#so u get the same two transparent images of the boys over and over again. use ur imagination please

[et-lesailes]

missing linc // chapter ten

series masterlist

pairing: ceo!dad!steve x reader

word count: 2132

chapter summary: stella and peter come to steve’s place. steve and tiana get into yet another fight.

taglist: @patzammit​​, @lille-kattunge​​,  @rohaintahquil​​, @deidrashouseofpain​​, @peach-acid​​, @allsortsofinterests​​, @mcueveryday​​,  @cptn-sgrogers​​, @heyiamthatbitch​​, @sadella-adams​​,  @aletteredaffair​​​,  @isawritesstories​​, @knuffeltuff​​,  @societalfailure​​​, @brastrangled​​​, @anxiousstark​​​, @captainsbxbygirl​​​, @whimsicalatbest​​​,  @kind-sober-fullydressed​​​, @dreamlesswonder86​, @xoxabs88xox​, @evanstush​, @kelbabyblue​, @bucky-rrogers​

notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I AM THE WORST I HOPE U ALL LIKE THIS CHAPTER

“Alright, Y/N said we could go over to the place she’s babysitting at for the weekend! You cool with that?”

Stella looked up from her phone, smiling at Peter innocently. “Of course. I can’t wait to meet the love of your life,” she teased, standing up and getting her bag. “You driving, or am I?” Peter immediately turned red, scoffing. “I’ll drive. But hey, now, you better not be like this tonight-- there’s nothing going on between Y/N and I, we’re just friends. Don’t make her feel weird or anything, alright?”

Trust me, Peter, if she knew the whole truth, this would barely make her feel anything.

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t.” The blonde laughed instead, picking up Peter’s keys and tossing them at him. “C’mon, lover boy, let’s go.”

She was not proud of how she had come to learn of you. 

There was a reason she had come here, and of course, the second she had arrived, she had decided to pay a visit to her dear sister’s home. Well, not inside, anyways. She couldn’t help but be nosy, and she justified it by telling herself she had every right to know where her son was staying. It was easy to get the address from her parents; she had simply told them that she wanted to make amends with Tiana and surprise her with a visit-- this ensured they wouldn’t tell her. 

When she was casually driving by the home, she had seen your car. She parked on the other side of the street, keeping an eye on the house. It hadn’t been long before you came outside holding Linc in one arm with a bottle of bubbles in the other hand, the boy laughing and clapping excitedly for you to blow them. Her heart was racing as she stared at her baby. She had seen photos of him on Tiana’s Facebook, she had forced herself to become desensitized to the fact that he was hers and belonged to someone else-- or so she thought. As she gazed at him in real life and could see his happy demeanor and shining personality, she almost wanted to cry.

She stayed low as she watched you play with him. It was obvious to see how much he loved you. He was laughing the entire time, running around you in circles on his little toddler legs, hugging your own leg every ten seconds in bursts of affection. 

The more she watched you play and the more she looked at the large estate, she felt herself getting more and more curious. What was Linc like? Did he take after her at all? Or was he more like his father? He seemed bright and happy, but now that she was here, she wanted to know more. She just wanted one chance to see him in person… that would be enough, right?

She knew Tiana would be wary. Perhaps not even let her see him at all. And so she needed another way in. Just to quench her curiosity, that was all. She hadn’t been able to come up with this other way, however, until she had seen you come to the bar with Peter. When she noticed you leave after seeing Tiana, she knew something was going on. What that was, she did not know, and although she had her suspicions, she didn’t care. 

She only cared about her son. 

They arrived at the doorstep about fifteen minutes later, her light brown eyes studying the huge house. Did Tiana like living here? Were she and Steve truly happy in this house? Peter clucked his tongue beside her, his eyes wide with amazement. “Damn. Y/N must be getting paid a shit ton, these people seem loaded.” Stella forced a laugh, nodding her head. “Yeah, seems like a pretty good set up.” She sounded normal, but her heart was pounding. Would you answer the door with Linc in your arms? 

She couldn’t help but feel disappointed when you came empty handed. 

“Hey guys!” you greeted with a smile. “You must be Stella. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

She smiled nonetheless, waving cutely as she stepped inside. “So good to finally meet you, girl! Peter talks about you a lot.” Peter blinked and shot her a look, laughing somewhat nervously. “I, ah, would say I talk about you a normal amount. Nothing weird.” You raised a brow but laughed, nudging him lightly. “Uhhuh. Okay, c’mon, you guys gotta see this home theater. It’s sick.”

Stella couldn’t help but look around as you led them down the hallway, barely nibbling on her lip. Where was her son? Was he asleep? You and Peter were lightly conversing and so she cleared her throat when there was a pause, trying to sound like she was casually speaking. “So, Peter told me you were babysitting? Where is the baby?” She smiled, adding, “I absolutely love kids.” 

“Oh, he fell asleep- but here, I’ll show you some pictures!” She saw the bright smile on your face at the mere mention of him. She simultaneously felt touched and threatened. You took out your phone and went to your photos, swiping through a few images- some just of Linc laughing and smiling, some selfies of the two of you with cute Snapchat filters, even a video of Linc “singing” Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. “Wow.” She breathed out, unable to take her eyes off of him. “He’s perfect.”

“I know right?” you replied obliviously, smile still wide as you sighed. “He’s the cutest thing. I swear, I love him like my own son.” You laughed playfully, and Stella felt a pang in her heart. “So what movie do you guys want to watch?” you asked once you entered the room, and Stella watched as you and Peter perused the collection. 

“Can I use the bathroom real quick?” she suddenly asked, and you looked over and nodded with a smile. “Yeah, it’s right down the hall going back towards the front door,  first door on the left.” She nodded, slipping out of the room and looking back towards you and Peter before quietly making her way to the staircase instead. 

Steve sighed as he leaned back in the plush bed, eyes drifting towards his phone on the nightstand. All he wanted to do was FaceTime you, call you, even text you. He felt like a damn high schooler with a crush all over again. Ever since he and Tiana had arrived at the cabin that day, all he could think about was the kiss the two of you shared. 

At the same time, he was trying to make good on his promise. Just one last weekend with Tiana. A chance to finally get some closure and move on. Surprisingly, the day had been pretty decent. No fighting, no screaming, no tears, no anger- things actually felt… normal. She actually opened up to him over a few glasses of wine, even apologizing for her behavior and explaining where her frustration had come from. She acknowledged that everything had been her fault. That she should have learned how to be transparent sooner. And he appreciated it. He forgave her, and they were able to talk and laugh about the things they used to. 

