you really knowing for how long. But that was needed.

After some time spent in a rather calm silence, you parted from each other and you gently brushed your boyfriend’s wet cheeks with your thumbs again, a comforting smile now on your face.

“I think... we both messed up” you gently whispered.

A light smile appeared on Harrison’s face, the left corner slightly raising more like it always did when he was getting shy or embarrassed... or comforted.

“We did” replied the blond, a soft chuckle barely audible, “... well, mostly me.”

“Never hesitate to talk to me, alright Harrison?” you stated quite seriously but still with that kind tone of yours your boyfriend loved so much. “Even for stupid matters, I don’t care, just let’s talk about it. Promise?”

“I promise, love.”

You shared another smile, rosy cheeks and eyes still shining with the last few tears. But now, the atmosphere felt way lighter as any ounce of negativity washed away around you both. You kept the eye contact and your hands connected, a way to slowly treat that deep link between you both.

Then you gently brought Harrison’s face closer to you and left a light kiss on his forehead, the kiss lasting for a few seconds but Harrison made the most of it, his eyes closing again which let the last tears roll on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, love” Harrison whispered like he was in trance.

“I know, dear. I know. But we will go through it. Together.”

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iwantitiwriteit · 4 years

Text

Slow Burn: Act I - Part 6

The Museum

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: You and Chris enjoy a day at the museum as the first act of your newfound clean slate.

Warnings: pure Fluff for once, the usual silly antics

Notes: Back to our regularly scheduled fanfic-ing. Hope y’all didn’t mid that mid-series break; I literally forgot how to write. But it was fun getting back in the groove of fluff! P.S. I miss museums. Read the previous part here and check this part’s moodboard + music.

Chris’ pace is quick as he walks the city sidewalk, evading puddles in his path. Sprinkling now, he doesn’t want to test his luck walking leisurely as he normally would. Normally, he’d take the time to gawk at the beauty and bustle of his city. But not today.

Today is a rainy Monday in Boston, perfect for your indoor date. Except, this is not a date. That’s what Chris told himself. That’s what he told his friend and brother… then himself again, especially now as a reminder to slow down his increasingly speeding heartbeat with each step. He’s only late for a friendly hang out with you, not for a date.

“Chris! Slow down!” Chris’ mother yelled from behind him. Oh yeah, and Ma. He stopped momentarily for Lisa to catch up. With a smile, he offered his mother his arm to take, and they walked together at a more acceptable pace to their destination. “Well somebody’s eager to see a certain somebody else,” Lisa teased, her son’s nervous and excited energy not going unnoticed by her maternal eye.

“Just… just don’t want to miss any part of the tour, is all,” he says, ears tipped red.

“Uh-huh…”

A few more paces, and the mother-son pair arrived at the MassArt Art Museum. Inside, they’re greeted by high ceilings and white walls like blank canvases. Grandiose, multi textured sculptures add a plethora of color to the space, some stand tall from the floors, others hang low and ceilings. The bright colors and lights could easily make you forget the dreary Fall day outside, the inside of the museum matching the inside of Chris’ chest.

Chris is shrugging off his raincoat when his mother goes to check them in. “She’s probably already in the crowd over there,” she points in the direction of a large group. “Go ahead and look for her; I’ll find you in a bit.”

The tour group with a median age of about 78 is already eagerly gathered in the lobby around a museum tour guide. Chris scans the crowd, large than he anticipated, probably about 100 if he were to guess, but can’t seem to spot you. He decides to remain in the back of the group, figuring he’ll find you once the tour gets moving. Chris tunes into the addressing tour guide for the time being.

“Once we’re in the exhibit, I want everyone to remember…”

“On your left.”

Chris side-glances down to his left side to be met by your profile staring straight ahead in the same direction he was just a moment ago. He took in your kinky-curly fro, a little shrunken and and slightly frizzed than usual because of the humidity, but it worked for you. Your face is fresh and free of makeup, a look you seemed to like to sport, and he thinks to himself that he likes it on you, too. After a moment of no response from Chris, your eyes flutter up to him. He’s met with your smirking face, but you then turn your attention back to the tour guide. You both pretend to listen.

“Really? ‘On your left?’” Chris finally says.

“What’s the matter? Captain Amer—“

“Shhshsh!” Chris hovers his thick pointer fingers, over yours and his mouths to signal you to stop your thought.

You brought your chin all the way into your neck as a natural instinct to retreat the offending phalange in your face. You push his hand out of the way before harshly whispering. “You gotta not!”

“YOU gotta not!” He harshly whispers back. You quirk your brow and slightly roll your neck at him. In a less anxious whisper he says, “Keeping a low profile, thank you.” Then it all makes sense. The cap, the hoodie, the shrunken stature and a standing in the back.

“Oh… my bad.” You deflate, once again returning your gaze to the speaking tour guide. You truly hadn’t thought of the repercussions of mentioning his Marvel movie moniker.

You’ve not had to deal with that level of notoriety… not yet, anyway. The level where a blown cover in public could mean the dissension of fans and paps alike. The level where you needed a cover in the first place. Sure, you get recognized every now and again, but you’re by no means at mega star, shades and hoodies, constantly looking over your shoulder status.

And you loved that. You could sympathize with Chris. You’ve seen how crazy it can get, and it definitely is worth protecting yourself from.

Chris has been trying to keep his attention ahead, but he glances at you every few seconds. He senses the air around you change. There’s a ballet of expressions dancing across your face. You knitted your brows together, released and raised them, with your eyes and lips following suit in similarly stressed movements and shapes. You’re deep in thought.

“You alright over there? Museum guidelines aren’t that moving.”

“I really didn’t mean anything by it. I just was trying to poke fun at you, not blow up your spot.”

Chris sighs and smiles at your sentiment. “It’s alright,” He bumps your shoulder when he sees you’re still distraught. He gets a smile out of you. “Hey, you know what would help? If you stopped staring at me. Would draw less attention.”

“Uh, puh-lease! You wish I was staring. Nice try at projecting, though.”

Chris quirked a confused brow, turning to you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what took you so long to answer me a minute ago?” Shit, Chris thought. “That’s what I thought,” you sassed.

“I wasn’t staring at you per say. There’s a lil somethin’ in your hair…”

“What? What is it?!” You delicately touch around your curls searching for the offending object.

“Here lemme help,” Chris says as he stands to his full height over you. You look up at him with those darling eyes of yours, and he looks down at you, breath caught in his throat. Just a second later, he comes back to earth as he’s plucking something weightless from your hair. He slowly brings his hand down from your head to show you what he’s retrieved. “It’s just a little… piece… of stupid,” and he boops your nose.

“You know what!” You say in a loud whisper while you enjoy hitting his arm as retaliation.

Chris feigns hurt with a gasp. “That was mean,” he’s pouting trying to suppress his smile. He pokes out his elbow towards you. “Kiss it, make it better.”

“Ugh!” You shove him away, turning your head away from him, biting back your smile. You're failing miserably when you look back to him, and he’s wearing a boyish grin himself. “You are absolutely—“

“SHHHHH!!!!” You jump and Chris clutches his chest, both of you wide-eyed and taken aback by an old man that’s turned around to shush you two.“If you two are gonna flirt, do it quietly!”

You and Chris start to stumble over your words while talking over each other.

“No, whaaa? Flirt… Huh?”

“We weren’t, like…”

“Yeah, that’s not— um…”

“Totally not what’s—“

“Not like this is a date,” Chris blurts out with a nervous chuckle then freezes in place. It’s one of those *unfortunate* moments when his mouth moved faster than his brain. He stares straight ahead, not daring to look at you. If he had, he would have seen you had a matching stunned look from his blab.

“They’re sorry, Mr. Abara,” you both feel a hand on your shoulders as Lisa comes up behind you to intervene.“They’ll be on their best behavior from here on out, right?” She nods in a prompting manner, you and Chris following her lead.

“We’re sorry,” You mumble.

“It was her fault…” Chris says, earning him smack on the shoulder from his mom. “What?! It was!”

Mr. Abara turns around with a ‘hmph’, causing you and Chris giggle like teenagers at the grumpy old man. Lisa clears her throat and you and Chris straighten up.

“You two can’t help but draw attention to yourselves, huh?”

Before either of you could refute, the tour guide is ushering your group to the showroom for your day at the museum to really begin.

——————————————————————————

The exhibition was amazing to say the least. You’d never heard of the artist before, but you were astounded by her unique use of color, texture, and light in her work. And she was a sista? You were definitely going to keep her in mind for upcoming projects you had.

However incredible the artwork was, you’re not too sure how it compared to the entertainment that was the social show.

Your trio strolled together, taking in the majesty of the first few pieces. After a while Chris starts to linger behind you and Lisa for a bit. He admires the way you and his mom get along, walking arm-in-arm looking at the art.

The tour guide has everyone gather around a specific piece. “This one is my absolute favorite! It’s called ‘Mother Earth’. Do be shy; you can get close, but do not touch.”

When you step up to the piece, Chris is also does from the other side. He smiles and offers a quaint wave as if it’s your first time meeting. You reciprocate, and both proceed to lean in to the art for inspection.

“Wow,” you say as you marvel at the depth of blackness that outlines gaps for open air to breeze through. The piece has incredible curvature that makes the inanimate object look as if it were ready to continue dancing any minute now. All it needed was the right song or magic words to bring it back to life. You move around the pedestal to look at it’s other sides, Chris moving at the same rate across from you, equally as intrigued. There’s glints of gold, silver, emerald, and jade that add to its enchantment. “You ever see something so mysterious and beautiful and wonder, ‘Where did you come from?’”

“Yeah,” you move slightly, and your now eye to eye with Chris through one of the spaces within the sculpture. His Cerulean orbs pierce through to you thoughtfully, endearingly, making you wonder what he is thinking. “Yeah, I have.” Surely he’s not talking about…

“Alright people!” The tour guide shouts with a clap. “Let’s keep it moving!”

You stand up straight, while Chris glides over to you, hands his pockets, bouncing on his toes. You both have found the ground to be particularly interesting as you walk alongside each other to view the next piece of art. Standing before it, there’s not much of intellect input you can give with Chris’ presence fuzzing your brain. The silence is kind of enjoyable between you two, though. The pressure to fill the air with witty quips is at bay at this moment, and it's nice.

After a while, you both tentatively turn towards each other. Chris goes to say something, you’re sure it’ll be his analysis of what the artist’s intent is, but he doesn’t start his thought. Instead, his arm is being linked by some elderly woman.

“Uh, hello?”

“Hiya, Handsome,” she purrs, causing Chris to chuckle and rub the back of his neck. She leans her head on his shoulder and places her free, wrinkly hand on his chest. “So tell me what you think of this piece?” She says coyly.

“Umm…” Chris looks at you for help, but you are none. You just smirk and motion your head towards the art, urging him to answer her question. “Well, I think it’s speaking to the unique experience and intersectionality of being both black and a woman in the Diaspora. There are nods to the many hardships, horror, and passed down trauma that black women have and continue to endure, yet it so often turn into the most beautiful fruit, works worthy of high regard and praise by graceful, powerful women who are also deserving of such, tenfold.”

“Wow…” you and the ogling old-timer say simultaneously. He shyly looks at the ground and you shake off the spell of his summation. I’m not REALLY about to give this man points for stating basic YET ignored facts, am I? I’ll put a pin in this, but damn will I look at him differently.

“Y’know,” Chris’ amorous aged arm-candy starts, “I love a man who knows some BIG words and is not afraid to use ‘em!” she punctuates with a growl.

It takes everything in you not to laugh at Chris’ bugged out eyes and rosy face. You think you might’ve even seen a drop of sweat form on his brow. “Oh, okay…” he says as he tries to subtly pry the woman off of him. He looks to you for salvation again, but you’re already making your way to the next piece, waving at Chris over your shoulder, “I’ll leave y’all to it,” you laugh.

——————————————————————————

The tour’s come to an end and museum goers are starting to trickle out, some staying for the cheap hors d’oeuvres that are laid out. Chris managed to get his new lady friend off of him (might or might not have taken a few minutes of hiding in the bathroom), and he’s now flicking through his pictures of the day on his phone. There’s some of you and his mom smiling nicely at one another, him taking selfies with some of the work he considers posting later to shout out the artist, and some blurry ones of you, Chris, and Lisa, taken by a shakey hand museum goer.

The pictures that stop his swift swiping are of you admiring paintings on the wall. There’s nothing particularly special about these paintings; they were in the Baroque hall outside of the featured exhibit. You however, are thee something special. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the way you fill the frame and effortlessly draw him in is magical to him. His favorite one from the set is the one with your back to the camera. Your silhouette has become iconic to him; standing out amongst the tired and basic. Holding your own in his brain.

“Just go talk to her. It’s better— less creepy— than staring at her picture.” Chris looks to his side to find Mr. Abara walking by extremely slowly passed.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Abara. Like I said before, it’s not—“

“What’re you scared, son?”

“Um… no, it’s… it’s just not like that.”

“Not like what?”

“Not… not like that,”

Mr. Abara nods slowly. “Sure it’s not.” Chris is thinks he hears Mr. Abara mumble something about not being born yesterday, but he’s already walking in your direction at the snack table.

When he arrives, you’re picking through the repulsive options. “Why the hell would they find this acceptable to give to old people?” You mumble under your breath. “I get their on they’re way out, but—”

“Talking to ourselves, are we?” Chris speaks up, causing you to yelp and jump out of your skin. His booming laugh and your screech cause some of the older museum goers to give you to the stank eye. “Oops, might’ve given some of ‘em a heart attack.”

“Might’ve given me a heart attack!”

“I realized something,” Chris changes the subject, picking up a grape to eat.

You sigh as your heart rate comes down. “What’s that?”

“That this is the first time we’re seeing each other in the daytime and without alcohol in our systems.”

You ponder on it for a second, “Really?” you question him and he nods.

“Huh, that’s… that’s a damn shame,” you laugh a little, and he does too.

“Sure is,” he agrees, popping another grape into his mouth.

“So, how do you like me sober and in natural lighting?” You jokingly ask him, motioning down your figure for added dramatics.

He sizes you up, eyes languidly travelling up your frame. The heat rises to your face just as his gaze does. He locks in on your eyes for just as second longer than what would be deemed an innocent look before saying, “Eh, you’re alright I guess,” nonchalantly, while going for another grape.

