#THE FUCKING HANDSHAKE (that should’ve been a hug)
Text
it’s been a year since last I saw it and my immediate reaction is still oh my god get a fucking room already
#hangster#bradley bradshaw x jake seresin#rooster x hangman#top gun maverick#tgm#the bar scene oh god I forgot on intense the tension was#anyways my sister has been asking to see it again for a while so here I am#back into hangster brain rot#joey rambles#edit: ITS SO CODED OH MY FUCNING#the fights the insults the give them hell#the reaction shot when rooster gets shot down#THE SAVIOR MOMENT#THE FUCKING HANDSHAKE (that should’ve been a hug)#ffs these guys are Married now I AM TELLING YOU they’re husbands I don’t make the rules
61 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don’t hate Davepetasprite (they are one of my fav characters) but I do think they wasted a lot of potential bc of how rushed the ending of homestuck was. Davesprite should’ve gotten more time to finish fix some of his problems and Nepetasprite should’ve gotten more time to actually do things before davepetasprite happened. Bc just stoping Davesprites arc to do davepetasprite really makes me :/. Davepetasprite should’ve been a thing both Davesprite and Nepetasprite talked about instead of just being a handshake and *boom* . I wish Davesprite and Nepetasprite hung out more and became besties before fusing. 😢 I hope this makes sense
NOOO but like I GET IT, I do, I really do, and it's such a rough dichotomy (for me) of like [long post]
YES, there's so much more that could've been done with davesprite on his own or even a funny dialogue or two between him and nepetasprite cause we KNOW Nepeta somewhat knows of Dave since she called him "akwete purrmusk" and cute, so there could've been something there or any other number of things that fans have surely thought up of
Like, these are characters that people had YEARS/acts upon acts of getting know, (Davesprite even showing up in a fucking visual novel crossover), I think "OBJECTIVELY" I have to concede that Davepetasprite's creation is almost actively a smack in the face for people wanting more out of both characters on the way to an end that likely had no bigger plans for either of them
You don't make page 7928 (the arquius/davepeta hug page) and write all of this
without knowing how much you're taking the piss towards some of your audience, and how much you're just like, aggressively tired of writing this now over 8000 page comic
BUT like, at the same time, I just consider davepetasprite an active continuation of davesprite's life rather than a sudden cut-off and nepeta's too, and it just seems like it'd be better for more people to just do so as well.
Like there's the obvious "lack of identity due to being tied to a version of yourself that everybody considers more real" from davesprite to "new found sense of self after defining yourself in a new way"
But there's also Davesprite's relation towards Bro that mirrors Dave's: Davesprite got the dramatic "big bro/lil bro team up", there's a level of reconciliation there that Dave can't and never will have, which is good because that's how Dave branched off into learning how to move past that stuff that he never wanted anything to do with.
Meanwhile Davesprite "completed" that sort of "hero's training arc", and with it he got all the short ends of the deal. His big moment's over and they didn't even win, his "master"/brother is dead, his version of his sister and friends are all gone, and he spends the rest of the comic meandering around, due to a lack of an active goal, thinking he was already going to get a big climatic send off, and the aforementioned identity crisis.
Becoming Davepeta didn't really cut this off, more like pump new life into it. They feel a new drive to get back into the fight, they gain a family they actually claim as their own through Jasprose and Arquius and they go on and reconcile there.
And to remember that this isn't just a continuation of Davesprite, a lot of this is because of Nepeta and how she was left off:
a desire to and failing to avenge Equius (now she can reconcile through arquius, then continues to fight off Lord English who is part gamzee/part arquius)
getting to know Jaspersprite (why Jasprose brings her back in the first place, and showing off how she's a lot more emotionally mature than people give her credit for, which helps Davesprite be a bit more introspective)
a familiarity with being tossed around or rejected by the story and then saying "fuck that I'm going to do my own thing" (a big part of nepeta is that she is absolutely a character made to round out the numbers and it shows by how she isn't allowed to do to much, which contrast with davesprite and how he is expected to and regularly gives up his own places in the story to fix things or get it going)
So you get this situation where like, yeah, on their own these two characters would've had an interesting dynamic or they had established fans with their own strong and vastly separated ideas of where either of them would go, and they both had issues that they could've had more time to be broken down and restructured in through pages and pages of storytelling,
but at the same time I feel like there's a lot they both gained a lot by becoming davepeta that still pays respect to who they are and continue to be, even if the decision to do so was almost certainly in part to mess with some fans, which in a way is kind of the spirit of homestuck. There's something to be said about characters being allowed to quickly get a new perspective about themselves and be able to decide how they want to proceed from then on, especially when said characters otherwise weren't going to really have a chance to do so otherwise, as is the fate of most ghosts in homestuck/dead characters in most other media.
Like I'm sure in the 7 years of their existence and the 13 years of homestuck, people have already said all that can be said about this, I know I've sene a lot of posts both for and aginst them, but that's sort of just how I see it.
When I say "grr, I hate people who don't like/can't accept davepeta" it's partly in understanding jest but also with a twinge of seriousness based off of how they can be looked at more deeply than just "a failed end to davesprite's arc" or "a quick fix to a dead characters".
and none of this is even getting into their gender, good lord, how people can be weird towards nonbinary characters, or even the idea of a trans character, let alone in homestuck.
I remember @/hemoanarchists having a similar rant(?) at one point about how weird people who hate the sprite^2s can be, and how their complaints seem a bit too close to straight up transphobia, but I'm tailing off and this is already more thought than I'm sure you were looking for, and I can't think of much more to add.
Basically, yes what you're saying makes perfect sense, and I understand why multiple people usually feel the same way (usually including having no real hate towards davepeta or liking them as much as the next person), I just have strong feelings about this character and get apprehensive that there are people who see them as like this evil representation of all the things that ruined homestuck and bastardized their "angsty crow boy" or to an extent their "uwu waifu" or whatever.
Just makes it hard for me to really enjoy works centered around davesprite because unlike with Nepeta who has different versions of herself that just pop in and out of the background (just in the timespan of act 6 we had Fefetasprite, Nepeta and Feferi hanging out as ghosts, all the paradox space ghosts versions of everybody and etc), we actively followed this specific version of dave who became davesprite then found themselves as davepetasprite, and instead of seeing that as a win for them people went "but what about what I want for them".
Like, I get it, but also the way I've seen some people go about it just rubs me the wrong way, that I don't know if I really articulated.
#dashingposts#asks#Anonymous#long post#this is why you don't get me going about davepeta#none of my thoughts are organized but boy howdy do i have many#dashingreplies
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑//𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝 𝑝𝑡 4
Masterlist // child reader ML //
Sapnap x reader !p !child reader
Pronouns used: none specified!
Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, casinos
➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳
𝐊𝐢𝐧𝗼𝐤𝗼 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝗼𝐰??
Quackity was telling you all of his plans
He rambled on for hours of his ideas for casinos and how he was going to marry Karl and sapnap
It sounded great
He had his whole plan set up! He even had Sam helping him with the building
But then he left
Just like everyone else
But that was fine! You were just with sapnap
Before Karl came running over rambling on about needed to move his library
He had a library?
“[Redacted] you need to stay close, please”
You looked at him weirdly
Who the fuck was [redacted]
“Karl my names Y/n you idiot” “flame..” “sorry”
He didn’t even notice it and then you had to spend the next couple days hauling over 100 books
“Oo hey what are these! The covers look really weird”
You had found his time travel books
Woops
That man raced over and in the kindest way possible, snatched it from your hands
“Don’t touch those, they are my special books”
You just shrugged and let him be, he freaks you out enough
So you all traveled to this area in the spruce forest and built a really ugly mushroom hut
But hey it’s fine! Foolish thankfully came around later that day and made everything better
So you stuck around
Maybe you needed this, this new start
Oh but prime knows that wouldnt last long
Karl started forgetting
At first it was simple things as just forgetting where he was or little stumbles with names
But eventually he was going away longer and longer
He started calling you by these strange names, some that sound Victorian and western and others that are unlike you
One day he didn’t call you by your name at all
You were hanging around the Sakura trees and the big yin Yang pond waiting for sapnap to come back with George
Then you saw Karl exit the library, running up to him for a hug
It’s been two months since you’ve seen him
You fucking hated it but you couldn’t help but consider him another parental figure
He loved it
But he just stood there as you wrapped your arms around him
Expecting the usual “[reda]- Y/n, I’ve missed you so much my sweet flame!”
But there was nothing just a sad one sided hug
“Hello? I’m sorry but do I know you?”
You were ready to cry
“I’m sorry, I uh must’ve mistaken you for the wrong person” “No that’s fine! Hugs are nice?”
So you left and ran into the library
Scouring throughout all of the books until you found them
The same 8 books you shrugged away
You read through all of them along with Karl’s other journals
You didn’t like going through his stuff especially, a whole invasion of privacy
The more you read the worse it got
What were you gonna tell Sapnap?
Who the hell is James, and [redacted]?
And why couldn’t he stop
It’s no use anymore
You were simply just forgotten
𝐋𝗼𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬
The closer you got to the large building, the sicker you got
Kinoko Kingdom was supposed to be your free pass
But somehow you always end up here
You called for Sam on the comms waiting for the beep
The inside looked great to say the least
“What are your past relationships with the prisoner?” “No answer.”
“Where are you currently resided?” “No answer”
“Do you believe the prisoner deserves his sentence?” “Maybe”
You put all your shit in the locker and followed him through all the safety checks
“I’m glad you didn’t bring anything with you”
You stood on the platform heart racing as the lava went down
It was like a ticking time bomb
The small squeaks and scratches of the hovering bridge
He just stared at you
That sick stupid mask was broken by tommy that day in the black stone room
So you had to look into his face
Lets just say he looks good in Orange
“Barrier up or down?” “Down”
He backed up into the corner as you stepped in
Smiling
Once the lava cascaded down your smile turned into a sick frown
“Hello” is that all he had to fucking say?
“Screw you. Fuck you. Damn you”
He just looked you a small chuckle escaping from his lips
“Those all mean the same thing.” “Well I’ve been living in cinnamon town for the past couple months, and I’m ready to fucking burn some buns”
Yeah he just laughed
“I’ve missed you Hot shot”
“You ruined our damn life!”
Someone went quiet
“If you didn’t have to have a petty little war, or criminalize children we could’ve been fine! It could’ve just been you, dad, me, and George.”
You were pissed, everyone just kept leaving you.
Tommy and Tubbo, Quackity, Karl, Dream, and hell even Wilbur
“You come and visit me, after not having seen me for months and you just yell? Not a hello or ‘how are you dream?’ ‘How’s prison dream’ ‘how can I help you get out of this damn place’ “
You just sat down ready to just walk out into the lava
“I’ve been stuck here for months! None of you even cared enough to visit me, hell even Tommy came around.”
You might have felt a little bad after leaving him
The prison was cold even tho lava was flowing right there
“Why would you leave the discs alone..” “Because I had to end it.”
What were you doing here
What were you planning on saying?
“So, what do you do in prison”
“I have a clock.”
You got up to go look at the pretty clock
Then threw it at his face
“Ow” “deal with it bitch”
The longer you stayed the worse the feeling in your stomach got
so you buzzed for Sam waving goodbye
“Wait.. Do they miss me?” “Can’t say, but I think this may be for the best.”
He wanted his best friends
But he just got the annoying teenager
Oh but that wouldn’t be the last
𝐋𝐚𝐬 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐬
You got a letter in the mail one day
Who the hell uses letters??
You were shocked to see the address and the small post card
“Come around some time”-Quackity
Ans on the back it had the cords
Oh well what did you have to loose? Sapnap was focused on Karl
and well Karl didn’t even know you
So you set off
It took you a couple hours travel by horse to get to the desert area
The large sign blaring in the red text
You gotta admit the place looked beautiful
There was a giant dick and different shops
You were shocked to see this random un human like guy
“Hello, I am Charlie a totally human guy!”
Yeah totally not slime
“I’m uh, Y/n?” He reached out for a handshake sort of thing
“Dap me up!” “Another time Charlie”
Maybe when you had hand sanitizer
“Ohh so your Y/n! Mister Quackity talks about you all the time, come on in!”
You were skeptical but followed anyways
Stopping in your tracks when you saw Fundy
“Furry?” “Fire shit?”
You went over to give him a side hug, ruffling his fur
“What the hell are you doing here ginger boy!” “Oh you know, just escaping nightmares”
You were confused then just let him be
You walked to the entry way of the place
A beautiful pond with flowers and an arch
“Did what the place where Mr. Quackity was going to propose!”
Going to?
You shrugged it off following inside
You hated to admit it, but you were excited to see him
Yeah you really needed a parental figure in your life at the moment
So when you saw him, he immediately pick you up in a hug
You didn’t fail to notice his change in appearance
That beanie stayed the same tho
Thank god
“Hey hey! Let me show you around the place, we can also go for lunch and talk.”
The casino looked great to say the least
Loud music booming from the speakers, along with the live jazz band on the side
Slot machines were going off every minute
“Have a chip, something to remember this by”
He handed you a red poker chip
It was a cool one tho, in the middle has a blocky sort of smile
Creepy and dopey.. sick!
So you put it around a spare silver chain
“So how have you been kid? ‘Ts been a while hasn’t it.” “Could be better..”
You both walked around the city in silence, offering to go in the super model shop
“No” “why not” “keep walking”
On your way to lunch you had to squint at what you were seeing
“Oh my goodness you’re still alive?!” “You’re alive!?”
You and revivebur just stared at one another
“Yeah he came back after I died!” “you what now-“
You just stared at Tommy and back to Wilbur
Oh god those shrooms were messing with your head
You should’ve gotten out of there a while ago
Quackity came over placing his hands on your shoulders
“Do I have to execute you both? Get off my damn property”
“Sorry Q. Say, Y/n wanna join Lmanburg 2.0?”
You back away holding your hands up
“I denied that offer once, and I’ll do it again. Fucking zombie freaks”
You obviously muttered the last part
Why the fuck did dream revive those two shits??
When did Tommy even die??
Your visit here has just gotten weirder and weirder
𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬
Quackity got you away from the brits as quick as he could
So he brought you over to his office
“So kid, how’s your dad..”
Ah you expected this question
“How the fuck am I supposed to know. He’s living his life, Karl’s time traveling! Oh yeah did I mention he doesn’t even remember me.”
He looked at you with wide eyes
“So I’m not the only one they forgot..”
You slammed you hands on the fable dramatizing the situation
“How would you feel about moving here? I mean you could work for me in the casino!”
You thought about it for a second
You have two options
1. Live in shroom town with bubbles
2. Move to las Nevada’s with Quackity
You were sure Sapnap wouldn’t mind
I mean would he even care?
He hasn’t for the past couple months!
“You feel abandoned there, over here there are hundreds of people. You’ll have the time of your life”
You thought about it for a sec
“Alright hand me a contract”
So you signed
Making deals with the devil huh
Little did you know it would cost you your life
Devils little soul
➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳
and this is the finale! I will take requests for sapnaps child, and I’ll do some shit with Quackity and the casino and go in more depth if wanted!
As always request and ask anything! And ask if you want to be on a taglist (child reader or general)
For those on the taglist I don’t know if you wanted to be tagged for all child reader shit or just dreams child.. so please tell me :)
@creatorofstars @georgenctfound @samistheidiot @smolbox-png @ghostlysenses @stellarinstigator @bobaducky
#sapnaps child#sapnap x reader#sapnap#sapnap x y/n#karl jacobs x y/n#karl jacobs x reader#quackity x reader#quackity x you#dsmp#mcyt#mcyt x reader#dream smp x reader#wilbur soot#tommy innit#kinoko kingdom#dream smp prison#las navadas#child reader
461 notes
·
View notes
Note
8- gordon at Benry
“I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”
“Huh? You didn’t say no, though.”
The moms of Joshua’s soccer team were an impenetrable clique. Gordon had no idea why, but for whatever fucking reason, they’d decided they hated him. Maybe he had brought the wrong snacks to practice, maybe they didn’t appreciate Joshua teaching all their sons swear words, maybe he cheered a little too loud at games. Whatever, he could deal with a little pettiness and false politeness from a bunch of housewives. He’d dealt with worse.
It was one of the first games of the season, and it was Gordon’s turn to bring drinks for the team. He was almost at the soccer field, hoping his pack of mini Gatorades would appease Joshua’s teammates, when he realized he was bringing an additional unknown variable: Benrey. The former security guard tagging along to all his outings had become such an expected occurrence at this point that he’d completely forgotten that Benrey had never gone to one of Joshua’s games before. He grimaced to himself as he pulled into the parking lot. Benrey had gotten a lot better about not doing blatant alien shit in public over time, but he was still a rogue element. Gordon could only hope he was in a chill enough mood to not make a scene on the soccer field.
Joshua had taken off running in the direction of his friends the moment the car parked, and Gordon and Benrey followed a distance behind, Gatorade packs in hand.
“Gordon, you made it!” One of the soccer moms waved at them as they walked over. “We were worried you might be late again.”
Gordon tried to turn gritted teeth into a smile. “Just because I was late one time, Katie, doesn’t mean I’m always going to be late.”
Katie gave him an equally fake smile and turned her gaze on Benrey, who was setting his pack of Gatorades down next to the cooler. “And who’s this? I don’t think we’ve met!”
“Hm?” Benrey glanced up at her, then reached out for a handshake, his hand still damp with condensation. “Yo. Benrey.”
“Katie,” She said, shaking his hand for as short a time as possible. She glanced between him and Gordon, trying to make some kind of connection between them. “Are you Joshua’s… uncle?”
“What?” Benrey squinted at her from under the rim of his baseball cap. “Nah, I’m Gordon’s fiancé.”
Gordon promptly choked on air.
Katie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “I didn’t know Gordon was engaged!”
“Aw bro, you didn’t tell them?” Benrey turned his version of puppy dog eyes on Gordon, which was really just an intense stare since he’d never quite figured out how puppy eyes worked. Gordon thought he could see mischief behind the stare.
“Man, can you blame me? It happened pretty recently.” Gordon tried to convey ‘what the fuck are you doing?!’ without giving them away to Katie. Benrey just grinned and grabbed Gordon’s hand, doubling down.
“Well! I’m glad Joshua’s new stepdad could make it to one of his games!” Katie said, clasping her hands together.
“Yeah, I’m excited. Joshie’s gonna kick your kid’s ass, gonna make all the touchdowns.”
“Um.” Katie faltered, and it took all of Gordon’s strength not to snort. Never had he been so pleased by Benrey’s ability to throw anybody off their rhythm. “Well, our boys are on the same team, and it’s soccer, not f-”
“Huh? What? Sucker? What’re you calling me?”
“Okay! Well! We better go get our chairs set up!” Gordon yelled, dragging Benrey away before he could make it worse. Which led them to where they were now, sitting in lawn chairs on the side of the field, Gordon struggling not to completely break down into laughter. Benrey looked impossibly smug, slouched beside him.
“What was I supposed to say, man?” Gordon continued to protest. “I panicked! God, I’m so fucked. How am I supposed to explain that we aren’t engaged without sounding like a lunatic?”
“Just don’t? Easy.” Benrey shrugged.
“No, you don’t get it. She’s gonna be watching us like a hawk to see if we actually act like a couple.”
“Okay. Guess we gotta act like a couple now.” Benrey raised an eyebrow at him. “Unless you’re chicken? Baby chickenshit? Too afraid to act like he wants to smooch his best friend Benrey?”
“I’m not afraid, asshole.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
Oh, a challenge, huh? Well, when he put it like that, there was no way Gordon could back down. Gordon leaned over and put his hand on Benrey’s shoulder. “You’re on,” He said, rubbing his thumb affectionately on the side of Benrey’s neck for good measure.
Pretending to flirt was way more fun than it should’ve been. It felt like second nature to lean in a little closer to talk than they would normally or to throw around obnoxious pet names to make each other laugh or to initiate extra physical affection. It felt so natural, in fact, that Gordon almost forgot why he was doing it as he got more distracted by Joshua’s game. Joshua’s team only needed one more point to win, and Joshua had control of the ball, and Benrey and Gordon were absolutely riveted. They were holding hands, but both of them weren’t even paying attention to that, far more concerned with being the loudest people cheering from the sidelines for Joshua’s success. When Joshua kicked as hard as he could and the soccer ball shot to the back of the goal, Gordon shouted “yes!” at the top of his lungs. Giddy with excitement, he turned, grabbed Benrey’s face, and planted a kiss directly on his mouth.
He hadn’t even realized what he’d done until he was already on the field, hugging and congratulating his son. Mortification shot through him like a spike. Oh shit. It was only a dumb competition, he definitely took it way too far, Benrey was never going to let him live this down-
Benrey’s head bonked heavily against his shoulder, an established form of affection Gordon had gotten used to over the past several months. Gordon leaned away from Joshua to give Benrey room to ruffle the kid’s hair and give him congrats of his own. If he hadn’t been so focused on the two of them, Gordon might have missed the sidelong look Benrey sent him and the slight smile that accompanied it.
Joshua was momentarily distracted by one of his friends running over and talking about something a mile a minute, which gave Benrey the chance to nudge Gordon in the side. “Hey,” He said. Gordon looked over at him just in time to receive a kiss on the cheek. Benrey grinned at Gordon’s dumbstruck expression, then scooped Joshua up onto his shoulders like nothing had happened. “Yo, Joshua! Your dad is gonna buy us ice cream!”
“Wh- I never said that!” Gordon protested, following them as Benrey and Joshua chanted ‘ice cream!’ over and over the whole way to the car. He laughed and shook his head. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the soccer mom clique on his own anymore.
#hlvrai#frenrey#gordon feetman#benrey#my writing#okay to reblog#this was a lot of fun lol#it's VERY tropey but I'm allowed a few tropes. as a treat.
222 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Work in progress→T.H
Parings: Tom Holland x Actress!reader
Summary: when You and Tom both have each other as a celebrity crush, you two unknowingly take on the role of each other’s lovers in a new movie and are expected to make it real. When the director puts the two of you in a house for the weekend to get to know each other there is little more to rehearsing than just your lines.
Warnings: awkwardness in the first half, smut(oral female), sexual tension
A/n: this is based off of a blurb I did, where it was just from a physical affection prompt list that I went off on! I hope you guys enjoy 💗
Wc: 4k
Tom didn’t know why he was so nervous as he opened the large glass doors to the conference building. His palms were sweaty as he walked alone rather than with his brother and assistant Harry.
He loved working on new projects, new films, meeting new people but the scare of not knowing the new people made him nervous. At this point he normally would be able to get some sort of name, do some research on said person but this time they gave him nothing but a script.