Still, he couldn’t feel the same way he used to about her. While he was glad he and Tiana had made amends, it all felt incredibly platonic to him. He couldn’t help but wish you were there with him, curled up under his arm in this large bed, making out like a couple of teenagers…

“Hey Steve.” He looked up, blue eyes immediately widening. There stood Tiana wearing nothing but a lacy black slip, biting on her lip as she stood in the doorway of the bathroom after her shower. “Uh… hey.” He greeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look great, but what’s that all for?” She looked at him hopefully, coming back towards the bed and slowly crawling onto it. “Do you not like it…? We had such a good day today, and I just wanted to end it with something even more amazing…”

Steve blinked as she placed a hand on his bare chest, leaning down to kiss him. He froze. It took him a few moments, but he finally snapped out of it, gently placing his hands on her shoulders to stop her. “Tiana,” he mumbled softly, and she blinked as she pulled back, looking down at him- she was clearly hurt. “What, Steve? I thought things were going well… you… you really don’t want this?” He sighed, sitting up and running his fingers through his blond hair. “Tiana, you know that’s not why we came here. I told you that I wanted a divorce after this, but I also don’t want us to hate each other-- I thought we came here to just, you know… neatly wrap things up. Get closure. Peace.” Tiana looked at him incredulously, scoffing as she moved back to sit on her knees. “You really… you really don’t want to even try? Am I that horrible of a person?” Steve blinked, frowning as he shook his head. “No, Tiana, that’s not what I’m trying to say, I just don’t think we’re-”

“This is all because of Y/N, isn’t it? What, are you already sleeping with her? Are you seeing each other behind my back?” Tiana demanded, suddenly standing up and going over to her purse. Steve widened his eyes. “No, God, no, Ti- what the hell are you doing? Don’t fucking call her right now, don’t do this when she’s literally taking care of Linc for us!” He watched as his wife pulled her phone out, but she didn’t appear to be calling anyone. He watched curiously as she tapped on her touch screen a few times, seeing her suddenly look intense and focused. “What are you looking at?”

“O-oh, oh my god,” the woman muttered; Steve could practically see her turn pale. He immediately sat up. “What? What is it, is something wrong with Linc?” He immediately got out of bed, going to her side. His eyes rounded at the sight upon the phone screen. She was watching a live feed of Linc’s room, and there appeared to be a blonde girl peeking over his crib. “That’s Stella, Steve! That’s-- how-- how the fuck did she get into our son’s bedroom?!” Steve stared in shock before quickly shaking his head, grabbing Tiana’s phone from her hand. “When… when the fuck did you put a camera in there? Did you tell Y/N there would be a camera?”

“Is that seriously what you’re worried about right now, you fucking asshole?!” Tiana practically screamed, lunging for the phone. “How can you be more concerned about Y/N when this is happening right now? What if our son is in danger?! H-how did she even get inside?!”

“Tiana!” Steve grabbed her shoulders, staring down at her with heavy breaths. “Tiana, listen to me. I need you to calm down. Stella is a twenty-three year old girl. She’s not going to hurt Linc, okay? I… I told Y/N she could have friends over. Maybe Stella happens to be one of them. You need to take a breath, nothing is going to-”

“How do you know, Steve?! What if she’s back here to take him away from us? I- I can’t-- I can’t lose… you and…”

She trailed off into tears, and Steve finally understood. She was terrified. She was scared of losing the people closest to her. Her husband and her son, both at the same time. He sighed deeply, suddenly wrapping his arms around her and hugging her. “We won’t let that happen, Ti. We’ll talk to Stella. We’ll figure this out. But she will not take Linc from us, alright?” He pulled back and looked down at her somewhat sternly. “But putting a camera in the room without at least telling Y/N was wrong. Have you… have you been spying on her? Ever since we got here?”

“Oh, please, Steve, I’m just making sure our baby’s alright, okay? I-it has nothing to do with her!”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. 

“I’m going to sleep in the other bedroom, Tiana. You should get some sleep too. We’re going to go back tomorrow morning and find out what the hell is happening. But for now, I don’t want you contacting Y/N, do you understand? Whatever Stella’s up to, I know she isn’t going to do anything to Linc-- especially not with Y/N in the house watching him.” 

Tiana frowned deeply but slowly sat on the bed, looking away.

“Goodnight, Steve.” Her voice was ice cold, and the CEO couldn’t help but let out another soft sigh.

“Goodnight, Tiana.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers x you #ml

[realitv]

EPISODE EIGHT REWRITES: MOON SHADOW.

i really hate the writers. do u know that. anyway media and world really did war of the worlds together!!! media did that as a gift for world! i don’t really need to rewrite that bc honestly? it was Peak Media and the symbolism of world speaking over them? GOOD FOOD. we’re not implicating salim in this either idk what the fuck that was about anyway i hate about 90% of this season bye

  SILENCE. HEAVY AND OPPRESSIVE: shadows dragging down against neon-silhouette figures comprised of sharp lines and sharper intentions: biting angles and terrifying REALISM. Fear is real: and that is what the nation believes in. That is what the world believes in. The Mass Media backlit: plasma eyes glowing in the dark -- they are missing a piece in this equation; tinted blue in the strange light and their hands still across the war table; hovering over pieces and informants. YOU ARE IN DANGER OF BEING CANCELLED. It’s a threat that hangs in the air and The World’s hand drags; a shadow covering their own before it falls atop theirs like a gavel. ARE YOU PREPARED? And then there were three. Two pairs of impassive eyes resting upon a child that barely understood what it was to be a God.  Social Media shifts: a litany of cameras upon her and it’s not a livestream, not an Instagram story, not something she is in control of. Under the watchful eye of The Media, many things become glaringly transparent. I’VE DONE MY BEST. FORUMS, THEORIES, STATUSES. IT’S SPREADING, BUT IT’S SLOW. -- YOUR BEST IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Red lips unfurling into a too-wide smile and their acrylic teeth gleam coldly in the light: hunger was a companion long before anything else was made known to them. “I told you that this was the big leagues, kid. What is there to repeat when I have not spoken yet?” WHAT IS THE WORLD WITHOUT ITS VOX POPULI, VOX DEI?   “The people believe what they want to believe. They believe what I say is true and it becomes true. This story, this script, was never anyone’s but ours. It is time that they remembered that.” Cameras panning: attention subverted and their gaze meets The World unflinchingly. An unspoken agreement: a contract over a century old and once more, their smiles mirror each other. The hand of The World can be generous; fingertips skimming the curve of their jaw and their eyes glitter with that same cavernous hunger that plagues the other. MEDIA, TAKE A WALK. 