You shake your head at him slowly, a smug smile creeping on to your lips. “You just don’t wanna give me my props, huh? Whatever.”

The two of you laugh and chat for a while while waiting for Lisa. You’re interrupted by someone calling Chris’ name in the distance. You thought it was Lisa at first, relieved that you could call it day because your stomach was growling. However when you and Chris looked in the voice’s direction, you were more interested in staying a little while longer.

“Ooooh Handsome!!” Chris’ aged admirer chirped across the room. She must’ve been looking for him because her eyes were squinted and she moved her head from left to right in search of her unrequited beau.

“He’s right—”

“Don’t you dare!” Chris chides, his firm tone fluttering your stomach just a little. “We gotta go!”

He’s panicking over a lustful lady twice his age and you’re amused greatly, but you had no time to appreciate it as Chris put his hand on your lower back to lead you out of the museum. “Wait, what about your mom?” You tried to protest.

“She’ll find her way!”

“There you are!” Chris’ Boomer bugaboo exclaims.

“Go! Go! Go!”

——————————————————————————

“Well, this is my stop!” Lisa says as you all pull up to the youth theater where she works. She turns to you in the backseat. “Thank you for joining me today! Next time I’ll leave my son at home since he thinks he can leave me in the museum.”

“Hey! You didn’t see the look in that woman’s eyes! You would’ve ran like hell, too,” Chris exclaims from the driver’s seat.

“My poor baby,” Lisa pinches his cheeks as she facetiously dotes and Chris rolls his eyes, eliciting a giggle from you. She pulls him close to her mouth to whisper something you can’t hear. You turn to look outside your window, your way of giving them privacy.

“Are you threatening me, Ma?” You hear Chris humorously say.

“Threatening, mothering. Tomato, tahmato. Just do it. I’ll see you later, honey,” and with that Lisa leaves for work.

Chris drops his head, shaking it and laughing to himself.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Uh… my mom wants me to ask if you’d like to get some lunch. Since that museum food was shit and all.”

You arch a brow and contemplate the offer. You still weren’t so sure about hanging out with him solo. But I mean, I COULD eat.

Sensing your hesitation, Chris says, “It’s cool if… you don’t want to, I get it—“

“Sure,” you cut him off, unbuckling your seatbelt to climb over the front console to the passenger seat. You sit with a huff, and adjust your clothes. You looked over at him, and he’s got a look of slight disbelief. Unsure if it’s from you saying ‘yes’ or climbing into his front seat, you ask, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing…” he smiles at you. You look down at your lap, unable to meet his eyes. He lets his eyes linger on your shy form for a few seconds before clearing his throat, and asking, “So, uh, what kinda food do you want?”

“I’m down for anything.”

Chris amusedly huffs.“You women always say that, then when we men try to stick it in—“

“WOW, really?!” You swat at his arm and realize how buff he is because he didn’t even flinch. You try not to give in to your urge to laugh, but it’s hard when Chris is failing miserably and holding in his. You shouldn’t find it funny, but you kind of do. You let out a small laugh and roll your eyes at him. “You are absolutely childish.”

“No, not absolutely. I think I’ve prove to have some level of intellect today.”

“If you’re talking about your dissertation earlier, verdicts still out on if you get a cookie.”

“S’long as there’s a trial,” he says with a heartwarming smile that you mirror. “And I was kidding, by the way, with the-- I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of pervert. You set it up for the joke, and I —”

“You don’t have to explain. I can take a joke.”

“Ok…cool.”

“Ok, cool,” you mimic him. “So what are we gonna eat?”

“You like pizza?”

“Who doesn’t like pizza?” you retort.

“True. Well, there’s this place, a true local staple ‘cos it’s the BEST pizza in Boston! Probably the whole world!” Gushes about this place.

“Not in the whole world!” you mock him. “Do they have vegan options?” He blinks at you. “What now?” you ask with a shrug.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re a vegan? Uggghhh!!!” Chris dramatically puts his head on the steering wheel.

You laugh at his antics. “Is that a deal breaker for you?”

He scoffs, then looks out his window, trying to avoid you seeing his cheeks turn red. You smirk to yourself knowing damn well you just made him blush. Still looking out his window at the rainy Boston day, “No real pizza place is gonna have ‘vegan options’,” he finishes with a Valley girl accent.

“First of all, it’s scary how good you are at that voice, and secondly, I beg to differ! You’ve clearly never been to Mellow Mushroom. Best pizza there is, AND there’s vegan options. I mean what did you get up to when you were in Atlanta?”

“Oh sweethaht,” he stresses his Boston accent, “you’re not ready for those stories…” he chuckles looking at you sideways through his lashes with a smirk, hoping you’d get the joke. He finds you trying to suppress a laugh, shaking your head then turning to look out the windshield, make him laugh in that mischievous way you’ve come to be fond of

“I know a place we could go to eat” you offer.

“Yeah? What kind of food?”

“Um… I don’t think I’ll tell you. It’s a surprise.”

“You’re lucky I’m in a ‘surprise’ kind of mood.”

You put the address in his car’s built in GPS, and you guys are on your way to lunch. But just before he pulls off, he looks at you with that boyish smile of his and sparkling blue eyes. You were re-applying your lip gloss in his overhead mirror. You turned mid-gloss glide, the wand still on your bottom lip. “What now?!”

Chris' gaze lingers on your lips before he looks up to your own sparkling eyes. “Nothing…” he said though you knew it was something; your heart didn’t flutter delightfully for no reason. “Nothing at all.”

Part 7 coming soon! What’d you think?

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #Chris Evans series #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x poc!reader

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anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

New Promise

AHHHHHHHH! The second to last update to To [Not] Be A Bat is here!!! To think it’s almost done QvQ Anyways, enjoy!

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P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life

Tag: @toodaloo-kangaroo @maribat-is-lifeblood @tis-i-beanbandit

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First | Prev

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AO3

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Jason heard a whimper, his head quickly snapping to look at Mari, her eyes quickly trying to adjust to her new surroundings.

“Ja-”

“Take it easy, Bug.” Jason hushed, Marinette wanting to ask if it was him who yelled her name when she had passed out.

“I’m sorry.” Marinette whispered, her lips quivering. She didn’t miss the way his eyes saddened. “I should’ve never-”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, Lutin.” Ah, so it was him who had called her out. “ I should’ve never let you go by yourself to-”

“It’s my fault for even making you agree with doing all this.” Mari cut off, placing her hand on his cheek. “I should’ve listened to Dad, because… he was right. I’m not cut out to play Gotham’s game. It’s nothing compared to Paris’ magical terrorist. Even with your short and harsh training, it still wasn’t enough. Gotham’s crime needed a more experienced player, something I am not.” God, how Marinette hated the lump that was forming in her throat, a pressure starting to weigh in her. “I should’ve just stayed back in Paris.”

“Nettie.” Jason grabbed her hand. “Stop blaming yourself. None of us expected for things to go the way they did.” Jason said, his eyes now stern. “And don’t ever say that again.” They softened again. “You don’t know what a blessing you are.”

“Mari!” Tim’s voice interrupted, Jason and Mari turning to see their little brother, his eyes red and filled to the brim with unshed tears, snot daring to run once again. “You’re awake!”

“Tim.” Mari managed to whisper, feeling responsible for his appearance. How dare she make Tim worry, how dare she make him cry!

Didn’t she promise him to never make him cry? To always stay by his side? “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to say sorry.” Tim said, climbing onto the bed, Jason getting off so that he can properly sit next to Mari.

“But I do.”

“No, you-”

“I made you cry.” Mari counted. “I left your side. I almost never returned.” Mari placed a hand on Tim’s cheek, noticing his steel blue eyes warble. “I broke our two major promises. I let you down.”

That’s all it took for Tim to release the waterworks.

“I was scared Mari!” Tim wailed. “I-I-I didn’t want you to die! I didn’t want you- I didn’t want you to leave me again!” Tim let out another hiccup, vigorously wiping away the tears that kept pouring out. “When I saw all that blood on you, I-I-I-” Tim stopped talking when Jason placed a shoulder on Tim,launching himself to Jason. He burrowed his face into his shirt, his cries and wails muffled, but still heart wrenching to hear.

Marinette didn’t notice when she had started crying until she saw Dick and Bruce’s sadden expressions when they entered the room and saw her.

Marinette looked at Dick but didn’t dare to look at their father, quickly looking away. Bruce didn’t miss this, watching as her mouth quivered.

“Marinette.” Bruce spoke softly, hating that she flinched when he spoke her name.

“Nettie, please.” Dick coaxed, his heart aching when he saw her attempt to turn over, her eyes shutting tight. “Please, just-” Bruce stopped him, shaking his head, prompting Dick to step down.

“Everyone. Leave us alone.” Bruce said, watching as his sons hesitated to leave. With a sigh, Dick rounded Jason and Tim, leading the two out of the room, closing the door with a soft click. “Marinette.” He watched as she flinched again. “Ma fille.”

An odd, yet comforting silence filled the room, the beeping of Marinette’s monitor providing some type of company. It broke with the slip of a tear.

“I’m sorry.” Mari said, finally turning to face her father, yet to raise her head. “I should’ve listened to you...because...because you were right. You were right about everything, and I...I-” A hiccup escaped her, Bruce shushing her as he sat next to her.

“That’s all over now.” Bruce held her hand in his, noticing how small it still was to his. But even then, they were covered in scars and calluses, proof of her growth as a fighter...as a person. “What matters now is that you're safe.”

“It does matter.” Marinette refuted, looking up to her father, hating that he seemed blurred in her vision. “You tried to warn me about the dangers of Gotham and I even saw it through the monitor in the Batcave and yet I went against you, I went behind your back and-”

“I forgive you.”

“But-”

“I made a promise to your mother...to Sabine.” He watched as Marinette looked at him with wondering eyes. “I promised her that I would protect you.”

“And I made you fail her.”

“No.” Bruce corrected. “You made me realize that I should’ve trusted you more. To believe that you knew what you were doing. Instead of sheltering you, I should’ve instead held your hand.” Marinette tightened her grasp on her father’s hand. “I should’ve guided you instead of treating you like a child when I fully knew what you were capable of. Even Tom told me of your experience as a martial artist when you were a child.”

Marinette let out a laugh, a small one, but one nonetheless.

“Papa always fought with Maman over that. He didn’t want me to do anything dangerous, but Maman always argued that I should be given the opportunity to try new things.”

“I guess that’s what Tom and I have in common.” At that, Marinette smiled, a faint memory made its way to her. “I remember her smile when I told her I was Ladybug. She was so proud of me, boasting to Papa that all those classes were worth every cent.”

“I bet she was very proud to have raised you the way she did.”

“She was.” Marinette managed to say without her voice cracking. “She really was.” Marinette led out a cry, a cry that catapulted to a long series of wails and sobbing, Bruce sitting there as she poured her sorrow out.

She rambled about missing her mother, she rambled about her conversation with her other father, the argument she had with her brothers, and endlessly apologized towards him about going against his warning.

Bruce didn’t interrupt her, not even once, simply holding her hand as she cried

“Marinette.”

“Yes?” Another sniffle.

“I’ve talked with the boys and discussed what to do next.” Marinette held in a breath. “We’ve decided that it’s best to let you join us when you’ve finished recovering.” Bruce watched as a twinkle made its way to her eyes. “Of course, we’ve also discussed arranging more time together as a family, attending family therapy as our first step. What do you think?”

“I think… I think we can do that.” Marinette said, a small smile appearing on her face. “I want to, with everyone.”

“That we will.” Bruce kissed her forehead, a giggle escaping Marinette. “Let’s recover together, okay?”

“Okay.”

Epilogue

#maribat #maribat to not be a bat series #anju writes #bio!dad bruce wayne

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leenishinoya · 3 years

Text

‘Round the World

Post time skip Nishinoya X y/n

[I used 1st person POV from the perspective of Y/N]

Chapter 1

"I'm telling you Y/N; this is unacceptable!" Ma shouts at me.

"I know that already, Ma!" I shout in response.

Lately, we've been on the wrong foot, constantly fighting over trivial matters sprinkled among significant ones. Every day is comparable to a chicken fight, and even the neighbors have had enough of us. In short, we're at each other's throats.

"You're already 20 years old, and you still don't have your own house," She starts, but I'm tired enough of this same conversation. I stomp towards my room and slam the door when Ma chases after me and catches it before it could shut in place. She stands angrily in my doorframe as I bury my face in the cold pillow, messily resting on my bed.

"You know I've been saving up money to get out of here, and you're still in my ear every waking moment," I retort. Ma's face scrunches up. I've been saving up all of my checks from various jobs for the past few months. Recently, I dropped out of college after realizing it was taking too much of a toll on my wallet. I need as much money as possible to get out of this hellhole of a town. There's nothing to do here but lounge in diners and go to a busted, half-abandoned roller-skate rink. I would love to move somewhere out of the country and exotic, quite literally anywhere but here.

"I refuse to have a lazy, no-good freeloader raising my light bill and eating my food," Ma snarks from afar. Trust me: I'm undoubtedly grateful to her for raising me for 18 years and allowing me to stay in the house during college to dodge lodging costs. And I don't think I'll ever be able to repay her, but I won't act like she isn't the most bewildering person I've ever met.

I burst out in rage.

"Well, if you don't want me here, then I'll just leave!"

The room goes silent. My expression is in a scowl, and my face feels hot. The shock on Ma's face says it all. "Fine," she says after what feels like a lifetime, "then get out."

I suddenly feel regret flush into my body, seemingly flowing faster than my blood. But I won't let Ma get the best of me. I speed past her silhouette in the doorway and navigate through the halls to find the storage closet. I noisily grab a duffle bag and go back to my room. In the background, I hear Ma talking on the phone, spilling my business.

"Yup! I know, right! She should've been out of here ages ago!" she stage whispers. (*whispers loudly for my non-theater kids*)

"Have fun rotting in the retirement home, you old hag!" I yell on the way out, quickly breaking into a sprint before she can make me pay for that remark. I run as far as my legs and lungs will take me. Past my favorite diner, the one that puts extra love into their fries. Past the creepy cemetery that kids dare each other to trek across for Halloween. Even past Nana Goldy's house--she's not my Nana, everyone calls her that.

I come to a stop at the outskirts of downtown. It's less busy over here, and it's quiet enough for me to clear my head.

