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silverbyeol · 3 years ago

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When We Collide - Tom Holland

Summary: A close encounter with death, brings on a new relationship (This summary sucks, but I don’t want to give anything away)

Author’s Note: Not sure if this classifies as angst, but the ending is kind of sad... but lots of fluff all throughout!

Word Count: 3.6K

“That’s a wrap for today everyone, have a good day and I’ll see you all on Friday,” the male producer said, there was some light mumbling throughout the cast and everyone disbursed soon after.

“Hey, Tom!” yelled a male voice, stopping the brunette in his tracks, “Would you like to hang out with us? We’re going to grab some drinks at a pub?” Tom looked over at the owner of the voice, one of his co-stars.

“I would, but I already have plans for today. Definitely next time,” the male replied with a smile. Truth be told, Tom didn’t really have any important plans. They were shooting a movie in London and all Tom wanted to do was walk around and enjoy the feeling of being home for a while.

The male walked into his trailer and changed out of the outfit he wore on set and into something more comfortable, jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He checked himself out in the mirror and, before leaving the set, put on a black cap and dark shades, to mask his identity. It was nice to get away from fame and responsibilities for a while and just lead a somewhat normal life.

The streets of London were always busy with people walking about, minding their business, and tourists snapping pictures of every nook and cranny. The weather was gloomy today and there was really no reason to wear shades outside. He probably looked crazy, but Tom went unrecognized as he made his way towards his favourite cafe- ready to enjoy some afternoon tea and maybe even read a book. The cafe was located in a part of London that was rarely crowded. The brunette turned a corner, and there it was; the cafe was standing just across the street. He stopped at the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the signal to turn green.

On the other side of the street stood a young female. She had a pair of over-ear headphones on and wasn’t really paying attention to her surroundings. The male looked her over, admiring how cute she was. She had a black and white striped top on, paired with black cargo jeans, and a black Nike duffle bag across her chest. She looked as if she was coming back from the fitness center. The light turned green for them to cross and the female looked both ways to make sure there were no other cars. She quickly looked back at her phone, missing the vehicle that was speeding down the road.

Everything moved so fast. She was about to get hit and without thinking, the male took off running towards her, ready to push her out of the way. Everything started moving in slow motion and for a split second, he saw her eyes widen with fear as she looked up from her phone and noticed the situation unfolding. Tom quickly grabbed the girl's waist, lunging the two onto the ground, right in front of the coffee shop.

‘This definitely hurts less at the studio…’ he thought and fluttered open his eyes, meeting fearful e/c ones.

“Are you okay?” the female asked as she lay on top of Tom.

“I’m fine. No big deal,” he grunted out. It was actually a big deal… His head and back hurt from the fall and his hands were scraped from sliding on the concrete. “Are you okay?” he in turn asked her as he scanned her face for any injuries.

“I’m fine… I- ermm…” she stuttered and quickly got off the males body, sitting down on the ground next to him, “Thank you- I don’t- Everything just happened so fast…” she said with a shaky voice as if the events finally hit her. The car was long gone and there were no other people walking by as the incident occured.

“What a bloody arsehole, he shouldn’t have been going so fast,” Tom said and frowned. The female's things were all over the ground and right in the middle of them were his sunglasses. His eyes met with the girls, yet she seemed to not recognize that he was famous, “Are you hurt? Should we go to the hospital?” he questioned, concerned about her well-being.

“I’m alright. Thank you… I’m not sure how I could ever repay you for saving my life… you even got hurt,” she said as she studied his scraped hands.

“There’s no need. What’s your name?”

“Y/n.” she answered and the couple stood up from the ground.

“I’m Tom. Pleasure.” he replied, looking into her eyes for any sign of recognition, but nothing.

“Can I at least buy you a cuppa or coffee?” she asked and motioned towards the shop. Tom warmly smiled at her.

“Sure.” The two grabbed their things and collected themselves before going into the shop.

“Welcome! What can I get started for you two?” asked the barista. Tom and the female awkwardly approached the counter.

“I’ll have a flat white, please,” the female by his side said.

“Two of those,” Tom added. Y/n started digging in her bag, most likely looking for her wallet.

“10 pounds.” the barista said and Tom swiftly handed the barista the orange/brown coloured bill.

“Wait… what are you-” Y/n said in confusion.

“Let’s go sit down,” Tom interrupted and led the two towards an empty table.

“You’re way too kind…” Y/n said when the pair sat down. Tom chuckled.

“Making you pay wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.” the female smiled at him and the barista came over to the table, setting down two small cups.

“Thank you.” they both said and Y/n picked up the cup and took a small sip, making Tom stare. Being a celebrity, he never had meaningful conversations with strangers. Everyone either wanted a photo or autograph, so it was hard for the male to make connections with regular people.

“What's up with the shades?” she asked, hoping to see more of the strangers' faces.

“Oh....” Tom mumbled and took off his glasses and cap. There was no one in the shop besides the pair, it was fangirl free, “It’s a habit.”

“Makes you look kind of dodgy...”

“Does it…?” he mumbled more to himself than the girl. She looked more calm than before as if the incident was long forgotten. He picked up his mug and took a sip of the hot liquid. Y/n took a second to examine the male. He had brown hair and a pair of matching brown eyes. His baby face made him look like a puppy. He was cute. Her eyes traveled to his arms, they were slightly veiny, he was most likely fit and worked out a lot. Her eyes looked at his hands that were red and had scratches from the fall.

“Tell me about yourself,” Tom said, wanting to keep the mood light.

“Me? I’m honestly not that interesting…” she said and looked down at her lap, “I’m a ballet dancer, I don’t really have time for much else…” she continued, picking up Tom’s interest.

“You dance? I took ballet classes when I was a child. I was even in the Billy Elliot musical-” Tom said and suddenly felt nervous. (Y/n) didn’t seem to know who he was. It was nice to be normal and treated like a regular human, not a famous actor, “when I was in secondary school,” he added.

(Y/n) looked up with interest, “I didn’t realize you were done with school… you look so young,”

“I’m actually 24,” Tom said. The female looked at him with wide eyes.

“You look so young…” she repeated and Tom took another sip of his coffee, “Did the ballet thing work out for you or are you pursuing different things?” This was Tom’s chance to tell the female that he was a famous actor.