  BREAKING NEWS: SUSPECTS WANTED IN RELATION TO STATION MASSACRE EARLIER THIS YEAR. At home at last: back where they belong in front of their eyes and when The Mass Media smiles, it is terrible. It is RADIANT: something that says ‘MOMMY IS HOME!’ Back in front of their eyes and suddenly the world is not so small, the network not so dead. Hands passing through satellite signals and cathode rays; adjusting dials and channel surfing through CCTV footage. Everything compiled, recorded, stored: remembered. I SEE YOU. I KNOW YOU. Drone footage and what remained of Argus: all given to them. For them. A New Age sacrifice and no blood spilt: THAT WAS WHAT IT WAS TO BE NEW AGAIN. I see you. The footage freezes: tracks Shadow Moon and Mister Wednesday across America. The derelict Target where he had first rejected their offer, the bank they’d robbed in the snow, the grainy hotel office from STARBRITE MOTEL where they’d paid cash and signed on the dotted line for two rooms. King. Non-smoking. Dash camera footage from the cruisers, mug shots and interview room recordings; the sight of both of them running out the back door in the dark. I see you! LET’S PLAY A GAME: HOW LONG CAN YOU HIDE FROM MY ALL SEEING EYE? WINNER GETS NOTHING.    Show time. What’s the cue again? Sliding into skins as easily as clothes; pixels and plasma waves distorting waxy features, transmitting something - someone - new and their face continues to shift. A woman with a mousy bob and a watery smile. A handsome man with bleach-blond hair slicked back and caked with gel, a red-headed BOMBSHELL with a dress cut almost too low for public television, a bland man in glasses with an ill fitting suit. THESE, THE VOICES OF AMERICA. We are live in three! Two! One! BREAKING NEWS! Stock markets plummet as travellers find themselves stranded. Gas shortages are being reported all over the country. Eyes rolling back; static and test patterns flashing with their gaze and a mouth that never stopped speaking moving soundlessly; feeding scripts through earpieces and teleprompters to the masses. SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA: a fight breaks out at a Shell gas station. The pumps are not working and the radio is playing smooth jazz from the convenience store: it begins when a cyclist clubs a man trying to lift a jug of gas into his minivan; his hands shake and when he sees them covered in blood, he screams. BREAKING NEWS! Credit and debit down all over the country. Cellphone service is down with it. We are standing by for more news on the situation. SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA: a middle aged woman begins to harass a cashier in Wal-Mart: debit declining for the fifth time while Mozart’s Symphony #40 (G Minor) wafts over the loudspeaker. Manicured finger wagging in the cashier’s face: she’s a girl just trying to work her way through college. The woman throws a punch, lands square in the cashier’s jaw and forgetting company protocol, she leaps over the counter and slams her to the floor. BREAKING NEWS: WE HAVE VISUAL CONFIRMATION ON THE TWO MEN WANTED IN CONNECTION TO THE MASSACRE IN EVANSTON, ILLINOIS. DO NOT APPROACH THESE MEN FOR THEY ARE ARMED AND THEY ARE DANGEROUS. Voice rising and falling; sync’d with broadcasts and it is a hellish, ECHOING chorus of a thousand voices speaking as one. IF YOU SEE THE MEN ON YOUR SCREEN, CALL THE FBI TIP LINE IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT APPROACH THEM. WE WILL REPORT MORE AS WE LEARN MORE.   Give them time. Give them attention. They devour it whole. Screens flickering; static crackles and it sounds like laughter. YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE: WE HAVE TRACED THE MURDERERS TO CAIRO, ILLINOIS. IF YOU HAVE SEEN THESE MEN, WE ASK THAT YOU CALL THE TIP LINE OF THE CAIRO POLICE. MORE TO COME. The phones ring: pick it up and all that is heard is screaming.

  EVEN OLD GODS NEED ENTERTAINMENT: how do they feel knowing that that room was never private? Television screen flicking on and the image skips; adjusts to out-dated glass and grainy colour. BZZT-CLICK! The room filled with the synthesised tracks of local news and it is both familiar and all too-cheerful. Shadow Moon still does not believe. Still does not understand. The Mass Media shuffles their papers against a chrome desk: bleached hair perfectly curled; nothing out of place. No creases, no wrinkles: a smooth, blank and familiar slate. A smile that belongs on GOOD MORNING AMERICA. “Hello, Shadow.” Far off. Distant. Seeping through airwaves and their smile stretches painfully. “Do you remember me?” - “I don’t think he does, Marilyn.” Camera panning; a co-host to their right: a bland face in an even blander suit; a face that would be lost in the crowd. Both sets of eyes upon him: their faces blur, skip. “We’ve been on hiatus for such a long time.” - “But we’re back and ready to help serve our communities!” The screen warps, flickers. MARILYN MONROE IS READY FOR A CLOSE UP! Lacquered lips blowing a kiss and fake lashes fluttering; the subway passing by with a gust of wind. LUCILLE BALL BACK ON SET: lounging on a manufactured couch and the cigarette casts harsh shadows; that horrible stare to match that gruesome smile. All seeing. “Do you remember me now, Shadow?” A thousand dead stars laughing, a million news anchors smiling: it’s vast, it’s INFINITE: microphone reverb amplifying it tenfold. Lucille’s face streeeeetches, warps; flashing between faces ( GARLAND. BOWIE. LEIA. ROGERS. WONKA. ); settling on plain-faced suburbia with a wink. “I said this was our story, Shadow. We’d be telling it however we want: I know I’ll be satisfied with this ending. Will you?” WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STAND BY.

  BREATHLESS. FREEZEFRAME: still in Black Briar; everyone accounted for: they’ve no attention left for anyone but themselves. Gaze still buzzing with static; flickering through stations and test screens and their chest heaves with artificial breath they no longer need. THAT IS WHAT IT IS TO BE THE VOICE. World’s words echo. THAT IS WHAT IT IS TO BE A GOD. A wave of The World’s hand and both The Technical Boy ( VERSION WHAT? OPERATING SYSTEM WHEN? ) and Social Media ( TRENDING NEWS: MASS MEDIA TAKES AMERICA BY STORM ) leaving silently. The World’s shadow falls over them; chest to back; The Media turns into them and it’s an almost intimate closeness between them; a breath away from touching. “I hope that this has pleased you.” A pause, cameras focusing upon them. “I hope the Network Head finds it within them to renew me for another season.” Over-processed curls tipping over The World’s shoulder; eyes tracing outlines, a hand on the back of their neck, sliding down their spine. I THINK THAT CAN BE ARRANGED. Too close now; lips almost touching and they both pause; glassy stares sliding to look outwards to an audience that had always been watching. The camera holds on them: neither blink; and slowly, slowly, lips peel into identical smiles. “Transmission received.” TRANSMISSION ENDED.    The screen goes dark. 