The script was more of a love story. a serious role but one where he could be more seductive and serious, he could let go of the goofy teenager character he seemed to be stuck with.
His character, Jack, who would be the corrupt business man who falls for the one trying to bring down his company, the main female protagonist, Beth.
The meeting started at 10:00. Always being early he seemed to see someone else was too. You stand in front of the coffee machine, trying to get it to work as you waited for the meeting to start—or at least people to come in.
“Oi let me help you with that—“ he offers but a small Yelp comes from your mouth as you quickly turn around and hit your head against the British accented stranger.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry! You scared me half to death—“ you hold your head as you look up, a wave of heat washes over your body and you don’t know if it was just because you hit your head hard enough or if it was because you finally figured out who you were working with.
“I should’ve said something else first, I’m so sorry—“ fuck. He thinks as he looks at you. You who managed to make a way onto the list of celebrities he wants to work with. You who also made it on the list of celebrities he wants to date.
The fans knew quickly he had a tiny crush on you. As he once liked a fan edit of the two of you on the read carpet. He seemed to be one of the firsts to like your Instagram photos and even mentioning your name in an interview saying how pretty you were.
You were the same, with smaller fame of course. You along with half of the other population who enjoyed marvel movies and dorky characters, you fell in love with the curly haired British boy. Finding him extremely talented and a heartthrob of course, you quickly dreamt about working with him but laughed about it never coming true.
Now he was in front of you. His chin red from where your head collided with it and he only stares at you in response.
The awkward silence quickly filled as the two of you tried and laugh off the interaction.
“Tom—“
“(Y/n)—“ you both say your names at the same time. Him going in for a handshake and you going in for an awkward hug. The two of you stop and laugh it off before deciding a simple handshake was the way to go. You had never wanted to quit your entire career more than now.
“Oh! Perfect!” Finally as the tension was cut the director walked into the room. Two people followed behind and you took a deep breath already nervous for the new film and exactly what Toms role was. As far as you read, the main female character, who you were to be playing, had to be in lingerie a few times in front of the main male character. There were also sex scenes, plenty of kiss scenes and sexual tension. You were fit for the character but you were not fit for Tom. All your fantasies about him were just fantasies.
“I see the two of you have already met. But If not, (y/n) meet Tom, Tom meet (y/n) you two will be working together for the next few months as I’m sure you are aware of your roles. (Y/n) will be playing the lover and spy where Tom you will be playing the businessman. I’m sure we already know our positions…” the director starts and you swallow hard.
Tom doesn’t know if you’re looking or not to see the pink shade coming to his cheeks and making him hot. You were just an actress, he thought, an actress who just had to play the role. He was an actor as well, he reminds himself. A very good one for the fact so he didn't want to mess this up all because of one silly crush.
“We want to put you two in a house together.” The director claps his hands together making you nearly spit out the coffee you had in front of you. Tom's head snaps to look at you as you cough a bit trying to digest the words.
“You want us to live together?” Tom speaks for you it seems.
“We only want to see your chemistry! The fans, the academy, loves chemistry! Trust me, people will love the movie but they will not care if they see just two other actors acting to be in love. Not really caring you know? We want to see you guys build a bond, passion, some sort of love even if you lie to us about it to make it believable. Run through your lines, skinny dip with each other for all we care we just want to see passion!” You feel like his words are turning into a dream as he speaks. You feel your heart pounding at his words and try your hardest to keep your calm.
“And where will we be going?” You finally find the strength to speak. If it was anyone else you would not care, reminding yourself you are a good actress and have acted like you wanted to fuck a man you hate. But this was a man you actually wanted to fuck, a man you actually wanted real passion with.
“We rented you two a flat in spain,” he mentions, right, where you’ll be shooting, you think. “It’s only three days and if you want more we will give you more if you don’t we will let you free. Every expense is paid for, go to dinner, have wine, everything will be on the film. This is both of your chances at big awards this year. This is for you and for us.” You could almost feel Toms body heat as he was just as nervous as you, you didn’t know why though. He was the heartthrob, he was the actor that was wanted left and right, this was your big chance at a movie that can skyrocket your career.
The next hour feels torturous as all you could think about was what this house looked like for the two of you. Did it have two rooms? Two bathrooms? Why did your head hit his chin? Is there a bump? What if he hates you? What if he’s secretly seeing someone and just doesn’t want to announce it? All thoughts ran through your head as you had to make this your best acting gig yet. Except the most acting might be pretending not to love Tom the way you do.
-
Three days. That’s all it was. You would spend three days in whatever this house looked like and all you would have to do is pretend to get to know Tom. All while trying not to expose how much you truly like him.
There were rumors he had a crush on you, of course you saw the interview and noticed how he liked your pictures but you also knew his co-stars from Spider-Man so your thoughts were friendly.
Taking an Uber to the destination, you pull up to this beautiful Italian cottage. Gorgeous stone walls and large driveway, If there was one emotion to be real about this entire thing, it would be that you were spoiled with this house.
You were already nervous as people started to catch on through social media, his fans seeming to know his constant move now quickly knowing yours.
‘Stars (y/n) (y/l/n) and Tom Holland possibly take on a new film with one another: here’s what we know’
‘Why is Tom in Italy?’ ‘Is (y/n) in Italy?’ ‘Rumor is they are filming together soon’
Your heart rushed with comments you had read. Maybe this wasn’t for you, maybe you should stay with doing small movies where you were a side character or something simple. Keep the small amount of followers you had compared to Toms 40 million.
As you go up to knock on the door wondering if he’s already beat you to the place, the door opens and reveals the sight of Tom.
Another Yelp escapes your lips as you jump at Tom opening the door so quickly.
“If we’re living together I think you should hold off on scaring me.” You take a deep breath. His hair was wet, he was fresh out of a shower.
“Sorry darling! They told me your flight landed at 2:00 and well...it’s 2:00 so you aren’t supposed to be here until like 3:00.” He claims and you take a deep breath. Three days, you remind yourself, don’t mess it up.
“Oh…” you swallow.
“Not that I didn’t want to see you! It’s nice to see you again, you look really nice!” He says as you wear the sweats and the sweatshirt from the airport. “Let me help you with those.” He grabs your bags for you and you smile letting him take it. He leans in just close enough for you to smell the aftershave he put on, his muscles flex as he grabs your bags making this all the harder for you.
The night was young, fans already knew, this was your shot at making it big, Tom's shot of winning an Oscar, you two needed to work together. Pushing aside the worried one sided emotion and be able to make a movie that blows people away
“Have you ever done anything like this before?” You asked as you walked into the kitchen. It was now late, you were starving, you and Tom already getting to know each other but it was strange.
“No, I mean the most I’ve done for a chemistry read is take the person out to dinner.” He laughs a little and then runs a hand through his hair. “Speaking of dinner...should we grab something or make something. Unless you had plans of your own then that’s totally fine—“ he starts to ramble and you laugh.
“I cannot cook, so unless you can I prefer to pick something up.” You cut him off to make sure he doesn’t go on and on.
“Have you ever pizza from Italy before?” He asks and you lean against the counter.
“I’ve never been in Italy before.” You shrugged and he grew a smirk. He turns on his heels as if he already has an idea.
“Then I know a place.” He walks out of the room to grab his phone.
You feel your heart pounding as you check your phone. You made a mistake by opening your Twitter, 10k new followers, 50k mentions and plenty more all regarding Tom. You only hoped he wasn’t the type to use Twitter as it was flooded with people wanting you guys to be together.
Your mind swarms with the thought of your character again. Soon you’d have to stand in front of your celebrity crush, half naked, trying to seduce him. It was going to be more awkward if you guys were friends.
“Are you coming?” He calls out and you quickly shove your phone in your back pocket before grabbing your purse to go.
Three days and you feel like you’re already going to snap.
-
It was a lovely little place he brought you to. You didn’t know If he’d come to Italy often but he clearly knew a decent way around the city. The two of you sat in the corner of a dimly lit Italian restaurant, sharing pizza and feeling more comfortable with each other as the night went on. He was just another person, you thought, nothing to worry about.
“We didn’t order any wine.” You stop the server as he pours both you and Tom a glass. Tom already drunk off of the beer he had and you only enjoying his presence.
“Ah it’s on the house, such a lovely couple in such a lovely city! You two should have fun!” The server winks. You almost protest to stop him telling him that you and Tom were nearly just coworkers stuck in a house for three days.
But rather Tom thanks the server and takes the glass. Your heart pounding as you pick up the glass as well, the boys eyes already red from how much he’s had already and you can tell you have to take him home.
“You know I was nervous to be working with you.” He took a sip before setting it down. “When I saw you I was like ‘shit this is happening’ and freaked out.” He admitted and you try to hold back the butterflies in your stomach.
“You freaked out for working with me?” You swallowed and he nodded.
“Well look at you, you’re gorgeous! Anyone would be lucky to work with you, as your lover as well.” He falls back into the booth and stares at the décor on the ceiling.
“So you read all the scenes?” You ask and he nodded.
“Of course i did! I only improve when I feel like it.” He shrugs, taking another sip.
“You said you’re method too.” You remember from one interview you watched years ago. Your voice was more of a whisper, more to yourself but he grows a soft smirk as he turns his head to face you.
“So you watched my interviews.” He says feeling cocky. You roll your eyes taking another sip of wine yourself to hopefully drown out the embarrassment you just gave yourself.
“As if I don’t see you being the first to like my posts, Holland.” You avoid eye contact and rather look around the room but Tom only focuses on you.
When you catch his eyes they’re sober, this whole time he was telling stories in a drunken state and now he looks at you with glossy soft eyes as if he wants to hear more.
“So you see me liking your posts?” He teases and you finally look at him.
“I see everyone liking my posts. Why do you follow me?” You challenge and he holds back a smirk.
“You’re friends with Z, why do you follow me?” He asks back and you feel yourself straighten.
“Z is friends with a lot of people, I don’t see you following all of them?” You argue and he falls back into the booth again with a soft chuckle.
“So not only do you follow me but you stalk me?” He teases and you groan.
“Not what I meant.” You see how much wine you have left, not a lot as your nerves filled you and the wine didn’t calm you. “You liked a fan edit of us a year ago. We’ve never met until a few days ago.” You rest your head on your hand that props itself up against the table. That’s what makes him lose his game, he turns a light shade of red before quickly straightening himself up.
“You’re talented, why don’t we see more of you?” He asks about your roles.
“You’re about to see everything in a few days.” You mumble and he chokes on his wine.
Page 281
*Beth removes her robe in front of Jack, slowly stalking towards him wearing the tight black lingerie* *she crawls on top of his sleepy figure and points a gun*
It was embarrassing that such a scene turned him on after finding out who it was with. After finding out it was you, he read over every single sex scene, strip scene, makeout scene to make sure everything was real.
“Oh relax.” You hold back a smile. “You’re the Method actor, remember?” You tease. He leans forward, he’s not sure how he’s gotten so confident but he takes your glass and drinks from it before setting it down.
“Yeah, I am. We should rehearse some things, get more comfortable.” He suggests and you look at him up and down. His lips slightly stained reddish pink from the wine, his skin damp from how hot the room was, and he looked at you as if no one else was in the room.
“And where should we start?” You swallow, you can’t get shy now. You’ve dreamt about this moment and now it’s happening.
“Well, if we’re starting with their meeting, I think it would go something like this.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on your neck. You’re frozen as his lips are soft and warm, he pulls back and realizes what he’s done. His thoughts of you, his crush on you, the warm alcohol that ran through his blood all while being in Italy got the best of him.
“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done—“ he started and you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to kiss lips. His eyes go wide softly as if he was a school boy getting his first kiss.
“More wine?” The waiter comes back and Tom snaps out of it for a split second.
“We’ll take the check.”
-
Your hands tangled in with his messy hair, his shirt already off as he was warm from the summer heat Italy provided. His lips trail down from your lips to your neck as he plays with the strings of the summer dress you wore.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” His words mumbled into your chest as he lets the shoulders of your dress fall.
“Why? You want to admit you have a crush on me now?” you teased and when he looks up his eyes are darker. The sweet chocolate puppy dog eyes before now darkened as his lips were swollen and his face was hot. His hands rest at your hips with a tight grip as he wants more.
“You admitted to stalking my interviews and who i follow so i should be asking you that question.” he teased and you rolled your eyes. Your Only respond by pushing his head back into your chest where he planted soft kisses trailing down.
“So soft,” he takes off the bra you wore. Hes thought about this moment but would never admit it. Hes thought about how soft your skin is and how you looked under his touch with his head in between your legs—
“Do something tom.” you groan as he is on his knees for you. Your dress bunched at your waist, all exposed for him as he takes off the black lace underwear you wore under the dress.
“All for me?” he asks and your head hits the back of the wall, your hands go to his hair and he kisses gently at your thigh. “Say something, darling.” darling, you think about the way he says that word. The simple nickname that made you melt. Darling, that was going to be the death of you.
“Y-yes!” you find the words. “I-I don’t think this is apart of the script though.” You still try and be playful and just below your eyes you can see he has a playful and cocky smirk.
“This,” his thumb rubs at your clit as he looks up. His lips cherry red and his smirk is full view to you as he sees your eyes flutter shut as your head was thrown back. “This is where I improve.” he replaces his thumb with his tongue as he pumps his middle finger in and out of you. Your hands grip his hair as you moan his name, his name that you thought of so many times before this in your dreams.
Your knees go weak as his one hand pins your hips against the wall and his other fingers thrusted in and out of you while his tongue works at your clit.
“Tommy!” The nickname slipped, you didn’t mean it but you imagined it sometimes long before you met him and just had a crush.
“Huh darling? Like that? Want to cum?” His words horse and his accent thicker. “That’s right...” he almost laughs as he can see how much you’re whimpering. “Cum for me.”
You fall under his touch with soft moans leaving your lips. The wave of euphoria washes over you and you struggle to open back up your eyes and come back to reality.
He comes back up to face you, this time you have a thin layer of sweat over your forehead and your chest rises as you catch your breath. You take Tom's fingers and take them into your mouth. Acting as if it were him in your mouth you work your tongue around his finger before taking them out with a pop.
His eyes stare and he almost winces at how hard he is. How hard you've made him.
“This is going to be the best damn movie i've ever filmed.” he nearly whispers as you bite down on your lip before pulling him back into your lips.
This was going to be the best six months of your life.
Permanent Taglist: @hoodiesparker @dahliaspidey @parkersvibes @itssss-a-bean @ppkrtingle @myfinalwords @bocaul @tinyplanet-explorers @sincerlyfan @softbaby-Tom @awesomeblackcottontail @rosebeegraham @stormyholland @unicorn-princess-1999 @spideyyypeter @marshyrebelcloud @oh-epiphany @yeahimcrying @highlydisfunctional1 @disgustangg @pterstingle @quacksonhq @saturnpeter@reblogsfics @tomsrebeleyebrow @dreamyyholland @imaginashawnns @alilpunkrock @peterspideysenses @lovely-valllll @lowkey-holland @hannaholland1811 @kthemarsian @maryjane23 @jillianaholland @dummiesshort @paracutepants @heartofholland @quacksonhehe @tomhollandssecurityguard @th0ttie4tommy @ladykxxx08 @bellelittleoff @peterbenjiparker @cherthegoddess @namoreno @sunsetholland @lillatina004 @peterparkersbabygurl @augstdowny@a-daydreamers-day @spideyspeaches
#tom holland imagine#tom holland x reader#tom holland smut#imagine tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland au#tom holland x you#Tom Holland fic#Tom Holland fan fic#tom holland fan fiction#Tom holland au#Tom Holland angst
826 notes
·
View notes
Note
For the Thank You Next can you do Imagine with James Potter?
thank you, next.
james potter x slytherin!fem!reader
summary: you go through the stages of love till you find your person.
word count: 2.3k
warnings: mutual pinning, over use of sarcasm it’s so bad, SWEARING, kissing, mentions of kissing, mentions of an arm falling off, mentions of injury
—0:00
‘Thought I'd end up with Sean
But he wasn't a match
Wrote some songs about Ricky
Now I listen and laugh
Even almost got married
And for Pete, I'm so thankful
Wish I could say "thank you" to Malcolm
'Cause he was an angel’
one day, when you’re young, your mother tells you, ‘there’s lots of fish in the sea, but you have to wait for the right catch’ or maybe that was just your deranged mother. normally, you thought all of that was bullshit. a slytherin princess should never be mistreated, someone whomst you honour and adore with all in your beating heart; turns out slytherin boys didn’t get the fucking memo.
the only person who did understand was the one and only, regulus arcturus black. but you unfortunately lacked sexual attraction to him so therefore you couldn’t date him, so that was a feigning issue. evan rosier was fit, top of his classes and a quite nice mop of blonde on his head, he was a quidditch player and a pureblood slytherin; so etiquette is to be clearly expected. too other schoolmates, especially the fawning girls of almost every house, he was probably the full package, one of the alpha males that roamed the hallways at hogwarts; oh were those girls the biggest knob heads to exist.
turns out he was just the biggest fucking dick to ever walk the planes of the earth, he ran around with idiots like lucius malfoy— another mistake of the century, and little severus snape; thank merlin, and salazar slytherin themselves you never resorted to him.
‘One taught me love
One taught me patience
And one taught me pain
Now, I'm so amazing
Say I've loved and I've lost
But that's not what I see
So, look what I got
Look at what you taught me
And for that, I say’
normally your first couple of boyfriends should teach you something out of the relationship, maybe what you needed to strengthen for the next time you were in an intimate relationship, like trust, communication, maybe even sexual intimacy.
all these absolute dunces taught you was to pick your boyfriends better, and to stay away from every slytherin male that had ever entered hogwarts. evan— oh, he only taught you that everyone and everything was a priority over you, always the ‘talk to you later.’ and the casual, ‘blowjob?’ comments; absolutely fucking arse. lucius, couldn’t forget his moto in your mind even if you jammed it in your strongly-witted brain that money was power and money over any atom to every exist.
regulus understood, strict pureblood parents but he still understood how to treat a partner. i guess it was nice not picking up every habit of walburger and onion— sorry, walburga and orion, noble heirs of the house of black. yeah, did i mention they were second cousins?
‘Thank you, next (next)
Thank you, next (next)
Thank you, next
I'm so grateful for my ex
Thank you, next (next)
Thank you, next (next)
Thank you, next (next)’
“you could always hang out with my brothers mates, i see them not casually oogling you.” oh regulus, sometimes you did lack the slytherin wit and ambition. he was sprawled on the malachite coloured couch, a pearly white quill fumbled between his slender digits as he started aimlessly into oblivion at the dying out fire in the midst of the frigid common room.
“yeah, let me go hang out with my best friends brothers friends, slytherin haters! such a good idea, reg. maybe they should’ve put you in ravenclaw from that amazing idea!” if you were sarcastic before, there aren’t a non-vulgar amount of words in the universe to describe the tremendous mockery in your tone; as you intensely stared into the crevices of the ceiling while laying on the opposite viridescent sofa.
“merlin, tone down the sarcasm a bit? i was just offering, it’s not like your a pureblood, or a prat.” regulus offered, looking at your form, your elbow now covering your eyes and making recurring heavy sighs every few minutes. “being a half-blood is enough for hatred, regulus, m’dear.” you sighed again, in defeat. hopeless romantic and hated by many, fantastic, am i right?
‘Spend more time with my friends
I ain't worried 'bout nothin'
Plus, I met someone else
We're havin' better discussions
I know they say I move on too fast
But this one gon' last
'Cause her name is Ari
And I'm so good with that (so good with that)’
don’t think, breath and just do what your heart tells you to. fuck that— panic, cry, scream, whatever, be scared. you were gaping at the red mass and overdue of shades, it wasn’t ugly but definitely not the prettiest colour to exist; mixed with mustard yellow. gryffindor students absolutely covered in both. well students, no, james potter, yes.
he happen to be your victim, well friend of sirius; regulus did say after all they oogled you, whatever that meant. you both played quidditch, pretty decent grades, both had good humour, your more so, i mean c’mon you couldn’t find that wit just anywhere, and well you could be best friends. well friends, acquaintances, maybe one, possibly. if only you had the confidence of a leo male, all you needed was to strut over to the damn quidditch field and say something, literally anything.
so that’s exactly what you did, your shoes crunching against the no-longer damp grass, dry after morning dew showers. your bag hanging off of your left arm, your head preoccupied with ways on how to greet someone because slytherin etiquette right now was not the way to go; it would only cause assumptions and stereotypes. i mean who the actual fuck says, ‘how do you do?’ anymore.
‘She taught me love (love)
She taught me patience (patience)
She handles pain (pain)
That amazing (yeah, she's amazing)
I've loved and I've lost (yeah, yeah)
But that's not what I see (yeah, yeah)
'Cause look what I've found (yeah, yeah)
Ain't no need for searching
And for that, I say’
enemies, nope. acquaintances, don’t think so. friends, getting there. close friends, i would say. if someone ever said they saw james fleamont potter hanging around a slytherin they would’ve assumed that someone was knocked upside the head with the biggest beaters bar you could find, but the green and red weren’t that bad of a mix after all.
henceforth, here you were giggling like school girls with james fucking potter right by the black lake. “james, respectfully, stop carrying that stupid snitch everywhere. doesn’t it weigh down your pockets?” you queried the boy who was fumbling with the golden snitch for the past three minutes, flipping his hair so he could knock the brunette tendrils from his eyes while he gaped at you.
you were glowing— the sun at its highest peek, he could’ve been on his knees thanking albus dumbledore in his office for free period; knowing james we would’ve offered to comb his beard and maybe even a shampoo and condition it while he was at it.
your eyes glittered as you chortled at him for dropping that stupid ball for the third time, your hair dancing in the wind like it was a routine, a perfect routine, your teeth glinting at the suns ethereal rays that hit you just right. imagine if james’ foolish cocky mask instead would’ve rejected your offer of friendship that one humid day on the quidditch pitch— he would’ve been the biggest git to ever stride the planet.