“No, I decided to do other things,” he started. He decided that he liked the feeling of being unknown, “I work on movie sets… bunch of random things, honestly.”

“That’s cool. Do you get to meet a lot of celebrities?”

“Yeah… you could say that.”

The two sat in the coffee shop until the sky turned dark, talking about anything and everything. The longer the two talked, the more Tom started to fancy the female. Despite what she thought, she was interesting and very kind. He never met someone like her, and he definitely wanted to keep getting to know her.

“It’s almost 9…” she said with a tired sigh, “I should get going. I have rehearsals in the morning.”

“I should get going too…” Tom said, slightly disappointed…

“Despite the circumstances, it was so nice to meet you, Tom. Thank you for saving me.” she said and started getting up. He didn’t want their conversation to end, if she let him, Tom wanted to keep in touch with the female.

“Wait!” he called out and she looked at him, sitting back down, “Do you mind if I get your number? I would love to take you out on a date, or just hang out,” there was a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

“Ummm… yeah- of course…” (Y/n) felt her cheeks get warm. It’s been a while since someone asked her for her number or even asked her out on a date. Tom gave her his phone and she typed her number in.

“Have a goodnight, (Y/n).”

“Have a goodnight, Tom.”

Tom could not concentrate on set. All he could think about was the girl with the e/c coloured eyes. After the encounter, Tom texted the female that night to make sure she made it home safe. Ever since, they’ve been sending messages back and forth constantly. He wanted to take the girl out on a proper date, but that was slightly difficult. Public spaces meant lots of potential fangirls and the male was not ready to reveal his status yet.

“Holland!” yelled a strict male voice making Tom come out his daydream.

“Sir?”

“What’s the matter with you?” the director asked, annoyed that they had to reshoot the same scene for the fifth time.

“Sorry… I’ve got a lot on my mind.” he replied, making the director sigh in defeat.

“Alright. Why don’t you take the week off, yeah?”

“Oh, okay.” he replied, his thoughts going back to Y/n.

“And make sure you come back to Earth by then!” the male yelled and stormed off, annoyed about having to make a new shooting schedule for the week. Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone:

Tom: Would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow?

Tom: Totally fine if you don’t

Tom: Don’t want to pressure you

To say that the male felt stupid was an understatment. Why was he so nervous? He barely knew this girl for a week and she made him feel like a teenager who was helplessly chasing their crush around. He looked at the screen, three little dots appeared and a message suddenly popped up:

Y/n: I would like that

Tom: Great! I’ll pick you up at 6! Text me your postal address.

Tom sat on the sofa in Y/n’s flat as they watched Citizen Kane on her small telly. The female was laid down, her legs laying on top of his as she balanced a big bowl of popcorn on her belly, occasionally munching on the snack. Tom looked away from the noir film, his attention purely on his girlfriend. The pair have been dating for nearly half a year and Y/n was still unaware that her boyfriend was an A list celebrity. Of course, Tom wanted to tell her, but they’ve already gotten so far into their relationship that he was scared of how she might react to the news.

“You know… I’ve never been to your flat,” the female said and stuffed some popcorn into her mouth, never taking her eyes off the telly.

“Is that something you would like to do?” Tom questioned.

“I mean… We always spend time here. Why haven’t you invited me over? Are you hiding a secret family from me?” her eyes met his and he saw the playful gleam behind her orbs.

“You caught me. My wife and kids wouldn’t be too happy to find out that I enjoy spending my time more with my mistress than them,” Y/n picked up a piece of popcorn and threw it at him, landing it right in the middle of his forehead.

“That’s what you get, Mr. Holland… or is that even your real name?” she said glaring at him, but a smile was plastered on her lips. Tom grabbed the bowl of popcorn from her belly and placed it down on the floor. He quickly got on top of her, using his forearms as support to hover over her.

“Would you like to come over tomorrow then? I could cook us dinner?” he questioned as he looked all over her face, admiring every little detail.

“That sounds lovely. Your wife and kids won’t mind?” she giggled.

“No. I’ll make sure they’re out by the time you get there,” he said and dipped down to capture her lips.

Tom was nervous about his girlfriend coming over, and not because he had a secret family. Tom did not mind that his girlfriend lived in a flat that only had one small bedroom and a common area, nor was he worried about her being materialistic and only keeping him around for the money. She didn’t have much, but she liked to spoil him with small gifts here and there with whatever money she had left from her paycheck. It was bad enough that he drove around in a Porsche, but he lived in a luxurious two story flat on the outskirts of London. If she were to ask questions, how was he supposed to explain where his wealth came from? What if there were paparazzis situated outside his home? He wanted to tell her about being Spider-man on his own time and this could potentially out him.

“I thought you lived closer to the city…” Y/n said looking out the window, watching as they got further from the center of London.

“I prefer staying out of London… It’s always so crowded and the traffic is horrible.” he replied as he pulled into the carpark. Y/n smiled in anticipation. The building of the flats looked really modern, as if they were built recently. She knew that this place must have been expensive to live in. The couple walked inside the building, his hand on the small of her back as he led her towards the lift.

“Mr. Holland.” the doorman greeted, with a kind smile.

“John. Good evening.”

Once inside the lift, Tom swiped his key card and pressed the button for the highest floor. Y/n looked around, slightly feeling out of place. She knew that Tom worked in the film industry, but she didn’t expect him to be loaded. The door to the lift opened and the girl's eyes went wide with shock as she was met with a spacious flat and huge windows that were facing towards the center of London.

“Woah… You said you did what?” the female questioned as she looked out the window.

“I work on movie sets… which reminds me,” he said and came up behind the female, wrapping his arms around her middle, “There is a private screening tonight of the movie I was working on when we first met. It would mean a lot to me, if you came along to watch it.” he said, kissing his girlfriend's cheek.

“Am I allowed to?”

“Of course. You’re my plus one, love…”

The couple finished their dinner before going to see the private screening. Most movies would be shown to the cast and crew before they officially premiered in Hollywood. This showing was meant for the UK team only. This was the moment that Tom would confess who he actually was. His heart was pounding against his chest as he and Y/n sat down in the chairs in the screen room. There were only five others there.

“What’s this movie about?” questioned the female.