#i never have to look at this until s3 #also click the music to be taken to whats playing during the mass panics! #📺❝ TUNE IN AT ELEVEN FOR MORE ! ( headcanons. )

[junionigiri]

BNHA Rarepair Month - Day 16 - Love

for @bnha-rarepair-month​

Summary: Tsuburaba Kosei thinks that Asui Tsuyu is his 100% Perfect Girl, but doesn't have the courage to talk to her. Luckily (???) Tokage Setsuna is willing to help him out.

Relationship(s): Asui Tsuyu/Tsuburaba Kosei (Tsutsu...? TsuyuRaba?); background Tokage Setsuna/Kaibara Sen (SetsuSen???) if u squint

Rating: T

Warnings/Notes: How did this end up 4k words; enjoy this 1-B mess I guess! I got the '100% Perfect Girl' term from one of my favourite short stories ever: On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning by Haruki Murakami; but of course the stories are nothing alike

Links: AO3 | FFNet

Life as an aspiring hero isn’t the simplest thing. Even though he’s fortunate enough to be in the relatively stable 1-B (and not 1-A, to which lady luck keeps a steady storm of shit flowing into their collective fortunes), he’s had his own share of sticky situations.

However, for the first time ever, Tsuburaba Kosei, 16 years old, finds himself facing a conundrum so puzzling that he needs to look up the word ‘conundrum’ to describe it. And that thing which he faces is…

Love.

He covers his mouth shut just thinking about the word. He has to, ‘cause otherwise he’d blow a neat little air prison around him with just enough room for him to rock back and forth and to hit his head against the wall as much as he needs to, until he calms down. Given that he’s contemplating all this in the 1-B classroom with all his other classmates milling about him, it’d definitely cause a commotion and would likely send him to an unwarranted trip to Recovery Girl’s office. Or the loony bin, if her humble little clinic is unequipped to treat vexing emotional problems like his. Which it likely is.

“You’re thinking about that 1-A girl again, man?” Kaibara Sen asks, as he leans against the desk next to him. His usual judgy stare is extra judgy as he watches Tsuburaba struggle against the turmoil of his emotions.

“You don’t get it man,” he says with a sigh. As he opens his mouth, a puff of solid air the size of a dinner plate forms in front of his face and crashes to the ground like, well, a dinner plate. The sound resonates throughout the classroom. This only earns him a pointed glare from half of his classmates. It’s a little embarrassing that the class is now used to the noisy sound of his sighing fits that none of them even flinches.

“Hey, you’re talking about Tsuyu-chan, aren’t you?” It’s Tokage Setsuna who suddenly chimes in, turning her seat around and fixing her reptilian eyes to him. “Well I understand you perfectly, Tsuburaba-kun. She’s awfully cute.”

Ah, yes. Small and pretty and strong and smart and awfully cute. With her huge round eyes and forest-green hair with that complex hair bow thing that makes her look elegant and down-to-earth at the same time. With that cute little slip of her tongue always peeking from her mouth. He can go on and on about Tsuyu-chan--oh, Asui-san--can’t pretend to be too close now, since they unfortunately don’t really know each other then, never really had a proper interaction before apart from that one time she said caught you!In that cute little croak of hers, but--

“Hey, wait a minute--‘Tsuyu-chan’? Since when did you have the right to call her t-t-Tsuyu-chan?!”

The green-haired girl snorts at the way he hesitates over his green-haired goddess’ first name. When he presses her further about how she earned the right to call Asui-san that, she merely shrugs, wide eyes mildly amused. “She told me to call her that. We’re practically close friends now.”

“What? Since when?!”

“Since I made friends with her. Duh. I figured us cold-blooded heroines should stick together.” She sticks out her forked tongue at him, looking absolutely mischievous. “It’s super easy, dude. Just go next door and talk to her. She’s really friendly.”

“Easy for you to say,” Tsuburaba groans in exasperation. Another transparent plate of air forms in front of him, which he catches with one hand and places on his desk before it breaks. “You guys don’t understand. The moment she captured me, I was so sure that she’s my--”

“100% perfect girl. Yeah. We know,” Kaibara says boredly, already spinning one of his fingers to amuse himself. “You’ve only told us that everyday since the Joint Training Exercise, man.”

He’s miffed that Kaibara would say it so flatly, like it isn’t a miracle to know in the deepest part of your heart that the girl who has wrapped your entire body with her tongue and subsequently threw you in a cage during a really violent all-out battle royale is your 100% perfect girl. Damn, just thinking of the way his heart throbbed, how right everything felt when he was enveloped in the warmth, when parts of her tongue covered his m-m-mouth--

“You’ve got that awful perverted look in your eyes again, Tsuburaba-kun. They’re looking extra googly today,” points out Tokage in amusement. “You better not let her see you like this.”

He isn’t being perverted, he’s merely remembering their first tender moment together. Although, granted, one day when he’s giving their two future children his well-rehearsed How I Met Your Mother spiel, he’s gonna have a hard time making the tongue incident sound romantic and magical…

“He’s thinking about the tongue thing again,” Kaibara tells her bluntly, stone-cold as ever. “Definitely perverted.”

“Yeah. That’s disgusting, Tsuburaba-kun,” cackles the lizard-girl with a teasing grin. “Forget about my advice to go up and talk to her. I have to protect Tsuyu-chan from you at all costs.”

Such friends. He’s about to retort harshly and defend the purity of his love for her when Kaibara shoves him with a sharp elbow to the shoulder. “Shut it. Monoma’s back and extra manic today.”

True enough, the guffaw of their fearless, shameless blonde leader reverberates throughout the classroom. “Victory upon our shores again, you deplorable Class 1-A! Aren’t you supposed to be smarter than us? When your class grade average is 0.75 points less than ours?!”

There’s a collective sigh of exasperation and gloom inside the 1-B classroom. Tsuburaba feels lucky that Monoma doesn’t know about his raging crush on someone from ‘deplorable 1-A’. But it’s true that ages ago, he’d rather have nothing to do with any of the competition, especially not the class that keeps upstaging them. Now his distaste for 1-A’s lessened, and limited only to the other 19 students in that class.