Two things were clear right now: One, I have nowhere to go. And two, I'm hungry as hell.

What was I thinking? Sure, Ma is annoying as fuck, and I lived in a dull, endless cycle of capitalism and labor. But at least I was safe--not sitting on a damp park bench at 7 pm. I must be the smooth-brain of the goddamn century. I need to figure out a plan and fast. Someone could snatch my ass at any given moment, and I wouldn't know a thing!

I think Satan accidentally received my fears instead because a man suddenly pops up behind me.

"Um,"

Shit.

"Excuse-"

A let out the loudest yell I've ever released in my entire life. By instinct, I whip my body around, and my fist collides with his jaw instantly. He flies back in pain, and I collect my belongings and get ready to speed off.

"Wait! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!" the strange man winces. He has a slight accent that I don't recognize. "I was gonna ask you for directions, but I guess I startled you. My bad," he grins sincerely. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to get the hell out of here, but something about his expression made me let my guard down, just a little.

"I'm sorry for slugging you," I start, still keeping a good 3 meters between us, "but I kinda hafta go."

He sits up energetically. His left hand is still cradling his cheek. "Before you go, would you mind telling me how to get downtown?" he says. Never in my whole life have I ever met a man who asks for directions from his assaulter. Oh yeah, he could be trying to turn me over to the cops! I don't wanna go to jail! Well, at least I'd have a roof over my head. Wait, what's wrong with me? I socked him in the jaw; the least I could do was tell him how to get help.

"You won't call the cops on me, right?" I question.

"Nah, it was my fault after all," he reassures me. He picks himself off of the ground, revealing his structure in the dimming sunlight. He has a sturdy but slim build, like an athlete. Dressed in black cargo shorts, a cheap, loose-fitting v-neck, and a run-down pair of sneakers, he was beaming. He looks like someone's father--what the hell am I doing?

I give him the directions to downtown, along with the nearest emergency room. He smiled brightly and thanked me countless amounts of times. What a character.

I wait until he's out of sight in the direction I pointed to and make my way downtown as well. I need to find somewhere to sleep; and something to eat. I don't have any friends to call on. Most of them are either across the country from moving away for college or living in the dorms here. The one friend I have to call, Sid, is living with their grandmother and five brothers, so I'd have to be out of my mind to move in there if they would even allow me. Today has to be one of the worst days of my life. Drowning in self-pity, I stumble through the noisy streets of downtown. Vibrant neon signs line the walkway, inviting pedestrians into various restaurants, stores, and clubs. I've never been to some of these stores; their price tags are too demanding for my just-over-minimum wage jobs. Finally, a little tucked-away bar squished between two multimillion companies catches my eye. It looks like the perfect place to collect my thoughts--for real this time--and fill my stomach.

The moment I enter the bar, instant warmth surrounds me. No more than a dozen workers weave through the tables accompanied by a comfortable amount of people. I'm sure I stick out like a sore thumb with my bags and tired expression, but I'm too hungry to care right now.

I walk up to the reception counter, where a pretty lady was standing behind the small counter. She gives me a big smile before asking me how many people. "One," I say, but then I hear a more or less familiar voice from the furthest corner to the right of the building.

"Over here!" shouts the man who I decked in the park, wearing an even bigger smile than the reception lady. What even is my luck at this point. Miss Reception Lady spoke before me.

"Your friend?"

"Not in the slightest."

Reluctantly, I walk over to the man's booth and plop down. "We're not friends. I'll pay for myself," I mumble. He wipes buffalo sauce from the corner of his mouth with a napkin, then takes a swig of his drink.

"I'll pay. it's the least I can do in return for you helping me find this awesome restaurant. Man, the food in America is top tier."

"All I did was tell you how to get to downtown," I reply.

"But it's because of you that I was even able to get here!" He lets out a hearty laugh that seems to melt away my stress.

"So you're a foreigner? I don't recognize your accent," I figure it wouldn't be too bad to start up a conversation.

He tells me that he's originally from Japan but had been traveling the world for some time now. From Japan to Spain to Portugal, Brazil, and Egypt, he plans to visit every country--at least once. He shows me pictures of his travels; the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Tokyo Skytree, even Christ the Redeemer. He talked about the time he participated in a bullfight with a 96 year-old-man. Fascinating. This man with a permanent smile and a bruised cheek was living my dream life. I asked him to tell me more. But he insisted I talked more about myself and why I was sitting on a park bench at 7 pm.

We talked for a good two hours. By then, I've ordered a burger and fries with a Sprite and chips. A different lady, this one with a more solemn expression, approaches our booth. "Are you ready to pay?" she asks the man. He glances at our empty plates and cups, then nods. I begin to retrieve my wallet when he pulls out his own.

"It's on me," he assures with a smile.

"But we've eaten so much, I can pay for my part," I object.

He looks me in the eyes as if he were deciding something important. After a minute of awkward eye contact, he rested his elbows on the table. "Okay," he grins widely, "in return for paying for your meal, be my escort."

Escort? Escort? I mean, he's a foreigner--he must be mistranslating. But what if he isn't? What if it's all an act and those pictures were just deep fakes? What if he's trying to lure me into a trap like he's done to many other young women, and I'm his next victim?

"Oh, I don't think that's the word. Guide? Is it?"

My anxiety levels go down. "A guide? Guide you where?"

"Around your city, of course."

"I don't even know your name."

He extends his hand. "Yu Nishinoya. You can call me Nishinoya."

You shake his hand in return. "Y/N, pleased to meet you." [yall I just realized Y/N has the same initials and Yu Nishinoya I'm ecstatic and an idiot]

CHAPTER 1 END

give me criticism

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #manga #wholesome #haikyu #time skip #y/n #nishinoya x y/n

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lopithecusfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Water Under the Bridge

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai | Might Guy Rating: General Audience Word Count: 1766 Alternate: AO3 Summary: Kakashi comes home after the battle with Hiruko to a very angry Gai Warnings:

Arguing

Unresolved Tension (sort of)

Established Relationship

Author's Note: I rewatched this movie about a month ago. I haven’t been able to get this story out of head since. So, I’m finally bringing myself to write it. If you can’t remember what the movie is about, basically Kakashi allows himself to be controlled (because the enemy is collecting shinobi with kekkei genkais) and he plans on sacrificing himself in order to kill the enemy. Neither he nor Tsunade tells anyone of this plan except for Shikamaru. Of course, Naruto, finding out what is happening, chases after Kakashi with Sakura and eventually Sai, with the other teams trying to stop them. The movie ends with Kakashi comparing Naruto to Obito and then Naruto getting creeped out over it. All the other members comment on it, with Lee saying (in the Japanese version), “Gai-sensei told me, that’s also part of youth.” and Tenten comments, “I figured you two were like that.” Naruto then runs away from Kakashi, thinking everyone is implying Kakashi is crushing on Naruto. This fic is about what happens between Kakashi and Gai after the movie. Please enjoy!

By the time the twelve of them get anywhere near close to the village, Naruto is acting like himself again and isn’t trying to avoid him. Instead, he walks beside Kakashi, talking away as usual, while Sakura walks on his other side with Sai beside her. The others trail behind them, chatting amongst themselves, and Kakashi is glad that everyone, for the most part, has seemed to forget about that very embarrassing misunderstanding.

Kakashi is enjoying listening to Naruto’s rambling — he doesn’t have his book, unfortunately — when the entrance to the village comes into view and more importantly, the person standing there waiting for them. Kakashi, even at this distance, can feel the anger radiating off of the man’s body.

“Uh-oh,” Kakashi mumbles, earning glances from some of the team members.

Lee squints into the distance, one hand over his eyes as he tries to make out the figure in front of them. “Is that Gai-sensei?”

Naruto mimics Lee’s stance, eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, it is! What is he doing here?”

“I don’t know but I will find out!” Lee announces, getting ready to charge forward.

Kakashi stops him. “Lee,” Lee looks in his direction, confused. “I’ll handle this. He’s here for me.”

The closer they get, the more Kakashi can sense Gai’s anger. It’s almost palpable and he can tell most of the others can feel it too. The other man has his arms crossed across his chest, hip cocked as all his weight is put on one foot, and his jaw is clenched tightly shut as he stares Kakashi down. It’s not very often that loud, optimistic Gai fumes so openly. It certainly is a sight to behold.

They all approach Gai hesitantly, Kakashi stepping up the closest to him. Lee hangs back behind Kakashi, eyeing his sensei curiously. “Ma, Gai, I know you’re angry.” Gai’s mouth twitches, eyes narrowing the slightest bit. He doesn’t speak. Kakashi is in a lot of trouble. “But can we discuss this later? I really need to go give a report to Hokage-sama.”

They stand there for what seems like ages, staring at each other, with the eyes of the other students watching them carefully. Gai’s hands are fists where they rest on his biceps, eyes narrowed dangerously, keeping his breathing measured and calm. Kakashi thinks the last time he’s seen Gai like this, was back when they were teenagers and Kakashi was half dead on a mission. Gai had to save him and he ended up killing all the enemy shinobi then.

Kakashi really hopes Gai doesn’t kill him .

“Gai, look-”

Gai steps aside, looking away from him. “Later then,” he says in a perfectly controlled emotionless, monotone voice. Definitely in big trouble.

“Gai-se-” Lee starts but Kakashi cuts him off, placing a hand on top of the boy’s mouth. Gai doesn’t even flinch at it.

“Not right now, Lee,” he warns, never letting his eye stray from Gai. It’s probably the first time Gai’s students have seen him like this.

Tenten sidles up to Lee, grabbing his arm, and giving her sensei a wary glance. “Come on, we have to go report in too.”

“We all should probably go now,” Sakura says to the group, waving them on. They all agree and follow her, passing glances towards Kakashi and Gai.

Naruto steps up to Kakashi, eyeing the two shinobi. He leans in closer to Kakashi, loudly whispering, “What’s up with Bushier-brow-sensei?”

“Naruto, go along with Sakura,” Kakashi orders, and Naruto pouts but does as he’s told.

Kakashi steps in front of Gai again, getting in his view. Gai is now shaking with anger. Kakashi doesn’t dare touch him. He can be pretty dangerous when he’s mad. “Gai, I really don’t have time right now, but I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything later. I promise.”

Gai huffs, refusing to look into Kakashi’s eye. “Right.”

Kakashi sighs but leaves him to stew in his anger. There’s nothing he can do for Gai right now anyway. It’s best if the other man went to a training ground and took his anger out there.

The debrief takes forever, much to Kakashi’s dislike. He’s antsy throughout the entire thing, knowing that Gai is waiting for an explanation from him. When they are finally told they can go, Kakashi is the first one out of the office, using the body flicker technique to get back to his apartment quickly. He hopes he’s guessed correctly and that Gai is waiting for him here instead of Gai’s own apartment.

He doesn’t even need to enter the apartment before he can sense Gai in it. Kakashi takes a deep breath at his door before unlocking it and entering. He kicks his sandals off and follows the light into his kitchen. Gai is there, washing up last night’s dishes that Kakashi had been too lazy to do that night. Gai always does chores when he’s angry.

“Are you ready to talk?”

Gai drops his hands with a loud thud, the plate in his hand giving a warning rattle of possibly breaking. Luckily it doesn’t. “I had to find out second-hand!” Gai growls angrily, letting go of the plate and turning around to face Kakashi. He’s definitely still mad, with his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

His nose crinkles in a really cute way when he’s mad but Kakashi suspects Gai wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment at the moment.

“Are you absolutely insane, Kakashi?” Gai questions, leaning back against the sink and white-knuckling the edge of the counter.

“Gai, it was the only way.”

“Apparently not!” Gai points at him pointedly . “Considering you’re standing right there! ”

“Gai, I did what I thought had to be done at the time,” Kakashi explains. He really doesn’t like it when Gai is angry and he hates it, even more, when he’s the one making Gai feel that way. It doesn’t suit him.

“Why are you allowed to sacrifice yourself but I’m never allowed to sacrifice myself?” Gai asks, pushing off of the counter.

Kakashi furrows his eyebrows at Gai, feeling a bit of anger rising up in his own chest now. It’s an old argument that they always seem to circle back to when they do fight. “Is that what this is about? The fact that I’m a hypocrite?”

“No!” Gai takes a step towards him, still pointing, and Kakashi holds his ground. He knows Gai won’t actually hurt him when it comes down to it. “This is about you not telling me!”

Kakashi pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s getting a headache. “Because I knew you would try to stop me just like Naruto did.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Gai pushes past him, entering the small living room. Kakashi follows him. “So,” Gai starts in again, turning to face Kakashi. “I don’t even get to know that my boyfriend is going to die?”

Kakashi crosses his arms in defiance. He refuses to back down. “Like I would have any warning with you using the eighth gate?”

“That’s different!”

“How?”

“Yours was premeditative!” Gai yells. “You planned on sacrificing yourself without even giving me a second thought!”

“You don’t know what I was thinking,” Kakashi says calmly.

Gai’s voice calms, getting control over himself again. Despite Gai’s appearance and attitude towards most things, he really does have amazing control over his body. “I do know you didn’t trust me to help you. You didn’t trust me to come up with a different plan. If I were to use the gates, that would mean there was absolutely nothing else that could be done. I would be thinking of you, I would ask you for help until there was nothing but the gates. That’s the difference.”

The room falls silent, both of them seething with anger. They both stand there, Kakashi with his arms crossed and Gai with his hands curled into fists by his side. They face each other, neither of them willing to admit defeat. That was always their problem, Kakashi supposes.

“I’m going to bed,” Kakashi eventually says. He’s sore and tired and all he wants to do is not argue with Gai and to just sleep.

“That’s all? Really?” Gai asks, incredulous.

Kakashi waves him away and steps around him, making his way to his bedroom. “I really don’t have the energy for this right now, Gai.”

Gai follows him because, of course, he does. “Can you really not see it from my point of view?” He sounds hurt now and Kakashi refuses to look at him because he really doesn’t want to see that sad look in Gai’s eyes. “Kakashi.”

He feels a hand land on his shoulder and he stops walking, halfway to his bed already. The anger has dissipated from both of them. Another problem of theirs. They could never stay mad at the other for very long.

Kakashi sighs, spins, and faces Gai, engulfing him into a tight hug. Gai hugs him back, just as tightly, burying his face into Kakashi’s neck. “I was scared,” Gai mumbles after a while.