“Superheroes.” Tom responded with a bit of a smirk on his face. This was going to be the first time he’s seen the final product, so he wasn’t completely sure when Peter Parker was going to make an appearance. The Marvel logo played and transitioned into a poor quality memorial video of all the Avengers that died during the Thanos battle. The scene continued with two teens as they were giving a morning announcement to their school. Tom looked over at his girlfriend who looked confused, she must not have watched any of the marvel movies. The scene ended and there he was… It was always weird seeing your own face on a big screen.

“I have a plan!” his character started, talking about how he was going to woo MJ in Paris. Tom looked over to his right. Y/n had her mouth wide open as she watched her boyfriend speak in an American accent. She looked at the screen and slowly turned her head to look at her boyfriend as if trying to confirm that it was the same person. Five minutes into the movie and there he was in his Spider-man suit talking at a fundraiser. Y/n grabbed her bag and abruptly stood up, walking out of the screening room, having seen enough.

“Shit…” Tom mumbled and raced after her, “Love, wait!” he yelled, but the female kept walking until she got outside. Not knowing where to go, she stopped in her tracks, “Y/n…”

“You’re Spiderman…” she muttered lowly and Tom almost didn’t catch it.

“I-” he started saying, but she quickly cut him off.

“This is mental. You’re Spiderman and you forgot to mention that your job entails you to actually be the main character in the film?” she said and turned around to look at him. She looked sad, almost disappointed. Tom was at a loss for words.

“You’ve nothing to say?” she tutted and started walking in a random direction, away from the male.

“Babe! Wait!” he yelled and ran up to stand in front of her to block her way, “I was scared okay… Everyone who I ever meet on the street wants a photo or autograph. When I met you, you made me feel normal for once, not like I’m some object that belongs in a museum. I know that keeping this from you was bad and I am truly sorry,” her eyes sparkled in understanding as she listened to the male speak, “I don’t want to lose you.” he ended, his eyes slightly glossy. Y/n sighed and leaned over to give him a kiss. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him, fearing that this would be the last time he would be able to feel her lips.

“I understand if you want to break up-”

“Shut up and kiss me, you bloody git.” the female giggled, making Tom smile and lean in for another kiss.

…

“Don’t lie to me ever again.”

“Never.”

It’s been about five years since the couple started dating. Tom was ready to ask Y/n to marry him. He was going to propose on their anniversary, but he wasn’t sure how or where; all he knew was that he was ready to call her his forever. The male walked into their shared bedroom where the future Mrs. Holland was already in, laying under the covers, dozing off. He slipped in and pulled her close to his chest.