Isn’t it funny, how love changes a man for good?

Someone argues incomprehensibly against him--from the sound of the voice, it’s probably Red Tetsutetsu who’s talking back to Monoma--before the blonde’s undeterred cackle resonates around the room once more. “Who cares if it’s just in English? I didn’t read the entire list! Aren’t you supposed to beat us in all the subj--”

The loud smacking sound that everyone’s accustomed to comes next, and they instantly knew that Kendo-san has taken care of it. Soon, the very capable redhead apologizes profusely to the other students in the hallway. “Sorry ‘bout that, friends. He’s just a liiiittle jealous that Shinsou-kun transferred to your class, and not ours.”

A muffled croak comes out through the door, and that beautiful sound is enough to snap the wide-eyed boy out of his disinterest. “It’s okay, Kendo-chan. I don’t think Monoma-chan’s any different from his usual self, ribbit. You’re doing a good job of keeping him under control.”

His heart actually stops<. There’s an entire second where his heart forgets what to do. He isn’t being dramatic when he makes an ugly, embarrassing sound and clutches his chest comically.

“Aw, I’m so glad my efforts are appreciated~ Tsuyu-chan, you are such a bright spot in a thankless day!”

“Ribbit. I do what I can. Keep working hard, Kendo-chan.”

He catches a peek of her long, green hair flowing behind her as she walks away with the redhead from 1-A. Not like he’s spying or stalking or anything, but what’s red Tetsutetsu doing, just walking together during lunchtime, just the two of them?! Never mind that they look terrible together--they look like an incomplete set of traffic lights, they look like bad Christmas decorations, they’d have horrible looking children together, not like the potentially cute round-eyed wonderkids he already fathered in his head--

“Chill, Tsubu,” Tokage breaks through his off-the-rails mental rant with a shit-eating grin and a cackle. “Is my poor boy jelly of Kirishima-kun? Now that’s just priceless.”

“Who’s jealous? Not me. Maybe you’re jealous.” he mutters, as he crashes forehead-first into his desk. Over and over. Who’d be jealous of that hardening rip-off who deems himself worthy of having lunch with his 100% perfect girl, just the two of them? Not him, definitely. And there’s definitely no need to remember Red Tetsutetsu’s name and to put him in a kill list. No need at all.

He practically hears Kaibara roll his eyes at him. Might be spinning them like a drill, with how bored he is of this discussion already. “Dude, seriously, just man up and talk to her. If she’s really your 100% perfect girl -- whatever the hell you mean by that -- you probably owe it to yourself to at least have a real interaction with her.”

A real interaction with her does sound nice. They can go to a nice cafe and have a nice conversation. He’d listen to her talk about swimming and rainy days and other things she might like. He’d talk to her about classes and heroism and the things he likes. Maybe invite her to watch the next Giants game with him, if she’s up to it. And then they’d have so much fun, she’d ribbit in that cute way of hers and ask him if they can do this again, and--

“Interactions in your head don’t count,” Kaibara interrupts rudely, cutting in through the very vivid pleasant images he’s formed in his head.

Tsuburaba scowls at his friends. “I know that,” he grumbles. “I just--you know, I have to be ready, I can’t just walk up to her and talk to her--”

“That’s what I did. Literally,” Tokage supplies flatly, to which he makes an exasperated sound. “Look, it’s not hard, okay? She’s cool, she can talk to literally anyone, even a disaster like you.” She makes a face of enlightenment in the next second, and puts a fist in her palm. “Hey, I think I have an idea how we can help you out, Tsuburaba-kun--”

“I’m not helping,” Kaibara cuts in, which Setsuna ignores blatantly.

“--all you have to do is come with me and Kaibara-kun later, after class. I’ll take care of the rest.” There’s no malice at all in the excited, almost manic grin that she flashes the hapless brown-haired boy. Still, he can tell that it reeks of trouble, and he makes his disdain plain on his face.

“Or… you could spend the rest of the school year pining over her and whiling away in obscurity. Your choice.”

Well… even though obscurity’s a safe place to be, he’s sure that if he pines over her, it won’t be just for the rest of the school year. Such are the cruel throes of love.

The first bell rings, cutting their discussion short. Present Mic-sensei’s shrill voice resonates inside the classroom, forcing most thoughts about his green-haired goddess to the back of his mind, in favor of conjugations.

 *

 Later, Tsuburaba finds himself staring at the back of Tokage’s green head as the girl marches her way quite cheerfully towards the 1-A classrooms. He’s trailing behind her with his hands in his pockets, cool as a stone-cold cucumber that’s progressively shriveling over a piping hot BBQ grill.

“Keep cool, Tsuburaba-kun,” the lizard-girl whispers conspiratorially at him as she stops by the back door. “Just follow my lead. I’ll take care of ya.”

“This is dumb,” he hears Kaibara mumble behind him. For all his complaints though, he still followed the two of them all the way there, under the pretense of making sure neither of them do anything to embarrass 1-B in front of 1-A anymore than Monoma has.

Well, he can say anything he wants, Tsuburaba’s pretty sure that the guy’s out there just to watch over Tokage. At the moment though, said lizard-girl is now peeping through the doors and catches someone’s eye. “Hi, Tsuyu-chan!”

“Kero? It’s Setsuna-chan! What brings you here, kero?”

The two green-haired girls hug each other as if they’re old friends. Tsuburaba tries to convince himself that maybe it’s all a green-haired-solidarity kind of arrangement and that it’s stupid to be jealous that Tokage’s somehow on a first name basis with Asui, but he feels himself turn green all the same.

“Listen, Tsuyu-chan, I was hoping to ask you for a favor,” she says, gesturing to the two boys ever so casually. “Me and these guys are having trouble in Heroics history… I know you guys are like a couple of lessons ahead of us, so I was hoping we could study with you? We’re really desperate.”

Asui glances briefly at them. When her dark, round eyes fall over his, Tsuburaba feels the moment stretched out in slow motion. Flowers blooming in the background, twinkling lights, all that shoujo mangashebang.

“... sure, I don’t mind, ribbit. I was planning to go to the library myself to study.”

He struggles to keep his cool, even though again, there’s another couple seconds where his heart seems to forget what the fuck it’s supposed to do. Tokage’s response barely registers with him. “Cool! But the library’s so boring. Lucky for us, Tsuburaba-kun’s feeling generous today and was planning to treat us all to coffee at StrumBucks--”

Wait, what? Tsuburaba feels his eyes going wider than ever possible as he glares at the undeterred Tokage and her runaway mouth.