‘Thank you, next (thank you, next)
Thank you, next (thank you, next)
Thank you, next (thank you)
I'm so grateful for my ex
Thank you, next (thank you, next)
Thank you, next (said thank you, next)
Thank you, next (next)
I'm so grateful for my ex
Thank you, next
Thank you, next
Thank you, next’
friends, that’s what it was suppose to be. pals, mates, schoolmates, whatever the fuck you called it. it wasn’t suppose to be frenemies, to friends to lovers! you weren’t suppose to notice the navy blue flecks of colour in his cerulean eyes, the way his lips curled in a smile after he caught that silly snitch that blazed the thick sure after a hefty match, the way he brushed the tresses of hair behind your ears when the wind was assaulting your face and you were basically swallowing your hair.
now sitting with him in the library you were mentally stabbing your stygian heart, why men. why do they do things, why do men sometimes have the decency to show sympathy, and partiality with their friends. he hugged you, he kissed your forehead when you felt dejected, james potter went through the slytherin common room to bring you chocolates on your period. which fucking gryffindor would do that, huh? definitely not frank longbottom or fabian prewett.
his hand scathed yours as he pointed at how to make a draught of peace potion, his hand was warm and smooth but only from what you touched— you could see slight callouses forming on the pads of pads palm from broom handling, and the small cracks in his knuckles from the lacking use of lotion. you felt the rapid rate of your heart merely increasing at the minute from the slight touch, a rush of rose clouded your cheeks. this was so embarrassing.
‘One day I'll walk down the aisle
Holding hands with my mama
I'll be thanking my dad
'Cause she grew from the drama
Only wanna do it once, real bad
Gon' make that last
God forbid something happens
Least this song is a smash (song is a smash)’
you were mid flight, smashing a bludger in the direction of the vermillion colours. even when you were immensely sweaty, intensely panting, abundantly tired, and your arm looked like it wanted to fall off he wanted to kiss the energy back into you. james loved winning against slytherin, it might’ve been his favourite thing at hogwarts; but he would murder a pack of death eaters if it meant he got to see your smile when your emerald-clad seeker clutched that small golden ball.
both teams landed, a handshake due for the game to be over after almost two continuous hours of playing and that stubborn ball blazing the air. he meant to walk over there, a hug overdue in his prideful way of saying congratulations but he did not think that he would’ve strided over to your panting figure and clasped your soft cushion lips with his own parched ones from the continuous heaving in his breath.
your lips tasted of peach, hints of mango. your lips dried of chapstick but still smooth— feeling the grooves in your lips, they were puffy and swollen probably from the tremendous amount of times you had bitten your lips in anxiety. your lips disconnected for a moment, suddenly realizing that you had an audience of your fellow slytherins, your enemy gryffindors and not one but two shocked crowds of hufflepuffs and ravenclaws suddenly watching the private scene unfold.
james cleared his throat, looking at your grinning face that was encased between his palms, your face was significantly flushed, your chest moving every millisecond at the loss of breath in your lungs. “good, uh, good game james.”
‘I've got so much love (love)
Got so much patience (patience)
I've learned from the pain (pain)
I turned out amazing (turned out amazing)
I've loved and I've lost (yeah, yeah)
But that's not what I see (yeah, yeah)
'Cause look what I've found (yeah, yeah)
Ain't no need for searching
And for that, I'll say’
cocky, quidditch captain, school prankster, pureblood gryffindor, and head boy. that to the peering eyes of hogwarts was james potter, but he was so much more than that. he was like an onion, gross comparison but for the sake of it you’ll use it, he had layers but everyday it’s like you cried a little less and you peeled just a bit more.
he was benevolent, he guided first years to common rooms and sometimes he studied with fourth year hufflepuffs. he was sensible, sometimes, he helped out madame pomfrey in the healers wing when remus had been injured from a full moon along with any remaining students in the ward from previous incidents, not to mention, you did uncover remus’ ‘furry secret’ and swore to secrecy. and most of all, james was cherishing, he actually did give a fuck when you had a bad day, he stroked your back and hummed you stupid baby lullabies.
i mean could you imagine lucius malfoy and evan rosier humming a girl lullabies when they were upset? celebratory kisses after quidditch, bringing you snacks while you were overwhelmed in school work and actually made an effort in the relationship? they would’ve bought you a pair of red bottoms and called it a day.
‘Thank you, next (thank you, next)
Thank you, next (thank you, next)
Thank you, next
I'm so grateful for my ex
Thank you, next (thank you, next)
Thank you, next (said thank you, next)
Thank you, next (next)
I'm so grateful for my ex
Thank you, next
Thank you, next
Thank you, next
Yeah’
there was infact one thing that your past relationships taught you;
never date a man to ever be put in the slytherin house ever again.
taglist: @kittykylax @ronbrokemyheart @aspiringsloth20 @maddoxsmythologicalmind @amourtentiaa @msmb @five-cups-of-coffee @emmaev @serenitywilderness @spencerfuckingreidswhore @artemis1orion @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @dear-luna @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @sirius-animagus
#james potter one shot#james potter fluff#james potter fic#james potter fanfiction#harry james potter#james potter x oc#james potter x you#james potter#james potter x y/n#james potter x reader#james potter series#james potter supremacy#james potter smut#james potter angst#james potter fanart
224 notes
·
View notes
Text
memories • spencer reid
Spencer Reid x Reader
Warnings: none! just 4000 words of pure angst
This was an old fic reworked to be about around spencer so its taking a lottt of creative/artistic liberty with the character, so it kinda sucks im sorry! 😁
Every moment you had with him was one to be remembered and cherished for better or worse.
It had been a few weeks since Spencer had officially ended things, he had moved all of his stuff out of your apartment and now it seemed as if he had never even existed in the same place as you, as though you two were strangers. That is had it not been for the images of memories the two of you held. So, here you were sat alone in your room, your only company the half-empty bottle of wine and photographs of the two of you which sat strewn carelessly across your floor.
You picked up a picture and stared at it realising you both looked so happy. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, a cup in his hand and his signature grin sitting across his face. Your head was leaning against his shoulder, the smile on your face reminding you of how free you had felt that night, you had never felt happier and you recognised that night as the night you realised...you were so in love.
"We should have a party," Spencer yelled despite there being no one else other than the two of you in the room.
"Right now?" You looked at him as if he was insane, not only was it completely out of character for your boyfriend but also, it was 1 am on a Wednesday and although your friends weren't those with a regular schedule you presumed most of them would decline a house party in the middle of the week.
"Yeah right now, c'mon doll I'll call Derek and some of the others and you call your friends." His hand was already on his phone texting Derek before you could protest so you followed his instructions and went ahead and invited your friends before getting up and preparing for this impromptu party.
It had only been 10 minutes when you heard Derek and some others open the door shouting for Spencer and you walked over with a grin on your face, "Hey D, Spencers being a diva and redoing his hair, he'll be right down." You said, rolling your eyes as Derek pulled you into a hug, he may have been Spencer's best friend but he thought of you as a sister and always treated you as such.
"Well I have look good for my girl," You heard Spencer say from behind you quickly placing a kiss on your cheek before doing his weird handshake with Derek, "Hey, thanks for coming'."
The three of you made your way to the kitchen to grab some drinks and greet some more guests who had congregated in that area and before you knew it, you were 4 shots in, feeling way past tipsy and in the mood to dance.
"Hey Spence," You said walking over to where he was now sat, a cup in his hand as he held a conversation with JJ and Emily about something that you didn't care too much about. You waved a quick hello to the girls so as not to be rude and then placed your head on his shoulder to let him know of your presence.
"Hey darling, you feeling good?" He turned his face and flashed you a wide grin before wrapping an arm around you to pull you close to him. He enjoyed being near you whenever he could, when he was away he would long for the days where all he did was sit and hold you close to him regardless of what the two of you were doing, so now whenever he had the chance he would hold you close.
"Feelin' great Spence.. wanna dance with you..." You said pulling out of his hold and grabbing his hand leading him onto the 'dance floor', which was just the open space in your living room. He laughed and quickly finished his drink, discarding the cup somewhere in the room and held you as you both danced to the music playing through the speakers.
After a couple of songs, you both made your way to get another drink and get a break from the crowd, you sat at the kitchen island and passed him a drink."You know, considering you're a genius, I would've thought you'd be able to coordinate a bit better." You said teasing him about his choice of moves which had essentially been him waving his arms in the air attempting to be in tune with the music.
He looked at you in fake shock and scoffed, "Yeah well it was still better than whatever you were trying to do." Referring to your horrendous attempt at trying to be sexy which in truth was never going to be anything but embarrassing. You stuck your tongue out in a childish manner causing him to laugh and quickly move to place his lips against yours giving you a soft kiss.
You jumped down from the counter after pulling back as a couple of your friends walked in and struck up a conversation about nothing interesting yet you made the effort to look engaged as Spencers's arm slipped over your shoulders and you placed your head against his shoulder.
"Hey guys, look here." You both turned to see your friend Harry, as always with a polaroid camera in his hand. You and Spencer gave each other a quick smile before grinning wide for the camera, both your faces full of love and happiness.
You sat there thinking about how quickly things can change, the people in the image you held so young and naive to the struggles the future would hold. Taking another sip of your wine you skimmed through some more pictures before stopping at one that held a bittersweet meaning. A picture that was taken a few days after what had been your worst fight, you both looked happy but all you could think about the events leading up to the image being taken.
It was your and Spencers 5th anniversary and he had promised he would make it to dinner. You hadn't seen each other in weeks because he was away on a case but he had promised he wouldn't miss this day, he had asked for permission from Hotch to leave for a couple of days so he would be there. "No excuses, No ifs and buts...I'll be there babe. I promise."
But there you were, alone at a table for two. The look on the waiters face held nothing but pity as he walked over for the fourth time to ask if someone would be joining you. Finally, you gave up and shook your head to let him know you would be leaving and would like the cheque. You had never felt so humiliated walking out of the restaurant head held high but tears building up in your eyes and so you cried. You felt so broken, almost as broken as all those promises Spencer had made you. The word promise and sorry had lost all meaning in the last 5 years, simply a courtesy rather than meaningful.
The minute you got home your phone began ringing, it was Spencer.
"Hey doll, I'm so sorry I couldn't make it, the team wanted to go out last night and I kind of missed my -." He began to explain causing you to scoff, 'no ifs or buts' my ass.
"How could you?" Your voice cracking as you tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill for the second time that night. "I waited for 2 fucking hours Spencer, I felt like a fucking idiot."
"What? What are you talking about?" His voice was full of confusion. "Didn't you get my text?"
"No, I fucking didn't. I didn't get a fucking text. But that's not the fucking point, You should've been here, you promised you would be here."
"Babe, I'm so -," He began but you knew what he was gonna say. The only conversations you seemed to have were stuck on a loop like a broken record.
"Save it. Don't say you're sorry when you don't mean it, stop saying sorry and show it instead."
"Look, I'll get on the first flight out. I'll see you in a few hours, I'll make it up to you I prom-." You hung up the phone before he could continue, his promise worth nothing to you anymore. Walking over to the couch, you fell asleep the minute your head rested against one of the many cushions populating the seat.
You woke up to keys jingling in the door, yet you made no effort to move from where you were. The sound of his footsteps got louder as he approached.
"Babe? I know you're up." He said, kneeling beside you making you sigh and sit up. "Babe, I'm so sorry. I fucked up."
You just stared at him, it might have been petty but you didn't want to give in to his apologies just yet, he had to understand just how much he had hurt you first.
"I couldn't care less anymore, Spencer. I just need to remember that I'll always come second to work and that's fine, it's important to you and I understand that." You got up and walked over to the kitchen to gather yourself.
"Babe you are the most important thing to me, I'm sorry-."
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Here we go again, Spencer there's only so many times you can say you're sorry before it loses all meaning. I'm sick and tired of this, I don't know if I can do this anymore. You're never here, you make promises you can never keep and I'm pretty sure you've told me you're sorry more times than you've told me you love me."
"Please don't do this. I love you." His voice was shaking, breaking down at the thought of you leaving him. He moved over to you and turned you so you were facing him. "I know this means nothing to you but I am so sorry. I've been so shitty to you and I know it."
"Spencer, I deserve better than this and I'm sick of forgiving you and acting like I'm fine with how you treat me, you might not mean it but it fucking hurts. I love you so much and I know you love me but would it kill you to put me first for once in your fucking life."
This annoyed him, the lack of sleep and being overworked leaving him less patient and more irritable, "That's not fucking fair, you knew what you were signing up for when you started dating me, I'm doing my fucking best. I go to work for US, to support US. If I could devote all of my time to you if I could, but I can't and it fucking kills me. You can't understand how much I miss you when I'm not here."
Tears welled in your eyes seeing him breakdown, unable to keep up the unbothered facade you had on, "I just...Spence, I miss you too. It hurts not being able to be near you and so when you're not there when you promise you will be, it hurts it really fucking hurts not to mention it's terrifying, how am I supposed to know you're ok if you do shit like that."
He pulled you into his arms as you sobbed into his chest, all the emotions you'd kept bottled up during the argument letting go. "I know baby, I'm so sorry I hurt you. I promise, and I mean it this time, I won't let you down again. I love you." He mumbled into your hair, slowly kissing your forehead whilst consoling you and holding you like he never wanted to let go.
The two of you went to bed that night in silence, not a word was spoken until the next day wherein Spencer switched off his phone and dedicated the whole weekend to you and only you. He kept his word once he had to leave, always fulfiling his promises, never pushing you to the side and communicating with you always. The two of you felt strong again, you were happy.
You put your glass down and walked out of your room and began pacing around the living room, pictures of you and him still up on your walls, the walls that no longer belonged to the both of you. You thought back to when he asked you to move him, how nervous he was and how excited you were.
It was movie night at Spencers house. Each week he invited everyone over to watch a film, everyone taking it in turns to select a film. This week Emily had chosen Midsommar, a film you were yet to see so you were excited. You were sat beside Spencer on the loveseat, his arm around you and your face resting against his chest, a blanket covering you both for extra comfort. You looked up and saw Derek and Penelope lay spread across the floor whilst JJ and Emily sat on the sofa. Bowls of popcorn and sweets were scattered around the room and beer bottles were piling up. It was nights like this that you wanted to treasure forever, for the first time you felt like you had a family, people to call your own, people you could trust.
"Watcha thinking about?" Spencer asked, glancing at you and realising your mind wasn't directed at the movie anymore.
"Nothing, just really lucky to have you in my life," You reached your hand up to hold his face and gave him a soft kiss. "I love you."
He pulled you in closer if that was even possible, "I love you too."
"Ugh, get a room." Derek groaned making you both chuckle.
Spencer responded by throwing some popcorn at him, "Aw is someone jealous, don't worry you'll find someone soon enough."
Derek murmured a quiet, "Fuck off" before turning his attention back to the movie, making everyone laugh.
The movie ended shortly and everyone was discussing what to watch next, you were in the mood for a comedy but Derek wanted to watch Die Hard for the millionth time. After several minutes of slight arguing, you finally decided on rewatching Moana for the 12th time.
Everyone was pretty much settled, drinks refilled, popcorn replenished and everyone back in their positions. Emily was about to press play before JJ stopped her, "Wait before you start I'm kinda cold can I borrow a sweater?" She asked Spencer.
"Yeah sure, take one from our room." He said casually like it was normal but it made your breath hitch in your throat, did he just say our room? As in, yours and his. Unofficially he wasn't wrong, it was your room as much as his, you spent pretty much every night here making having your own apartment redundant, but he hadn't yet asked you to move in with him. You couldn't help the small blush on your face and the way your lips turned upwards at his words. It made you happy knowing he thought of it as something for both of you.
"What has you so happy?" Penelope asked in a teasing tone, she'd picked up on Spencer words and knew exactly why you were smiling.
You just stuck your tongue out at her and looked up at Spencer, "Our room huh?" You asked making him smile.
"Yeah I mean, you're here every day, maybe more than I am. You should just move in at this point." He let out a little laugh after he said leaving you confused as to whether he was being serious, so you just laughed along and waited for JJ to come back so you could start the movie.
A couple of hours later almost everyone was half asleep, everyone apart from you and Spencer. You began making your way to his room followed by him carrying the blanket he had taken from his bed. The two of you went about your night routine, Spencer had insisted on keeping at least half of your things at his place hence why you never had to leave. You quickly changed into one of his shirts which fit you just right and climbed into bed where he was already sitting, reading a book.
"Spence, were you being serious...earlier when you said I should move in?" You asked him, making him put down his book and look at you.
"Would you like that? You don't have to say yes but I would love it if you moved in. The mornings when I wake up and you're still next to me, are the best mornings. Honestly, knowing I'm going to wake up next to you makes falling asleep easier. Plus Tesla and Edison love you, maybe even more than they loves me." He asked, the mention of his fish making you laugh despite the fact your eyes were welling up, what had you done to deserve the sweetest man to walk the earth.
You shifted yourself so you were straddling him and held his face in your hands, "I would love to move in with you." You answered placing a soft kiss to his lips.
"I love you so much," He said as you moved back to laying down next him. "You make me the happiest man alive and I'm so lucky to have you."
"God, Spence you gotta stop before I start crying, I love you too." You said, as he laughed and pulled you into a comfortable sleeping position.
"Goodnight love." He mumbled, already falling asleep.
"Goodnight Spence." You responded, closing your eyes and beginning to drift off but not before saying, "By the way, the fishies definitely love me more."
You hadn't realised you were crying until a tear fell onto the frame you were holding. The image just as blurred as the memories it held. You carefully placed the image face down onto the table rather than placing it back up. Making your way to the sofa, you got your phone out and glanced at the image that had left you in this state. A picture of him and her, his hands holding hers as tight as they once held yours, the grin on both of their faces wide. He was happy, only it wasn't because of you anymore. You closed your eyes again, remembering how it all ended.
He had been distant since he had come back from this last case, he had been away for almost two months trying to catch this unsub and you had thought he'd be more excited to come back to you and finally be home. But he hadn't spent more than 10 minutes with you, the only time the two of you were in the same room for longer than that was when you fell asleep. Recently that had also stopped, he spent more nights away from home and at clubs with Derek and Emily , only coming back once he knew you weren't there. It was killing you but every time you questioned it he shrugged you off, telling you he loved you.
You wanted to scream at him if he loved you why isn't he showing it, why does he refuse to acknowledge you. You knew he was lying to you, he didn't love you anymore, you could see it in his eyes, how he never looked at you as he used to, he never held you like he used to. It was killing you and you knew you should ask him but you also knew that would lead to conversation you didn't want to have, an ending you didn't want to happen. So you kept quiet, went about your day and didn't question his actions, you had decided you would rather have the worst of him than not have him at all.
But that didn't last long. A few weeks later something happened, something you could ignore. Spencer had barely been home, only coming back to grab new clothes and leaving again often returning at 4 am or not all. The nights you spent alone, his side of the bed going cold broke your heart bit by bit. But you weren't ready for it to completely shatter, the images Penelope sent you of him holding that girl, a little too close, a little too tight, a little too much, start to fill your screen causing a lump in your throat and tears threatening to spill. You walked to the kitchen, surprised to see him there, he was sat at the counter head in his hands and a coffee in front of him.
"Spencer, what fuck is going on?" You all but shouted.
"Shh, my heads killing me." He said, burying his head in his hands attempting to block you out.
"You fucking asshole." You screamed at him, the pain and hurt evident in your broken voice as you tried your best not to cry.
This made him look up, far quicker than he should've causing his head to fill with pain and throb, but he didn't care, the memories of last night were coming back he knew he had fucked up. "I-I'm sorry, I was drunk and she was just there, nothing happened.
"You're sorry? Are you fucking kidding me?" You said, moving away from him as he got up to come closer to you. "No, don't fucking touch me. I'm done."
"What? No look I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I love you." The words were said, but the tone held so much uncertainty you couldn't tell if he was trying to convince you or himself.
"No you don't Spencer, not anymore. I know you don't and I've been lying to myself, saying that I'm ok with it when I'm not. I love you so much but I can't keep hurting myself by pretending like we're fine, We're not fine, we haven't been for a long time. Yes that fucking hurts, I thought we were forever, I thought we were going to grow old together and have kids and show them that we were soulmates. I thought we were perfect but we aren't."
"I never wanted to hurt you, I love you so much but-" He started with a sigh.
"You're not in love with me anymore..." You finished for him
"I'm so sorry. I wish things were different, I wish I could control how I felt. You were everything to me, I really did picture a future for us but things changed, I don't know why and I don't know how. You don't deserve this, I'm so sorry."
"I know Spence, I know." You moved closer to him and he held you like it was the last time... because it was. "I'm sorry too."
You pulled away from him."I'll grab some stuff and go stay at my mom's for a few days. I just need to find a new place to move my stuff to." You said, trying to brush some tears away but failing as they kept falling.
"No, it's fine. I'll go, this is just as much your home as it is mine. I'll stay with Derek for a bit, you take your time sorting stuff out ok?" He said, using his thumbs to attempt to wipe away your tears. You sighed but nodded knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer.
You sat down as he went to the room to gather some things, your mind reeling from the last half hour. How could so much change in such a short period of time, years spent together thrown away so quick.
"I'm done, I'll get going ok?" He said placing his duffel bag down beside by the door.
"So this is it huh?" You said, with a sigh. You felt him walk towards you and take a seat next to you.
"The last 10 years have been the most incredible time of my life, you put up with so much of my shit and loved me unconditionally and I can't thank you enough for giving the eager 25-year-old who wanted nothing more than to impress you a chance. I'm never going to stop loving you, you know that. I'm never gonna forget about you, my first love, the first woman to capture my heart. I'm so sorry things didn't work out like how we'd imagined them. If I could change how I feel I would, I wanted nothing more than for this to be a silly phase, for me to wake up one day and feel how I felt again. But it didn't happen and it fucking sucks."
"I get it, Spence, you have to do what makes you happy and I'm not gonna stop you. I'm just sorry it wasn't me that could give you want and need, but you're gonna make some girl out there very happy if you're even half the man you were when you were with me." You gave him a soft smile as he stroked your hair and kissed your forehead.
He stood up and walked to the door. "Call me when you're ready ok? I love you." He turned and gave you a soft smile before picking up his bag and walking out the door.
You just broke down, you don't know how long you sat there sobbing your heart out but it felt like forever. Everything hurt so bad you didn't think you'd ever feel any emotion other than heartbreak for as long as you lived.
You took a deep breath as your hand hovered over the delete button on your phone, it was time to move on just as he had. As you released the breath you were holding, your finger pressed against the button, deleting all the pictures you had with him and you felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and the realisation sunk in.
You loved him so much, but he wasn't yours to love anymore.
He was just a memory.
-
tagged: @gcblers @187-reid @mgg-theprettiestboy @mggbler @snitchthewitch
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#spencer fluff#my works!
373 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you please write one where Benji and madders aren’t the same after he left Leicester and with madders doing nothing after the crowd boos Ben during the game last night, Ben is just beyond pissed...something along the lines of, “asshole gets the FA Cup and a baby, that’s supposed to be me”
okay, sorry but i still believe they’re close friends. and it was kinda painful for me to write about them being enemies sooo here we go with a happy ending. sorry if it’s not what you wanted x
* * *
“Get out of my way,” Ben said roughly, nudging James lightly on the shoulder.