“I love you, Y/n.” he whispered as he kissed her neck, earning a tired reply…

“I love you, too…”

~~~~~

"He's waking up!"

"Tom!"

"Can you hear us?"

"TOM!" slowly his eyes opened and he met a white ceiling.

"Where am I?" he groaned and looked over to the side, his mom was there looking at the male in worry.

"You're in the hospital, Tom. You've been in a coma for six months..." his mother said in a calm voice as tears spilled from her eyes.

"Mum? Where's Y/n? I need to see her, is she okay?" Tom questioned as he tried to get out of bed. His head was pounding as he tried to recall the accident.

“Woah… you need to stay in bed, Thomas. Who’s Y/n?” his mother asked, concerned.

“My girlfriend… I was going to propose to her.” Tom let out.

“I’m going to go get a doctor. Please don’t move.” his mother said and left the room.

“What happened?” Tom groaned and he held his head.

“Your director called us after you didn’t show up for the shooting…” spoke up his brother, Harry, who was sitting on a chair, on the opposite side where his mother just stood, “You and some girl got hit by a car just outside a shop in London.”

“Coffee shop?” Tom questioned, his headache starting to ease.

“Yeah…” Harry said.

“Where’s the girl?” Tom questioned, curious what was happening.

“Just in the other room. They haven't been able to identify her.” Harry finished, concerned about his brother.

“Can you take me to her?”

“You just woke up… No way…” Harry said as he frowned at the older male.

“I need to see her…” Tom pleaded, making his brother sigh. Harry got up from the chair and rolled over a wheelchair that was located on the other side of the room. He helped his brother on it and wheeled him towards the room next door. The pair of brothers stopped just outside a window that looked into a patient's room. The shape of her face, the colour of her hair- everything about her was so familiar. She had lost a little colour on her skin, probably due to being in a coma and light bruises littered her body. He couldn’t see the colour of the girl’s eyes, but he was sure that he recognized her.

She was the same girl who Tom was going to propose to. That girl was Y/n...

Thanks for reading, lovely~

#tom holland #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

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absoluteindulgence · 4 years ago

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HC: Hot Girl Summer with the Boys

A/N: Hey y’all, I’m back... Let’s party. This is a magical world where the Rona has not taken over the world and summertime was filled with nothing but fun and bad choices ✌🏿. Sorry that it’s long, I had a lot of thoughts lmao. I hope you guys like this~ Characters are aged up⬆🆙

☀ 🌞Mirio🌞☀

Staying home reading a book... just fucking kidding

Mirio couldn't keep his ass still even if you told him to

This man is taking you all over the world, every amusement park to every ride.

Ever looked fear in the face? Well, being in front of every rollercoaster multiple times means you have.

His true daredevil nature comes out as you both try to see who will last longer going down the roller coaster

You've wanted to throw in the towel many times, but persevered, beating Mirio by a landslide.

Due to all the crowded lines and the fact that you're heroes, everyone lets you skip. You try being modest, but it doesn't work as the other patrons say, "Not only are you my favorite heroes but my favorite couple. You deserve to have fun!"

The willingness of everyone approving of your vacation time is gratifying, to say the least.

After spending time doing all the extreme rides, You guys enjoy all the other stalls.

Ironic enough, Mirio comes across the win-a-prize games and swears to get you one.

You try to tell him not to worry, but that fires him up more. I guess in his blonde brain, he thinks you don't want one, so he wants to prove your cute ass wrong.

And oh boy, did he.

He had accurate precision: Throwing the ball in the cup, throwing the hoop onto the bottle, shooting the paper plate off entirely.

Mirio the Assassin confirmed

After managing to win 4 STUFFED ANIMALS, 3 are for you while 1 goes to Eri.

The feels right in the kokoro~

With enough wins under his belt, Mirio treats you to bubble tea and taiyaki. With no shame, you stuff your face happy to finally enjoy food that won't come up.

"Wow, this taiyaki sure is great! But nothing is as sweet as you, baby."

Heart: ABLAZE

This goofball can't even let you enjoy your food in silence. But his honest smile compliments the moment as your flushed cheeks puff from drinking your favorite thirst quencher.

The day ends with you walking around the amusement park, arms full of toys, and finding a unique spot to watch the marvel of the sunset.

As you hold hands, a glance is shared as you two share a passionate kiss.

❄Shouto🔥

You guys are spending a lot of time reading manga and going to cafes.

Shouto lives to see you get dressed up as you let your hair flow in the wind (no matter how long or short, he knows you like the cool air on your scalp. The smile that spreads across your face is contagious as he stares at you with a similar grin)

Your beauty leaves all the other pedestrians gawking as Shouto, nonchalant but proud holds your hand.

Some fans come up to take selfies with you guys and damn do the photos look good.

Going to various cafes through Japan has been a bucket list that you've shared since your first date. Rating each and creating a rating system. When all other plans fail, the top-rated are the ones you'll go back to.

The day is mellow, leaving you to stay inside because you feel like it. Cuddling with Shouto has proved to be an all-time favorite.

His light snores turn into light conversations. He has a hard time opening his eyes since he feels secure in having you by his side.

When you finally wake up, you cook together, his fave ofc, Cold-ass Soba. (One time you pranked him by boiling the noodles in strawberry milk, and he retaliated by putting pepper in your tea. On that day, you learned not to come between a man and his soba)

When yearning for a little excitement, you drag Shouto to a karaoke bar

He tries not to get too involved, but then you play one of his favorite angsty songs, and he's singing like one of the greats

You can't tell me that Shouto wouldn't vibe to Linkin Park, 3 Days Grace or The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (Especially when he hated Endeavor to his core)

Shouto would give an excellent performance to Breaking The Habit, Home, and Face Down. I FEEL IT IN MY SPIRIT!!!

The only way you feel like you'll win…. Is if you rap Monster (Nicki's Verse ofc) or sing My Heart Will Go On lmao

Shouto thinks you're cheating tho because those are your trump cards when all else fails lmaooo

After the scream-singing match is done, you guys go home and drink a bunch of tea, hoping your voices aren't gone by the morning

💥Bakugou💥

If you're going to an amusement park, y'all going straight to the "horror" houses.

You guys usually go in to laugh at the horrible attempts to make you scared. Until there's that one jump scare that makes your heart leap out your chest.

You're breathless with the mocking laugh caught in your throat as you grip close to Katsuki's side.

This fiery bastard laugh gets even louder seeing you cower in embarrassment. Once he's done making fun of you, he kisses your forehead.

"About damn time, you move in close."

Now say you're not at an amusement park? You guys are going to the spa.

Not because you're tense but because it's always funny seeing Katsuki tense up when they try to butter him with complimentary things (thanks to being top heroes).

He hates going to public spaces and getting stuff for free. He wants to pay for the experience so that no one can say he takes advantage of his status.

Although it creates funny scenarios, you respect how committed he is.

His reasoning is that he's a citizen paying another citizen for their service.

Granted, if the service is excellent, the worker is guaranteed a tip (depending on the country since he likes to follow customs).

The funniest thing is him coming from Massage therapy, he's a big ol’ softie.

The cuddles are intense, and his face never changes from the color pink, and his smile is curved too high.

Onlookers seeing him smile are terrified, and yet you are smushing his face between your hands kissing him all over.

"You look so relaxed, Boomer, let's take a bath together~."

Coming back to his senses, he'll grit his teeth a little and retort, "I'm not a damn Boomer!"