Kakashi reaches up, cards his fingers through Gai’s hair. “I know. I’m sorry.”

They don’t say anything more on the matter and Kakashi knows it’s just another one of their arguments that will end up being never spoken of again. It will be all water under the bridge until another flood of heated anger manifests between the two. The same argument they’ve had a hundred times already.

Kakashi pulls away, kissing Gai on the cheek. He grabs a hold of Gai’s hand and starts pulling him towards his bed. “Stay the night, will you?” he asks as he crawls on top of the mattress.

Gai’s smile is back and sometimes Kakashi fears he’ll never see it again, but for now it’s there and it’s real and it’s all for him. “Of course!”

Gai hops onto the bed, making Kakashi bounce a little and they lie down, ignoring the fact that they are still in their full shinobi garb. Gai reaches over and pulls Kakashi close to his chest so Kakashi’s back is pressed into him, burying his nose into Kakashi’s hair. He breathes in deeply and Kakashi lets him, knowing that Gai needs this right now. Next time it’ll be his turn to hold Gai like this when Gai decides to open the seventh gate and almost die.

Kakashi turns around and wraps his arms around Gai’s middle, scooting even closer to him. They hold each other in a way that if they could hold on tight enough, neither of them will ever leave the other and die.

Kakashi sighs into Gai’s shoulder, finally going to sleep.

—————————————————————————————————

A/N: Thanks for reading!

#KakaGai #GaiKaka #Hatake Kakashi #Maito Gai #Might Guy #Kakashi Hatake #Gai Maito #Guy Might #Naruto #Naruto Shippuden #Water Under the Bridge #My Fanfiction

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hopesbarnes · 4 years

Text

Speak Now

Based on the song Speak Now by Taylor Swift

Summary: Your best friend's wedding is just wrong. Wrong dress, wrong decor, and mostly wrong bride for him to marry.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: angst with a happy ending

Everything was wrong. You’d imagined this wedding a thousand different ways, a thousand different times. But it never looked like this. The ten bridesmaids are dressed in varying pastel shades, and their dresses could rival that of a Toddlers and Tiaras competitor. There’s enough tulle that the dresses could probably stand straight up on their own. The archway is covered in tacky balloons ranging in colors to match the bridesmaid gowns. The wedding dress resembles a cupcake and has a see-through corset top.

It’s far from the simple modern wedding you envisioned. You imagined flowy chiffon dark teal dresses on your two best friends. The bouquets would be simple, white roses surrounded with baby’s breath. The wedding dress would have lace, long sleeves, and flow effortlessly as you walked down the aisle. A perfect day, to marry the perfect man.

But it’s not the perfect day. It’s not even your day at all. It’s hers. She won him over, and he proposed to her. As the so-called ‘best friend’ you had to accept the invite and quiet the voice that wanted to scream Julia Roberts’ “Choose me, marry me, let me make you happy” line from My Best Friend’s Wedding.

You walk down the hall towards the men’s dressing and overhear Natasha yell at her bridesmaids because their nails were painted the wrong color. Yikes. How Bucky fell in love with a nightmare like her you’d never know. How he didn’t see you all along you’d never know either. You get to the room to find Bucky and Steve both staring dumbfounded at the tie around Bucky’s neck.

“How the two of you made it this far in life, I’ll never know,” you say entering the room.

“With clip-on ties and Ma’s who pitied us,” Steve answers and you tie both men’s ties.

“You look handsome, she’s a lucky girl,” you say tightening the material and kissing his cheek. “I’d say Peg’s lucky too but let’s face it she is way better than you.”

“Oh, I am not arguing with that. I don’t know who told her to take a chance with someone like me, but I thank my lucky stars they did,” the blonde man says blissfully. The two of them had been married for 5 years now and had a 2-year-old girl named Sarah. They had another baby on the way, but you weren’t even sure if Peggy had told her husband yet so you didn’t dare share that secret.

“How are ya’ feeling?” you ask the darker hair man.

“Nervous, and like I’m forgetting something,” he admits. You manage a weak smile back. You thought it’d be easier watching the man you were desperately in love with getting ready for his wedding to another girl. He wasn’t yours, he never was. So why was this so hard?

“I’m sure she’s made sure everything was in order. I should go grab a seat, just wanted to make sure you were good,” you manage to squeak out. A part of you was hoping he would be a mess and want to call off the whole engagement.

He smiled back and you snuck from the room. Thankfully the bathroom was nearby and you were able to make it in there before the tears started falling. Your entire life you pictured marrying this man, and now it was really hitting that you wouldn’t.

It was Kindergarten when you first met his blue eyes. The two of you only 5 then. You fell at recess which caused you to skin your knee and pull the bow from your hair. Everyone continued to play, but Bucky. He tried to retie your hair (it failed but made you giggle) and after that, you were by his side for good.

In Middle School things shifted, he no longer was Bucky who came over for playdates. He was Bucky, the boy with cute floppy hair and a smile that made you swoon. He was your first crush, and you longed for the day he would tell you he liked you too. But that day didn’t come and you remained friends throughout the awkward years.

Then in High School, he became popular. With High School came Steve. The huge jock surprised you by being kind-hearted. He was already dating Peggy and she became your best friend quickly. The two men met through football. Bucky was Quarterback, co-captain with Steve and everyone wanted to date him. You included. He never looked at you that way though. Instead, he dated a new girl every month and followed the cheerleaders like a lovesick fool. It didn’t matter that you were on the Cheer team too, or laughed at his jokes. He only saw you as his best friend.

The four of you both were accepted to the same school for college and you roomed with Peggy while Bucky roomed with Steve. The two of them knew you were completely in love with the guy and tried their hardest to make him see that he cared for you as well. But it never happened. You decided the time would never come and dated for the first time. A series of people came and went, and every time you compared them to the guy you grew up with.

After college, Bucky met the redhead at work. She was the first woman he had to chase after, and the first one that lasted longer than two months. He never saw her snobby behavior, or that she was horrible to be around. Peggy couldn’t stand to be around the woman, and Steve struggled to find nice things to say. But when he proposed everyone faked a smile and congratulated him. If he was happy, you were happy. Right?

Except now here you are, in a bathroom at your best friend’s (love of your life) wedding sobbing. It should be you in the dress, getting the guy. You knew him better than he knew himself. You knew his favorite band, held him when he found out his mom died, stayed up for hours helping him study for tests. You were the one who deserved the happily ever after.

But he did too, and his happily ever after didn’t involve you. So you caught your breath, wiped your tears, and fixed your dress. It was selfish to take away from his day. So you made your way to the seats and took deep breathes as the ceremony began.

Bucky stands at the front of the room, looking nervous. Steve stands at his side, and other friends follow in suit to form the groomsmen. The typical music starts to play, and the sound feels like nails on a chalkboard. Natasha moves down the aisle perfectly as if she were a runway model. You watch as she greets him, and he doesn’t look any calmer.

The ceremony starts and you almost blank out. But you hear the words “speak now” and you can’t hold it back anymore. With courage found from deep within you stand. The entire room gasps and you manage to see Steve stand with a smile.

“Don’t do it. Don’t get married,” you say surprising yourself.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Bucky asks.

“Don’t get married to her. I- It isn’t right. I should have said it years ago but I’m in love with you. I can’t stand to see you with her. You should be with me. I’m the one who makes you smile, I’m the one whos been by your side since the beginning, I’m the one who loves you so much it hurts. Watching you be with her is killing me.”

“I-”

A moment of realization hits you and you recognize that you just objected to a wedding.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just did that. I. I’m sorry,” you say before running out of the building.

Outside you catch your breath and know that you’ve truly lost it. No sane person objects at a wedding. Who were you kidding, there was no way that he would give up everything for you. You made a fool of yourself in front of all your friends, and his entire family. You could never show your face again. You accept defeat and begin to walk to your car, deciding that you need to change your name and move far away.

You grab your keys from the clutch your holding and unlock the car.

“Wait,” you hear from behind your back. Turning you see a disheveled Bucky.

“What are you doing!” you exclaim.

“You love me?” he asks sheepishly.

“I’m so sorry. I should have just sat quietly and not ruined everything,” you say fumbling with your hands.

“You love me?” he repeats.

“Of course I love you, James.”

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment I heard you giggle at the ribbon I tried to tie in your hair. I thought you didn’t feel the same way and have been trying to move on for over two decades. I don’t love Natasha. I thought marrying her would get me over you.”

“You love me?” you iterate the words Bucky had asked you.

“We’re really stupid huh?”

“I can’t believe you just ran out of your wedding.”

“I can’t believe you objected!” he says laughing.

“Do you wanna go somewhere and talk?” you ask.

“More than anything,” he says getting in your car.

The two of you drive to a diner and order a meal. You look out of place completely dressed up eating burgers.

“Wait, what happened with the wedding?” you ask.

“Steve said he would handle it so who knows.”

It turns out Steve let Natasha know she was horrible and shrugged his shoulders explaining everyone should take food from the reception hall and go home.

A year and a half later another wedding happened. This one looked identical to your dreams, down to the man holding your hand and reciting his vows. But this time there were no objections. He chose you, and you actually got the happily ever after.

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #Marvel #Song fic

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sweetwriting · 4 years

Text

TimKon Week 2020 Day 6: Au Temps des Cerises

Category: Gen or Pre-slash

Genre: Angst/Fluff,

Fandoms: DC Comics, Red Robin, Teamverse

Continuity: Post-Crisis/Pre-Flashpoint Future AU

Summary: I mixed both prompts, you get canon era Bakery and Coffeeshop AU. I'm proud of what I did in just 2 hours

Word Count: 1840

AN: Hey everyone! hope you enjoy this. Warning, the beginning might be a bit hard.

PS: I know lots of this could be solved by going to the authorities but I didn’t want to

PPS: I might actually go in more depth later.

Prompt: Canon AU – Coffeeshop/Bakery

Can be read on AO3

Conner had been living in California for 2 weeks now. He was going to start his classes there next week and had mostly used that time to settle in his apartment, his neighborhood and his job.

He was working at a small bakery near his apartment and thanks to everything Ma had taught him he could do something other than just staying near the register.

Truthfully he didn’t need it, Bruce Wayne and later on Dick Grayson made sure every young hero who wanted to study got a scholarship so they wouldn’t be burdened by having to work in addition to studying and heroing.

But Conner needed it. He needed to keep busy.

Because when he had been brought back to life, it was to the news that Tim Drake had died while looking for a flimsy hope that Bruce Wayne was still alive.

That had been about 5 months ago.

At first he had tried to follow his trail and find his voice but his powers were nowhere near Clark’s and after three months he finally gave in.

Tim was dead.

But he couldn’t accept that and move on. He tried to bury himself in heroing, in catching up on homework, on helping Ma. But in order to really bury everything he had to use his powers and that meant he was done very quickly with high school and he needed something new and time consuming.

He chose to study both Law and Psychology. Tim had told him once that he was too emotional to take a step back when he needed it but that he also had the uncanny ability to perceive parts of people no one else noticed. Tim would talk to him about it sometimes. Or about how he and Batman dealt with the law in Gotham. About a lot of things really, but he had once told him it could be useful in their line of work, in knowing how to deal with victims and criminal.

So Conner was pursuing it.

Partly because Tim’s advice had been sound, partly because it was one of the last talks he had had with Tim.

He didn’t really hang out with the Teen Titans. He was there when he wasn’t busy but…he had tried for a bit. Got back together with Cassie, hung out with Bart. But he couldn’t do that in hero form and as Titans…Well even if they called themselves family they didn’t hang out together the way they had done in Young Justice. When they’d just play ping-pong and other dumb things. Now him and Bart still tried but Conner wouldn’t be able to actually do that until he at least managed to accept Tim’s death.

But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t.

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

It was his third week at Au Temps des Cerises, the little bakery and he would start his classes in two days. His boss, a sweet middle aged woman called Samantha had just asked him to go deliver some of their baked goods to a coffee shop and a restaurant for a taste test. If they liked it well enough then they sign a contract to sell them.

He was just finished with the restaurant manager and their chef and was heading toward the Café Culturel et Solidaire, a small café not far from Conner’s campus. Not that he’d ever gotten anywhere near close to it before. He liked coffee but not more than any other drink. Apparently that coffee shop was not very well known but pretty cheap and with quite a few regulars.

As he was nearing it however, he started losing his focus which meant he lost control of his super hearing. And he heard him.

His voice was coming from the coffee shop.

Before he knew what was happening, Conner was running toward it and opened the doors with a bang yelling Tim’s name.

Which obviously meant that he scared more than half of the people in the shop, including the staff. Including the boy at the register, who looked so much like Tim. Probably the source of the voice. He walked toward him.

“Have we met?”

- - - - - - - - - -

Conner was waiting in the Café Culturel et Solidaire’s kitchen. After being shocked silent by Tim’s -he knew he was Tim…he didn’t know how he knew it but he did- answer he screamed again.

“Of course! How dare you say that to your best friend!”

Tim startled. “Wha- No! I meant that literally I… Look…Are you part of the Bakery that was supposed to drop by?”

Conner stopped for a second, reminded that he had a big bag with the name and logo of his workplace in his arms. He nodded and Tim sighed.

“Ok, go wait in the kitchen, I’m gonna get the manager and I’ll be off soon just…Stop making a scene.”

So Conner had followed the instructions and was now waiting for the manager to taste test the bakeries.

He didn’t have to wait more than five minutes before a man who seemed to be in his early 60’s came in and after a good 20 minutes, the Au Temps des Cerises bakery had a new deal. The old man did look at him in a slightly distrustful way though.

When he got out, most of the clients that had been there when he had entered were gone and he let out a relieved sigh. Especially when he saw Tim waiting for him.

The young man looked up at that moment and it allowed Conner to see how nervous he was. He sighed. He didn’t like the idea of Tim being nervous because of him. And he knew there was something wrong. Or at least he hoped. It was a horrible thing to say but he hoped that there was a good reason for Tim just leaving like that.

They got out of the shop and started walking. From what Conner could guess, they were going toward the big parc near the campus.

They spent the first couple of minutes in silence. It seemed longer. Then Tim breathed in and said:

“I meant what I said when I asked if we had met before. It wasn’t to be mean or anything but I was comatose for 5 months when I was in Paris and when I woke up I had lost all my memories. I only knew my first name and that I was from the US. Granted that was deduced from my accent and the fact that I didn’t speak a work of French. I worked there for two months in a small toy shop because the owner was the brother of my doctor and took pity on me.