“What happened?” he made an innocent face as he looked at you.
Ben came up to you, burying his nose in your hair, and you just stroked his head, whispering something to him. His hands were clutching you around the waist, trying to distance himself from everything that was happening in the Wembley tunnel. “He didn’t even say anything to me in support when that crowd of Leicester fans was booing me,” Ben muttered resentfully. “He was just standing and smiling. And I used to call him my best mate, for fuck’s sake.”
“Benji, darling, calm down,” you stroked his cheek as he looked at you, frowning. “You know that this is just euphoria. They won the tournament.”
“Do I care?” Ben took your hand and led you around the corner. “We were best friends. He could do at least something!” in his eyes you noticed pain and disappointment, and not only because of the painful defeat.
“Shhh, baby, come here,” you put his head on your shoulder again to run your fingers through his wet hair. It always helped to calm him down. “Perhaps you need to talk.”
“If it were the other way around, I’d support him or ask our fans to stop booing him,” Ben kept overthinking, pressing you against the wall tighter and tighter, to forget where you were and completely relax. “This idiot gets both the trophy and the baby. But damn, that’s not fair,” you smiled because your boyfriend sounded more like a little boy. “It should’ve been me!”
“And you will,” you stroked his hair without stopping as if combing it with your fingers. “The booing from Leicester fans will be ridiculous when you lift the Champions League trophy, and I,” you smiled tiredly, “and we will be beyond proud of you. More than anyone else,” taking Ben’s palms in yours, you slid down from your neck to your tummy and ran your thumb over his palm.
“We haven’t won the Champions League yet, why are you so confi... Wait, what?” A smile lit up his face and he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you serious? Oh my God,” he leaned towards you, gently kissing you, still not removing his hands from your flat belly.
“Hey, bro,” you turned to a familiar voice. Yes, after Ben moved to Chelsea, something happened between best mates. Everyone noticed it. But neither you nor James’ girlfriend gave up. You both told them a thousand times that they just need to have a heart-to-heart, figure out what was going on.
“You again,” Ben snapped, turning back to you, returning his thoughts to your baby.
Maddison scratched the back of his head awkwardly, about to leave, but someone pushed him in front. “Go on, I told you! You were best friends, Madders!” you heard a familiar stubborn voice.
“Come on, Ben,” you nodded, “you really were best friends, stop acting like children, so go and talk finally,” you pushed him to James as well and waved your hand to Kennedy. When the former best friends stepped aside, she came up to you and you both giggled softly.
“Have you already told him?” she looked at your little belly.
“Yep, but I didn’t plan on doing it today,” you both were looking at Ben and James, who were awkwardly trying to discuss something. Your conversation was much more lively and active than theirs, but soon they came up to you, smiling and hugging each other by the shoulders. “I always knew that men’s serious conversations end much faster than women’s,” you giggled.
“Have you made peace?” as if the mother of the stubborn son asked the girl and fixed James’ messy hair.
“Yeah, but I had to apologise,” muttered Maddison.
“Same to be honest,” Ben buried his nose in your neck again, placing his hands on your tummy.
Leaving home, you watched with a smile on your face the old forgotten handshake, which they said goodbye always when they were close friends. Their short hug and Ben has already dropped his hands on your waist, catching up with you near the Wembley exit. “It’s not so painful to think about defeat now,” Ben sighed, even though you knew he said it so as not to upset you. He always did that.
“Because you and James made peace?” You brushed his wet hair off his face with a smile.
“Oh, well, because of this too, but it’s not the main reason,” he squatted down in front of you, leaving a thousand kisses on your still flat tummy. “That’s my biggest reason for smiling, you dummy.”
“Stop it, everyone’s looking at us,” you grabbed his wrist, making him get up and go on to the car. “You can continue it at home though,” you giggled and Ben rolled his eyes as he pressed his lips to your cheek, making you blush slightly.
tags: @brewsterbabyy @donkeykai @alexajanecollins @cam-blog98 @benchillys @footballerimaginess
#ben chilwell#ben chilwell imagine#ben chilwell imagines#ben chilwell blurb#james maddison#james maddison imagine#james maddison imagines#james maddison blurb
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
Trustworthy (Chapter One)
Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating... and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.
Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slowburn)
Warnings: Character death, many naughty words, and soooo much angst
A/N: It would seem that my newfound Pedro Pascal obsession isn’t going to let up any time soon, so I decided to just dive headfirst into some Frankie-heavy Triple Frontier fic. It doesn’t help that @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo planted a seed (quite a while ago) by asking for a story where reader breaks down on that fateful mission only to be comforted by our favorite Fish. I um... may have taken that a little far and now there’s this whole multi-chapter thing happening...
Here’s the thing… you’ve been in shit before. You’ve been shot at, even took a bullet yourself not too long ago. You’ve seen people die – some bad, some good, some deserving, some not. You held your own partner in your arms, desperately trying to stanch the flow of blood from his shorn neck before finally letting him go after he expelled one final, wet breath. You’ve killed people – a sicario outside of Bogota, two – possibly three – gang members in a shootout in Albuquerque, some dumb kid who’d been given a little bit of cash to stand guard outside a lab in Juarez.
You’ve seen tragedy, felt it, lived it, dreamed about it on an endless loop, even in your waking hours. You’ve caused it – or so you’d been told by the weeping mother of the boy in Mexico. You’ve denied it, denied that what had happened was actually tragic at all. Denied it to survive.
But you can’t deny what you’re in right now, the tragedy of having a plan go to shit in too many ways to count. The tragedy of nearly succumbing to your absolute worst fear in the world and going down in a sputtering damn helicopter. The tragedy of more lives being taken, even those of fucking Lorea and his men causing a reluctant burn at the back of your throat. Because you can’t stop seeing his children arriving home to find their worst nightmare laid out in blood and smoke, flames licking round all they’ve ever known and loved.
Children. Tom has children too. Had. Tom, who’s now being carried down the side of a mountain in a makeshift body bag, haphazardly descending with his men by his side… just ahead of you, just in your line of sight. Still leading the way, even in death.
Maybe that’s why this feels so different. This particular tragedy. Because you’re still in it. You can’t walk away and deny, shower the telling grime from your skin, bury the reality of death and failure and fear beneath a six pack of beer and a shitty TV dinner alone in your dark apartment.
And, oh, your apartment… or any apartment really, as you’re not exactly likely to return to your post in Colombia after all this. To go anywhere right now with heat and running water… and a bed. Your mind reels just thinking about it.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s just because you haven’t slept in days… many days. Haven’t eaten much either, each and every MRE and stale protein bar sitting heavy in your throat, choking, suffocating, blocking your breaths and words alike.
“You gotta eat,” Frankie had said to you just this morning, whispered in your ear as you carefully picked your way over and around the sharp, loose rocks in your path. “We gotta keep moving,” he muttered, the deep hum of his voice sounding less like the balm you’d come to know and more like just another resonance caught up in the icy, bitter wind. He had pressed a bar to your palm, his hand warm despite the surrounding cold, and a forced lightness filled his tone as he declared, “Need your strength or we won’t make it to the coast.”
You hadn’t even looked up to meet his gaze, instead continuing forward, glare directed down at the treacherous ground beneath your feet. “I don't really see that happening anyway,” you said as you shoved the bar deep into your pocket.
His stride halted then, leaving him standing tall and motionless as you swept idly past. But his pause was enough to make you falter, to make you turn and glance back up at him. You hadn’t even realized what you said – not really, not fully – until you took in the look on his face. That was enough – the sadness, the grief, the guilt that clouded his eyes and pinched his lips – to make you retrieve the bar from your pocket and choke down the whole damn thing in two monstrous bites.
Maybe it’s that. That look Frankie had given you just as the sun began to rise. The same look that sits on the faces of the other men even now, hangs heavily on them as they soldier on, carrying not only the load of money, but the body of their friend.
Maybe it’s being here with them as they move with purpose and the kind of fluidity that comes from too many years of practice. Practice at navigating dangerous situations. Practice at steering away from the fear and pain, sorrow and guilt that stare them right in the face, all to ensure they might survive the day.
Maybe it’s watching them move through that horrid fog that – you know – anyone else would so easily get lost in. All while reluctantly admitting, if only to yourself, that it’s the same fog you’ve been unable to effectively cut through for days.
Maybe that’s what has you feeling like you’re walking a tightrope balanced precariously between an understandable sort of disappointment and dread… and a overwhelming, blinding despair. Maybe this feels different because it isn’t just yourself you’d need escape to gain distance from this tragedy. It’s all of them as well. And you can’t very well escape the very men you need to help you through.
They climb the mountainside, traversing rocks and heaps of remaining snow that never fail to send you slipping and careening. They catch you as you slide, helping you along as they hoist bag after bag – your own contribution of carrying just your pack and one duffel seeming paltry in comparison – up and then down the stony inclines. They hand you off with care, always keeping you close, making sure that if one of them moves ahead, another is still left by your side. They carry you almost as much as they carry the money. As much as they carry Tom.
Tom. You’d only known him a handful of days… weeks? How long ago was it that you followed Santiago back to the States to meet his reinforcements? At this point, you no longer have a clue when this whole fucking mess began. A lifetime ago at least. It seems as though you’ve known these men for an entire lifetime on top of that.
Tom. Well, he’s arguably the one you got to know least. And not just because he’s been dead for… however long it’s been now. No. He was just… quiet. Reserved. Distrustful, truth be told. But, hell, you could hardly blame him for that. After all, he was considered the leader of these men. The one tasked – above all others – with getting them in and out safely. The one who would wear the most blood on his hands should any of them fall.
And from the loyalty the others showed – and the stories they shared in both forced low tones and laughter-pocked croons – you could tell that he was a good leader. A trusted leader. A loved leader. And nothing he did on this mission was ever going to change that in the eyes of anyone here.
No, you hadn’t gotten to know him well. But damn if it didn’t still hurt to see him go. To peer over Ben’s shoulder – bent and broken and wracked with sobs – and into Tom’s empty, lifeless eyes all those days ago. So damn many days ago. To watch the brothers fight over the top of his body, sidestepping his corpse to throttle each other and throw blame to lessen the grief. To sit with Benny for the hour or so after – after helping him wrap up his friend with care – as his uncharacteristic silence slinked about you both in a smothering cloud of despair.
Ben, who had been the most jovial and talkative and… bright of all. He had quite literally welcomed you into the fold with open arms, a bit drunk and a bit concussed from a fight he insisted he won just hours before meeting you. He refused your handshake when Garcia introduced you, leaning in to envelope you in a tight hug instead, and then demanding to buy you a drink, despite the fact that you’d been nursing one while waiting for them to arrive. “Pretty lady like you shouldn’t ever have to shell out her own money for a drink,” he’d said with a grin and a wink.
You might’ve rolled your eyes, might’ve told him, pass amid a chiding glare. But before you could say a word, his brother smacked him upside the head, giving a disappointed eyeroll that would’ve outdone yours tenfold, and held out a hand to shake, a deep-tenor, “Don’t mind him, and nice to meet you,” putting you immediately at ease and making it utterly clear who the Miller brothers were. Will was the politic adult, professional and well-mannered. And Benny was simply a ball full of harmless fun.
Until now, that is. Now – you can see even as his slumped body fades away into the tree line below – Ben has become little more than sorrow and sinew.
A crunching tumble of pebbles sounds suddenly in your periphery, tearing you from your spiraling thoughts. You look up to see Santiago looming to your right, effectively blocking the sliver of sunlight that remains peeking through the dusk-hued sky. “You okay, bonita?” he asks, the tone of his voice and wrinkle to his brow as he looks down at you serving to snap you back to the here and now. Here. Now. Shivering in the cold as the four of you settle in on the side of some damn mountain, having just bid farewell to yet another member of your party.
Your gaze falls from his face almost as quickly as it had jerked up to meet it just a breath of a moment ago. You shake your head and let out a sigh. “I should’ve gone with him,” you utter simply. “I thought you’d been joking about how bad his Spanish was, but…”
He snorts out a laugh, and the corner of your mouth raises in a slight, crooked smile. “Yeah, well,” he starts, dropping down to take a seat on the hard earth beside you. “With how well you’ve been hiking through these hills, he’d probably have ended up carrying you like a backpack.” He gives you a shit-eating grin, teasing brow raised high. “We’re hoping to get out of here sometime this decade. Don’t need your ass slowing us down any more.”
“Asshole,” you mutter, the taunting cadence just barely cutting through the deep rumble of his laugh.
His hand falls to your knee, palm sliding side to side in a comforting stroke before he tightens his fingers over your patella and gives you a bit of a shake. “I’m only kidding,” he states, as though you didn’t already know. “You’ve been doing great. Really.”
You issue out a quick snort, a thick, incredulous breath kicking a puff of steam up into the frigid air.
“I mean it,” he tells you, turning a serious glance your way. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”
“It’s not what any of us signed up for,” you interrupt pointedly.
“Yeah. But… DEA doesn’t exactly train people the same as us,” he intones, giving a nod towards the other men. “I know you’ve never been… exposed to this kind of shit.”
You wrinkle your nose and squint as you turn to look up at the mountain you’d just somehow managed to traverse. “Yeah. This has been some shit.”
He lets out another small laugh – short and fleeting – before pulling his hand from your knee and settling into the silence surrounding you. Ahead, Frankie and Will build up a rock barrier around Tom’s body, a protective cocoon for the night lest any animals come by. You’d all noticed – especially today as the sun came out in the afternoon and beat heavily down on your backs – that he’d begun to rot. To smell. And as much as everyone wanted to still hold him close, no one really wanted his steadily decaying body stinking at their sides as they attempted to sleep tonight.
Once they’re done with their makeshift mausoleum, the two men move across the way and begin digging through their packs for food. “Frankie mentioned that you hadn’t been eating,” Santi mutters from your right as both of your eyes remain trained on the men working before you.
You shrug. “I’ve eaten as much as anyone else.”
A tiny chuckle ripples through him, drawing a confused glare from you. And his smile only widens when he sees the uncertainty painted across your face. “He likes you, bonita,” he singsongs, giving your shoulder a little shove. Then, grin swiftly fading away to nothing, he rather distractedly declares, “He’s worried about you.”
Your brow furrows a bit, stare honing in on the broad-shouldered man now falling into shadow. The man you’d only just begun to know and yet somehow felt eerily connected to. Another sigh escapes your lips, shoulders slumping as you avert your eyes, looking instead to the dark tree line far below. “I’m worried about all of us.”
“Yeah,” he breathes out with a solemn nod. “Yeah. Me too.”
It hits you then… as you feel Santi slouch heavily beside you, a heady silence permeating the miniscule space between you. And as you turn back in time to see Will grimace and clutch his side, giving into the pain of a days-old gunshot wound for just a breath of a moment, all that he’ll allow himself to take. And as you watch Frankie remove his hat and wipe the sweat from his brow – despite the temperature already plummeting around you thanks to the nearly set sun – all while he stares solemnly over at the rotting, rock-covered corpse of one of his oldest friends.
You know why this feels different from any other tragedy you’d suffered in the past, any other bad op or mission gone wrong you’d ever endured. It feels different because this… this is all your fault.
#frankie morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales x reader#santiago pope garcia#triple frontier#francisco catfish morales#frankie morales x you#will miller#benny miller
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Mayor’s Sweet Treat Chapter 1
Description: Small town AU where mayor Remus knew everyone, until a cute baker opened shop in his town. Patton is struggling to keep open the small bakery while his mother is gone. Then the rambunctious and rowdy Remus appears and vows to save him.
Ships: Intruality
TW: Swearing, stress, crying, slight burn, implied past bad relationship, food (obviously), sexual references (it’s Remus)
Taglist (ask if you want to be added): @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper
The old green truck rumbled down the road. Remus rubbed his stubble and tried to neaten his hair out but it didn’t do much.
How did I miss the opening of a new shop? What’s wrong with me?
-A few minutes earlier-
“Uhg this meeting sucks.” Remus groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Why do we have to do them every Monday morning?” His coffee wasn’t enough. He contemplated where he could get something stronger.
“Be my assistant Virgil. I need you Virgil.” He mocked his employers past words.
“Remus, you’re the mayor.” Virgil reminded him. “I know you have trouble paying attention but you need to listen. For your citizens.” The assistant looked over his notes as his employer whined.
“I already know what everyone thinks.” Remus defended. “Mrs Patty needs more wheelchair access, the berry farms proposed an idea to work with the high school to get more workers and Janus was caught spray painting again. It’s not hard to keep track when there are only like 100 people.” Virgil smiled smugly and looked up from his notes.
“So you know about the bakery reporting losses?” Virgil asked. Remus sat up and looked at him dumbly.
“We have a bakery?” Remus was dumbfounded.
“It’s new. Opened 5 months ago.” Virgil informed as he threw some papers on the desk. “The owner asked if there was any assistance we could provide the- Remus?” Remus was already jingling his keys.
“I’ll be back soon.” Remus said as he left. Virgil sighed.
Remus thought as he drove. He looked at the store fronts trying to find what had changed. They all looked the same. General store, Salamander Silk clothes store, café he’d just gotten another coffee from, Sammy’s restaurant, the closed down florist- wait. The widows weren’t blocked anymore. Remus pulled up in front of the building and got out of his truck. He didn’t bother locking it, there was only one criminal in the town and it was his best friend. There were no new signs on the building, but the old signs were gone. The windows were uncovered but the door was closed.
Remus wasn’t sure where the bakery was exactly but there was only one street of shops so it wouldn’t be hard to find.
Maybe the Ahujas opened a bakery? I’ve always loved Nisa’s kaju katli.
“It couldn’t be here…” Remus said to no one. He trampled up to the door to check if it was unlocked, it was. He swung it open and was greeted with a sweet scent and bright colours. The walls had new light blue wallpaper and the old stone floor had a cute pink rug trying to cover the large crack. “Are you open?!” Remus shouted past the displays of baked goods.
There was a crash.
Patton worked lazily on the cake in front of him. He tried not to let his tears get in the lovely icing he’d just finished flattening.
No one is coming anyway. Why bother?
He usually could control these thoughts but this morning he was tired and stressed. He hadn’t had a single customer for a month, he was reaching the last of his back-up funds. Patton dropped the icing spatula and pushed away from the cake for a break, the rolling stool he was on slid to the wall.
It was a mistake. No one wants you here. I should’ve stayed wit-
A ding cut through the room. Patton realised he was now full on crying. His cheeks were warmer than the bread he’d made this morning. He stood shakily and walked to the oven, he couldn’t let them just sit there. He put on his green oven mitts and opened the industrial ovens. The muffins sat there, plump and cute. He slowly reached up to get the heavy pan out. Benefit of a large pan is being able to make two dozen at a time, the downside was carrying two dozen dense muffins at once. He’d built up a little muscle these past few weeks hauling the flour himself but it didn’t help much.
“Oh fuck uh…” The tall figure said, Patton hadn’t quite looked up to see them properly yet. Remus frantically looked around for something to help the man clutching his arm. A sink. Remus grabbed the small man’s good arm and dragged him to the large sink. The tall person pulled Patton to the sink and turned on the water for him. He let go of his arm and shakily took off his oven mitt and put his arm under the stream of water.
“Are you open?!” A voice shouted through the small building. Patton turned in shock, accidentally hitting both the pan and part of his arm against the oven door. He dropped the pan and clutched his arm.
“Ah!” He let out a small noise. There were heavy footsteps and a tall man appeared next to him. Patton felt his tears rise back up. Not from pain, he was used to burns, but he was overwhelmed.
“Can you get that pan I dropped?” The smaller man muttered quietly. Remus looked across the room to see a pan of what looked like muffins in front of the oven. Thankfully it had landed without sending any muffins flying. He walked over and picked up the still hot pan. Patton turned to warn the tall person the pan was hot but was met with Remus holding the metal easily. The tall man was wearing a green flannel over a black shirt and some ratty black jeans, a stark contrast to Patton’s light blue t-shirt and pink apron and pants. The man had stubble that thickened along his upper lip and long brown hair pulled back into a messy bun. Remus placed the tray down and looked at Patton, his cheeks were red and he could see tears clouding his eyes. He noticed how much Patton was shaking.
“Are you okay?” Remus asked, concerned. Patton turned away and focused on his arm.
“Yeah, you get used to burns.” Patton said weakly. He knew that wasn’t what Remus asked but hoped he’d get away with that answer. Remus knew what he was doing but decided not to press the man he’d just met. Patton took his arm out of the cold water and turned to Remus. “So who are you? A prince in shining cowboy boots?” Patton laughed weakly at the black square toe boots.
“Oh right.” Remus suddenly remembered why he was here. “I’m Remus.” He reached out a hand for a handshake. Patton took one look at the dirty hand then looked back up at Remus.
“I’m Patton.” He introduced himself happily. Remus realised his hands were dirty and pulled back. Patton giggled. Something about that giggle made Remus smile. “So Remus what do you do other than scaring innocent bakers?” Patton joked as he walked to his muffins.
“I scare innocent baristas.” Remus retorted, Patton laughed and wiped his face. “But if you mean work, I’m the mayor.” Patton looked up in a mix of doubt and surprise. “I’m surprised you didn’t know that. Actually I’m more surprised I don’t know you. Did you go to Mindville Public?” Remus referenced the public high school which was the only one in town.
“Oh no. I just moved here actually.” Patton answered. He began removing the muffins one by one. “Came here to start the bakery with my mother, but she had to go back to the city for some stuff so it’s just been me for a few months.” That made sense to Remus. It was unlikely that just one person ran this place. But he still wasn’t sure how he hadn’t heard of the bakery opening.
“I would’ve visited earlier but I didn’t know you were… well… existed.” Remus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Patton sighed.
“Yeah, it seems no one does.” Patton said dejectedly as he took out the final muffin. He picked up the now cool tray and moved past Remus to put it in the sink. Remus caught a sad look in his eyes as he passed, a look that even though they’d just met he could tell was not usual. Remus walked over and put a hand on Patton’s shoulder.
“Hey, you're one of my citizens now.” Remus stated and turned Patton to face him. Patton saw a sparkle of determination in Remus’ eyes. “I’d do anything to help my citizens.” They lingered close to each other. Patton began to tear up, then quickly wrapped Remus in a hug. Remus raised his arms as the small man squeezed his ribs, Remus looked down at Patton. He realised how tired he looked, he blushed as he buried his face into Remus. Patton pulled away and wiped his eyes.