He's not mad that you called him that he's just mad you said it in public LMFAO

🌋Kirishima🌋

You guys are spending most of your time at the beach, soaking in the sun and enjoying his thick ass hands rubbing sunscreen all over your body

Don't let him see you enjoying it, he might have to pull you away from the public and give you that good ole sea cucumber

But when he can't get your sweetness right away, he'll have to push his energy into something else

And ofc, Kiri has an active personality, and when you mix that with demolishing opponents while playing volleyball, you too get into your competitive mode.

Anyone playing against you guys will catch HELL. Some cried from the impact of the ball, hitting them. Some deserving for the shit-talking...

Others getting sincere apologies and an autograph or picture lmao

Everyone on the beach knows you two as the power couple, and you win the nicknames, Otters of the Sand.

After kicking so much ass, you guys enter an eating contest as a team. Everyone's surprised to see how many bowls you've cleared. The appetite is already built up, so you guys are willing to stuff your faces until you're waddling back to the hotel.

And with the stamina you've gained at UA, you made it happen. In Second place to Kiri. He basks in his crown, winning first place, and you guys happily waddle back to your hotel room, taking a shower together then cuddling.

Imagine you guys decide to stay lax the whole summer, video, and card games are the vibe.

You try hard to kick his ass in Smash and end up losing... No matter who you main. You even try random (3 times) and still lose.

"Wow, Babe, you're doing well for a sore loser. You almost got a 3 stock victory!"

His laugh ticks you off even though he's just teasing you, and you wanna switch the game. Even in the back of your head, you deem it pointless, but he still obliges you.

No tlk angy frm l0sng😡💢

When you've played your last game, you accept your defeat only to tickle him into submission.

He apologizes and wraps you into a bear hug smothering you in kisses.

#mirio x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #Mirio Imagines #Shouto Imagines #Katsuki Imagine #Eijirou Imagine #mha x reader

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idga-buck · 4 years ago

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Some and Others, 3/?

Earth’s mightiest heroes save the city again, but that’s never the end of the story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,301

Content: canon typical violence, death, destruction, swearing

Bucky was going to call. He just didn’t. He was surprised you hadn’t and overwhelmingly disappointed that it meant if he was going to apologize, it was a conversation he’d have to initiate himself. It could wait though. Just a little longer while he figured out what he wanted to say.

A week later, the Post ran a story about the same gossip site that had leaked your photo of him being shut down after many of their stories and photos were found to be fake. A rarity for the world of journalism these days, Sam noted casually as they stopped at a newspaper cart. Bucky bought a couple candy bars and watched the man with the thick black mustache and the gold chain slip copies of the article in front of a few of his worst sellers. Could he actually be that lucky? It was an easy out after a week of dodging questions and trying to remind the world to stay out of his business.

“So that photo of you? The secret girlfriend?” Sam waited for Bucky to respond, but when the centenarian opted to buy a Pay Day instead, he watched closer. Bucky hated that. Sam said he had a staring problem, but Sam was the one with x-Ray vision. He could read people, read a room, read Steve’s body language from across a battlefield and adjust his position without being told. As annoyed as Bucky acted when paired up with Sam Wilson, he was one of the few people in this century that Bucky Barnes respected. Truly. Except for that moment on a street corner when brown eyes were scanning his complete lack of guts and deciding what was worth commenting on.

“Yeah,” Bucky ripped open the wrapper a little too aggressively and responded with peanuts between his teeth. “It wasn’t real.”

Sam nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets while Bucky stuffed his face. “I don’t know how you land the fake girlfriend story, when I’m right here,” they started walking away from the stand while Sam jabbered on. “And lookin’ as fine as I do? Come on, man,” he danced ahead of Bucky a few steps, forcing him to look up. “You know this would make a better story.”

Before Bucky could say anything, a loud crash echoed between the buildings. Nothing was visible from their block, but both men, trained for combat, were instantly on alert.

“That for us?” Sam asked, eyeing the busy intersection.

“No,” said Bucky, a clipped tone in his voice as he shook his head and started walking again.

Another crash, this time accompanied by the faint human noises that usually follow tragedy.

“You sure about that?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up.

Sirens from every kind emergency response vehicle blared in the distance, growing louder then quieter again as they wove their way through the streets, changing directions to avoid traffic.

Bucky pointed at a passing fire truck, waiting until it had turned down another street before speaking. “See? They got it.”

Then Sam’s phone rang and Bucky swore, planting his hands on his hips while whoever was on the other line confirmed that the emergency growing in the distance was in fact for them. Sam placed the call on speaker and gave their current location. Stark’s voice was muffled and metallic, the way it usually was while calling from inside his fancy helmet, but he told them to stay put as he did a fly by with Sam’s equipment.

“Tell the Tin Man he’s got a special delivery,” Tony informed them from somewhere overhead.

“They're your wings,” Bucky grumbled, looking up from the ground as the familiar glare of Iron Man’s thrusters came into view. “And your robot.”

“First of all,” Sam informed him. “Red Wing isn’t a robot. He’s a drone.”

“It,” Bucky corrected, “is a robot.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” said Sam before pointing up to where Iron Man had doubled back to get a better angle. “And… unlike some of us present, my body is exactly as God created it, flesh and bone.”

“Pop up, deep center,” Tony’s voice rang out obnoxiously through Sam’s phone once more.

Bucky watched a black bundle falling from the sky, trying to position himself under it and pushing more than one pedestrian out of his way to do so. “Actually, I was a catcher back in ‘32.”

“THEN CATCH!” Sam hollered just before the EXO Falcon gear landed square in Bucky’s chest, forcing him off his feet and onto his ass, skidding to a stop on a sidewalk while the people around them scattered, gasping and grabbing at their phones to take pictures of the two Avengers. Bucky laid flat on his back, both arms still wrapped around the bundle, and took a deep breath when Sam stood over his head, arms shooting out to his sides as he yelled “SAFE!”

Bucky groaned and tossed the black bag up into Sam’s arms, hard enough to make him stumble but not enough to knock him down. “Should have said ‘out.’” Bucky grumbled and Sam chuckled as he dug through the bag for his equipment. “Safe makes it sound like I-”

“You really wanna argue about baseball right now,” Sam laughed, securing his wings over his torso and releasing them both with a flash as if stretching before a fight. “Or are we gonna go save the world?” Bucky didn’t answer, just took off running in the direction of the screams. “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Sam to himself, shooting up into the air.

…

Robots. Drones. Whatever they, Bucky Barnes has decided that he hates them.

Fighting Nazis was easy. Not physically. Not when your gun isn’t really yours and the food sucks and you’re almost as worried about losing your toes as you are losing your team. But it made sense. These men in their wool coats wanted innocent deaths. Something in Bucky that had been there all along was born anew in the war. He was a protector. Of his sisters, of Steve, of his country. It made sense.

Nothing about Hydra made sense and the therapist he stopped seeing told him it was okay to think about those years differently than the rest. So he did.