“--so it’ll be a fair trade. Your notes for coffee. Tsuburaba-kun, you don’t mind buying Tsuyu-chan coffee too, right?”

Of course he doesn’t mind buying her coffee. Heck, he’d buy her all the coffees she wants. Cakes. Parfaits. A three course dinner. A house and lot. What he minds very much though that Tokage’s just teasing him so freely in front of his hopeless crush, and somehow swindling him out of his allowance at the same time.

“I think that sounds fair. I want a grande vanilla cold brew, Tsuburaba,” adds Kaibara dully. He also minds very much that he’s also suddenly obliged to treat these two jerks to expensive coffee. True friends, indeed.

For all his rage though, all Tsuburaba can do is gape at them like a fool. And Asui’s looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Okay. I’ll go with you guys. But it’s also okay if Tsuburaba-chan doesn’t treat me to coffee, ribbit,” she answers coolly.

Tsuburaba-chan. Oh, the sheer rush of emotions that run through his chest hearing his own name from her mouth. It gives him enough strength to somehow say, “No, it’s cool, Asui. You get coffee too. No big deal.”

“Look at you, Mister Moneybags,” he hears Tokage mumble behind him. Wow. He sounded cool just then, didn’t he? He probably did, judging by the little smile on the lizard girl’s face. (He’s pointedly trying not to look at Kaibara’s face, though).

“Well, okay. But I’m okay either way. Promise.” Her big round eyes crease ever so slightly as she looks up at him. “By the way, call me Tsuyu-chan, ribbit.”

He’s done it. He’s on Tsuyu-chan terms with Tsuyu-chan. If he has any less self-control, he would have already jumped for joy and clicked his heels in mid-air and made a giant invisible sky scraper out of all the breath inside his happy little lungs.

“Same goes for you, Kaibara-chan,” she says, turning to the darker-haired boy next to him. Tsuburaba instantly feels the skyscraper shatter into tiny little bits, as if he just let OG Tetsutetsu and beast mode Shishida-kun and a pack of rabid dogs loose inside it.

Tokage looks like she’s about to burst out laughing when she glances once more at the crestfallen Tsuburaba, but she’s able to keep it together as she suggests the four of them start walking to the cafe.

Conversation flows naturally between the two green-haired girls, while the complete opposite happens with the two brown-haired boys. He can only hope that the silence makes the two of them look like the cool, brooding types of guys that girls seem to like (i.e. Todoroki Shouto, whose allure has also somehow infected the girls of 1-B and the rest of the school. That half-head really has everything dammit).  

When they make it to the cafe, Tokage drags Kaibara with her to secure seats, or so she says. “I’m having what Fidget-Spinner-Boy’s having. Tsuyu-chan, order anything you want,” she says rapidly, not giving any of the three any chance to protest.

And so Tsuburaba Kosei finds himself standing next to his 100% perfect crush, in a line to buy her coffee, so they can spend time together in a coffee shop. There are couples in front of them and behind them and he can’t help but think that they now look very much like a couple on an actual honest-to-goodness date.

“Ribbit. Setsuna-chan’s really hyper, isn’t she.” She croaks humorously. The top of her head only reaches his shoulder. Ahh so cute…!!!

“... yeah.” He hopes that steam doesn’t blow out of his nose--he doesn’t want someone nearby to get aircuts.

“It must be interesting in your class, Tsuburaba-chan.”

“... yeah, it gets wild sometimes. But I’m sure it’s not as wild as your class, though.”

Tsuyu-chan stares up at him blankly. Shit, did he say something offensive? “N-not that I mean you guys are a pack of wild animals--I mean, have you seen my classmates? Compared to you guys, we’re practically a zoo--”

A pleasant sound emerges from her mouth and into Tsuburaba’s ears. Hearing it makes him forget about the very concept of anxiety. “You were right the first time, Tsuburaba-chan. Our class is pretty wild too. That’s why I think we should work together more, ribbit. The Joint Training Exercises were fun.”

Hngh, thinks Tsuburaba, as he thinks about her tongue around his body again. Now is not the time to think of that totally-not-perverse memory! He turns his face away from her in a stupid effort to keep his stupid face in-line.

“Oh--Tsuburaba-chan must be remembering our fight too, ribbit.”

Oh shit, she noticed?! Whatever happiness he might have felt knowing that she, at some level, thought about him too, shatters as she keeps those discerning eyes on him. Shit, did she see him with that unmistakable lecherous glint in his eyes?! Is this it, is it over? Is she going to run out the door screaming, crying, swearing on the graves of her ancestors to never have anything to with him ever again?! “W-well, about th-that--”

“It’s as I thought, ribbit.” She sighs, suddenly despondent. “I thought it’s weird that Setsuna-chan left us alone, even though we’re not friends. She must be trying to patch things up between us, isn’t she, ribbit?”

Eh? Come again?

Tsuyu-chan tilts her cute little face at him with a look of concern on her usually unreadable face. “I’m right, aren’t I? I noticed that you were awfully quiet in the cage after I captured you, ribbit… ever since then, I was worried that Tsuburaba-chan definitely hated me--”

Hated… hated Tsuyu-chan?! That’s not the case at all!

“--but I wasn’t able to talk to you guys after the exercises, so I wasn’t able to apologize to you properly, ribbit.” Her eyes are downcast as she says this. She twiddles two large, webbed fingers together cutely. “So… I’m glad I have a proper chance to say sorry to you now…”

No, that’s wrong, Tsuburaba would never hate on Tsuyu-chan. Never, you hear?! Tsuyu-chan’s too cute, too wonderful, too perfect to be hated. Besides, I mean, who would hate on their 100% perfect--

“... ribbit…?”

“Um,” the cashier tells him awkwardly, as his mouth is frozen open with the impassioned words dying within. “S-sorry, you’re having 100% what, sir?”

Tsuburaba turns to the cashier slowly, googly-eyes twitching, neck cracking with each gear-like shift of his suddenly stiffened body. “U… uhh… 100%, perfect… roasted… coffee beans… in milk…?”

The poor cashier, who looks like she isn’t paid enough for this shit, is staring at his madman’s antics in confusion. “So… a latte?”

Tsuyu is staring up at him with eyes as wide as vinyl discs, stunned beyond belief. Like someone just told her that the sky isn’t blue, that global warming isn’t real. Or that she’s some 1-B weirdo’s 100% perfect… perfect something that he isn’t able to properly finish, she might as well think that she’s his 100% perfect cause of death, for all he’s good for. Shit, why the heck is he like this?! How much did he say out loud?