“Sorry… it’s been hard these past few days and... “ Patton looked up at Remus, eyes catching each other. “Thank you.” Patton looked tired, sad and weak. Remus felt a sense of protectiveness rise in his chest. Everyone in town was rowdy and strong, that’s what happens when you’re raised in the country, but Patton was different.
“Remus!” A voice shouted from outside the building. The men looked out the windows to see a tall lanky man with dark hair falling over his face.
“Who’s that?” Patton starred as Remus began walking out of the kitchens. Remus sighed.
“My assistant. I have to go.” Remus said, then he stopped and turned to Patton. “How much are those muffins.” Patton beamed. He picked up one of the still warm muffins and threw it to Remus.
“They’re carrot cake and walnut.” Patton laughed. “Just stop by tomorrow and tell me what you think of them.” Remus nodded. He pulled out a card and a five dollar bill then put both on the counter.
“I’ll call you.” Remus winked. Patton felt his chest tighten, but in a good way. He waved as Remus walked out to Virgil.
“You can’t just drop out of meetings like that!” Virgil scolded as Remus walked out. Virgil saw an all too familiar crooked smirk on Remus’ face. “Oh no. No no no. What are you planning?” Remus took a bite out of the muffin, the aromatic flavours tingled against his tongue.
“I’m gonna save the bakery.” He said.
“Okay that actually seems reaso-”
“Then get the cute baker to grab my cake.”
“-there it is.”
#sanders sides fic#sanders sides au#sanders sides small town au#intruality#ts remus#remus sanders#ts patton#patton sanders#ts virgil#virgil sanders#sanders sides#thomas sanders#sanders sides fanfiction#platonic intruxiety#ts janus#janus sanders#roman took over
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
maisie peter sentence starters ; part four
this is part four in a series of sentence starters i’ve posted of maisie peters lyrics. all of these are from her debut album “you signed up for this” (this is the first half of the album, part 5 will have the rest)
you signed up for this
❝ i'm sorry to make it about myself again but you signed up for this ❞
❝ if you want my heart, it is an open invitation ❞
❝ please don’t give up on me yet ❞
❝ i know i’ll get better, i’m just not better yet ❞
❝ can you tell i’m trying ? ❞
❝ scared of everything, but i’m making it punk ❞
❝ i only drink to get drunk ❞
❝ don’t go out much, cause there’s too many bugs ❞
❝ i’m way too obsessed with death to do any drugs ❞
❝ do you think i’ll grow any more ? ❞
i’m trying ( not friends )
❝ i been trying to make a big step forward, saw you, it was awkward ❞
❝ i was so in love, and that don’t come off in the wash ❞
❝ you’re seeing someone pretty and i hate her guts ❞
❝ it didn’t work out like i thought it would ❞
❝ i resent you just a little if i’m honest ❞
❝ one of us has gotta try to keep a promise ❞
❝ you swore you would do better this time ❞
❝ i might be bitter and twisted and broken and petty and lying but at least i’m trying ❞
❝ i want a sorry but i’ll settle for a handshake ❞
❝ i’m the baby but i’m gonna be the bigger man ❞
❝ so many blank slates i could built a whole fucking house ❞
❝ not friends, no, we’re somewhere in between ❞
❝ you’re awful and i miss you ❞
❝ i killed you in my dream last night ❞
❝ it’s a low when even in my dreams you don’t want me there ❞
❝ some people think i’m funny, don’t look so surprised ❞
❝ i asked you on the train why you hurt me and you couldn’t really actually explain ❞
❝ i cried then i told you it was cool ❞
❝ god, you haven’t changed at all ❞
❝ you might be awful like all of the time, it’s almost inspiring ❞
john hughes movie
❝ this wasn’t how it’s supposed to go ❞
❝ i should be the one you’re dancing with ❞
❝ you were meant to follow me ❞
❝ it's not like i’ve been crying ❞
❝ this ain’t no john hughes movie where the girl gets the guy ❞
❝ you look right through me every time you walk by ❞
❝ i keep waiting for the heartbreak music that’s never gonna come ❞
❝ if you don’t want me, you’re not the one ❞
❝ knew i should’ve worn my adidas ❞
❝ maybe if i’d reined it in, you wouldn’t wanna kiss somebody else ❞
❝ you don’t owe me anything, so i’m just gonna walk home by myself ❞
❝ all of our stupid friends know that i’m here for you ❞
❝ guess i misunderstood, thought you liked me too ❞
outdoor pool
❝ she could tell i was so obsessed with you ❞
❝ you’re asking if i wanna come out ❞
❝ we went swimming in an outdoor pool ❞
❝ you wouldn’t tell a soul at school ❞
❝ i don’t swim and you’re not in love ❞
❝ i just want you, so that’s cool ❞
❝ you only kissed me after midnight ❞
❝ is she gonna be your girlfriend ? ❞
❝ it’s the worst day of my life, but it’s all good ❞
❝ tell me where i went wrong ❞
❝ i’m crying and it’s ruining my makeup ❞
❝ thought it was gonna be us ❞
❝ you only kissed me once ❞
❝ nothing changed at all when you kissed me ❞
love him i don’t
❝ i could see a bloodbath coming ❞
❝ should’ve known better, but i dug my heels in ❞
❝ guess that was my stubborn season ❞
❝ baby, it’s sad, you’re bad in the bones, so i just went home ❞
❝ what a long winter ❞
❝ what a bad joke ❞
❝ everyone else can have him, but i won’t ❞
❝ i’m finished cause i’ve learnt loving him hurts ❞
❝ don’t text me ❞
❝ loving you hurts ❞
❝ i loved you first ❞
❝ it didn’t work out ❞
❝ i wanted it to work ❞
❝ loved you, i swear ❞
❝ loving you’s not fair ❞
psycho
❝ you kept me as your favourite secret ❞
❝ i thought we just took it slow ❞
❝ it’s funny how everyone but me knows ❞
❝ i feel like you feel nothing ❞
❝ please leave this behind ❞
❝ you’re losing your mind ❞
❝ miss me? that’s a lie ❞
❝ now that i’m over that hill, you wanna say how you feel ❞
❝ you wanna talk? not ideal ❞
❝ you’ve got a girl, but you still call me psycho ❞
❝ put blame on anyone but you ❞
❝ you made me feel so useful, then used ❞
❝ you don’t want me at all ❞
❝ you don’t want me at all, but you don’t want me to fall for anyone ❞
❝ you don’t want me to fall for anyone, but you’ll go with anyone ❞
❝ all your exes found me and so beware ❞
boy
❝ i heard you had a lot of therapy ❞
❝ in love is something that you’ll never be ❞
❝ it got progressively harder to miss you ❞
❝ you should take this personally ❞
❝ you’re a serial cheater ❞
❝ when i told you you were funny, i lied ❞
❝ you’re a love ‘em and leave ‘em with a terrible reason ❞
❝ you think i’m dumb ❞
❝ you had a couple of exes and they let you get away with it ❞
❝ i can tell that you’ve never been hugged ❞
❝ i can do better than this ❞
❝ you said i’d meet your friends eventually ❞
❝ if i was the last girl on earth, you’d still be weighing up your options ❞
❝ you claim your dreams are always lucid but you’re just high and can’t tell the difference ❞
❝ she tries to get closer so you go and ghost her ❞
❝ you’re obsessed with your father, red flag and a half ❞
❝ i nearly buried the hatchet, then i remembered how you messed with my head ❞
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.
insp for the song she plays at the end.
BEFORE.
luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.
she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.
she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘ my sat scores were no where near the average, ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.
‘ god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge. ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.
she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.
PRESENT-ISH.
luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.
SUMMER.
she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.
INTERLUDE
she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.
i miss you.
missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼
ft? x
she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.
***
‘ i don't know how to miss you in the right way, ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘ it hurts. ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.
SOMETIME, SOME DAY.
she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘ you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough. ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.
she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.
#mb i will fill in the summer section one day but :3 Bt jst had 2 get this para out here twas growing mold :sob:#dunno if anybodys home bt jst want to reiterate what a pleasure its been 2 write w u all n tysm :')
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Winter Break in Kansas [80s AU] 1/2
Bruce bade goodbye to Tommy and Harvey without telling them anything of his own plans for the holiday break.
(....both of them looked gaunt. Holidays hadn’t even begun. They didn’t muster much enthusiasm for the goodbye, and Bruce didn’t make them.)
He didn’t put on the hat or scarf until they were a good distance out of the building, where the other two wouldn’t see, and bundled himself up unrecognizably as best he could.
Nodded.
“Let’s go.”
--
Clark slung his backpack over his shoulder and started down the stairs where they could get a cab to the bus stop.
“Have you ever been to Kansas before?”
--
Bruce shook his head.
“No,” he said, tugging out a few dollars from his pocket and shoving them towards Clark.
He’d pay.
--
Clark took them without argument after seeing how that worked during Halloween.
Into the cab they went.
“Don’t blame you. Nothin’ there.” He joked, and away they went.
A cab to the bus station.
Then the bus to Kansas.
It would be a day’s ride.
--
Bruce had packed books.
...they had agreed, even if silently and grudgingly, that they would just have to give up on their research for the duration of the break.
...on the up side, they would finally have a little time to read what they wanted to, at least.
He tugged out two crime thrillers, passing one to Clark, along with one of the lunches-to-go he’d bought at the cafeteria for the trip.
For the first hour or so, he sat up primly, despite his disguise.
And then, as the bus ride kept going…
He tugged his legs up under himself and curled up in the seat with his book, letting himself lean a little into Clark’s shoulder when the seat was cramped, finally looking content.
--
Clark let him lean into him as much as he wanted, especially considering the crampedness of the seats.
He read a little and ate some of their packed lunch, and then for a lot of the ride he dozed. Riding in a bus or car had that constant hum that drowned a lot out that was easy to focus on and sleep to. It was better than the erratic noise of the city, that was for sure.
As they went on, the bus taking occasional breaks at rest stops, the hills died down and things became increasingly flat.
And then, early the next morning, they pulled in to their stop.
“Here we are.” Clark mumbled, grabbing their bags from overhead and passing Bruce his as they climbed off.
--
...it was surreal.
Absolutely surreal.
For someone like Bruce who had grown up with always something blocking the horizon, the sheer flatness of the world around him left him feeling a little… disoriented.
Vulnerable, even.
But he kept the hat and scarf on, holding his bags and exhausted from the bumpy ride, and followed Clark closely as he climbed off the bus.
--
Clark barely had to even look around before he motioned for Bruce to follow, ducking around the other people climbing off the bus. He went right to an old station wagon with a man stood leaning on the hood, arms crossed to keep in the warmth and an old truckers cap on his head. When he saw them he stood and waved.
“Hey Pa.” Clark smiled, and hugged him as a woman with dirty blonde hair opened the door and stepped out of the passenger side.
“There’s my baby boy.” She cooed, already grabbing Clark and kissing his cheeks while he groaned and protested.
“You must be Bruce?” Jon said, extending a rough hand towards him. “You can call me Jon. Clark’s father.”
His face was sun scorned and wrinkled less from age and more from working outside every day of his life, his hair cut short and dark brown.
--
He had that feeling again. Like he was floating, somewhere else entirely, only partly aware of what was happening in front of him. Only sort-of involved.
It was a familiar one, even if school sometimes lessened it. Sometimes.
He was hoping it would leave if he left Gotham. But here it was. Right away. Watching Clark run to his mother or her run to him, and his dad, and hugging--
He took the father’s hand, shook it, and said, “Bruce Wayne,” in the voice that was bigger than he felt in his head.
--
“So Clark tells me. Quite the name back out East.” He said, giving Bruce a firm handshake.
When Martha was finished embarrassing her son she walked over to Bruce. “I'm Martha, now let's get you boys where it's warm.” She put an arm around Bruce and gestured for him to get into the back where Clark was already piling in.
--
Oh.
He felt dizzy. And tight. His jaw tightened the smile onto his face to keep it there, even as his heartbeat rocketed up, until it was pounding in his ears.
(Waking nightmare)
He stumbled forward over his own feet, but followed where the arm took him, same as he did when Alfred started trying to guide him away from paparazzi anytime they glimpsed him. Anytime they got an excuse.
He held his bag tight and piled in beside Clark, regretting every step that took him to this conclusion.
--
While his parents got back in Clark looked over at Bruce with concern. His heart was like a drum suddenly.
“You okay?” he whispered.
--
Bruce’s face had fallen into a brutal neutrality once the eyes weren’t on him anymore. Blank and stiff.
But he nodded faintly, lying.
--
“... Okay.” Clark said, not believing it at all, but not prying further.
“So is it just as cold out there as it is here?” His dad asked.
Typical banter.
--
Him. It was him. He was being talked to.
Talk.
“Haven’t been here long enough to say,” Bruce said, lost somewhere over the horizon with no buildings to stop him.
--
“It’s colder in Gotham.” Clark added as they started to move once everyone was buckled up.
“We’re pretty tired from the trip though. Is the guest room ready?”
“Oh yeah it’s all waiting for you. Will you two want breakfast or you gonna collapse into bed?” Martha asked.
--
“Bed,” Bruce managed, even though he knew he should’ve said more than that.
But in his head he was already at a family breakfast. Staring at them over a meal. Having to talk more before he could think or control his heart or breathe and actually feel it filling his lungs, not just faintly keeping him conscious by a thread.
--
“Yeah we’re beat.” Clark said, although he wasn’t very tired. This was mostly for Bruce’s sake.
“We’ll just get some rest and then we can have lunch and stuff, okay?”
“Okay, that sounds good. I still need to run out and grab a few things anyway.” Martha said, and with that the conversation would taper off and away from the boys.
Clark did pass a look over to Bruce though, just to check on him.
--
...gradually, Bruce’s heartbeat started to slow again as the conversation moved away, and he didn’t have to drag himself to pay attention to it. Didn’t live scared of the response he missed. He could just stare blankly forwards and hover for a while.
But that was it, too.
He just… hovered.
The usual awareness wasn’t in his eyes. And he knew it wasn’t there.
And the part of him that wasn’t in front, that wasn’t keeping them in society, breathing, not being kicked out of the car of the only people he knew for miles and miles--
That part of him was screaming. A sound not even Clark could hear.
Wake up. Pay attention. It’ll happen while you’re not paying attention. It’s going to go wrong. If you don’t pay attention everything will go wrong.
But he couldn’t drag himself to the front yet.
He couldn’t do it that fast.
--
They drive for awhile before turning into a tiny little town that was just starting to wake up, and then they even drove away from that and down long barren roads onto a long dirt driveway, the farmhouse soon coming into view.
“Home sweet home.” Jon said as he pulled up to a stop.
“We’re here, Bruce.” Clark said quietly, trying to get his attention so they could climb out of the car.
--
It helped. His name. Instruction.
He shuffled out of the car, pulling his backpack back on, and at the very least managed to glance at the small farmhouse and and and
(he counted exits)
Before following Clark inside, looking dazed.
Like he did definitely need the bed.
--
“I’ll show Bruce to his room, he’s pretty wiped.” Clark said, leading his friend up the steps and… maybe putting an arm around his shoulders to guide him a little better.
“It’s up the steps. C’mon.”
--
He made a small confirming sound at his name, and
Arm.
Followed the arm. Pressed into it.
(Tommy guided him like this, sometimes. Alfred did. Away from the worst of things. Back to the manor, or their room, or--)
He was lost in three places at once. The farmhouse here, and the manor, and the academy and coming out of the alleyway under a policeman’s coat.
But he could make it up the stairs, and be guided to the guest room, at the very least.
--
Clark got him up the steps, paused only for a moment to point at the bathroom. “Bathroom is here. And this is the guest room.”
He opened it up to reveal a very old, dated looking bed with an empty dresser and bedside table with a lamp. Floral comforter and frilled pillow cover.
“Sorry it’s… very grandma.” He huffed. “But, uh, you get comfortable. You want something to drink?”
--
Looked fine. Normal, even.
He shook his head.
“...how long?” he asked.
--
“... How long what?”
--
...fuck. The word. Didn’t she say lunch?
“Til lunch,” he said.
How long to recover.
--
“Oh, like, uh… you still got awhile. It’s only eight right now so four hours? Ish? And if you need to chill in here longer you can.” Clark said, looking at an old clock over the door.
--
Four hours sounded like both an eternity and no time at all.
Bruce set down his bag and nodded, not sure what to say.
Not sure how to ask to start.
Alone.
Rest.
Privacy.
Please.
--
“I'm gonna bring you something to drink and then you can sleep or whatever.” Clark said, turning away and heading downstairs.
He came back a moment later with a cup of warm tea.
“Here. Just yell if you need anything.”
And then he would leave Bruce to recover.
--
“Okay. Thanks,” he said, letting the hot tea sit.
...he held it in his hands.
….the heat helped.
He could smell it.
...once he was alone, he closed his eyes and sat on the floor, holding the cup between his hands and just… breathing it in deeply.
He took a drink. Followed the heat as it traveled down his throat.
….
It was sort of like Alfred’s tea.
Two places, now. Only lost in two. That was manageable.
A little more color came back to him. He finished the tea. The cup cooled and it didn’t help anymore. But he was a little better.
...he didn’t have the energy to do much, though.
So he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the unfamiliar bed, biting down on his hand as hard as he could, and once all he could think about was his hand, he closed his eyes on the pillow and let go.
And he would go to sleep.
And in four hours, he would be fine again.
--
In four hours or so, Clark would knock on his door.
“Bruce? You awake? We're gonna have some lunch now.”
--
There was a jump in heartrate as Bruce jerked awake, but he still understood well enough what had been said to him.
“Y-yeah-- just let me get to the bathroom.”
--
“Okay, just come down to the kitchen when you're ready.” Clark said, leaving him be. His footsteps could be heard going down the stairs.
--
...Bruce waited until the footsteps were down the stairs and a little fainter before crawling out of bed.
His clothing was wrinkled from sleeping in it.
He grabbed a new shirt and set of pants, and folded the two he’d been wearing on the bus. Grabbed his comb.
Bathroom.
He washed his face and combed his hair back, the way he always wore it, unless he ended up shoved under a John Deere hat. Made sure his shirt was flat and his clothing straight. Tied his shoes back on.
He hurried down the stairs.
This time, he was Braced for It.
--
Now that he was more aware of his surroundings he could take in the details.
Worn furniture. Warm. Lived in. Family pictures on the mantle over the TV that was playing The Price Is Right. Noises from the kitchen.
Clark and Martha were there, Clark over a bowl of soup and Martha watching the TV from her position in front of the stove.
“Well don't you look nice.” she grinned. “You hungry?”
--
Maybe ironically, Bruce wasn’t used to being complimented on his appearance.
Maybe because he grew up with Alfred, and he was wearing the bare minimum to please Alfred.
“Thanks,” he said, voice a little steadier than it had been that morning. “Yes, ma’am.”
--
“You like chicken corn soup?” She asked.
Clark was eating the same thing that was on the stove in a large pot; a homemade soup with bits of chicken, corn, and other things to make a hearty, white soup.
Without being asked Clark got up and started to get Bruce something to drink.
--
“I don’t think I’ve ever had it before,” he said honestly, watching Clark out of the corner of his eye.
--
“Well if you don't like it you don't have to eat it, okay?” Martha said, getting out a bowl and filling it with soup. She set it down in front of him with a spoon.
“We got tea, milk, or OJ.” Clark said, looking over at Bruce.
--
“Thank you,” he said again, sitting where she set it, and glanced back at Clark. “Tea?”
“...oh. I forgot the cup upstairs--”
--
“That's okay, just bring it down later.” Martha said.
“This is iced tea, but if you want more hot tea I can make that too.” Clark said, pulling out the jug to show Bruce.
--
Bruce blinked blankly at him, as if just confronted with something he had no idea about.
“Iced tea?”
--
The two looked at each other like Bruce was the alien.
Clark poured him a glass of iced tea and set it in front of him.
“Wondered why I didn't see it anywhere at school.”
--
Bruce looked down at the cup like it was a challenge.
“...”
He kept eye contact with Clark as he sipped it.
--
It didn't taste anything like hot tea. It was sweet with a tiny hint of lemon.
Clark stared him right back.
“... Well?”
--
…
Bruce stared down at it.
“...I think I felt one of Alfred’s ancestors disown me just now,” he said, and took another sip.
--
Clark laughed, “But do you like it?”
--
Bruce nodded.
“It’s good.”
It was a little like a flat soda, almost?
--
“Good.” Clark grinned and sat back down to finish eating. Martha looked to be scooping the soup that was left over into freezing containers and labeling them.
“You gonna give Bruce a tour of the farm when you're done?”
Clark looked over at him, “You want one?”
--
“Sure?” Bruce said, “Whatever the plan is.”
He had no idea if there even was a plan. He’d focused so hard on getting here he wasn’t really sure what to do otherwise.
Even Clark had admitted there wasn’t much to do besides bowling.
So his only plan right now was to run with manners and hope it got him somewhere.
He ate the soup and drank the tea, not finding it quite his taste, but eating and finishing it all the same.
--
Clark didn't really have a plan either. He had just heard his friend had what sounded like a really lonely holiday and invited him along.
So they finished their soup and set the dishes in the sink before bundling up to take the tour.
“You ever been on a farm?” He asked while walking down the front steps. The third one creaked.
--
He followed Clark’s lead. Ran upstairs to bring down the cup and wrap his own scarf (thick and dark) around his neck as they headed out.
“Gardens don’t count?” he asked rhetorically. “Then no.”
--
Clark chuckled, “No. Gardens don’t count.”
A man was pulled up in their driveway in a tractor with a plow hooked to the front talking to his dad, and Clark waved but didn’t go over. Instead he lead Bruce towards the barn.
“All the corn is down now since it’s winter, but we still got the cows I can show ya.”
--
Bruce nodded, following along behind him.
“Okay?”
He’d never seen a cow before.
...the sight and smell of them stopped him dead.
“...that’s huge.”
--
“How big did you think cows were, Bruce?” Clark laughed, closing the barn door behind them.
The cows were in their stalls for the winter, some laying down to sleep while others had their heads stuck through the bars to feed from their trough.
It did smell pretty bad, but Clark didn’t seem to mind. He walked over to one and pet between its eyes.
--
Bruce honestly didn’t know how the cows stood the smell.
...he followed up behind Clark, watching him pet the cow, though his curiosity was focused a bit more on the petter than the pet-ee.
--
“They’re nice once you know how to act around them.” Clark said, looking at Bruce. “Just, y’know, gotta be aware they can break your foot. Here-” He reached out to take the other boy’s hand and place it gently on the cow’s head where he had been petting it.