When T’challa presented him with a black vibranium canon for his left side, the enemy was otherworldly. Literally. They didn’t bleed like men. They made horrible screeching noises when they died, but even that was different from me. They rode disgusting creatures with teeth that could have scratched his arm if he’d let them get close enough. They were invaders, their leader sought destruction on an even greater scale than the War. Bucky was a protector again, protector of Earth, of life in the universe. An unimaginable title for the boy he’d been, sitting in front of the radio with his family and marveling at the president's voice. It’s not like he was eager to do it again, but space invaders whose goal was universal genocide would be met with the business end of Bucky’s favorite rifle.

Fighting robots, however, was fucked up.

Bucky was still processing his new life, still getting used to the idea that people carried plastic cards in their wallets and could pull money out of the walls with just a few buttons. There were movie theaters with screens two stories high. Cars plugged into the sides of hotels. The cell phone in his pocket was overwhelming as is. In a few minutes, he could buy all the clothes he’d ever need, pay for dinner, and talk to people across the country. It was baffling.

All this technology, all this progress, and of course there were people who weaponized it. Bucky hated that. He remembered science fairs, remembered Howard Stark’s big promises. There was so much hope in him as a young man. He’d live to drive a flying car, his children would learn about the world through a holograms in their livingroom, his grandchildren would live on the moon. The possibilities were endless. So much so that people with horrible intentions for the world also believed that the possibilities were endless, forcing Bucky into his current position.

His thighs were wrapped around the base of a machine, arms wound near the top. He threw his shoulders back with all of his might, squeezing his legs in the process, and didn’t stop until the metal gave way. Bucky fell onto the pavement with his own momentum, the enemy in two pieces with wires exposed and frizzling as they died. He dropped the robot and rolled to his side, observing the scene around him. Steve used a cleaner approach and sent his shield flying through the air. Three more bots’ were sliced in two, the last of which was pinned by the shield into the side of a brick building. Sam circled above, with Redwing swooping below to draw laser fire away from bystanders while Wanda tried her best to herd them away, spinning to throw angry red energy at anything that came their direction.

“Sergeant Barnes!” The familiar and overly excited voice of the kid in blue and red spider gear startled Bucky. The kid swung in unexpectedly, decked out and ready to help. Bucky didn’t care that he was probably skipping school to do so and swung his vibranium arm behind him, the metal of another droid crunching under his elbow. “How can I help?”

Bucky squinted, a little dumbfounded at the question. There was a six block radius being overrun with droids, drones, robots- whatever- and people were terrified. “Pick something,” he grunted, taking the robot's head… top part, between his hands and twisting until it gave way and the bottom half dropped powerless to the ground.

Just then the sound of metal screeching pulled both their eyes to a city bus being thrown around like it was weightless, crunching the vehicles nearby, and sending more people into a frenzy as buildings were still evacuating onto the street. “That! Pick that!” Bucky commanded and the kid flew away, attached to a white string like a kite. Two more robots were approaching from the sidewalk, red eyes glowing and ready to fire. Bucky looked around the street for something, anything that he could use before deciding on a minivan. The windows looked clear, driver and passengers already scampering away at the first sign of trouble, so Bucky planted his boot into the back door and kicked. The door caved in and the vehicle flipped onto its side before skidding to a halt on the sidewalk and crushing the robots beneath it.

“Uh! MISTER BARNES, SIR, SARGE-!”

Bucky turned back to look at Peter, propped up on a light pole and leaning so far back his body was almost parallel to the ground. The only thing keeping him upright was the two thick white webs attached to the bus, one at the front and one at the back. It was tipping over dangerously low, trapping a small group of people between the bus and two buildings, one that had smoke billowing out the windows. This was a mess.

Bucky ran through the street, jumping onto the hoods of abandoned cars to avoid weaving between them before leaping off an SUV and rolling back into a run on the sidewalk. A laser struc Peter, knocking him clean off his perch, and the webs supporting the bus went dangerously slack as it started tipping toward the trapped people again. Bucky jumped, wedging himself between the building and the collapsing bus with great effort. His shoulders dug into the brick behind him and his thighs burned as he shoved the bus away from the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt it slowly start to tip away from the ground. The kid was now on the ground somewhere out of sight and Bucky had to hold back from sending the vehicle flying, lest he squash Stark’s favorite spider in the process. The tension in his legs grew as he held it steady, adjusting his feet and shoulders until he felt it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey!” He called out to the people below him. “Get out of here, go!”

There were rushed thank yous and lots of tears as the crowd dispersed from their trapped position. But one voice stood out among them and it made Bucky’s heart speed up.

“Bucky?! Oh my god, BUCKY!”

Bucky’s eyes were closed under the strain, but he’d know your voice anywhere. He opened them just in time to see Peter recover and zip off in a new direction. Bucky released his breath and shoved his feet out hard, tipping the bus back. He dropped from the wall and grabbed you as the bus wobbled precariously in both directions before finally falling into traffic and directly onto the roof of an empty red sports car.

Bucky hadn’t realized how tight he was holding you until you said his name again and the word was broken. His arms relaxed a bit, but you made no move to run away… or let go of his jacket. The two of you just stared at each other, breathing heavily, before screaming drew your eyes away. The small crowd of people you’d been stuck with were running away from where you stood, but the two in the back collapsed, their bodies charred and heavy as they hit the ground. You screamed then and Bucky pulled your back into his chest, hugging your stomach as you keeled over. He’d seen so much death in his hundred odd years, it was hard to witness it with these fresh eyes. You weren’t prepared to watch two innocent people’s skin melting under lasers. Hell, neither was Bucky and while you cried in his arms, the smell of burning flesh stung his eyes. He’d never get over that smell, no matter how many world wars he participated in. His face was buried in the back of your head, shushing you as he lifted you up. He took careful backwards steps until you were both hidden in the same alley you’d just been trapped in. Bucky looked up at the burning building and decided he had a minute before you were both in danger here.

“Hey,” he said softly when you went limp against his chest. “Hey now,” he repeated, spinning and almost dropping you when he realized you hadn’t just relaxed… you were unconscious. “Shit,” Bucky dropped to his knees and let your body lean up against his chest, slapping at your cheeks and calling your name to try and wake you up. Half of your face was red with blood from a wound he couldn’t see somewhere in your hair. Break up or no break up, he couldn’t leave you like this. Any other person, he’d run them to safety and double back to continue clearing the streets. But this wasn’t any person. It was the girl he dumped in the middle of a restaurant and had continuously put off calling to explain himself. He hadn’t gotten the chance to clear the air and leaving you to wake up in a few hours in the middle of a destroyed midtown was just too cruel. He did like you and now it felt like he owed you.