When they found me I only had a book and some money on me. Turns out my passport was hidden in it so after two months I took the first flight I could afford. Now I’m working in that café because I needed the money to go to the address on the passport and coffee shop will accept pretty much anyone who asks and can handle the rhythm.

You…You knew my name. You just saw me through the window and you recognized me so I just…I was surprised.”

Conner was relieved. Of course it was awful for Tim and that meant his best friend had forgotten him but he hadn’t avoided him on purpose. Now how would he be able to manage that was a different question entirely.

But he didn’t care. It was Tim. Tim was alive and there was a chance he could get his best friend back.

So he hugged him. Also he cried on his shoulder but that was just a detail.

AN: As always, Tim will never be a coffee addict in my fics. For one thing he drank like 3 cups of coffee in canon overall. So while he can enjoy it, that's pretty much all there's to it, so, when compared to Dick and Barbara who are often, often often seen with a mug of coffee in hand, it's even more laughable to me. Also the guy loves to sleep. He's not gonna force himself to stay awake if he doesn't absolutely have to. That's why he falls asleep on a roller coaster, he just changed his sleep schedule.

Anyway, the idea is that Tim will remember things after a while in Gotham. Dick's been crying for months and now that his baby brother is back he won't leave him alone. They don't bring up the reason why Tim left. Things explode, which help Tim get the last of his memories back, they get Bruce back. Tim and Dick are mending things. Meanwhile Conner is happily baking for Tim and he's learning how to be around people again after shutting everybody out. Bart also gets lots of Cake. Ma's happy Conner's feeling better. Did I say Conner baked for Tim? 'Cause it's important.

#TimKon Week #TimKon #Tim Drake #Conner Kent #DC Comics #OTP:TimKon #BrOTP: BartKon #BrOTP: TimKon #Angst & Fluff #Post Crisis #Red Robin Comics #Teen Titans v3

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rebelliouslala · 4 years

Text

A Tiring Battle

(Park Jinyoung x reader, Pokémon au, fluff, one shot, 1.4k words might do more of these they’re so cute and fun omg)

The day was bright and sunny, the trees were a bright green from the sunlight. The entire setting looked unreal with bright color. Your father had picked you up so you can harvest berries for your Munchlax, whom you affectionately named Munchie.

Your mother watched as you hopped down from your father’s arms, running to her and holding a huge purple berry the size of your head, “MA LOOK!”

Chuckling, she nodded and sipped Earl Grey tea. You ran past her and to your bedroom upstairs, where your Munchlax was sleeping on your Snorlax stuffed animal, hoping one day he will grow as big as that (even though the stuffed animal was only a foot or so wider and taller than him).

“Munchie!” You jumped on the stuffed animal and cuddle your Pokemon. The Munchlax woke up with a start before sniffing the berry. Breaking the berry, you gave him pieces to eat as the Pokémon happily says his name, thanks you. You laughed at his messiness and cuddle him some more, a wide, toothless grin on your face. “Good Munchie! Come on! Let’s go battle!”

Even a decade later, that was your routine. Even with your father working as a scientist a few miles away, you still drag a huge berry to Munchie, despite now being a large and lazy Snorlax.

“MUNCH!” You yell, earning a grumble from your mother, who watches the news. “Y/N, Take him out to battle, bring him back with less weight, and maybe bring some friends so you’re not just talking to me or calling your dad.”

“Ah, but Ma, he has a stomachache.” You say, ignoring the other statements.

“If he has an accident in your room it’s not my fault, Y/N. You’ve been stuck in the house all day. Go. Out.”

With a large and heavy sigh, you drag him out with the scent of the berry, the stairs creaking as he climbs down. Munchie mumbles sleepily how much he wants it, until he squeezes out of the garage and into the world.

“There we go, good Munchie. Alright, once you eat this, promise me that we train.”

The Snorlax groans and tries to hold his enormous body with his tiny blue arms, “Snorlax~,”

“No excuses, young man, we gotta get you strong.” You say, bouncing the balls of your feet and playfully punching his body, “Let’s go to the gym, okay?”

Munchie groans, but follows you, nibbling on his berry as you walk with him to the City Gym only a few blocks away.

Meanwhile, Park Jinyoung bids goodbye to his friends after their lunch small battles and dares with their Pokémon.

But honestly, Jinyoung just wanted to go to the little Poke Cafe and meet more little cute Pokémon than battle.

This earned a loud groan once his friends were gone, he sat on the bench in exhaustion, looking at his Dragonite.

“Dragon~?” The Pokemon asks with worry. “Just tired, I know you are too, with Jackson’s Arcanine hating on you like that, huh?” Jinyoung wipes his face.

“Dragonite!” He declares.

Jinyoung laughs and looks at the City Gym in front of him, looking at his Pokemon, “Hmm, mabe a battle can let us get some steam out, what do you think?”

“DRAGONITE!” The Pokemon flaps his wings, and Jinyoung stretches and walks alongside him, patting his back, “Great!”

𓆉

“Sorry ma’am, the Gym Leader is out right now.”

You groan, slumping down sadly while Munchie laughs beside you. Shooting him a look, you turn back to the woman before you hear Munchie puff up.

Knowing him long enough since you adopted him, you turn to see which Pokemon he had sensed.

A handsome man, maybe a year older than you had walked through with his tall Dragonite partner.

A challenge, but nonetheless you were definitely willing to take this model of a man on.

“Sorry, Gym’s closed.” The woman in front of you says, waving him off before he could go in further liek you did.

Luckily once you and the man made eye contact;

You both knew what was about to happen.

“The name’s Jinyoung.” He smiles, as you and he both walk out, your and his Pokemon nodding to each other out of support and solidarity.

Even though Munchie knew he could probably smack the Dragonite out cold.

“Mm,” you click your tongue, stretching and patting Munchie for strength. He nods at you, as Jinyoung’s Dragonite stands tall to intimidate you.

“Uh, I’m asking for YOUR name,” Jinyoung says as you stop near the square, where some other Battlers were, even some children using their Whismurs and Fletchlings against each other.

Cute.

“I’m Y/N, hope you like to lose,” You smile sweetly, helping Munchie stretch. Jinyoung widens his eyes at you. He chuckles and pushes his coal black hair back. “A tough battler? Fine.”

Once you both establish that you’re ready, you make the first move.

“Munchie, use Slam Down!”

Jinyoung smiles at your nickname for him, pushing up the short sleeves of his white shirt, revealing his muscles as Munchie jumps up.

“Dragonite, use Wing Attack!” He commands, stepping forward.

You smile at his coolheadedness, and watch Munchie successfully dodges the attack and slams down on Dragonite. The Pokemon groans under Munchie’s weight, who yawns from the lack of work.

Whispering encouragement to your Pokemon, you smile, “Use Rollout, Munchie!”

Jinyoung widens his eyes at the Snorlax’s attack. A rock type move on his Dragonite? He takes more damage, groaning quietly but he stands back up. “Dragonite, use Hyper Beam!”

Munchie takes the attack, but you smirk at his high resistance, “Use Heavy Slam!”

This time, Dragonite doesn’t dodge again and he whimpers underneath as Munchie playfully teases him by playing with his wing.

Jinyoung grabs a potion, giving it to Dragonite, muttering, “Okay, I know this isn’t looking good. But trust me.” He raises his voice, “Use Outrage!”

Dragonite’s eyes go red, and he blows hits to Munchie. This time it’s a little more effective, but nevertheless you command Munchie for Heavy Slam.

Dragonite dodges, and Jinyoung yells, “OUTRAGE!”

His Pokemon roars louder, his eyes practically flowing as he embraces the feeling.

Munchie looks at you nervously, but you look at Jinyoung. He’s fueling his Dragonite with emotion.

But that can’t last long.

You watch Munchie take the hit and nod, “Body Slam, Munchie.”

Right after, you see Munchie get hurt again by another Outrage move. Your poor Pokémon’s were eyes growing more droopy with exhaustion.

But so was Dragonite’s.

“Munchie,” you smile softly at Jinyoung’s tense stance, “use Yawn.”

The Snorlax lets out a huge, and much needed yawn, making Jinyoung’s Dragonite’s eyes flutter, and stumble back.

“NO DRAGONITE DON’T—!” Jinyoung yells with despair.

But the Pokémon fell asleep with a loud thud t the ground.

Jinyoung falls on his knees in hopelessness, watching Munchie slam on him each time he takes his move, until Dragonite goes back to his pokeball in defeat.

“Well,” you smile and hug your Pokémon, giving him a potion, “that was fun, wasn’t it Munchie? Aww my Munchie did so good! How about we feast when we—?”

“Wait!”

You turn back, and your Snorlax glares at Jinyoung running after you.

The way his dark brown hair didn’t move, he didn’t look fazed at all, was somewhat appealing compared to the men that were desperately trying to prove you wrong.

He stuck out his hand, bowing with a smile, “You did, amazingly.” You widen your eyes, but shake his hand. “Yeah. Good game, sorry I killed your Pokémon.”

“It’s fine, we needed to get off some steam.”

“Yeah, but emotionally? It’s not healthy,” you advise with a smile.

Jinyoung chuckles, nodding, “My fault,” his face scrunches up cutely.

Your cheeks flush just realizing how much he looked like a little Pikachu with the embarrassed flush.

Were you falling?

For a Battler?

Your mother did expect someone to come back with you, too.

Looking down with a gentle mumble, you shrug, “Would you consider to maybe come back to my house for a little dinner?”

Jinyoung nods, his perfect smile brightening up the already perfect day. He takes your hand a little, letting your hand hold his pinky, “Why not, as payback for killing my pokemon?”

“I have a few Revives at my house,” you say, laughing shyly as he grins more at you, “I would like that.”

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7imagine #got7 fluff #park jinyoung #jinyoung got7 #jinyoung fluff #pokemon #pokemon au #dee writes

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manunkinda · 4 years

Text

So, I’m watching the Heathers 2018 reboot to take notes. I plan to do a video essay after I finish the series.

I regret starting this.

Anyway, here are a few my notes so far.

Heathers (2018) Notes:

⁃ I can’t believe I’m paying for this shit.

⁃ Wait, why is the pilot TV-14 when everything else is TV-MA?

⁃ Also, every single title of each episode is a quote from the movie. I don’t think “Hot probs” was though? Unless I’m missing something? I’ll have to watch the movie AND the musical after this to cleanse my brain.

⁃ Also why is the second episode $20 for HD?

⁃ THE RED SCRUNCHIE. SHANNON DORHERTY (who played Heather Duke in the original) IS IN THIS.

⁃ Yup, Shannon plays his mom. She’s waving and he’s waving back.

⁃ What the hell is this intro?

⁃ [ethereal electronic music]

⁃ Okay, so this is Veronica... Who should really be a Heather.

⁃ I can’t stop laughing at the Khloe Kardashian quote.

⁃ [moody electronic music]

⁃ See, the thing is, is that Veronica had sturdy morals from the beginning. She had a sense of who she was, just not what she wanted. J.D. manipulated her into briefly losing her morals. So, it doesn’t make sense for Veronica to not know who she is.

⁃ I’m pretty sure you can’t ask a student if they’re a hermaphodite. Most colleges don’t care about that anyway.

⁃ Jason Dean’s in the background staring her down during the locker scene and they haven’t actually introduced him.

⁃ Betty’s in this apparently, but not Martha? Because since Chandler is plus-sized, that whole thing wouldn’t work anyway, right?

⁃ [moody finger snaps]

⁃ I can’t believe there’s a song where the lyrics are: “Picture this, I’m a bag of dicks.” “I will punch a baby bear in his shit.”

⁃ Okay, while I clearly appreciate LGBT+ and minority representation in the media, Heathers is the wrong story to use it. In this, the representation is villainized while two white people try to kill them off. That’s complete missing the mark and the lesson of the original, and hell, even the musical.

⁃ Chandler would get dress coded for that outfit. Middle finger choker AND those fishnets, yup.

⁃ “How Banana Republic.” whAT DOES THAT MEAN

⁃ KURT SEEING THE HEATHERS WITH RAM AND NOPING THE FUCK OUT OF THERE IS ME.

⁃ “Remington Squaws.” Look, Ram would also get dress coded for this.

⁃ Also, the reason why “mean girls” like the Heathers and the Plastics were popular is because they were nice to your face, and then would talk shit about you behind your back.

⁃ the finger snaps are rotting my brain already.

⁃ “I’m gonna get a soda.” Proceeds to get a bag of chips.

⁃ oh god JD approached Veronica. What the fuck are they saying by the way? “Meet the new boss?” WTF?

⁃ “I’m not a rebel, Veronica.” The original JD would disagree with that.

⁃ He ends up calling Veronica “my dear” within the first two minutes.

⁃ Heather Duke would be an interesting character if he wasn’t named Heather Duke.

⁃ snappy snack shack looks like a discount Snappy Snack Shack.

⁃ Heather McNamera with their teacher? In public? In the car? No one would be so obvious like that about banging their teacher.

⁃ “Great hummus, but I gotta Tesla.”

⁃ “Such an UGG boot latte sometimes.”

⁃ Did she and Jacob hook up in his car? Idk, all I see is leg and Veronica is checking Chandler’s insta. She did end up posting the pic of Ram in the Remington shirt, but I don’t think he was smiling.

⁃ “What is your father wound, Heather?”

⁃ Veronica just shoulder checked her, which honestly isn’t the same as throwing up on someone’s shoes.

⁃ Chandler got fake drain cleaner from an art thing all over her dress.

⁃ “Lick it up, fatty. Lick. It. Up.” Is nothing compared to the original line. Also, fat-phobic much?

⁃ “My dear” again. That’s twice now and it’s already getting old. The thing is, in the original, JD and Veronica never called each other pet names, except for one time. For JD, it was right before Veronica broke up with him. “Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling.” And for Veronica, it was right before she shot JD in the boiler room. “You know what I want, babe? Cool guys like you out of my life.”

⁃ “Let’s snort Adderall, make out, and get slushies.”

⁃ So is Kurt actually gay in this or?

⁃ This JD and Veronica has no chemistry whatsoever.

⁃ I dare JD to throw a better party at the discount Snappy Snack Shack where the cashier won’t yell at you.