The fur was course almost. Rough. Not really soft but not really wiry either.
--
Bruce was honestly not even really thinking about petting the cows--
...but Clark’s hand was warm, and it startled him into complacency, hand being pulled out of his pocket like that and held, even just for a moment.
…
The fur was coarse. But she was warm. The cow. And even though the fur was coarse, the skin under it was soft as Clark’s hand on top of his.
… “Wow,” he said, knowing he had to say something.
--
“See? They’re nice.” Clark said, oblivious to what was going on in Bruce’s head right now.
“C’mon.” He said, leading him out of the barn and towards the backyard.
“That’s our own little garden even though it’s just a patch of frozen mud right now. We grow tomatoes, zucchini, strawberries, tons of stuff. Mom makes jam. I’ll have her give you a jar to take back if you want. It’s really good.”
He lead him into a smaller barn after that. It had a four-wheeler and a few tractors inside.
“This is where we keep some of the equipment.”
--
Bruce followed Clark around the farm, feeling a little dumb and dumbfounded, and not sure what to feel the rest of the time. The farm life was… very different from the world he knew. And he respected it, he was pretty sure--but he didn’t really know much about it.
So he followed politely, looking around.
He pretty readily agreed to the jam.
“Alfred will like it,” he said.
--
“Cool. Y’know you gotta show me around your mansion or whatever sometime.”
A dog barked and soon a dog with black and white splotches was running up to them.
“Oh, and that’s Daisy.”
She tried to jump up at Bruce in excitement, tag wagging.
--
“Woah--” Bruce took a step back as Daisy jumped up at him, but--
...it was a dog.
Bruce bent down a moment later and was scratching her behind the ears.
--
Daisy put on that ‘thats the spot’ face and leaned into it, grumbling happily.
“I don’t think I’ve ever asked, do you have any pets?”
--
Bruce… made a bit of a face. And shook his head.
“No. Not anymore.”
...he was content to keep scratching the dog behind the ear as long as she’d lean in.
--
Clark stood and just sort’ve… watched him for a moment.
It was nice to see him content like this. Away from pressure.
“You feeling better than you were earlier?” He asked, as though he somehow knew.
--
…
“Yeah. ...sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”
He’d bite it back as often as he had to.
--
“It’s okay, dude.” Clark shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re around me. It happens.”
--
Bruce just… focused on the dog.
Clicked his fingers at her.
“I am fine, though,” he said, not even fooling himself. “...you didn’t tell me that’s what your mom’s name was.”
--
… It took him a moment. He looked confused, then his eyes went big.
“Oh. Oh, damn. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it.” He looked ashamed and ran a hand through the curls in his hair.
--
Bruce shook his head, not… looking at him, for that. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to.”
He should’ve been able to handle this on his own. It had been years. (six years.) He should be fine.
But his throat was dry, even after draining the whole glass of ice tea, and his fingers were getting cold, even in the warmth of Daisy’s fur.
Why was he still talking?
“Dad didn’t die first,” he said. “He kept calling her name.”
--
Daisy tried to lick his face, tail wagging.
“... I’m sorry, Bruce.” Clark said quietly. “Must be hard.”
He had never lost someone before.
He didn’t know how it felt.
--
He’d said it wouldn’t happen again, but he felt that creeping chill on the edge of his consciousness, threatening to drag him out of Smallville again. It wasn’t there yet. It hadn’t yanked him in violently like back at the bus station. But he could feel the prickle of it; the threat.
He sat down crosslegged in the field, and let the dog lick him.
When she stopped he just… shook his head.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” ‘it must be hard’ wasn’t… something he was used to hearing. “I’ve got money and Alfred to take care of me. I’m fine.”
--
Clark sat down with him on the cold, frozen dirt.
“Yeah but that’s just money and Alfred ain’t your dad. You might have what you need but not what you want. ‘N money can’t buy that.”
“So, like… are you fine?”
He looked over at him and tried to meet his eyes with his own bright blue gaze that somehow stood out even more than Bruce’s. The sun was high in the sky and there weren’t as many clouds to hide him like their were in Gotham, and you could see how much his skin almost glowed in the sunlight.
--
That wasn’t what people were supposed to say, and the urge to argue Kent down made a thousand things meant to be kept secret bubble up on his tongue.
But he swallowed them down.
...he seemed much smaller out here, under the big, clear sky. In Gotham, in its narrow streets and foggy skies, he stretched up and could fill a room. Here he was just a small, lost shadow: dark clothes, pale skin.
And when Clark tried to meet his eyes, they were glazed wet, and in the process of being blinked away, even as Bruce’s voice said, steadily, “Yeah. I’m fine.”
…
…
“When I’m eighteen,” he said, guiding Daisy down to lie in his lap for a belly rub, “I inherit everything they left behind. And I’m going to take it and run away, until not even you’d be able to find me.”
--
Daisy rolled into him and was very happy for the belly rub.
“... Why?” Clark asked, sounding sad. “Just to get away?”
--
...at least someone understood.
Bruce nodded.
--
Clark nodded too.
…
“Where you gonna go?”
--
Bruce shrugged.
He didn't know. He didn't care much.
--
“Okay.”
…
“Well-” Clark nudged him a little. “-I’d like it if ya kept in touch at least a little.”
He gave him an award-winning smile.
--
...Bruce found himself looking at that smile, and… it was hard not to feel some guilt.
“We’ll see,” he compromised.
--
Clark went quiet and just sat with him then.
…
After a few minutes though he blinked and stood up, looking down at his driveway.
--
Bruce looked up.
Glanced down the driveway. Saw nothing.
But he looked back up at Clark without any doubt. “What do you see?”
--
“It’s Pete ‘n Kenny.” Clark said just as you could start to hear the car. He offered a hand down to help Bruce to his feet.
“Friends of mine. Guess mom told ‘em I was coming home.”
--
Bruce didn't need the help, but he took the hand anyway, pushing Daisy off his lap carefully as he went.
“Yeah…?”
He was a little anxious about meeting Clark’s friends.
He was bad with people. And caring about Clark made things suddenly infinitely more complicated if he failed to make a good impression.
--
“Yeah. Don’t worry about ‘em, they’re good people.”
Clark lead him over to the car as it slid to a stop, two boys sat in the front.
“You’re back!” The passenger shouted.
“Yeah, for winter break.” Clark said, then gestured to them. “Kenny, Pete. Pete, Kenny, this is Bruce. Friend of mine from school.”
“Yo.” Kenny waved from the driver’s seat, Pete from the passenger’s side.
--
Bruce waved back with a “nice to meet you,” and hung back, not willing to overstep. He was already looking at Pete and Kenny’s haircuts and their clothes, and starting to get an idea how Clark must've felt, standing out in school.
--
They dressed a lot like Clark did. Layers. Worn clothes. Mud around the ankles and hand-me-down jackets.
“Get in, both of ya, we’re heading down to the tracks.” Kenny said, pointing to the back seat.
“Uh.” Clark looked at Bruce. “You cool with tagging along?”
He looked hopeful.
--
Bruce shrugged and--well. He had no reason not to?
“Sure.”
He climbed into the back with Clark.
--
“Nice.” Pete grinned, and once they were in, Kenny started to back up and turn around to head out.
…
At first they didn’t really talk to Bruce. They just filled Clark in on all the town gossip. Who was boning who, who was getting knocked up, who had fallen out or gotten in trouble.
But soon that did come around as they pulled into a gravel spot by some train tracks. Pete leaned back and looked at Bruce. “He tell ya why he ran off to Gotham?”
Clark might’ve gone a little pale. “Pete.”
--
“Said he was layin’ low,” Bruce said, picking up Pete’s accent a little bit from being surrounded by it for a little. He crossed his arms on the seat in front of him and leaned forward, asking for more without saying anything.
--
“I’ll kill you, Pete.” Clark warned.
“Yeah. Layin’ low after blastin’ a guys arms off with his eyes.” Pete grinned.
Clark threatened to climb over the seat and smack him, and Pete just kept laughing.
“Pete you fuckin’ dumbass, you know he can actually kill you, right?” Kenny huffed.
--
Bruce just… looked sort of confused for a bit at that.
What did that mean? If it was an in-joke would Clark be that upset, but if it was leaning closer to real, what did that even mean?
He knew Clark… was different.
But he didn't realize he hadn't seen half of it yet.
“...what?”
--
“You didn’t tell him?” Kenny said, a little surprised.
Clark stopped smacking Pete, who was laughing his ass off. “Kenny! What do you think laying low means?!”
“Well I mean, c’mon man, you brought him here. Damn near everyone knows you’re an alien.” Kenny said, unintimidated.
Clark just… slumped back into the seat, as far away from everyone as possible, and shoved his face in his hands.
--
…
…
You know what?
Bruce was going to unpack all of this later.
Right now, all he could do was turn, look Clark dead in the eye, and say, “suddenly I understand why you had such a hard time with ‘snitches get stitches’ with friends like these.”
--
Clark was rubbing his eyes. “God.”
“Ah c’mon Clark. We gotta embarrass our buddy in front of his new friend.” Pete grinned.
Clark glared at him. “You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything. You know how much shit I could get in if everyone in Gotham knew? Area 51??” He gestured wildly to himself.
“If it makes you feel better people are starting to say those three were just tripping on something and imagined the whole thing.” Kenny said.
--
Bruce was still just… running with this. As it happened.
Unpack later. Survive right now.
(From his position, he could get an arm around Kenny’s neck and choke him as payback for Clark’s trust being violated)
(There was a red mark against Kenny from this, against Pete. Snitches get stitches. Silence was golden. Loose lips sank ships.
Trust no one.)
(‘You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything.’ When-- when had that-- when had he earned that?)
“What did happen?” Bruce asked instead.
He was ten places in his head, and lost in none of them.
--
They all looked at Clark.
…
Clark sighed and rubbed his head.
“Some assholes shot up the gas station last year. Killed like five people. I knew where he’d gone, I could hear the yelling, so I tracked them down. One guy shot me in the face with a revolver. I tossed him through the front of the house. Next guy shot me in the chest with a shotgun. I ended up burning his arms off. Then Pete came around and ended up clocking the last one with a shovel.”
He said it all so… numbly. Like he had unpacked in awhile ago and could now just… recite it.
--
“They lived?” he said, deciding not to question the… burning. The being followed. The shotgun.
--
“... Yeah.” Clark said quietly.
--
Bruce had gone back to his Gotham accent. His voice had been falling into his harder, more serious tone.
Pete and Kenny called this story embarrassing to Clark.
“But you did it?”
--
Kenny and Pete were looking at one another, watching this unfold after they had set it into motion.
“... Yeah?” Clark said again. “I can do… a lot of weird shit.”
--
Maybe the new fragile city kid going hard and cold wasn't what they'd expected when they started talking about small town maiming.
“Yeah, no shit, you beat my mile,” Bruce said. “...but you burnt their arms off.”
…he waited for one more confirmation, looking Clark in the eye just as Clark had done with him half an hour earlier.
But once he got it--even just a flash of a ‘yes’ in a look between them, Bruce said, “Good.”
--
And Clark did say ‘yes’.
But then he looked confused.
“Good?”
That was the first time anyone had said that.
--
And Bruce said it again.
Firmer.
“Good.”
--
Clark blinked and stared at him, like a whole other option had opened up to him.
…
“Damn,” Kenny said. “Hardass Gotham.”
--
Kenny still had a mark against him, and he wasn't helping himself, so Bruce didn't feel bad when he turned the full weight of a glare on him.
Maybe his eyes couldn't ‘burn off’ anyone’s arms, but that just meant that his blue eyes were cold and hard as ice.
“They shot five people? They deserve what's coming to them.”
--
… Kenny backed up and put his hands up. “Not sayin’ they didn’t.”
“Yeah, no one is saying that.” Pete added. “I mean, if he hadn’t showed up then they were gonna kill like their whole family.”
Clark still didn’t say anything. He was looking down, like he had never been told that what he had done was good. Not really. Whenever they had mentioned how he had done well it was also interlaced with ‘but what could have happened to you’.
--
They were going to kill their whole family.
They were going to kill their whole family?
That part hadn't been said. Just: Clark tracked them down. Clark fought them. Clark got shot.
Clark lived.
(They were going to kill a family, and Bruce, already mentally exhausted from the morning, from bracing himself against names, from coping, found himself seeing it happen in an alleyway unlike anything he'd seen in Smallville, and he was so tired of spending the day in that place.)
“Cool. Cool, so… fuck this,” he said, and turned to Clark, seeing him spaced out. “Hey. Kent. Snap out of it. You said you guys got out more than us, right? Time to prove it.”
Find somewhere else to go.
Somewhere to lose this conversation entirely, before they got lost in it.
--
“Uhhhh fine.” Clark groaned and sat up. “Let’s go.”
Pete put the car in reverse. “Where to?”
“... Bowling?” Clark shrugged and looked at Bruce.
--
“I'll pay,” Bruce said, fine with that.
“See you throw every single ball down the gutter again.”
--
“You were last!” Clark pointed out.
--
“Yeah. I have nothing to prove,” he said, straight faced.
“But I might try harder out of revenge now that I know I wasn't wrong about my mile.”
--
“I was gonna apologize but I thought that would be saying too much!” Clark pleaded with him.
“They makin’ you take gym, Clark?” Kenny asked as they drove.
“Yes.”
“Oof.”
--
Bruce-- Bruce wasn't angry at Clark for it, not really. He'd been the one playing mediator at the time. Half of him just… needed something to keep going. To be huffy about--something that didn't matter--so he wouldn't be huffy about things that did.
“Tommy and Harv aren't gonna say anything even if they’ve figured something out,” he said, finally leaning back some and trying to uncoil the tight knot in his shoulders. “I told them not to that day.”
And no matter how loud Tommy was, no matter how much the teachers liked Harvey-- at the end of the day, Bruce was the one in charge. He didn't say much, but when he told them to not pry or talk, neither of the other boys would.
That weight didn't transfer to Kansas well, but after that conversation-- it lingered on him, some, in the back of the car, in his nice dark clothes, and the cold exhaustion in his eyes.
“They've been letting him skip for asthma, but running a four minute mile blew that out of the water some.”
--
“... Thanks.” Clark said, looking over at him.
“Guess since no one is in on it over there things are kinda hard.” Pete said.
“You have no idea.” Clark mumbled.
…
“This is kinda a relief. You knowing now.”
--
...he relaxed a little more.
“...I'm gonna be processing this for a while still,” he said. “...but I guess it at least makes sense now why you didn't think I was insane about the Talons being real.”
….somehow, the thought that Clark hadn't just been humoring him the last few months took precedence.
--
Clark huffed a laugh.
“Talons?” One in the front asked.
“Nah we’re not talking about that shit with you two.” Clark said firmly.
No way.
--
…
Bruce found himself smiling a little.
Mentioning it had been a kind-of permission, but… he was glad it wasn't taken.
Clark kept their secrets.
“So,” he leaned forward onto the front chair again. “Clark said something about corn demons?”
--
“What?” Kenny said.
“What?” Clark said too, then paused. “Oh, there's uh, that hell gateway over in Stull I think I mentioned.” Clark said.
“Eh, people just like to bullshit about angry ghosts that come out around Halloween.” Pete said.
--
“Our murder rate just spikes on Halloween,” Bruce said. “Why’s it a hell gateway?”
Said the Jewish boy.
--
“I have no idea.” Clark admitted.
“Isn't Gotham like one of the biggest crime places in the US?” Pete asked.
--
“Recently, yeah,” Bruce said, keeping it steady.
--
“What's it like there?” Pete asked.
“Ever been stabbed?” Kenny followed.
“Jesus, guys.” Clark sighed.
--
“I would probably not be walking around so great if I'd been stabbed,” Bruce said flatly, thinking of the caning in school, and the dread Tommy and Harv had of going home, and grisly pictures on the front page.
“You two sound like you watch way too much tv.”
--
“They do.” Clark said flatly.
They pulled into the bowling alley.
It was… very empty. The inside only had two people in staff with the radio playing and an arcade tucked in the corner.
--
“Same show that told you we were supposed to be out partying when we just snuck out for ice cream?”
Bruce pulled out a handful of bills and handed them to Clark mostly out of habit.
He could probably actually… buy things here without being recognized, maybe. But habit still won this round.
--
Clark didn't mind, walking up and paying. “Absolutely.”
“Snuck out for ice cream?”
“Didn't think you could get any lamer, Clark.” Kenny chuckled.
--
...it did make him think, though. A connection he hadn't been able to make, but that he'd made sure to hold onto the pieces, just in case.
“...what they said earlier doesn't happen to have anything to with how easy scaling the wall was for you, right?”
--
Clark waited until they were away from other prying ears to answer.
“Um, yeah. I might've been kinda… flying. For that.”
--
Bruce turned and stared at him again.
“What?” He whispered back.
--
Clark cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “I can fly.”
--
Bruce is going to need a long time to work through all this.
But right now, he's compartmentalizing like a pro.
“...what else can you do?”
--
“Uh,” Clark mumbled as he tied his bowling shoes. “I can see through things. Like x-ray vision? And can hear really far. Like--”
He looked up and his eyes glowed blue. “I can see one of the employees back behind the counter picking his nose. And he's humming that really annoying country song that won't stop playing on the radio.”
--
There was something in that which nagged Bruce. Being watched without being able to tell. Being heard. But--
But he had something to soothe it, a little bit. And confirm.
“I can hear the humming, too,” he said.
Not as a challenge.
But.
He believed Clark.
This was something most people couldn't hear.
And if he could hear that, Bruce would also believe the sight.
--
Clark looked a little surprised, happy even.
“Really?” He smiled a little, like he suddenly felt less alone.
“And, uh, I try hard to not listen in on private conversations and stuff if it makes you feel better. I don't want to hear everything. It just happens. I have to focus to pay attention to what close.”
--
...the apology was fine, but the second part still kept him a little on guard.
“Like the teachers meeting with students after class,” he said, and trying to not think of how close some private discussions had been to Clark. “...how far away?”
--
Clark made a face as though the answer pained him.
“Miles. Like… three miles? More if I focus.”
--
...not even Bruce’s razor hearing did that.
He felt the knot in his chest tighten almost imperceptibly.
“...but you don't.”
--
“No. I try to ground myself and focus on what's next to me.” He got up to get a bowling ball. Picked out the heaviest one and twirled it in his hands idly like it didn't weigh a thing.
“I try to keep it to like… a few rooms away sort of hearing. That's the smallest I can get without having to strain myself.”
--
A few rooms away.
A few rooms away.
(Kisses don't make sounds, Bruce told himself, but all the same, felt his heart speed up a bit at the memory.)
“A few rooms clearly?” he said, watching how Clark spun the bowling ball as if it were just a basket ball, meant to be tossed around in the air.
He picked up his own ball to wait his turn. It was lighter. But it was still heavy in his lap.
--
Clark made a face again. Guilty.
“I… I can hear your heartbeat through walls, so. Yeah. Clearly.”
He looked at Bruce, apologetic.
“I'm-- I'm sorry.”
--
...that.
That was… too much.
He could only hear his own heartbeat in his ears and thundering in his chest, and it was too much for him.
But he couldn't have this conversation here.
He couldn't have it anywhere, maybe.
He couldn't think too hard on that, on his very heartbeat always being listened to, on the illusion of privacy, and the thought of--
He picked up his bowling ball, numb and dead to the world, and with no distractions and a mechanicalness to his movements, he rolled a strike.
They weren't talking about this anymore.
--
… Clark looked down, not saying a word as Kenny and Pete 'oooed’ over the strike and wrote it down.
They wouldn't bring it up again, talking about random things and trying to nudge Clark back into the conversation. But he didn't say much. He just… rolled his ball a little too fast a little too hard until he got the hang of it again.
And when it was over, no matter who won, they would drive the two back out to the farm.
--
Bruce kept up what amounted to polite conversation if he was pulled in.
He didn't remember who won.
He didn't remember what they said, or if he shook anyone’s hands as they dropped them off back at the Kent farm.
He wasn't as cold and detached as he'd been that morning, but he knew he was wading further from shore, and that he should pull himself back.
But he didn't want to do that around Clark right now.
Hot tea wouldn't pull back this.
--
When they pulled back into the farm Clark hung back at the car, if only for a minute.
…
“Thanks assholes, now he hates me.” He hissed and slammed the door a little too hard. It rocked the car and they yelled, but he didn't care.
He walked in behind Bruce and tried to tell his parents yes, they had fun, went bowling, tired now.
Up to his room.
--
….
Bruce followed.
Up to his room. Guest room. It wasn’t lavish or high quality, but it smelled a little dusty, like the manor, and he could choke on that a little and feel a bit better in the familiar prison of old and carefully preserved items.
‘Granny’ Clark had called it.
(Bruce’s grandparents had died by the time he was born. Parents married late by parents who married late by parents who married late.)
…
He managed to sit on the bed for a full five minutes, hands held carefully in each other and breathing slowly, heart steadying, before he locked it in place.
And he left the room, footsteps quiet as he could make them on the carpet, and went back downstairs.
#aka bruce dissociates in kansas#if i hear a single martha joke i snipe on sight#batman#superman#superbat#80s gay superbat#rp logs#the total visit is like 70 pages lol
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
meet me in another universe
I wasn’t entirely sure whether to post this or not (and I had some trouble getting it finished), but in honour of ‘meeting’ @dreamy-slytherin a year ago, here’s a fic about five ways VDS could have met, and one way they do :)
~^~
1. Evak/Davenzi Style
Jens is only sitting on the toilet for about two minutes when he hears the footsteps and quiet cursing as someone rattles the door of his stall. He freezes, looking up from his phone with wide eyes. He supposes it’s someone looking to use the bathroom, but then he hears the ruffle of the tissue dispenser on the wall rather than the door in the stall next to him.
He hesitates for a moment, then stands, stuffing his phone in his pocket and opening the door carefully.
Surely enough, there’s a boy standing by the sinks, fiddling futilely at the empty box. Jens only has time to take in ratty converse, light-wash blue jeans and a matching denim jacket before the boy is turning and glancing at him. Jens’s breath gets caught up in his throat at the sight of striking blue eyes and bronze curls.
He’s seen this boy, once. He had passed him in the courtyard earlier in the week, and the boy had met his gaze and continued walking, and Jens was left looking over his shoulder after him and wondering why. He thought it was the unfamiliar face. That could be the reason, now, that something curious and excited flutters in his stomach and urges him, this time, to interact.
“Fuck, sorry, you’re looking for tissues,” he says.