“R… ribbit,” she croaks after what seems like an eternity of just staring at him. Trying hard not to be too mortified, she turns to the cashier, face suddenly red and voice suddenly timid, “We also want two grande vanilla cold brews and a soy latte…”

“Okay…” He doesn’t even hear how much the total is. Instead, he shoves a 5000 yen bill into the cashier’s hands, looks down on the floor, and rushes to the other side of the counter, not daring to look at the face of the girl who just heard the worst confession ever on the face of this planet.

As he makes his way to sulk over the counter, he sees Kaibara and Tokage staring at him, and he isn’t sure if they’re sympathizing with him or trying their hardest not to burst out laughing right in their seats. He has half a mind to put ten tablespoons of cinnamon in their drinks for leaving him unsupervised, when he sees a small, green form in the other side of his peripheral vision.

“Ribbit,” Tsuyu-chan says, shyly holding out an array of bills and coins in her large hands, “You forgot your change…”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. He feels the tips of her fingers on his palm as she carefully places the money within--he momentarily forgets his shame as he feels their point of contact, only to have it come back full-force when he is forced to see the way she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Asui-san… I’m really sorry for, you know… making things awkward for you,” he tells her in the most honest, heartfelt way he can. “Yeah… I’m being really honest, but… I d-don’t mind if you change your mind about studying with us. No need to pay me back for the coffee--”

Again, he feels his breath just die in his stupid throat when he notices her tugging on his sleeve. He feels his already-wide eyes widen even further, like they’re going to come out of their sockets.

Before he can figure out what’s going on and maybe pick up after his eyeballs that have surely popped out of their sockets by now, Tsuyu-chan looks up at him with an odd look in her eyes. ”Um… Tsuburaba-chan… I don’t really understand what’s going on…”

Of course she doesn’t. Tsuburaba himself doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’d pay another 5000 yen if someone gives him a good explanation as to why the hell he is like this. Bonus tips if the guy gives him a good and thorough beating and whisks his fried-egg eyes for him.

“... and I really don’t know anything about you, so…”

He shuts his eyes, tries not to look too much like the insides of his chest is being thrown into a blender. Hopefully, with the way he’s struggling with his stupid face, Tsuyu-chan just thinks that he’s had an acute case of constipation.

“… so I can’t give you a proper reply yet, ribbit. But… but I don’t mind if we try to be friends first, ribbit.”

Friends. The term echoes in his head, like the sound of the microwave dinging in a cold and hungry night. He snaps his head up to face her, and he’s treated to the sight of her shyly trying to meet his eyes for just a second.

“Yeah… okay.” The weight disappears from his shoulders, and for the first time he’s able to look at her calmly. “I’d like that.”

To everyone’s pleasant surprise, the two of them are able to walk peacefully to the table, where a giddy Tokage and a suspiciously-relieved Kaibara are waiting for them. They’re able to study their coursework, as promised, and Tsuburaba is proud to say that even though he spent 100% of the time fawning over his 100% perfect girl, the girl spent about 40% of her time interacting with him. Plus, he’s able to answer at least 50% of the coursework this time!

Now, when’s the next Giants game…?

#bnha fic #bnha rarepair month #tsutsu #asui tsuyu #tsuburaba kosei #tokage setsuna #kaibara sen #1-b #this is a mess #100% perfect girl #need help tagging help

[letsprayitwritesitself]

Could you do some angsty javid? Canon era maybe? With a kiss somewhere in there? I would love you forever

(thank you for the prompt!! this ran away with me but what’s new. hope u like!)

He slid down the wall until he was crouching and then leaned forward, resting his forehead on his knees. He was sure he was going to throw up. He was either hallucinating, having an extremely vivid nightmare, or his friends were playing a prank on him - that, or he had actually seen his Jack kissing Katherine.

The cheer that had exploded from the guys when he kissed her expanded and distorted into a roar that Davey couldn’t scrape out of his head. He tried pressing his hands over his ears, singing loudly inside his head, anything, but it was there, accompanying the image that was scalded onto his consciousness. In an attempt to convince himself that he hadn’t imagined it, that he wasn’t pulling him and Jack out of thin air, he forced himself back to that morning, when he and Jack had -

It was when the rest of the kids were going wild, spreading the banner around town. Jack and Davey had done their share, scattering the news all over, sharing a triumphant grin once Jack had handed over his last copy to some teenager wandering out of a factory. The sun was almost done rising, they had barely slept, and both were high as a kite.

‘Time to go see if word’s reached the big man?’ Davey had nodded towards uptown, knowing that all this effort had been geared towards Jack being able to laugh in Pulitzer’s face. Jack nodded, then shook his head.

‘Yeah. No. Not yet.’ He looked a little frantic, unnerved. He grabbed a handful of Davey’s shirt - why was he always doing that? Couldn’t just say follow me like a normal person - and dragged him down the nearest alley. The factory walls loomed, blocking out most of the natural light, and Jack deposited Davey in a kind of cubby formed from discarded crates. ‘Listen up. I feel like - I need to… Say sorry. For before. For taking the money.’

‘Jack, it’s fine. We knew that you -’

‘No, Dave. I was really gonna go.’ He kicked at the gravel on the ground. ‘I guess I thought I could just shrug this thing off.’

‘This thing?’

‘The strike. The guys. You.’ He looked up. ‘And Les. And Kath.’

‘Right.’ Davey pretended that he hadn’t just believed Jack was going to say something that implicated the two of them as a… never mind. ‘But you couldn’t do it?’

‘I guess I forgot how - this whole thing is bigger than me. It was, I remembered your pop. That kind of brung it back home for me.’

‘It’s bigger than all of us. Especially now.’

‘Exactly! And I just. I’m really sorry.’

‘Hey. Honestly, Jack, it was almost worth you leaving, just to see you come back, you know?’ Davey smiled at him. Jack nodded, and suddenly stopped fidgeting. Fuck it.

‘Dave, it was also - cuz… You got under my skin, there.’ There it was again. That almost-atmosphere, the one that descended whenever they accidentally made prolonged eye contact, or had a really impassioned discussion. That kind of mood that reminded them how on the same wavelength they were, how much they understood each other. Davey swallowed and stood up a little straighter, giving back Jack’s stare as good as he got. He didn’t know if he could say something, could acknowledge this, without risking a punch in the face. He was almost certain that he wasn’t making this up. But there was that little bit of doubt.

He thanked the heavens when Jack took a tiny step towards him. He was already backed up against the wall so the ball was completely in Jack’s court.