Bucky picked you up like a doll and slung you around to his back, crossing your arms over his chest as your legs dangled behind his knees. That wasn’t going to work, he decided after only a few steps. “Can you hold on a little-“ Bucky drifted off as he turned his face to see your face hidden behind him, your forehead limply resting against his shoulder. “Of course not,” he berated himself and stopped to adjust again. This time he stooped, grabbing one of your arms and one of your legs with his hands. You were slung over his shoulders like a backpack, the same way he carried goats in Wakanda, only much easier since you weren’t kicking or screaming and he had two hands with which to wrangle you.

His steady march out of the fray was interrupted once by Wanda. After directing pockets of people to safety, she’d sought out the source of the invasion. Bucky looked around for a safe place to stow your body and found an SUV that was abandoned but still running with the doors unlocked to lay you out across the backseat, carefully tucking your feet in before slamming the door behind him. He liked Wanda, despite not knowing what exactly she was capable of, but liked her a lot less when he found himself immersed in a glowing red forcefield and being lifted into the sky. When he was forced through the large glass window of another building only to look up and find her floating gently through the hole his body had created, she shrugged.

“This way was faster,” she said, Sokovian accent much softer than their first meeting.

“Right,” Bucky groaned, making a mental note of how many Avengers could zip through the air with ease and the odds of being the one she found on the ground.

They raced up the final set of stairs and Bucky ripped the maintenance door to the roof off its hinges. It was unlucky that Bucky and Wanda had been the ones to find the bastard responsible. If it had been Steve, he’d been bound and handed over to the authorities. Tony might have thrown him in armored vehicle and shook him around a bit before demanding answers. Bruce… depending on the day wouldn’t have been much better. Nat would have gotten answers easier than either of them and Sam was easily the most noble of the bunch, so Bucky had no idea what he’d do. The right thing, whatever that was. But Wanda wasn’t particularly fond of people who harmed innocent people. The motivation didn’t much matter to her when the sounds of children crying could be heard in the streets. Bucky didn’t have much grace for people who were smart enough to help, but broken enough to hurt. Like the bastards in Hydra, who healed him, kept him alive, gave him extraordinary strength then weaponized him. Anyone who had this level of technological advancement and chose to bring destruction with it was a waste of air. Wanda hoisted the man up into one of her angry red orbs while Bucky broke the control panel into as many pieces as he could, destroying anyone else’s opportunity to learn from this guy. Neither of them had anticipated this guy to be so well armed. It looked like a pistol, but whatever it fired managed to get through Wanda’s energy field and pierce her shoulder, breaking her focus just enough for him to drop back onto the roof. He took off running to the edge and leapt, but Wanda recovered faster, using her powers to yank him back. Bucky caught him in the air and squeezed, locking the man in a painful hold until he noticed glowing red numbers counting down behind the man’s neck. Shit.

“Bucky!” Wanda pointed at the man’s hands, wrapped threateningly around a plunger that could only mean one thing.

Without a better option, Bucky turned back to edge. He released the man and as he tried to stumble forward, Bucky’s boot landed square against his sacrum, launching the man through the air and into a neighboring building in a ball of fire. Both Avengers watched the corner offices go up in flames, disgust and horror in both their eyes.

“The whole block was evacuated,” Wanda said softly and Bucky nodded. There was a distinct lack of screaming coming from the direction of the building and sirens soon flooded the streets below as first responders made their way into critical areas. From the ledge, both of them watched as the remaining bots dropped to the ground before their team, disengaging en masse. Steve looked up from atop a bodega and saluted the sky in their general direction, lifting the shield as a second acknowledgment before jumping down to the street to start… whatever Captain America does once the threat has been neutralized. The PR and clean up stuff wasn’t Bucky’s scene and he turned away, making it all the way across the roof, still observing the scene below, before remembering that you were somewhere, either still unconscious or just waking up, deeply confused in the back of a stranger’s car.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure before asking Wanda for any favors.

She pulled her hand away from her shoulder, black nail polish and red blood looking menacing and downright witchy against her pale fingers. “I’ll be alright,” she assured him, eyes already glowing red as she prepared to offer more aid.

Bucky stopped her and nodded over the side of the building. “Gimme a lift?”

She snorted and waved her fingers without looking at him and soon enough, Bucky found himself falling on his ass once again. He needed to work on his dismount if this was going to become a regular pairing. Thankfully or maybe not, you were trying to wake up as Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat and commandeered the vehicle. He turned back to watch you whine in pain as you tried to sit up, before slipping back into sleep when he told you to stay down. You were in and out for most of the drive, which helped Bucky weave up and over curbs to avoid stagnant areas where everyone had abandoned their cars out of fear.

…

You woke up with a headache, exasperated by the bright lights of the emergency room. Bucky could see the moment you came to by the hard squinting that melted into a grimace. You’d had a couple false starts, but when your eyes opened and locked on his, Bucky knew it was the real deal this time. He stood to pull back the curtain and immediately a nurse was shimmying her way into your space, brushing her chest against Bucky’s in the process. He nodded and gave her a tight smile. It had been like that since he walked into the ER with you. Avengers carrying blacked out civilians get a lot of attention, but they also get speedy service. Which is what Bucky told himself when he stuck around once you’d been admitted. You’d get better care if he stayed with you, so he did. Feet propped up on the end of your bed and dropping whenever someone came to run another test. He wasn’t family and didn’t claim to be, so they told him nothing, but nurses managed to smile flirtatiously in between doing their job. In another life, Bucky would have… done something. Anything. He smiled. He was a hundred, not dead, but there was something off putting about receiving these looks when you were asleep right there between hanging curtains in an overrun hospital as ambulances and families started to arrive from the mess he’d just left.

You answered their questions slowly, but correctly. Your name, where you were, what year it is, who the president is. The doctor would be in soon and Bucky took the minute of alone time to scoot the chair they’d brought in for him. You were watching him expectantly as the legs scraped across the floor, just a few inches before he could reach a hand out to yours. You looked down curiously at your hand in Bucky’s.

“They spelled my name wrong,” you murmured and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as you lifted your joined hands to observe the little plastic bracelet closer. He shook his head, wanting to apologize, but also hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots that he’d given them your information incorrectly. “Bucky?” He looked up to find your eyes wider than usual, a little more vulnerable than he was used to seeing you and wanted to do something to make you feel better. But like the entirety of your relationship, he had no idea how to do that.

“You’re okay,” he nodded, telling himself as much as he was telling you.

“Thank you,” you squeezed his fingers as your voice shook.

Just then a man in a white coat, pushed back the curtain and Bucky stood reflexively, dropping your hand in the process. He turned back and saw your face fall before crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the doctor addressed him first.

“Bucky,” he corrected without thinking and turned his body, opening up the room a bit and directing attention back to what mattered. The patient. You.

“Thank you for bringing her in,” the doctor continued, then looked back and forth between the two of you. “We’ve got it from here, if you need to-”