The boy only looks at him as Jens retreats into the stall long enough to tear off a strip of toilet paper. He comes out and hands it to the boy now stood stock still in the dim fluorescent lights, who takes it from him hesitantly. Jens only then notices the damp drips drying into the boy’s pink sweater. The weight of his eyes on the spot seems to be what snaps the other boy into motion, as he immediately begins dabbing at his clothes in an attempt to sop up the water.
“Fountain mishap, or something more embarrassing?” Jens finds himself asking, leaning back against the sinks.
“Uhm.” The boy glances up at him, cheeks tinted red. It’s cute. “Fountain. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Jens shakes his head, smiling, ignoring that this is his first time hearing the boy’s voice and that it’s accented and pretty. “Nah, I’ve been using it for years and it still acts up on me, don’t stress. You’re new.”
It isn’t a question, because now that Jens has heard him speak and the boy had admitted his confusion, it’s obvious.
“That’s why I was supposed to be going to the group thing, but this didn’t feel like the best first impression.” He gestures at his sweater, where the stain has faded slightly but also spread in retaliation.
Jens shrugs. “I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you. They’re doing trust circles. Hand holding and all.”
When the boy looks at him curiously, Jens explains, “Whatever they’re doing in there is the reason I was in here.”
This earns him a huff of laughter, as the boy tosses his wad of tissue in the bin and glances at the door, then back at Jens. Jens pulls the joint from behind his ear and holds it up for the boy to see, raising his brows. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then Jens simply heads out the door and nods for the boy to follow him.
He leads them outside, and finally settles atop one of the tables in the courtyard with his feet on the bench. By the time the boy joins him, Jens has already lit the joint and taken a drag. The boy accepts it when Jens offers it to him and climbs up onto the table himself, shoulders curling against the cold as he brings the joint to his lips.
“What’s your name?”
The boy looks at him and passes the joint back, cheeks and nose red now. “Lucas.”
Lucas, Lucas, Lucas.
Jens lets the name settle for a second and then says, “I’m Jens.”
Lucas simply nods, but he’s smiling as he tucks his hands into his pockets and hugs his jacket tighter around himself. It’s obvious, looking at him, that he’s cold, but he radiates warmth all along Jens’s side. Jens allows himself to shift just an inch closer, imperceptibly, stretching a leg out as he does it in the hope that Lucas won’t notice. But Lucas remains unphased and silent, and Jens misses his gaze and his voice.
“So, who roped you into Amber’s cult?” Jens asks.
This time, Lucas’s laugh is full-bodied and beautiful, paired with a small but brilliant smile as he looks at Jens incredulously. “That would‘ve been Amber herself, but Luca was oddly more convincing. You know them well?”
Jens hums in confirmation, but doesn’t bother offering the story. Instead he says, “It only took me about thirty seconds to realise that’s why I should’ve known better.”
“Okay,” Lucas laughs again. “I feel kind of bad for skipping out. They’ve been very welcoming.”
“Are you in our year?” Jens questions.
Lucas shakes his head. “Sixth.”
Jens furrows his brows, suddenly intrigued. “Transferring in your last year?”
Lucas simply shrugs.
“From Amsterdam?” Jens guesses.
“Utrecht,” Lucas corrects. Then, with a glint to his smile, “I’m on the run.”
Jens whistles. “Amber would’ve loved you sharing that in her party games. She’s gonna be so jealous I got the gossip first.”
Lucas heaves a sigh. “And, test failed. Now I’m going to have to kill you too and hide somewhere else.”
Jens starts laughing in the middle of a drag and chokes slightly, but it doesn’t deter him. He just coughs into his fist and lets his laughter continue, loud in his surprise, smile stretched so wide his cheeks might split. He shakes his head in amusement while Lucas tries to keep his expression stoic, though his lips twitch at the corners. “Come on, if I’d known it was a test I would’ve passed,” Jens protests. “Give me a second chance.”
After an intense staring contest, in which Lucas slowly loses his unimpressed gaze and Jens does his best to look pleading, Lucas is the one to cave. He looks away from Jens with another sigh, smile finally breaking out. “Fine. Since you shared.” Lucas gestures to the joint, and Jens grins and offers it to him again.
Jens thinks the meeting might have been a good idea after all.
2. Elu Style
Lucas shakes his head at Kes and Jayden’s antics, stretching his legs out in front of him and reclining back in the chair, meeting Liv’s pointed look and resisting the urge to offer her a mocking salute. He does, however, allow a smug smile, and Liv simply rolls her eyes and tunes back into the conversation between the girls. Lucas has already blocked them out, and Kes and Jayden gave up their complaining after a mere few minutes, so he hasn’t had to listen to them either. Instead he lets them all fade into a buzz, and only curiously looks around when the door opens again and more students trickle in.
His heart jumps up and lodges itself in his throat.
Amidst the miniature crowd is a tall boy with raven hair and bright brown eyes, whom Lucas has definitely never seen before at this school but is possibly the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on.
The boy sits at the edge of the row behind Lucas, caught in conversation with the girl sitting next to him. However, as he settles, he glances around. It’s possible this description of his actions is inaccurate, because in fact his eyes seem to go straight to Lucas’s without taking in any other aspect of the room. Lucas freezes as the boy’s smile seems to grow just slightly, and quickly looks away, focusing his attention back on Engel, who has now begun giving some sort of introduction.
Lucas would be dishonest if he said he took in a word, but he hadn’t planned on it to begin with. He’d just thought it would be due to zoning out rather than an unexpected distraction.
But he’s raptly focused on the rapid beat of his heart, and he can’t help throwing another glance over his shoulder.
Throughout the whole meeting, it’s a repetitive process. Lucas glances over his shoulder and then away again, every time the boy meets his eyes and smiles wider and doesn’t avert his own gaze. Lucas’s cheeks are warm, the heat having crawled slowly up his neck and continuing to spread. He’s glad of the light tan he’d earned over the summer, hoping that it keeps the blush mostly secret. He doubts it, however, especially when he looks back to find the boy’s eyes already on him and his pulse rockets to a worrying speed.
“—cas?”
Lucas tunes back in as Kes elbows him, willing his blush down and letting out a hum. Jayden huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but the furrow of Kes’s brow belies his smile. “The girl, last night. What happened?”
“Yeah,” Lucas says, making Kes’s brows raise and Jayden make another noise of exasperation. “I mean, yeah, it was cool.”
Jayden leans in as Kes nods, expectant. “Did you get her number?”
Lucas murmurs a confirmation, and mostly blocks out their cheers and praises. He keeps his gaze on the girls, but still doesn’t know what they’re talking about, still only has one image fixed in his mind and his heartbeat loud in his ears. He glances over his shoulder one more time and the boy is no longer looking at him.
He avoids glancing back for the rest of the meeting and is dismayed to realise the boy has already left by the time he shuffles out with Kes and Jayden. The only saving grace is that they seem not to have minded the meeting much, and don’t give Lucas any shit on their way to the gate, rather talking idly amidst themselves and leaving Lucas lost in his own head. They depart once they make it onto the dark street, both offering him their traditional handshake and a wave, and Lucas turns towards the bus-stop on his own.
Lucas instantly recognises the lone figure beyond the stop, poised in front of the vending machine with his back to the street. The same boy from the meeting. He hesitates as he bypasses the bench and hovers a few feet away, leaving himself with a view of the boy’s side profile and the anxious tap of his fingers over his bag strap. He’s gazing at the vending machine in deep concentration, contemplating his options with more seriousness than Lucas has ever witnessed.
After a moment, in which the boy fails to acknowledge him, Lucas clears his throat. “Twenty-one is the best, in my opinion,” he offers.
He politely ignores the way the boy jumps, though has to purse his lips to stop a smile. The boy looks him over consideringly, then shrugs and slots some coins into the machine before pressing the buttons. The bar falls from the twenty-one rack and the boy repeats the process, watching the one remaining snack fall and then ducking down to dig them both out.
Lucas watches the whole affair in awe and mild offence.
Then the boy turns to him and raises one of the bars and his brows; a silent offering. Lucas simply stares at him, and the boy tosses him the chocolate without a word, and then nods towards the bench.
There’s no reason not to, so Lucas follows with the bar clutched in his hands.
They settle onto opposite ends of the cool seat. Lucas watches as the boy tears the wrapper and takes an experimental bite. He chews, looking out at the street rather than at Lucas, until he swallows and allows a nod. Then he turns to Lucas with the same smile as earlier and simply says, “Not bad.”
Lucas shrugs, letting a smile of his own surface and cataloguing the accent, rather than allowing himself to focus on the boy’s lips. He holds up his own bar and gives it a little wave. “When it’s free, it’s easy to enjoy even more.”
The boy huffs, accepting this with an amused nod before popping another square of chocolate in his mouth. The silence stretches in the time it takes him to swallow, and then he looks at Lucas with a squinty smile and says, “The meeting was kind of weird.”
“Yeah.” It’s Lucas’s turn to huff, his smile growing. “You’ll learn to expect that from Engel. Did you understand what the survey was about?”
“No,” the boy admits with a laugh. He tears the wrapper of his bar a little further and Lucas’s gaze is drawn to his hands. He shrugs and looks back up at Lucas. “Still, it’s cool.”
“The survey?” Lucas raises a brow.
The boy huffs another laugh. “No, but the common room. It’s a good way to meet new people.”
Lucas absorbs this, then tests out his earlier deduction. “You’re new?”
“Started a couple of weeks ago,” the boy confirms.
“Isn’t that a little weird?” Lucas asks. “Transferring a few months before graduation?”
The boy looks at him again, now with raised brows. “Do you just find everything weird?”
Lucas huffs, feeling some of his flush return, but he mimics the other’s expression. “Wasn’t it you calling the meeting weird first?”
The boy accepts this loss with a shrug, smiling at Lucas before setting a square of chocolate between his teeth. “I must be weird too, then.”
“I didn’t mean—“ Lucas begins the protest, but falters when he notices the amused glimmer in the boy’s gaze. Then he closes his eyes and lets out a breath, poking his tongue into his cheek in an attempt to control his smile. The boy laughs, and Lucas shakes his head. “No, I’m sure you’re great…”
He trails off, realising he hasn’t asked for the other’s name. Thankfully, the boy seems to understand, and simply says, “Jens.” He sets his now empty wrapper in his lap and brushes his hands off on his jeans, then holds one out towards Lucas. “I’m Jens.”
Lucas takes his hand somewhat cautiously, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat kick up again. He stashes the name away alongside the smile and the eyes and the accent. Then he returns, “Lucas.”
3. Crisana Style
Jens weaves his way through the crowd and towards the front door, where he’s immediately stopped by the bouncer. Jens holds up his free hand and whirls around to abandon his mostly-empty beer bottle on the nearest flat surface, then finally makes his way into the cooler air. He sucks in a breath and releases it on a sigh, moving along the side of the building to collapse on one of the benches. He leans back against the wall and lets out another sigh, closing his eyes in contentment as he enjoys the relatively silent surroundings.
Then someone says, “Hey.”
Jens starts, blinking his eyes open and turning his head to the left to find a boy sitting next to him. At first, Jens is slightly dubious, because meeting a stranger sitting outside a club in the dark isn’t often a good outcome. But the boy is young, at least, around Jens’s own age as far as he can tell. His eyes are clear, not bloodshot or misty, though he does have a joint between his fingers. There’s an amused, curious curve to his lips as he watches Jens. Jens swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and manages, “Hey.”
The boy raises his brows at him, and Jens swallows and blinks all over again. “I’m Lucas,” the boy says, still watching Jens closely. Jens just keeps staring. “We have literature together?”
Jens’s lips part, and then recognition shines through the alcohol-induced haze. “Fuck, sorry, you’re the new guy.” Lucas huffs, but he’s still smiling and he nods in acknowledgment, flicking some ash off the end of the joint. Jens follows the movement, then returns to gazing at Lucas’s face, and he finds that he’s smiling back. It’s not that he’s been waiting for this opportunity, but, well, he might have spent some time those first few days staring across the room at the back of Lucas’s head and the occasional tilt of his side profile. He hasn’t made any attempts at connecting with Lucas himself, but he’d heard all the stories and felt all the same curiosity. He can’t deny that he’s a little excited, now, to get the opportunity to interact. “I’m Jens.”
Lucas simply raises his brows, his smile widening. “I know.”
It doesn’t make it easy to continue the conversation, but it sends a few rivulets of warmth flowing through Jens’s chest. It’s a curious feeling, and one that he doesn’t want to think much about. Instead he keeps staring at Lucas and watches as he brings the joint back to his lips, taking another drag. Lucas is dressed much more stylishly and a lot less conveniently than Jens. He’s shivering in his dark button-down and jeans, and his hair attempts to flutter out of the neat waves he has lain over his forehead. Jens compares it to his own usual hoodie while realising he’s staring, and then quickly looks away.
He pats down his pockets, eventually finding the small bag in his jeans and pulling it out only to realise it’s empty. He blows out a sigh and stows the plastic away and hears another huff next to him. Lucas’s hand comes into his line of sight, joint held out in offering. “Here.”
Jens takes it gratefully, drawing a long inhale and then stiffening at Lucas’s sound of protest.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Lucas orders. “That’s the last of my home stash.”
Jens huffs in understanding, passing the joint back and ignoring the sparks of heat as Lucas’s fingers brush his. “And where’s that? You’re Dutch, right?”
Lucas nods. “I moved from Utrecht.” He flicks some more ash off the joint then hands it to Jens.
This time, Jens takes a small puff and blows the smoke upward, letting it curl into the space between them. Now Lucas’s eyes appear hazy. Pretty. Jens rolls the joint between his fingers and takes another drag when Lucas simply leans back and watches him. Jens looks at him curiously. “Why’d you do that? Move in the middle of the year? It’s a little weird, no?”
He waits for an answer, but Lucas has already lost interest in him, diverting his gaze past Jens with a raised hand. “Wait, this song.”
He looks at Jens excitedly. Jens looks back, listening. He can faintly hear the music filtering through the open doorway, but he doesn’t recognise it. He purses his lips and shakes his head, admitting his confusion. Lucas’s jaw drops and he nudges his shoulder. “Come on. From Romeo and Juliet?”
Jens slowly shakes his head again, biting down a smile as Lucas scoffs and snatches the joint back out of his hand.
“Seriously? You’ve never seen it?” At Jens’s denial, Lucas’s smile turns teasing. “I can’t believe you take literature and you’re this uncultured.”
“Hey,” Jens protests, laughing slightly. Lucas’s eyes are very blue. He’s got a ring on the index finger of his right hand. Jens watches it glimmer as Lucas lifts his hand to his mouth for another drag. The joint has dwindled down so far his fingers are almost brushing his lips. “I’ve read Romeo and Juliet.” Plus, he knows Robbe has watched it, and he had sat through a scene or two, but he’d never felt a desire to watch the whole thing. It didn’t feel like his kind of film. He hadn’t thought it would be Lucas’s, either, but he doesn’t know how he’d know that in the first place.
“Yeah, but everyone knows the Baz Luhrmann production is the best version.” Lucas points at him, both brows raised. “You have to watch it before you’re allowed to watch any other new film. Even just for this soundtrack. Look.”
Before Jens knows what’s happening, Lucas is grabbing his hand with the one still holding the joint and pulling it towards himself, pressing Jens’s palm to his own chest, over his heartbeat. Jens sucks in a breath.
Lucas doesn’t notice, eyes bright as he continues speaking. “Do you ever get songs like that? Ones that just move you and you can’t even explain why?”
Jens can’t answer, simply watching Lucas with rapt attention. He’s focused on the soft fabric of Lucas’s shirt crinkling between his fingers, and the thump of Lucas’s heart against his hand, quick but not overly so. He’s focused on the sturdy plane of Lucas’s chest and the soft touch of Lucas’s hand. His own heartbeat is loud in his ears.
Then Lucas lays his free hand over Jens’s chest, in the open gap of his hoodie, splaying slowly over his thin t-shirt. Jens holds his breath and looks up at Lucas’s smile.
“See,” Lucas says softly. Jens half expects him to sound smug, but he doesn’t. He’s just quietly pleased, eyes flicking between Jens’s as if he’s searching for something. “It’s not just me. Your heart’s going faster than mine.”
Jens feels like he should protest. He can’t lie about his heartbeat, because it speeds up even further at Lucas’s touch, but he can explain that it isn’t about the music. He can’t even hear it any more. It has all whited out in favour of the sound of Lucas’s voice and his own pulse. Maybe he had drunk more than he’d thought, or Dutch weed is stronger, but he feels lightheaded and loose. Floaty. Still, he has enough sense to know he can’t tell Lucas the truth. That it has nothing to do with the music and everything to do with him, and his proximity, much closer than it had been when Jens first sat down.
Instead of telling him any of this, Jens simply huffs again, but he’s unable to hide his grin.
4. Nicotino Style
Lucas drums his fingers over his knee and glances away from Engel to his phone. The boy in his peripheral laughs at whatever Janna says, and Lucas purposefully doesn’t look at him, swallowing the desire and getting to his feet. He holds up his phone to the girls in apology and points towards the door, putting the phone to his ear and uttering a greeting. He keeps it up as he wanders down the hallway, trailing his fingers along the wall as he goes, talking nonsense until he makes it into the small radio room and gets the door closed behind him. Then he mutters a curse as a ‘goodbye’ and drops into the lone swivel chair, setting his phone on the table next to the microphone.
He does a few slow rotations, taking in the small recording space with faint intrigue. He glances over the various buttons and tools as he completes his round, leaning forward and hovering his fingers over a few. He looks at the microphone in front of him and then picks up the headphones next to it, settling them over his ears. He leans forward hesitantly and speaks into the mic. “Testing, testing, one, two, three.”
As expected, nothing happens. He clears his throat and settles his arms across the tabletop. “Hallo,” he continues, smiling now. “This broadcast is coming to you from Radio Lieve. Today’s talk will be a lesson on how to grow weed from your closet, a highly recommended practice by our very own Engel Beekman, whom we thank. To start—“
He cuts himself off abruptly as the light flicks on across the window and he sees the boy from the meeting through the glass. He’s all dark hair and contrasting features; sharp jaw and nose, soft eyes and lips. They all morph with his smile, as he leans forward and raises his brows at Lucas. “Why did you stop?”
“Uhm,” Lucas says. His mind has gone blank. “I wasn’t recording, just...messing around.”
“Pity,” the boy sighs, sitting back. “I really wanted to see where that was going.”
Lucas can’t help but respond to his smile. His lips curl up involuntarily even in his surprise. He has seen the boy around, but only once or twice, all within the past week. He doesn’t know why he’s never seen him before that, because he’s sure he would have noticed. Now, though, the accent feels like a hint.
Lucas looks at the boy and the boy looks around the small space. “This place is actually kind of cool,” he admits.
“Yeah, well, the place isn’t the problem,” Lucas explains.
The boy laughs quietly. “What is, then?”
Lucas shrugs, slumping back and swiveling side to side in his chair as he thinks, letting his smile slip into a smirk. “Well, the food for one thing. I’m always up for something sweet, but that cake…” he trails off, grimacing, and earns himself a louder bout of laughter.
“And the discipline guide,” the boy points out. “Scheduled bathroom breaks and a dress code? It’s a radio show.”
This time Lucas is the one who laughs. He doesn’t know why he expected to feel nerves. They are present, faintly, but only as a mild flutter in his stomach and sweat on his palms. Overall, he feels pleasantly surprised and mostly relaxed. He’d half thought someone so pretty would be more intimidating, but the boy looks the exact opposite in his cuffed jeans and worn-out hoodie. Especially with the grin on his face.
He turns it past Lucas all of a sudden and brightens. “Is that the balcony?”
Lucas turns around and glances out the window behind him. “Uh, yeah, but I think it’s closed.”
The boy hums, pursing his lips and tilting his head to the side. “Do you think it also shows you how to break into that in this video they talked about?”
Lucas huffs as his smile spreads again. “Probably, but the wifi is terrible here.”
“My phone’s dead,” the boy admits, sighing. Then he raises his brows at Lucas, and holds up a blunt. “Shall we try anyway?”
Lucas raises his brows back and grins.
There are more obstacles than he expects, but the most difficult part is definitely climbing through the broken gate. There’s only one bar taken out, and Lucas thinks if they both weren’t quite as thin, there’s no way they’d make it through. It’s a tight squeeze for the other boy purely due to his height, though he manages with considerably more grace than Lucas. Once they’re finally through, it’s only a matter of trekking up the stairwell and walking out onto the balcony with ease.
The boy whistles as Lucas follows a few steps behind him, looking out at the view. “Damn, this is a pretty nice city.”
“Yeah,” Lucas agrees, vaguely impressed himself. “It’s probably better from up here.”
The boy shrugs and settles himself on the ground, reproducing his blunt and a lighter along with it. Lucas watches as he places the blunt between his lips and lights up, flame illuminating his face in a soft glow for just a second. He looks at Lucas as he’s tucking his lighter back into his pocket, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Do you already know Engel, then?”
“Kind of,” Lucas shrugs. “Mostly through my friend, Isa.”
The boy nods and passes him the blunt, which Lucas accepts with a quiet thanks. “You don’t seem overly excited about this radio thing, though.”
“It’s complicated,” Lucas admits. He takes a drag and it settles his racing heart a bit, but it can only help so much with the boy’s eyes still on him. “You can’t be that into it, either, if you’re hanging out here with me instead of in there.”
“Blame your friend, Isa,” the boy says with a laugh, before groaning as he tilts his head back. “I needed an extra-curricular and there wasn’t too many options. I figured if I could post dumb vlogs on YouTube I could speak on a school radio show.”
Lucas raises his brows and his eyes widen. He’s sure he looks ridiculous, can see it in the boy’s amused expression, but he can’t quite contain his shock or his desire to know more. “You post vlogs on YouTube? Who the hell are you and why don’t I know already?”
The boy laughs again. It’s an unfairly pretty sound. This time, Lucas thinks there’s a faint blush accompanying it. “I’m Jens,” he offers. “I lived in Belgium until a few weeks ago, so I wouldn’t expect you to know me.”
Lucas blinks. He’d already guessed as much, but it’s still strange to hear. “You moved mid-semester?”
“Yep,” Jens says. He steals the blunt out of Lucas’s hand. “I’m the talk of the town. Gotta say it’s a little disappointing you don’t know me, actually.”
“Plus you’re apparently internet famous,” Lucas says, lingering on Jens’s lips as he wraps them around the blunt. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised. That kind of beauty must have garnered some popularity, somewhere.
Jens shakes his head, amused. “I wouldn’t say that,” he dismisses. “But you’re probably going to stalk me anyway now.”