‘Dave.’ It was a near whisper. He reached out and placed his hand flat on the wall next to Davey. ‘Tell me to stop.’ Slowly, painfully slowly, he took another step so his whole body was aligned with Davey, inches away, any illusions about his intentions utterly transparent. When he placed his other hand on the wall, boxing him in, completely entering his personal space, it was Davey who leaned forward and pressed their lips together. 

This hadn’t come from nowhere but it was still a gorgeous surprise - Davey wasn’t exactly used to getting what he wanted. When he had those first stirrings of god-awful wrong thoughts about Jack, he’d tried hard to quell them, yet Jack had always supplied him with just enough physical contact and meaningful looks that the flame was never truly extinguished. This flame was up in full force now, and when their lips met, it compelled Davey to pull Jack in by his collar and grab his waist tight.

Like a dam broken they easily spent the next forty minutes in that alley, hands roaming, teeth clashing, breathless voices exchanging moans of names and expletives. Davey had never done this, any of this, before, and spent the whole time trying to ground himself, aware of how he was floating ten feet in the air, trying his best to memorise the way Jack’s lips felt on his own, on his neck, his jaw - they felt like a whole lot of too-good-to-be-true, and in the tradition of a kid who hadn’t grown up with a lot, he needed to make the most of it while he had it.

For Jack it had all fallen into place - he knew that the narrative of the strike was leading towards him and Katherine. And he liked her a lot. But how was he supposed to complete that arc when he had this damn kid standing in front of him, this wallflower who had basically managed to get an entire city on strike by accident? This raven-haired, hazel-eyed, lanky son-of-a-bitch who had noticed, just as Jack had, that sometimes when you thought you’d made a friend, or a selling partner, you’d actually stumbled upon something a lot better.

With a quiet smack they parted, resting their foreheads together, grinning like crazy, hot all over. Davey spoke first.

‘Jack, the thing - the thing is still happening. The. The strike.’

‘I know. I know.’ He pressed another kiss to Davey’s lips. ‘How long we been here?’ 

‘Days.’

Jack stepped away, and they both started trying their best to right their appearances, straightening collars, tucking shirts back in, though it wasn’t so easy to get rid of the blushes painting their cheeks. ‘We’ll come back to this later, alright?’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

And then Pulitzer’s office. Then Roosevelt. And even more exhilaration piling on top as they actually won the god damn war, and - Jack planting one on Katherine in front of the entire city. And Davey knew, or he would see later on, how conspicuously devastated he must have looked, backing away slowly when it had happened, ducking round the side of a random apartment building for a quiet breakdown. He could see how, for someone less invested in the outcome of their relationship than he was (so, all of the newsies, all the adults, everyone else in the god damn world) how satisfying it must be to see the hero of the hour matched up with the beautiful heroine, but - but it wasn’t fair. It was wrong. They hadn’t seen, didn’t know - and couldn’t know, that was the kicker. They could never know how there was something way heavier, way more real, going on between Jack and Davey. He may be infatuated but he didn’t have any illusions about whether or not he and Jack were about to embark on the public love story of the century. All the same - Jack had promised, he’d said that they would - that they could…

He couldn’t cry. That was one thing he god damn couldn’t do. Collapsing in on himself like this in public was bad enough, but he could kid himself that this was an almost-rational reaction to the noise or the emotional exhaustion of the strike. If he cried, that was a whole different thing, and if he was caught crying? Oh boy.

He decided to let himself wait until the sinking sensation in his stomach had dissipated. He waited, and waited, and waited. The noise of the crowd got dimmer and dimmer. He sat on the ground, back against the wall, staring up at the block of sky he could see. He’d have to get back out there eventually.

He heard the footsteps first, then a soft voice. 

‘Dave.’

And all the anxiety he’d managed to force away came back in excess. This was dumb. They’d had, like, an hour of passion. That was it. Why was he getting so emotional about it? 

(Maybe, he argued with himself, cause that one hour had come from a validation of days full of wondering if their connection was a connection, and an affirmation that Jack noticed him, and saw him, and liked him.) 

Jack walked over and sat next to him, hip to hip. Davey forced himself to smile.

‘Hey.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You got nothin’ to be sorry for.’

‘C’mon, Dave. I see you.’

‘Can you blame me?’

‘No - it was a dumb, spur of the moment thing.’

‘We shouldn’t have done that, earlier -’

‘Why not?’

‘Cause you and Katherine, you make sense, we’re just…’

‘You don’t think you and I make sense?’ Jack nudged Davey’s shoulder with his own. 

‘It doesn’t matter. You just kissed her in front of everyone we know.’

‘I know. It just felt -’

‘Right?’

‘No! It felt like what I was supposed to do, alright? God damn it, I wish I hadn’t.’

‘I wish you hadn’t.’

Jack heaved a deep sigh. He could have just not kissed her. But she was there, and they’d won, and she was a girl, and he was the leader, and…

‘I still like you the best, Davey.’

‘It doesn’t matter! Look, we can’t… do anything, or be anything. You might as well just do what you have to.’ Davey started to let the anger in his stomach well up. It was better than feeling sorry for himself. 

‘You really saying we can’t be anything? Were you even there, in that alley this morning? Cuz it sure felt like we were on to something.’

‘You know what I mean, Jack! I mean that you should be with her, because that’s what’s right, and that’s what makes sense, and I’ll just be alone.’

‘You’re not alone, Dave. I’m not gonna let you be alone.’

‘Well, maybe not everything is up to you.’ Davey started to get up, but before he could stand Jack pulled him down by his hand, a sharp tug that saw Davey land on top of him. His knee scraped painfully on the ground but he took no notice, because Jack had leaned up so their lips crashed together. 

For a few seconds Davey let himself relive their earlier dalliance, stroking a thumb over the rough stubble on Jack’s cheek, noticing the way Jack’s mouth fit his, how tight Jack was gripping his hand, but once those few seconds were up he forced himself away, glaring at Jack as he stood up and brushed himself off. Jack, wide-eyed, breathing hard, looked utterly tempting, but Davey couldn’t get rid of that image of him and Katherine.

‘I gotta find Les and start selling.’ He took a step backwards and turned away, almost out of the alley by the time Jack replied.

‘This isn’t over, Dave.’

Tears sprang into his eyes again and he took in a deep breath to try to get rid of them. He knew Jack was right.

#newsies #newsies fic #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #this request was exactly what i needed thanks anon #side note i still like you the best davey is probably my favourite thing i've ever written fuck i love lovelorn jack