⁃ Also, this JD reminds me of Riverdale’s Jughead, but if his personality was the weirdo monologue.

⁃ Those are some weak ass slushies. They’re so watery.

⁃ I was not expecting the fucking bubble gun.

⁃ His dad collects Nazi stuff apparently. Big yikes.

⁃ What are the dolls in Chandler’s room? Why are they on her shelf like that and organized by skin color?

⁃ “Prince Harry me as revenge.”

⁃ Where was that table she fell into in the other shots?

⁃ He gave her the suicide pills by mistake, Big oops.

⁃ “I’m going to be experimenting with lesbianism in San Quentin instead of Sarah Lawrence.”

⁃ “That’s my girl.”

Director: Do a proud smile!

⁃ Duke posted the photo of McNamara with the teacher because they were arguing who would give the eulogy.

⁃ “Isn’t hating on someone for being a murderer equally as rude?” No, it’s not.

⁃ Why is JD wearing sunglasses inside? That just makes him even more guilty.

⁃ Betty is trying to stake her claim on Chandler’s position.

⁃ I honestly wouldn’t mind if the Heathers were Betty and these two girls originally.

⁃ “Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.” THEY USED THE LINE and not in a great context.

⁃ And we meet JD’s dad.

⁃ Also, he’s using the Shake Weight and I can’t stop laughing. I’m so distracted by it.

⁃ “Well, son, your presence here has been lovely as usual, but if you don’t mind, my girlfriend and I would like to start having sexual intercourse now.” Right in front of my salad?

⁃ [somber bell music]

⁃ Heather Chandler’s still alive?! Holy shit! She’s been laying there the whole day. She would’ve been dead by now!

⁃ Oh gross, vomit.

⁃ And her phone’s blowing up. Pun intended.

#its so bad #tw: suicide #tw: vomit #heathers #heathers reboot #heathers 2018 #paramount heathers

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the-canary · 5 years

Text

Stay Gold - B.B (1/5)

Summary: Ours doesn’t have a happy ending, but I’ll give you everything else. (Reader/Mobster!Bucky Barnes)

Prompt: Everlong - Foo Fighters

A/N: this is for @tropicalcap‘s 4k writing challenge. welcome to the end, or the beginning to be exact. thank you so much for taking the time to read this and if you have been waiting for the start, i hope you enjoy the ride cause it just goes downhill from here ;D

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

The music is drumming all over the mansion -- a haven for all type of debauchery from sex to drugs all in the name of one man, James Buchanan Barnes. He had taken control of one of the largest mafia crews back in the 1950s after the death of his own mentor, Alexander Pierce. Some of the biggest robbing sprees and murders have been done under his name. There were politicians and corporations that that gave back to his mob for protection and to help them climb a bit more up society’s ladder.

However, deep down, the man was a recluse -- someone that nowadays worked through several middlemen that worked under him. Not since the 1980s has anyone really seen his face, he stayed behind closed doors to wonder the top floor of his mansion that he had bought and recreated for a different purpose a lifetime ago.

James Buchanan Barnes, riddled with illnesses and regrets, is nothing but a walking ghost waiting for the world to take him.

“Another year,” his voice echoes out bitterly as he swirls his glass around before taking another drink. His once bright blue eyes are dark and sorrowful as he looks up to the painting up above with the mantle filled with old black and white photos of a much happier time if one dared called to war that. His youth was gone and dragged through the floor, but their own --his wife and his best friend-- would never be.

They were forever golden, unlike him.

If he hears the sound of footsteps coming closer to him, James doesn’t say anything -- just looks at the painting of his wife over the mantle and leans into the chair once more...and waits.

He has been waiting long enough to see the closest people he had lost so long ago, though deep down he doubts he deserves it. The assailant turns to the corner of the chair with their face hidden in the shadows, but for a brief moment James swears he sees green for a moment, but it vanishes in an instant.

pop! pop!

And after a miserable existence, in a brief flash -- he is gone...and maybe, finally at peace.

For James Barnes, life starts on March 10th, 1918. James is someone who always grows with the importance of friendship and love with his large family of his two parents and three younger sisters, but it isn’t until later in life that he learns how much he is willing to his life for those two concepts -- the first time is when he first meets one Steve Rogers, when some bullies are trying to take his lunch money.

The second part comes a little later on in life when he sees an older girl protecting Becca from some type. Her shoe is missing and she’s coughing up a storm --almost like Stevie-- as the boy is coming up to them once more.

“Hey,” Bucky yells out as he comes barreling down the other side of the street, “Pick on somebody your own size.”

Both the gal and Becca jump to the side at the sound of his voice, that leads to James moving in just in time to sucker punch the man which the bully to fall to the dirty ground below. He gives him on look over, making sure that he’s gonna stay down, before turning back to look at his sister and the mysterious strange and moving them as far as he can.

“I swear, Becca,” he breathes out while looking at the strange gal who still seems to breathe to fast for her own good, as he knew from his experience with Stevie, “What were ya thinking?”

“He started it,” Rebecca complains as they make to the street where their little apartment is located it. She turns to look at the older girl before patting her on the back. She makes a motion and Becca continues, “Started tryin’ to butter me up like and got jibbed I said no. And then--”

Before Becca can continue her story, the mysterious gal moves to-and-fro for a second before falling over, only for Bucky to catch, as she blacks out completely.

If only Bucky knew that he would end up falling as well, though in a different sort of way.

It’s a little while after that when Bucky and Becca find out who their mystery savior is -- a niece of their landlady. Now, from what they understood the landlady was a spinster -- the older sister of a wealthy but now struggling (everyone struggled due to the Depression) man that owns land all over the city and the state even. But, for some reason he had sent his eldest child and youngest son to spend the summer with their aunt -- his two other boys were traveling with him.

“Thank you takin’ care of ‘er,” your aunt smiles at Winnie Barnes as she pats your shoulders on top of the quilt she had brought her. You’re quite and give the rest of the Barnes family a shy smile, “She tends to get a’head of herself with all the running and walking she wants to do.”

Neither Bucky or Becca state what you were actually trying to do, as you end up waving at them before leaving. The Barnes siblings don’t know exactly what to make of you.

Over that summer, they come to realize more about you and your little brother. First, that you tend to stick like glue, if Charlie is outside then you are too -- watching him play from the sidelines or sitting on the steps of the apartment complex. If you’re not outside, well Charlie isn’t either though they do seem him from time to time coming out of the pharmacy or the store.

Boxes of pills and bags of syrupy medicine in his arms and it don’t take Bucky long to put two-and-two together -- you’re sick. Maybe, not as much as Steve, but it takes you out for days and it makes it hard to breathe sometimes.

She’s got a weak heart, he hears his ma talking and it’s then that everything makes sense as Bucky finds himself getting just a bit more protective over you.

However, he realizes later on that it’s something that nobody --except maybe Charlie and your aunt-- seems to know.

However, before he can realize anything of what he might actually be feeling (that’s a few years down the line), you’re out of his life once more, just as quickly as you came in with your father and younger brother picking you and Charlie up a few mornings before school starts once more.

“Bye Becca,” you hug her before getting into the car and simply wave at Bucky, “Stay golden, Bucky!”

He gives you smile (though he’ll never understand that little saying of yours) and nods as he watches the two of you drive off. Bucky stands there a little while longer than he should, which causes Becca to smile from behind him.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be back next summer.”

Becca is completely right though because as soon as the next summer comes in and schools ends once more, you are there waving at him and Stevie from the little window of the red brick apartment with Charlie at your side. There’s a smile on Steve’s face at the lovestruck gaze on Bucky’s face when you greet them at the top of the staircase.

And even though, Bucky might deny from the ages of 17 to 22, everyone is sure that he has some type of crush of you. Though you aren’t quite so sure as you see him come and go with a girl every other night, it might break your heart but you kn0w that you’ll try your hardest to forget him once summer ends -- but, it’s never that easy.

It’s never easy for him either because he doesn’t know if that’s the last time he’ll see you.

It changes around the time of his 23rd birthday because it's springtime and you’re standing and talking with Becca in front of the familiar apartment building, though he doesn’t live there anymore -- just visits every other day. He stops a few steps from the two of you, blue eyes staring at you like a ghost.

“Hiya Bucky,” you state after noticing him with a light smile and Bucky can’t help but notice that you’re a little paler than usual, but he lets it slide for now. He smiles, as Becca sighs at the sight.

“Hey, what are ya doing here?”

“I live here now,” you let out with a laugh, as Becca grins at how Bucky’s jaw seems to drop. He stutters, trying to ask why much to the two gals delight.

“Why? How?”

“I’m helping my aunt with the buildings we own.”

In that quick moment, Bucky remembers that you aren’t exactly in the same social bracket as him and why that might bother him here and there in the future -- for now, he is a happy man that you are here in front of him.

It’s a freefall after that, between trying to teach how to dance properly.

“You’re steppin’ on my toes, doll.”

“I’m tryin’ not ‘ta.”

And taking you and his sisters to Coney Island for your birthday.

“Ya want me to get on that?”

“Stevie could, I bet you can too.”

Bucky realizes, in-between the little moments and the larger ones, that’s he’s fallen in love and though he knows you aren’t too keen on the subject --goodness, knows how much time you have left compared to everyone else-- he moves forward with his question on a starry night when you’re sitting right next to him after suppertime with the Barnes.

“So, when’s your next date, Romeo?”

You laugh but he has the most serious look on his face, “Well, she’s starin’ right at me if she says yes.”

You freeze and look at him with a look of pure shock, before getting up and leaving -- Bucky knows he has to be patient and wait for you to think it out.

It takes him four days of worry and melancholy to get a response, but once he does (thanks to Becca, but he’ll never know that) there a huge smile on his face for days that Steve can’t help but shake his head and laugh.

At that moment, everything is golden and nothing would be able to change it, at least not for now.

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #40's bucky barnes x reader #1940's bucky barnes x reader #1940's bucky barnes #bucky barnes mobster au #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #series: stay gold #fabiola trying to write

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ravenchaitea · 5 years

Text

Hello out there! I don't know how many of you followed this blog just for the P5 content itself and how many followed it because of my fic writing. Either way, I'm flattered! For any of ya'll that are interested, I've started a new P5 Pegoryu fic and I'll be posting a preview of the first chapter here. Eventually it'll move to Archive.

Summaries are not my thing, but here goes nothin’:

Ryuji's two years out of graduating from the Colony Defense Force program when he gets his first real assignment in deep space. It's not something in his field as a fighter pilot, he'll basically be acting as a glorified ambulance driver. If he can pull it off, in a year he can put in for a transfer. It might be his only chance. He's never been good at following the chain of command and he doesn't shine academically, but he knows ships. He knows how to fly them, build them, repair them. It's the only reason he was able to get into the program in the first place. It's the only thing he's good at.

He’s surprised when someone takes notice, especially when that someone is Commander Akira Kurusu. The man is the youngest war hero in Earth Colonies history. He was there during the fall of Shido, when the entire planet was wiped off the map. Now he’s a walking poster child for the Alliance of Emergency Medical Services, AMES. He leads a specialized team that travels from planet to planet, offering aid when needed. It’s the complete opposite of everything Ryuji was trained to do, but he’s finding it impossible to say no. Especially when he’s going to be serving under such an attractive commander.

Act. 1.1

On the Earth colony planet of Kamoshida, the sun is going down, bathing everything in a honey-orange glow. Acres of tall yellow grass grow up from the ground. The stalks roll like waves, stirred up by a mild evening breeze. Ryuji Sakamoto sits on the hood of his silver hover car, hands folded neatly behind his head as the last light of day bakes heat into his skin. He strains to keep his eyes open, drifting in and out of a lazy afternoon nap. It's one of the few moments he's had to himself since spring ended.

They say Kamoshida is the closet of the Earth colony planets to resemble Old-Earth. It's the only planet in the sector to have a true four season cycle, making it ideal for growing most Earth staples. The planet's major export is its crops, providing more than half of the colonies' food supply. The entire population of the Kamoshida colony is involved with the farming efforts, growing, selling, or packing. Ryuji's family happens to be fifth generation bean growers.

He opens his eyes and lifts his hands up in front of his face, studying his oil-stained fingers. He's supposed to be working on his hovercar but he can't muster up the energy. Between school and chores, his free time has been limited. This is to say nothing of the spring sowing and all the extra chores that came with that. Their farm is one of the smallest in the area and he's always been expected to help wherever he can. His father won't tolerate laziness. Any time spent working on his car definitely falls into that category.

He's been putting on the finishing touches for weeks, pushing himself towards the goal of being able to take it out. Although 'out' is a bit of an overstatement. He won't legally be allowed to take it anywhere besides ground streets for two more years. Air flight is restricted to the eighteen and up crowd. Despite that, he figures two years is nothing compared to the four it's taken him to get it all put together. It was little more than an empty chasse full of scraps when he brought it home from the junkyard. A fact his father continues to lord over him every chance he gets, even with all the progress he's made on it.

He's poured all his monthly allowance into buying parts and making needed repairs. What he couldn't afford, well-... He figures it's all stuff that won't be missed. It needs fresh paint and to have the chrome touched up, but there's time for that later. Having a ground vehicle will at least get him away from the house on weekends. Plus there's a point of pride to be had in being the only one in his circle of friends with a car.

His hazy mind is busy going over possible paint combinations when he catches himself dozing off for real. He allowed himself to be lulled into sleep by the darkening sky and the warm pre-summer air. He forces his eyes open and glances up, able to see the beginning of stars among the pale pink hues of atmosphere. His body is bone tired and for a few more minutes he lies still, fatigued from weeks of not getting enough sleep. He thinks it odd that someone of his age should feel so run down. There's no time to dwell on that though. His mother will be finishing up dinner and he's expected to be home to set the table.

He slides down off the hood and begins the short walk through the fields to get back to the house. When he emerges from the sea of tall grass he sees his father's truck in the driveway. It's an instant disappointment. Friday nights are usually the night his father stays in town after work to have a drink and 'catch up with the boys'. It's a rarity for him to forego bar time for family time. Ryuji crosses the yard at a slow pace, dragging his feet to stave off the inevitable. The thought of sitting down to eat with his drunkard father is more than he can stand.

As he's approaching the house his wristwatch display lights up, receiving an incoming call. He pauses just off the porch to answer it, waiting for the video connection to buffer. The eager expression of his longtime friend and classmate Takeishi appears on the screen.