“Absolutely,” Lucas confirms. Jens shakes his head again, laughs again, and Lucas feels the nerves dissipate into an old, familiar warmth, and instead of squashing it down, lets it spread along with his smile.
5. Sobbe Style
Jens walks back towards the house and catches his first glimpse of the boy through the windows. He glances at Jens briefly through the glass, but doesn’t linger like Jens does. Jens keeps looking over his shoulder until he makes it to the door, and then he steps in just in time for the boy to turn around and look at him. They’d come back to the house Amber had rented previously for break, all the same crew with the addition of Senne, but definitely not this boy. This boy is unfamiliar and pretty and Jens would definitely have noticed if he was supposed to be standing in their kitchen.
“Hey,” Jens says curiously.
“Do you know where the sugar is?” the boy asks, ignoring him. “Or the coffee itself?”
Jens blinks. “Uhm.”
“Any food?” The boy huffs when Jens simply continues to stare at him. “Seriously, are you the manager or what?”
Jens is baffled, and he has no hope of hiding it. “What?”
The boy waves a hand, brows high on his forehead. “I made sure this place was a B&B. Honestly, how hard is it to stock a fridge at least? And what about the little free soaps?”
“Sorry—“ Jens starts.
“Are you so careless of your guests that you don’t even provide bottled water?” the boy cuts him off, seeming genuinely incredulous. “Well?”
Jens parts his lips a few times before actually managing to speak, entirely confused and slightly irritated. “Sorry,” he repeats, “but who actually are you?”
The boy holds his stare for another minute and then breaks into a laugh, covering his face with his hand. He peeks at Jens through his fingers. “Oh my god, sorry.” He chuckles. “You really should’ve seen your face, though.”
When Jens only continues to stare blankly, the boy sobers slightly and offers a hand. “Sorry. I’m Lucas.”
Jens carefully takes his hand and gives one shake, still feeling lost. “Jens.”
“Yeah,” Lucas smiles, then laughs again. “You probably forgot. I’m Sander’s friend. He told me he did this to Robbe last year, made a bet with me that I couldn’t pull it off with one of you guys, too.” Lucas shrugs. His grin appears only faintly apologetic. “So, sorry, you were just the unlucky target.”
Finally, the name rings a bell. Jens had forgotten that Sander invited anyone on this trip, because in his experience it was odd that Sander had any sort of attention span for anyone other than Robbe. But as Jens skims his gaze over Lucas, takes in the artfully ruffled hair and paint-stained clothing and old-fashioned converse, he kind of understands.
“What makes you think Sander will believe you?” Jens finds himself asking, narrowing his eyes at Lucas in a somewhat teasing gesture. It’s the best way he knows to gain back some traction, here, and settle more firmly on his feet.
Lucas is unfazed. “I have a trustworthy witness,” he says easily.
Jens holds his challenging gaze for only a few seconds before relenting, tucking his hands into his pockets and matching Lucas’s leaning pose against the wall. “Your little act was weirdly convincing, I admit.”
Lucas offers a small smile and bow. Jens doesn’t think he has quite the dramatic flair of his friend, but he has some of the cheekiness, the sparkle and the daunting aura. There’s something inexplicably cool and instantly likable—qualities Jens himself has always envied. Lucas had seemed a little embarrassed after his stunt, but he doesn’t appear shy, instead holding a quiet confidence not unlike Robbe’s.
“How do you know Sander?” Jens decides to question, because he really does get it but he also really doesn’t.
He’s surprised when Lucas simply answers, “The Academy.”
Jens raises his brows. He hadn’t thought Lucas was older than him. “You’re in college?”
“Yeah,” Lucas says, faintly amused. “Not just any college, though. Art college.”
“Yeah,” Jens muses, “that’s much better.”
Lucas instantly flips him off, and Jens laughs and instantly decides that he likes this stranger. He supposes that’s a good thing, considering Lucas is to spend the next week with them, and Robbe would probably be pissed if Jens decided not to get along with Sander’s friends. He can’t help thinking none of them have to worry. He’s actually a little awed by Lucas’s small prank and the guts he had to break it out immediately.
“I thought that meant I was supposed to be the pretentious one, but your hospitality is shit,” Lucas informs him. But he’s still grinning, so Jens thinks they’re probably okay.
“Your little joke was very pretentious, don’t worry,” Jens reassures, although he’s not sure he means it. Nothing about Lucas seems overly cocky or irritating. Pretentious isn’t quite a word that fits.
Lucas simply huffs another laugh and then makes his way around him. He grabs a denim jacket from the sofa and then opens the front door, beckoning Jens after him. “Alright, come on.”
Jens blinks, instantly falling back to his confused state. “Huh?” When Lucas simply raises his brows expectantly, Jens clarifies, “Where are we going?”
“You actually don’t have any sugar. Or water,” Lucas says. “We’re going to buy some.”
“But Sander—“
“Is still locked in that room and probably won’t be out for a while.” Lucas raises his brows pointedly as Jens tamps down a grimace. “Do you have anything better to do? Unless you want to stay around and listen, which,” Lucas pulls a face, and the start of a laugh bubbles out of Jens again.
“Robbe’s my best friend, so, no thanks,” Jens explains, mimicking his expression. “I’m in the same boat as you.”
Lucas nods, pleased, like this is information he already knew. Jens supposes he probably did. “So?” Lucas presses. “You coming?”
Jens glances at the sofa, where he could spend the morning lazing around on his own until all the couples emerge and let Lucas wander about the town on his own. Then he looks back at Lucas and the stark blue of his eyes now paired with his denim jacket, still watching Jens back expectantly.
Jens follows him out the door without another word.
+1
Lucas is too lost in his own head to notice the person coming towards him until he collides with them.
The breath is knocked out of him and he stumbles off his skateboard with a curse. Another low voice accompanies him, and the owner’s quick reflexes are the only thing that stops him from tumbling out into the street. A hand grips onto his shoulder and steadies him, and Lucas lets the weight ground him until gravity regains its hold on him.
“Shit, sorry,” Lucas says, finally looking up at the person he’d barelled into. His breath escapes him again at the sight. It’s a boy roughly his age, but with a few inches on him, as well as an overwhelming amount of beauty. There’s no other way to put it—Lucas has long ago begun to acknowledge the attractiveness of every male he meets, and he has no doubt that this boy is utterly gorgeous.
It complicates all of his already messy thoughts. Especially since the boy still hasn’t released Lucas’s shoulder.
He’s staring back at Lucas, skimming his gaze down his frame as if checking for injury. “I think neither of us were watching where we were going there,” the boy admits, laughing slightly as he meets Lucas’s eyes. “You okay?”
Lucas has to take a moment to gather his words. “Yeah,” he breathes. Then he clears his throat. “Thanks.”
The boy huffs and finally (sadly) drops his hand. “What, for almost running you over?”
“No.” Lucas blinks, managing to shake himself out of it enough to smile. “No, I mean, for the hand.”
The boy nods, then tucks those hands in his pockets and curiously tilts his head. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucas nods, but the boy immediately continues, “I can’t find a way to make it up to you?”
“I thought it was a mutual collision,” Lucas points out, then immediately wants to smack himself. It’s not every day he sees a gorgeous boy, never mind bumps into one. Beyond that, this boy hadn’t immediately left, when he could have easily cursed Lucas out and left it at that. Instead he’s still talking, and offering more, and Lucas is stupid. He should not be trying to put the boy off. He has no idea what he is supposed to do.
It doesn’t seem to matter, because the boy merely shrugs. “Yeah, but you looked more in need of a hand than me.”
Even Lucas isn’t stupid enough to argue with that.
“Can I ask your name, at least?” the boy tries.
That’s usually a good place to start, Lucas thinks. “Yeah, sorry. Lucas. You?”
“Jens.”
Lucas tucks the information away with a nod. He almost expects Jens to offer his hand again, this time to shake, but instead he gets another curious tilt of the head.
“Where were you headed?” Jens questions.
“Uhm.” Lucas blanks. He isn’t out with a destination in mind—only the departure had felt necessary. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m not familiar with anywhere yet.”
“You’re not from here?” Jens questions. He doesn’t seem surprised, though, as if the answer is already obvious, which it probably is. Lucas shakes his head anyway. Jens actually seems pleased with the information. “Let me show you around a bit, then. Might at least stop you from taking down anyone else.”
Lucas thinks he should feel mildly offended, but he can only smile in response. “If you can show me somewhere with good desserts, I’ll fully consider you a life-saver.”
Jens accepts this challenge with a small laugh, and turns around on the street to face the way Lucas had been heading. He leans down to pick up his board and collects Lucas’s while he’s at it, passing it over to him after a brief damage check. “No bodies or boards seem to have been injured, so that’s something.”
“Internal damage, though,” Lucas finds himself arguing. “Wounded pride that can only be healed by the unhealthiest mound of ice cream.”
“Seriously?” Jens laughs again. “Okay, I can manage that.”
They start down the street, and Lucas wonders if this is weird. He’d just crashed into Jens, and the boy is apparently taking him for ice cream. That’s not something strangers do, is it? Not even strangers in Belgium. Not anyone without an ulterior motive. He glances at Jens out of the side of his eye and tries a subtle examination, but it’s not as if he thinks Jens is dangerous.
He honestly just can’t quite believe his luck.
“Don’t freak out,” Jens huffs, and Lucas does his best not to blush. “I’ve seen you at school.”
Oh. “You have?”
Jens hums. “You’re in class with Robbe, right?”
Lucas is. The name instantly rings a bell, because Robbe is one of the few people that had bothered to introduce himself to Lucas over the past week. His first week adjusting to Antwerp. He nods.
“He mentioned you,” Jens informs him. “Pointed you out one day by he lockers, but you disappeared before we could talk to you.” Jens smiles over at him. “I was hoping I’d get another opportunity.”
“You were?” Lucas asks, disbelieving. “Why?”
“Well, I can’t have Robbe having first access to all the gossip,” Jens laments. “That’s supposed to be my job.”
Lucas still doesn’t quite understand, but he knows how to joke. “So you’re inviting me for ice cream because you’re nosy?”
Jens nods seriously. “That is exactly it.”
They look at each other for a minute, walking slower, before they both crack up in a laugh. Lucas wonders if Jens is actually telling the truth and it just happens to be funny, or if he knows how to work a conversation to alleviate all awkwardness and tension. Either way, Lucas is grateful. He’s also slightly disappointed in himself, for being so unsure of his new surroundings that he’d prevented Jens from being able to meet him sooner.
“I haven’t seen you around,” Lucas admits. He knows it’s the truth, because he would have remembered. “But I haven’t spoken to all that many people yet.”
Jens hums, frowning slightly. “It’s hard, moving this late, and especially after missing the first few weeks of the year. I’m sorry no one’s tried to make it easier for you.”
Lucas doesn’t bother mentioning that it’s probably his own fault. “Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I guess now someone is.”
At this Jens grins, nodding in acknowledgement or acceptance; it might as well be admittance. Lucas decides that he doesn’t care, as long as it’s accompanied by that smile and Jens’s continued presence.
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
drivers license - stanley barber
a/n: i was having some writers block on my requests and i’ve been sobbing to this song on repeat, so here’s a fic for my bebs stanley barber. i also changed one lyric from “blonde girl” to “one girl” because it fit the plot more!
warnings: angst, you might cry (i did while writing this lols), parent absence, fluff at the end because i couldn’t break my heart with this one, but some straight angst is coming soon!!!!
word count: 1.7k+
------------------------------------------------------
You had been best friends with Stanley Barber since you were young, maybe 10. You had stood up for him when some kids were pushing him around because of his outfit.
“Hey! Get off of him!” You said, yelling at the trio of 5th grade boys pushing another boy to the ground. “Or what, Y/N? You’ll tattle? We aren’t scared of a girl.” The leader of the pack said. You clenched your jaw and punched him straight in the nose. You weren’t going to let a man talk to you like that. The leader started crying and ran off, his sidekicks following after him. You walked over to the boy on the ground and helped him up. “T-Thanks for that.” He said as he got back up. “No problem. I’m Y/N, by the way. Y/N Y/L/N.” You extended your hand for a handshake. He took it. “Stanley. Stanley Barber.”
You’ve been close ever since. You ate lunch with him that day and bonded over silly things like tv shows and favorite colors. In middle school, he helped you develop your style and you bonded over new things like favorite bands and books. You had his back and he had yours. He truly was your best friend.
However, you started seeing Stanley in a new light in eighth grade. He had gotten taller, his face a little more structured. He also learned how to play guitar that year. He wrote a song about you, of all things. Nobody had ever done something like that for you before. You started noticing the little things he did for you. He would randomly bring a bag of your favorite candy to lunch if he saw you were having a bad day. He taught you how to play piano because he thought it sounded nice with your voice. You fell in love with Stanley Barber. Fuck. Of course you’d NEVER tell him. You couldn’t fuck up the only good thing in your life right now. So that meant silently suffering whenever he had a crush on someone.
That’s the issue, you couldn’t be happy for him when he was with someone else. You spent countless days crying alone in your room after he’d go on for hours about his newest crush. This continued for a straight 3 years. His newest crush was Sydney Novak. You thought this one would blow over, just like his past few, but it didn’t. In fact, this one was the strongest crush he’s ever had. He’d been ditching you to hang out with her. He wasn’t even there to see you get your drivers license, something he’d been so encouraging about. He basically taught you how to drive because he knew how much it meant to you. He didn’t even know you had passed your test, never once asking. But in the sparse moments when he didn’t blow off plans, he’d constantly be talking about her. One of those sparse moments being tonight.
You were currently in his room/basement and he was going on one of his Sydney rants. “She’s so cool, Y/N. I mean, I’ve never met someone who I’ve clicked with more.” Um ouch, but whatever. “I don’t know, she’s just different. Like, in a good way though.” Three deep breaths, Y/N. 3… “We even hooked up the other night.” 2… “I think I’m in love with her.” 1. “Look Stanley, not to be rude, but do you EVER shut up about her?!” You spat. He looked over at you in shock. “I can’t do this tonight… I’m leaving.” You grab your ‘save the earth’ backpack and start jogging up the stairs to leave.
He follows as you open the door to his garage. “Woah, woah, woah, Y/N. What’s up?” Stan calls from behind you. You grab your skateboard and lift up the garage door. It’s pouring outside, but you don’t care. You go to leave but feel a hand on your wrist stop you. “You’re not going out in weather like that, just come inside and we can talk.” He says gently, still slightly confused. “About what, Sydney again? Don’t you get it Stanley?!” You snap in his face. His eyebrows furrow and you let out a sarcastic laugh, tears building in your eyes. “Of course you don’t. You’ve been so wrapped up in Sydney that you forgot who I was! I’m so done, Stan. I can’t sit here and pretend that I don’t care anymore. Don’t bother hanging out with me anymore.” You snap and rip your wrist away from Stanley’s grip.
You drop your board and get on, pushing as fast as you can. He calls after you but you block him out. When you’re a far distance away from him and his house, you just sit down on the side of the road and cry. Hurt that he’ll never be yours. Angry that he doesn’t care about you anymore. Frustrated because you tried to be the glue that held your friendship together, but even glue can’t fix the titanic.
You didn’t go to school for the next week. Your parents wouldn’t care, they weren’t even here. Still on some ‘business trip’ just like every week. Instead, you did something that calms you. Wrote music about how you were feeling. You played piano basically all week. Singing anything and everything you were feeling. It made you feel worse sometimes, but in the end it felt worth it.
Stan pulled into your driveway in his dad’s piece of shit car. He needed to work this out with you, he hadn’t seen you all week and he was worried. He missed his best friend. As he quietly closed the car door, he heard the piano playing. He didn’t recognize the song, he was curious. He didn’t even bother knocking, knowing you would slam the door in his face if you knew it was him. He quietly shut the front door and he heard your voice. It got louder as he walked closer to your bedroom door. He’d always loved your voice, it put him to sleep some nights. He could see you slightly, the door left ajar. He listened in.
“I got my drivers license last week,
Just like we always talked about.
'Cause you were so excited for me
To finally drive up to your house.
But today I drove through the suburbs,
Crying 'cause you weren't around”
You sang flawlessly, not a single note out of tune. There was so much emotion behind your voice. So much hurt, anger, frustration. He continued listening, trying to find out who caused you so much hurt. He’d bash their face in, that’s for sure.
“And you're probably with that one girl
Who always made me doubt.
She's so much older than me,
She's everything I'm insecure about”
With that first line, it hit him. He’d caused this hurt. The anger, the frustration, that was him. He was so angry with himself that he almost missed the next line… almost.
“Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs,
'Cause how could I ever love someone else?”
You… you loved him? He’d spent so much time on Sydney that he hadn’t even realized what was in front of him all these years. Except he had.
“And I know we weren't perfect, but I've never felt this way for no one.
And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone.”
God damn it! He could’ve confessed sooner, instead of ignoring his feelings. And for what? A mindless hookup with Sydney?! He could’ve had you this whole time, but he fucked up.
“....Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me.”
You said that line softly. No anger, or frustration, or even confusion behind that line. Just hurt. He saw a single tear fall down your cheek as you stopped singing. There was more to that song, you just couldn’t continue. He’d be sure to ask you to sing the rest of it later, but right now he needed to fix this. You stood up from the piano bench and he burst through the door. “Stanley, what are you doi-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he wrapped his arms around you and brought your head to his chest. “I meant every word of that damn song. Every word. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” Tears flowed down your face as you tightly hugged him back and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “I love you. And I’ll be better for you. I should’ve treated you with the respect and love you deserve. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Please give me a second chance, please.” He cried. “I love you too, Stan.” You started. “But I don’t know.” He squeezed you tighter (but still as gentle as possible, he didn’t want to hurt you), with more tears flowing out of his eyes. “Please, Y/N. I’ll be better. If I give you anything less than the love and attention you deserve, you have my full permission to punch me square in the face and kick me to the curb.” You both giggled, still crying.
He let go of you to hold your face in his hands. “Please?” He begged. “...Okay, fine. But we need to go over how you’re going to do better in the future and what we can do to help each other communicate better and stuff.” You said. He picked you up and spun you around, making you squeal. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Y/N!! I promise I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” You laughed as he set you down and leant down to whisper in your ear. “Want to hear a secret?” He said, sending shivers down your spine. “I never liked Sydney.” He laughed as you hit his chest. “You dick!” You exclaimed, shocked. He swiftly pulled you in by the waist, your faces inches apart as your hands rested on his chest. “You love me, though.” He whispered. “That I do.” You said and finally closed the gap. Damn, you could kiss this boy forever. Alas, the moment is cut short because unfortunately, humans need oxygen to survive. “I love you too.” He says and smiles, giving you a peck on the forehead. “Could you sing the rest of that song for me? I love your voice but that songwriting was INCREDIBLE.” He says and you nod.
------------------------------------------------------
permanent taglist:
@loonylunaandthenargles
#stanley barber x reader#stanley barber#ianowt#i am not okay with this#stanley barber x you#stanley barber x y/n
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just say it
Yang:Ruby, I’m going to give you something sisterly advice about relationships; since you’ve been dating Jaune for awhile.
Ruby:Oh that’s okay. I have this bo-
Yang:Fuck the book! I’m gonna drop some knowledge on you! Something dad told me that changes the game forever.
Ruby:Oh god....
Yang:Jaune is a nice average guy. Be direct with him when it comes to being frisky.
Ruby:*red* What!?
Yang:You heard me. When you think you’re ready for that sort of stuff and he hasn’t made any kind of hint, just ask for sex in a straightforward manor. Don’t play the hinting game.
Ruby:Because he’s dense?
Yang:No, it’s because the fear of misreading a genuine signal for a tease is dangerous. If a girl misreads a signal, it can turn into a real embarrassing story that has laughter and lessons in it. If a guy misreads a sexual signal...
Qrow:*runs down stairs* Reputation, ruined. They look like scum, an asshole, charges could happen, harassment is called into question. Friend groups are destroyed and self confidence is slaughtered. As your uncle I want you single, but as a man who respects women and has been around, spare that man anxiety.
Ruby:Huh....never realized dating was such psychological warfare.
Yang:It’s all psychological warfare! Just look at Ren and Nora. She “accidentally” forgot her clothes outside of the shower and asked Ren to bring them. He left them outside the door. I asked him why he didn’t go in. “You never know when it’s just a request.” That was his answer.
Ruby:But...Nora totally wants to-
Yang:He knows, still could be wrong though.
Ruby:Boys are weird, but I guess I can understand. I psych myself out when I try making friends because I don’t wanna look dumb.
Qrow:Now take that embarrassment of going in for a hug instead of a handshake, then replace it with going in for a kiss when you should’ve actually done nothing after a person danced on you like a pole.
Yang:Yikes...
Ruby:I would actually die. Change my name and never look back.
Qrow:Any relationship is a dangerous game. Don’t make it more exhausting than it has to be. I don’t wanna murder that kid over a misunderstanding. I’ll do it, but I don’t wanna.
Ruby:Okay.
[Days later]
Jaune:*playing a game*
Ruby:....Hey Jaune?
Jaune:What’s up?
Ruby:I just wanna key you know that....it’s okay to touch me more. *red* Also, walking into my room if I’m changing or bringing me something while I’m showering is cool too. I’m comfortable with that sort of thing.
Jaune:*red* Really? Thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep that in mind.
Ruby:No problem. One more thi-thing. Sex is on the table. Just ask first.
The main paused the game and whipped his head around. Both of them were bright red.
Jaune:Uhhh-
Ruby:Not right now! I’m not mentally prepared but you know, maybe like after everyone goes to bed and...yeah. I would like to try that kind of stuff if you’re okay with it.
Jaune:Who’s been whispering in your ear.
Ruby:Yang and Qrow gave me this talk about boys and the crippling repercussions in society of miss reading signals.
Jaune:Yang gave you that conversation?
Ruby:She adores you. Seeing you have anxiety and question yourself gives her second hand anxiety. Qrow gave some weird story about kissing a pole or something- the point is I want to let you know we can be open each other about these sort of things. I’m the last person to get upset about misunderstandings and I’ll try to keep in mind that I should make the first moves sometimes. That way you’re less stressed,
Jaune got up and kissed her. Ruby giggled, she could feel the tension leave his body. Looks like he was a little tense about this sort of thing. She grabbed his hands and put them around her waist.
Ruby:This is allowed anytime.
Jaune:Hehe, good to know.
139 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
pizza-and-soda111
~Pizza~
spocktheestallion
professional hater
trustnogovdotcuminyaface
TROY-JINN_MAN
buythebestledtvonline
Buy the best LED TV online
hildorien
Why Look To A Dying Sunset in the West