"What's up?"

"We still on for tonight?" Takeishi asks and the question throws Ryuji for a moment. Had they made plans? He thinks they might have made plans. "Y'know. Captain Kidd's ship. Parked at the shipyard."

"Oh shit," Ryuji breathes as his chest lights up with excitement. "Man, I totally forgot about it."

"How the hell did you forget?"

"Spring sowin', remember? We've gotta get the fields resown before summer rolls around. I've been busy."

Takeishi studies him for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in concern, "You good?"

"I'm okay," Ryuji assures him. It's not exactly a lie, at the moment he's fine. He's tired. Worn down from weeks spent working in close quarters with his father. From trying to meet the man's impossible expectations. "We're meetin' at midnight in old man Iwai's cornfield, right?. Hope you and Nakaoka don't bail on me this time."

"I wasn't the one who bailed."

"I'm serious, man. If you guys don't show I'm goin' in alone."

"We'll be there." Takeishi insists though it does nothing to diminish Ryuji's doubt. "See ya."

"Yeah." Ryuji sighs, tapping the end call button. Inside he can hear his father's voice. It's more the tone than actual words and he already sounds riled up about something. He ascends the porch stairs and presses himself against the wall beside the front door. He's trying to give himself a moment of composure before he goes in.

He doesn't want to deal with this right now.

"Hey," He calls out as he pushes the front door open. From his vantage point, he can see into the kitchen. His mother is standing with her back against the counter and her arms crossed over her chest. She widens her eyes at him, a silent warning for him to tread cautiously. He kicks his shoes off and nudges them into neat alignment by his father's work boots. He crosses the living room and turns the corner to his father seated at the dining table.

"The hell you been?" The older man demands, swinging one of his worn hands towards the table. "I come home from bustin' my ass and your mother can't even get dinner on the table because you're off god knows where."

"Yes sir," It's less of an agreement and more of a neutral answer. Ryuji knows he's already on thin ice and he's not about to make things worse by arguing.

"Welcome home," His mother offers, a subtle change in the conversation. He hates this. Friday night dinners are usually their thing. It's the one night of the week they don't have to tiptoe around his father.

"Go ahead and sit down, Ma," Ryuji insists, guiding her towards the table. He washes his hands clean at the sink and gathers the plates from the cabinet. He has to reach around his parents to set the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his father watching him. He's looking for a reason to yell at him again. Wordlessly Ryuji serves the food and grabs his father a bottle of beer from the fridge. On his way to his chair, he sets a light hand atop his mother's shoulder hoping to reassure her. She pats his fingers lightly in acknowledgment. The whole exchange is missed by the man at the head of the table as he pries the lid off his beer and takes a long drink of it.

Ryuji watches in silent disgust as some of the foamy liquid pools at the side his father's mouth and runs down his chin. His entire face looks like well-worn leather. It's creased and tanned by his many long days working in the fields. He runs equally aged fingers across his spotty stubble covered chin, wiping the beer away in an almost thoughtful gesture. He sets the bottle down and clears his throat before taking up his utensils to begin the meal. Neither Ryuji nor his mother dares to start eating before he does, lest they affront him.

"Spring harvest was profitable this year," He announces, sounding almost on the verge of pride. There's no doubt in Ryuji's mind that his father spent most of his day in town stroking his own ego. Beans are not a big spring crop and their farm has been mostly dormant since winter. That doesn't stop Ryuji's father from acting as if the entire town's spring harvest is his own personal success story.

"Ryuji,"

"Yeah?" He's surprised by his father's calm use of his name. He sets his fork down beside his plate and lifts his eyes up to meet the older man's. They're the color of a stormy ocean and dark, cold, and dimly glazed over from the alcohol. Ryuji's always been thankful that he got his mother's brown eyes. He hopes that they somehow make him look more like her and less like his dad.

"Y'worked real hard these past couple months. Don't think I didn't notice."

"Uh, thank you," Ryuji replies, feeling his guard go up and his hands curl into fists on reflex. It's not often that the man offers him praise and it usually doesn't come without strings attached. His father rises to his feet, his body swaying under the effects of the alcohol. The half beer that sits on the table is a pallet cleanser for whatever hard stuff he drank before coming home. It's a wonder he was able to drive without causing an accident. Sometimes Ryuji wishes he would crash. It's not malicious but out of a desire to keep him off the road and away from other people. It's easy to picture his father drunkenly swerving in front of somebody else's family.

His stomach lurches at the thought, the feeling intensified by the sudden approach. The man stands over him like a tree shadow, blocking out the kitchen lights. It casts darkness over him. He turns his head upwards to meet his father's eyes. He strains to keep a straight face as the scent of alcohol on his father's breath wafts down over him like a heavy fog. The older man smiles a grin of yellowing teeth and brings his hand down to clap over Ryuji's shoulder. He flinches away, a sharp jerk of his muscles that's more memory than anything else. The reaction doesn't go unnoticed.

"The fuck, Ryuji?" His father breathes, training his callused fingers up the back of Ryuji's neck to grip a handful of his hair. Across the table, his mother sits up straighter in her chair. He body is tense with nerves as she prepares to intervene. Ryuji prays that she doesn't, wills her to sit still and stay quiet. "I'm not gonna hit you."

He definitely would, and has.

"I was gonna say," He continues, gripping his hair a bit tighter, bordering the point where it becomes painful. Ryuji takes measured breaths to force his body to relax and like a cue, it eases his father's hold on him. Almost affectionately he runs his weathered fingers up through the top of his hair to tussle it. "-that since you helped out so much, I'll give you a bigger allowance this month so you can get your car fixed up."

"Really?" Ryuji forces enthusiasm into his voice because he needs to act accordingly. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

"I've never been prouder. Makes me think you've got more than shit for brains after all. Might have someone worthy of passing the fields down to someday."

Ryuji pointedly ignores the insult.

His father turns unsteadily on his toes and almost falls over in an attempt to seat himself. He shakes it off and returns to his food. Ryuji and his mother follow suit and for the rest of the meal, he's forced to avoid his mother's concern filled eyes. His father continues to ramble, making small talk and bad mouthing his bar friends. It's a one-sided conversation. He's too drunk and too into his rant to notice that no one's paying attention to him.

Ryuji continues to mindlessly force food into his mouth, though he can't taste it anymore. Twice he has to pause to keep it from coming back up, his stomach so tied into knots that it's making him nauseous. He doesn't have to suffer for very long, his father begins to doze in and out of consciousness at the table. His mother stands and coaxes her husband to his feet. She leads him down the hallway to their bedroom, guiding his wobbly footsteps the entire way. Ryuji turns his attention to clearing the table and putting the leftovers away.

It's half past ten when his mother emerges from the bedroom, looking exhausted and frustrated. She enters the kitchen and makes a beeline for the fridge. She almost rips the handle off the freezer door as she yanks it open. Ryuji grabs two spoons from the silverware drawer and waits while she chooses a flavor of ice cream.

"Feels like a mint chocolate chip sort of night," She mumbles, to herself more than anyone. The two of them sit side by side at the table, sliding the pint back and forth, eating in silence. Ryuji thinks it would be comical if it wasn't also so damn sad.

"Hey," Ryuji begins, watching as she carves out a large spoonful of ice cream for herself. She glances up at him, prompting him to continue as she tries to find a way to fit the entire oversized scoop into her mouth. "I'm gonna go hang out with Nakaoka and Takeishi tonight."

"Mmm," She muses, raising her eyebrows in a clear question of 'Oh yeah?'.

"It's not a school night and I'm pretty sure that he," -the drunken idiot in the bedroom, "isn't going to wake up anytime soon."

"It's getting pretty late."

"You really gonna try and pull the curfew thing on me?"

Narrowing her eyes, she points her spoon threateningly in his direction, "It's my right as a mother."

"I have to get out of here. At least for a little while," He presses, glancing over his shoulder towards their bedroom door. "If you let me go out, you can lay down in my room and get some decent sleep. We can swap beds when I come back."

"Where are you going exactly?"

"We're gonna troll around old man Iwai's corn field. Might go down to the lake or somethin'."

"I hope you realize you're going to have to learn to lie better," She sighs. She takes her spoon and begins to scrape at the bottom of the ice cream carton, hoping to get one final bite out of it. "Fine, but you need to be back before sunrise. And I mean before sunrise."

"I will be," Ryuji swears, leaping to his feet with a sudden surge of new energy. He takes the stairs up to his room two at a time, though his footsteps are measured and quiet. He's not about to risk waking his father up, even though he knows that the man is out for the night. He gathers his backpack and throws his tools into it. Screwdrivers, wrenches, portable laser torch, he runs through a quick mental inventory to make sure he has everything.

He grabs his ComTab off his bed and sends a quick text message off to his friends to remind them of the time and place. He tosses the tablet into his backpack and tiptoes rapidly back downstairs. His mother gives him an uneasy look as he brushes past her on the way out the door. Despite himself, he can't stand for her to be disappointed in him. As an act of good faith, he doubles back for a hug and promises once again to be back before sunrise.

He slips out the front door and sails over the porch steps and down the driveway. Old man Iwai's cornfield is a few miles down from his house. The night air is crisp and clear, it's temperature situated in the middle of warm and cool. It's the perfect atmosphere for a run. Sometimes Ryuji thinks he was born for it. He should have joined the track team with Nakaoka and Takeishi, but he knew it would be one more thing for his father to play against him. Still, it's a favorite past time to turn to when things get bad at home.

It doesn't take him long to fall into a steady rhythm of feet on dirt road. The roads are from the early days of the colony, back when vehicles had actual wheels. Once hover crafts became the norm, the roads became more of a guideline for those who preferred to drive closer to the ground. Ryuji himself can't imagine wanting that. He's been dreaming of air flight since he was young. This is due in part to his admiration of Captain Kidd.

Captain Kidd, like Ryuji, is from the colony of Kamoshida. Something of a local celebrity, he started his career as a well-known stunt pilot. Later he joined up with the Colony Defense Force and within a few years became captain of his own crew. They traverse the galaxy to fend off threats from hostile planets. Ryuji's been obsessed with him ever since the first broadcast of his trick flying. He's collected every holo-vid he could find and has spent hours watching them. The flips and spins are burned into his memory. Even as he jogs he can visualize it.

It's the reason behind his meeting with Takeishi and Nakaoka. There's a rumor that Captain Kidd is in town visiting his family and that his famous stunt ship is with him. According to the rumor he's even parked it at the local shipyard. Ryuji isn't sure if he believes it, but he's not about to pass up an opportunity to find out. He's broken into the shipyard before to collect discarded parts or to look at the ships and cars. It's almost a joke that Captain Kidd would want to store his trick craft there.

Their meeting place is on the far end of the Iwai cornfield, where the crops end abruptly and give way to an open flatland. He glances at the time on his watch, ten till midnight. He's the first to arrive, that is if his friends decide to show up. The last time they planned something like this the two boys bailed out, leaving Ryuji waiting for hours. Although, the mission to sneak into Ann Takemaki's sixteenth birthday party was a little less dire than their current plan.

It's almost midnight on the dot when Takeishi and Nakaoka arrive, stepping free of the tall corn stalks. Takeishi is full of smug arrogance, hands tucked casually into his pockets, head held high. He's always been a bit full of himself, though it's a facade that always seems to crack when things become dicey. Nakaoka is reserved and somewhat nervous. He tries to be the voice of reason for the other two, but his words often fall on deaf ears. He frequently gets dragged into Ryuji and Takeishi's schemes. Although on this particular night, even he seems to be somewhat excited.

"Told'ya we'd be here." Takeishi steps over to Ryuji and the two of them bump fists. Their knuckles crack together in a way that feels very manly.

"I was about to go without you," Ryuji shoots back, hoisting his backpack further up onto his shoulders. "If I had any sense I would'a."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and start walking, Sakamoto."

Ryuji is all too happy to fall into the role of leader, moving with confidence over the large expanse of flat land. Kamoshida's twin moons gleam overhead. They light the way as he guides them along a well-memorized path.

Before they can get to the local shipyard they have to pass Kamoshida Commercial Shipyard. It's a literal metal city where all the off-world space ships dock. It's one of the larger ones on the planet, a center of commerce for all imported and exported goods between the colonies. Twice a month huge ships dock there to load or unload, staying only a few brief days before departing again.

As they near the yard, bright overhead beams of light come into view. Steel rafters rise up like metal giants, dotted with high rising staircases and elevators. Skyscraper buildings intermingle with the docks, full of places for ship crews to spend their shore-time. It all feels very exclusive, surrounded all on sides by thick metal walls. They're designed to keep foreigners inside and locals outside. A huge impenetrable fortress in the middle of miles and miles of farmland.

It's not their destination, but every time Ryuji passes by it, he has to stop to take it all in.

"Wouldn't it be badass to go off world?" He breathes, turning his head around to look at Takeishi and Nakaoka. The two of them look just as awestruck, maybe more-so, since this isn't a common sight for them.

"Those ships are huge," Nakaoka says, stepping up next to Ryuji. "I mean, I knew they were huge. They have to be to carry so much stuff, but I guess I didn't have a scale for it before now."

"My dad works down on dock 37. He says that they're even bigger up close. Bigger than the buildings in the capital." says Takeishi, then adds as an afterthought, "I think about leaving this shitty planet all the time, but let's get real here. The only way any of us are going to make it off is if we join the defense force or the medical brigade. We're all too stupid for that."

"Maybe you're too stupid. I bet I could get in. Sakamoto could get in if he got real good at fixing ships."

"Yeah, you're probably right. He'd get himself a job doing custodial work or something."

"I would not!" Ryuji protests, although they might be right. The only way he'd ever get off Kamoshida is if he got a crappy job on a transport ship. Although the alternative as a bean farmer isn't exactly appealing either. "Maybe I need to become a trick pilot like Captain Kidd."

"What? You'd never be able to pull that off." Takeishi laughs the words into his face and Ryuji feels his blood heat up under his skin.

"Why not?"

"Sakamoto, you got beans for brains? The only thing you've ever piloted is a wheel-tractor. You don't even have your car up and running. What makes you think you're going to be able to do flight tricks?"

"Guys, let's just go." Nakaoka intervenes right as Ryuji opens his mouth to reply. "If you guys get into a fight we'll never make it to the shipyard to see the ship. So let's just go."

"Fine," Ryuji concedes for the moment, knowing that Nakaoka's right. He ignores Takeishi for the rest of the trek.

The local public shipyard is a much less impressive sight. It's a large flat patch of concrete surrounded on all sides by a well worn and rusted chain link fence and an unfathomable amount of weeds. It's mostly a glorified parking lot with a few hangars on the far end. There's even a small collection of Old-Earth style vehicles, camper trailers, and trucks. Most of them are covered in thick layers of dust and surrounded by grass that pushed up through cracks in the concrete.

"Where do you think he parked it?" Takeishi steps up to peer through the fence, or rather over the fence. It's so old and weak that it halfway hangs off of its support poles. "Inside one of the hangars?"

"If it's in a hangar, there's no way we'll be able to get in to see it," Nakaoka mumbles, giving into defeat before they've even made it inside. How very typical of him.

"I've broken into this place to collect parts for my car," Ryuji says, stepping up to the fence beside Takeishi. He shifts his backpack around to the front and digs through it until he finds his portable laser torch. "Security is an old guy who falls asleep watchin' the monitors and outdated patrol robots. I don't think the keypads on the hangars work and even if they do I'm sure I can disable them. They're simple coded panels."

"Since when did you become a hacker?" Takeishi challenges, though there's a touch of admiration in his voice.

"Not that kind of code, like a number combination. It's less hackin' and more... Cuttin' wires." Ryuji grabs hold of one of the fence supports. He flicks the torch on and cuts through the small pieces of metal holding the fence up. The panel collapses the rest of the way down into the grass and the three boys clamber over it. Ryuji breathes a sigh of relief. They're finally in, all that's left is to find the ship. "Stay close to me and keep your voices down."

The three of them make slow but steady progress through the shipyard, avoiding motion sensors and cameras. Ryuji knows the layout of the complex like the back of his hand and he continues to lead his friends onward. They've almost reached the long line of hangars when Ryuji hears the unsteady approach of a security robot. He motions for the other two to get down and follow him up under one of the Old-Earth vehicles. They're packed together like sardines and every time Ryuji shifts he's poked by bramble weeds that grew up under the truck's front end.

Nakaoka's nervous breathing stirs the hair on the back of Ryuji's neck. It's the only sound outside of the approaching patrol robot. The tread on its tires is almost non-existent and it bounces violently over every crack and dip in the concrete. It stops beside their hiding place and begins to run it's scanner down over the side of the vehicle. Blue light beams down into their eyes and Nakaoka stops breathing entirely. The robot lets out a soft crackle of static before turning to wheel away.

"This is a bad idea. We should leave." Nakaoka insists as the three of them crawl free of the undercarriage of the truck.

Ryuji resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead offering words of encouragement, "We're almost there. It'll be another half hour before the robots make it back over here."

"We can't go back," Takeishi adds, though his words are anything but soothing. "You can't wuss out on us now. Not when we're this close. Grow a pair already!"

"Come on," Ryuji is tempted to ditch them both, tired of their theatrics, but Takeishi is right for once. They've come too far and there's no going back. They begin scoping out the hangars, peering in small side windows to check the inside for the ship. They're almost to the last one when Ryuji finally spots it, an unmistakable outline. Grinning ear to ear, he waves to his friends and they join him at the window. "In here!"

"No way," Takeishi laughs, slapping Ryuji jovially on the back. "I didn't think we were gonna find it."

"Kinda pissed that you two doubted me."

"Let's get in there to get a closer look."

"I'm on it." Ryuji slips around the side of the hangar to the entry door while Takeishi and Nakaoka keep watch. It doesn't take him long to pry the panel off so that he can access the wires. He snips through the alarm wires and then gets to work on the ones that control the lock. He shifts them from connection to connection until he hears the lock click open inside the door. "Guys, come on."

"Sakamoto, you're such a badass." Takeishi raves as they enter and the compliment fills Ryuji's chest with pride. He's the first one who approaches the cruiser. He runs his fingers admiringly over its sleek navy blue paint. The chrome accents along the front and sides are gleaming, perfect mirrors that reflect Ryuji's wonder-filled eyes. The other boys join him and the three of them circle the cruiser like sharks, drooling over every last detail. "Alright, now that we've looked at it, let's start it up."

"Whoa, what?" Ryuji glanced at Takeishi, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean start it up?"

"Well you're good at hot-wiring things, right? So get in there and start it up."

"For real? I can hotwire the crappy hover cars parked in town, but this is a really high-class ship. It's got to have a whole computer devoted to an alarm and protection system," He says it as if he doesn't already know. He does know. He knows everything about it.

"C'mon, Sakamoto. I know you lay in bed at night fapping to ship schematics."

"The hell?!"

"Jerkin' it to all those Captain Kidd posters you've got.”

"Takeishi, I swear-..."

"Moaning his name when you cum."

"I'll do it if you shut up," Ryuji growls. He swings his backpack down to the ground and kneels over it. He knows there's nothing in his bag that could possibly work on such an advanced ship. He's got to at least try for the sake of his dignity. It isn't enough for Takeishi that Ryuji brought them to the shipyard and broke into the hangar, no, he's always got to push things too far.

"Ryuji, don't." Nakaoka implores him. "Guys, this is stupid. We should go. There's no way Ryuji could hotwire a craft like this."

"Let him work." Takeishi snaps, beginning an argument between the two. Ryuji ignores them as he approaches the stunt ship, heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He never dreamed he would ever see it up close and in person and it's better than any photo he's ever seen. He lightly runs his hand over the lock panel, surprised when it opens up to reveal-... An Old-Earth style key lock? This isn't what Ryuji's expecting.

Most high-class ships and cars are programmed with fancy identification software. Usually, that means voice recognition or palm and iris scanners. To see something so archaic on Captain Kidd's stunt ship is both amusing and fortuitous. Ryuji can pick old style car locks without even having to think about it. He pulls his tools from his bag and gets to it. He presses his head against the hull, listening for the pins inside the lock.

"He's got this," Takeishi whispers, earning a sharp look from Ryuji.

"Don't talk," He commands, straining his ears to move the final pin out of the way. The lock clicks and then turns and with a soft whoosh of air, the door to the ship begins to fold down. Ryuji's eyes bulge inside his head as he realizes what he's done. The lights inside the cruiser flick on, bright white LEDs that make the interior shine like the gates of heaven. Without even thinking about it, Ryuji steps forward to climb the stairs and enter the craft.

Takeishi and Nakaoka bumble up after him, but he hardly notices that they're there. His wonder and excitement have dimmed upon seeing the craft's interior. Although the outside of the ship for all the world resembles the trick craft, the inside is that of a basic hover car. It's even got cup holders and a console. It dawns on Ryuji that Captain Kidd's trick ship likely isn't street legal. The vehicle they're sitting in now is either his civilian car or a really really good fake that someone made.

"It's not the right one," Ryuji explains lamely, turning to glance over his shoulders at his friends. Nakaoka is wearing a similar mask of disenchantment, but Takeishi on the other hand-... Anger flares to life inside of Ryuji's chest, he realizes he's been baited. "You knew."

"C'mon Sakamoto. You didn't actually think that Captain Kidd would drive his stunt ship into town, didya?" Takeishi gloats, his grin wide with amusement. Sometimes Ryuji wonders why they're friends. Why does he even bothers spending time with someone who acts the way Takeishi does? It's likely all close proximity, they certainly wouldn't have met by any other means. "My dad says Captain Kidd's got a regular hover car made up all nice like his stunt ship. I knew he'd probably park it out here."

"You're such a friggen asshole."

"I never said it was the actual ship, you just assumed that."

"You brought us out here for this?!" Even Nakaoka's upset, a rarity for him. Normally he's immune to all the usual bullshit that Ryuji and Takeishi drag him through. It makes Ryuji feel even worse knowing that his own anger is justified in Nakaoka. "Come on, Ryuji. Let's go."

"Yeah. Right behind you," Ryuji says, following Nakaoka down out of the ship, or rather, the hover car. He gathers his tools and throws them back into his bag with a satisfying use of force. They clink together as they hit the bottom of the bag and settle. "C'mon Takeishi. Get out of there. We're leaving."

"You're not gonna try to crank this thing up?" Takeishi asks, oblivious to the sour mood of the other two.

"No! I'm not! Now get outta there!"

Takeishi pouts as he climbs down the stairs. Ryuji ignores him. He seals the car door back up and starts for the hangar exit, eager to be out and on his way back home. Once they're outside again, he can breathe better. The cool night air calms his nerves a bit. Overhead the stars glimmer and the twin moons shine like the eyes of a cat. It's beautiful in a way Ryuji can't always describe and looking up at it takes the last bit of the edge off. He's still disappointed but it's less biting than it was inside the hangar. That is until Takeishi opens his mouth again.

"You're both being a couple of little bitches about all this," He goads. Ryuji bristles with newfound anger. He tosses his bag onto the ground and brings his hands up to slam against Takeishi's chest. It knocks him against the side of the hangar. The metal rattles and echos across the shipyard.

"Find your own way home," Ryuji seethes, hissing the words through clenched teeth. Takeishi opens his mouth like he's going to say something else, but Ryuji doesn't allow it. He slams his fist against the hangar, knuckles making contact with the hard metal. It sends a shockwave of pain up his arm but he doesn't care. Takeishi flinches away from both the action and the sound, his eyes wide with disbelief. Ryuji shoves away from the wall and snatches his bag up. This time when they turn to leave, they're not immediately followed.

"Should'a hit me like your daddy hits you!" Takeishi taunts, but the two of them ignore him. The vein in the side of Ryuji's forehead is pulsing and he feels lightheaded. When they're out of sight of Takeishi he stops for a moment to catch his breath.

"Sorry. You shouldn't'a had to see that," Ryuji apologizes, glancing sidelong. Nakaoka offers him a worn smile.

"He deserves it," Nakaoka concludes, shrugging his shoulders. "For real though, let's go. I don't want to get caught in here. My mom'll kill me."

"Mine too."

The two of them set off together in comfortable silence, following the same path they took to get in to get back out. They're almost to the fence line when they hear approaching footsteps. It's followed by the sound of tires bouncing over the cracked concrete. Ryuji throws his head over his shoulder to see Takeishi barreling after them. There's a security robot hot on his tail. Only once has Ryuji ever found himself in a similar situation. He knows from experience that the security bots can outrun a human. There's no way Takeishi is going to make it to the fence in time.

He knows he's going to regret this, but-...

"Take this and get outta here," Ryuji snaps, tossing his bag into Nakaoka's arms. He gives the other boy's shoulder a firm push. Nakaoka does what he does best and takes off. Ryuji spins around in the opposite direction to go back for Takeishi. He's doing a fair job of throwing the bot off, ducking between hover cars to cut off its straight forward path. Despite that, the machine is still closing the distance between them. Ryuji sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles, catching both the bot and Takeishi's attention.

"Go long!" Ryuji calls out, gesturing towards the far end of the shipyard.

"There's another downed fence that way!" Takeishi throws up a fist in acknowledgment and breaks out running. He's a few aisles down from Ryuji, zigzagging a path through the parked cars. It's a good method to prevent the bot from gaining distance on a straightaway. So far it's working, the bot only has ground capabilities and it can't keep up with Takeishi's random changes in direction. Ryuji for his part races ahead, keeping his eyes out for more security bots. They've almost reached the fence line again and the opening that waits there for them.

Takeishi's been doing track since middle school and it shows in the way he runs, his stride long and practiced. He catches up to Ryuji and the two of them push on towards the fence. For a moment they catch each other's eye and share twin smiles of amusement. This is easily the craziest thing they've done to date. This Takeishi is the one Ryuji is friends with. He's briefly reminded of that as they come upon the end of their shared row. They dash around the side of the last hover car and almost crash into the fence.

"No effin' way!" Ryuji curses, staring incredulously at the brand new panel of fencing. "This thing's been down for months! When did they replace it?!"

"Worry about that later! Where else can we get out at?!" cries Takeishi as he checks over his shoulder for the bot. "Shit, Ryuji we gotta go, man! There's two of them back there!"

When Ryuji looks, sure enough, two security robots are coming down the aisles towards them. In the distance, Ryuji can make out a third. He turned to Takeishi, his stomach clenching nervously at what he's about to do.

"Takeishi, climb! I'll help you over. Then I can go back down to where we came in," Without thinking he kneels down and offers himself as a foothold to his friend. Takeishi stares at him for a heartbeat, eyebrows furrowed with indecision. They both know its unlikely that Ryuji will be able to make it out. "Please man, just go."

"I'm sorry," Takeishi apologizes as he steps onto Ryuji's back. He hoists himself up and over the fence, turning around in time to offer a mournful look. Ryuji doesn't have time to do more than wave him off, the bots are closing in around him. As a last-ditch effort, Ryuji takes off back towards the hangars, hoping he might be able to get inside of one to hide. He's almost there when his foot catches in a crack in the pavement. His body shoots forward and lands against the hard ground, skinning his palms and forearms in the process. For a moment he lays winded, trying to will himself to get back up.

The security bots surround him, having picked up a fourth on the way. They began to run their scanners over him, bright blue beams of light that shock the back of his eyelids. He raises up a hand to cover his eyes against their glow. There's a soft crackle of static that passes between them like they're having a private conversation in robot. One of the bots scans him a second time for good measure and then it begins to speak.

Ryuji Sakamoto, age 16. No prior offenses. Citizen, please remain where you are. An officer has been dispatched to this location and will arrive shortly. Please do not leave the scene, as this could be taken as a sign of an attempt to resist arrest. There are no charges currently being brought against you. However, I will begin the Mirandizing process should this incident be taken to court in the future. In accordance with local laws, you have the right to remain silent-...

Ryuji pushes himself up onto his knees, listening to the security robot's electronic voice. His pulse pounds at the side of his forehead and he thinks for a moment about how fucked he currently is. He's going to be arrested. The moment that gets back to his father- Ryuji isn't sure what will happen then, but it knows that it won't be good. He debates on trying to run again, but the bots have already logged his identification code. There's a slim chance that they haven't yet transmitted it, but it's a long shot even then.

In the distance, he can hear sirens.

#pegoryu #pegoryu fic #akiryu #akiryu fic #persona 5 #persona 5 fic #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #persona 5 protagonist #space au

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