“He can stay,” you piped up. The doctor asked if you were sure, but you were. The doctor nodded, turning fully toward the bed and while that was Bucky’s goal, he now felt completely out of place in the tiny space.

“First things first,” the doctor started. “You and the baby are just fine, so I don’t want you worrying about that at all. Do you have a OB or a-”

Bucky stopped listening at that moment and focused on the roaring ocean in his ears. He looked to the bed where you were listening intently to what the doctor was saying, nodding and shaking your head mechanically. While he stared, you stole a glance in his direction. Your face was blank and he didn’t spend much time trying to read it.

“This sounds personal,” he said, voice flat and vibranium hand already reaching for the curtain at the end of your bed. “Take care.” Without sparing another look, Bucky walked through the busy emergency room with his left hand tucked into his front pocket, making him invisible to anyone who didn’t know he was there.

A/N: Here we go! It’s happening. I’m not sold on the way this ended but it was getting long as is and don’t worry, Bucky will have his chance to make it up to you.

Tags: @fangirl-swagg @learisa

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky Barnes x reader fic #bucky x female reader #sebastian stan characters #idga fic #some and others

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kumeko · 3 years ago

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A/N: For the End of the Universe Zine, I wanted to explore a small story in a dystopian world

Summary: In a dystopian world, Keith took his small pleasures. His drives while dropping illegal goods. His ever-complaining mechanic and his low repair prices. The rare night with Shiro. He didn’t need more than that.

He definitely didn’t need Shiro’s dreams of saving everyone, of saving anyone.

…

“Jeez.” Hunk squatted down next to the dented motorcycle, his hand hovering over the metal like he didn’t know where to touch. Horrified, he looked up at Keith. “What’d you do this time?”

“Nothing unusual.” Keith shrugged, his hands in his leather jacket. Considering how fast he had driven to reach here, his black clothes stuck to his skin uncomfortably and he really wanted a shower. “You know how it is.”

“I don’t.” Hunk tied a dirty bandanna around his head. Keith was never sure if that was to protect his hair or if he just thought it looked cool; if it was the former, judging by the dirty overalls and grease stains on his face, it was a failed effort. “I thought transporters had to be careful.”

“Careful and quick,” Keith corrected, walking over to a side table. Pushing away the cigarette butts and bottle caps, he picked up a newspaper. Replicants Stage Coupscreamed the top headline. “And even then it’s hard to avoid the government dogs.”

Hunk tapped the side of the motorcycle and the pedal fell off with a loud clatter. Groaning, Hunk shot Keith a baleful glare. “Why? I give you a great bike and every single time you break it.”

“It’s either that or my life,” Keith pointed out. He flipped through the newspaper quickly, scanning headlines. Issues with the current president, interest rates rising again, a food shortage with no end. The same old fare, nothing at all unusual about the headlines. When Hunk didn’t say anything, he rolled up the paper with a sigh. “Sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“…that’s what you always say,” Hunk grumbled, accepting the apology nonetheless. Pulling out his tool kit, he sat down next to the bike. “It’ll take a day or two to get in top condition.” Pointing a wrench at a grey box perched on a chair, he added, “Oh, and deliver that to Pidge while you wait.”

“Huh?” Keith crossed his arms. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a transporter?” Hunk rolled his eyes. “It’ll be the easiest job you’ve had. Nothing dangerous inside, no one chasing you. Just do it.”

Keith raised a brow. “And how much are you paying me?”

“I’m fixing your bike.” He tapped the back threateningly with the wrench. “You wanna get stuck here forever?”

“Fair point.” Picking up the box, he almost dropped it in surprise. Considering his job, Keith was pretty strong but that would just barely help him with this package. “What do you have in here? It weighs a ton.”

“Spare parts, an engine to take a part, the usual things.” Already in work mode, Hunk absentmindedly waved him off. “Just get it to her today, she has a client.”

-x-

The streets were as dirty and crowded as ever, with throngs of people flowing to and from work. Or to and from the pleasure district, to be exact. Popup shops crowded every corner, offering anything from drugs to weapons to the latest stolen technology. Neon-coloured signs hung off various buildings, enticing pedestrians to enter.

Keith pushed his way forward, his gaze firmly fixed in front of him. He hadn’t missed any of this while he was on the road. There wasn’t really anything keeping him here, fixed to this city. Hunk was a great mechanic but they were a dime a dozen, one in every town. No, to be exact, every town was the same. The same grey, the same dirt, the sense of loneliness and loss.

A world in greyscale. The only time he saw colour was when he was racing down the highway, an illegal package in his satchel.

-x-

The bells chimed as he entered Pidge’s repair shop. A small space, squeezed into the very end of a depilated building, Keith had walked past it three times before spotting it. Inside, the white shelves were lined with the latest in limb replacements, fine technology that actually made it better to lose a body part than to have it.

“In the back,” Pidge called out cheerfully, followed by the sound of metal clicks. She was with a customer then.

“I swear your place gets smaller every time I come,” Keith said dryly. A lightbulb flickered as he made his way to the back room. Even the space between the shelves felt narrower than the last time he came.

“Or you’re just getting fatter,” Pidge shot back, a pleasing lilt to her voice. Someone was in a good mood today.

“Like that’s possible.” Keith snorted, waving a package as he entered Pidge’s unofficial clinic. “Hunk wanted you to have this.”

At one point, the room had probably been a manager’s room or something like that. Now there were curtains on windows and a long bed for the particularly strenuous limb repairs. Not that Pidge’s current operation seemed like one of those. Seated on a worn-out chair, she had her latest patient sitting across from her, his mechanical arm in her lap. A man with a streak of white hair. He glanced up and Keith almost forgot to breath.

Shiro.

Shiro was back.

“Must be the parts I ordered.” Still tinkering with the arm, Pidge glanced over her shoulder. “Just put it on the table, I’ll take a look after.”

“Sure.” Keith tore his eyes away from Shiro long enough to set the box down. Shiro was back. Trying not to sound overeager, he asked, “What happened to you?”

“The usual.” Shiro winced as Pidge tried to reconnect the arm. “There was a trap. We almost got caught.”

“And then your hand got caught instead,” Pidge chimed in, closing an eye as she examined her handiwork. “What’s this, the tenth replacement? There’s a reason you’re my best customer.”

“Eleventh,” Shiro corrected with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh. It’s a good thing I don’t paste my name on these babies, otherwise I’d be dead right now.” Pidge grimaced. Somehow, Keith didn’t think that would save her for too long. Her work was too advanced, too impressive, and all it’d take was a couple of questions to find out just who made the rebellion’s general’s arm.

Taking a deep breath, Keith finally turned around and gave Shiro a proper once over. Dressed in a tank top and sweat pants, it was easy to see that there were no injuries on him. There wasn’t any blood or bandages. A relief, considering it all. It was a rare time when Shiro got away with just a broken prosthetic. Noticing his stare, Shiro smiled. “We didn’t lose anyone, at least.”

That wasn’t what he was worried about. At all. Keith crossed his arms, his eyes roving over Shiro’s biceps, his well-defined chest, and trying not to remember what it felt like to have that body curled over his. To have those hands on him. “I didn’t think you did. There was nothing in the newspapers.”

“Yeah, I guess they’d mention it if they caught us.” Shiro lowered his gaze. “Especially if they caught Allura. The rebellion would be over in an instant.”

“Rebellion.” Pidge clicked her tongue, finally setting down her tools. “You’re making it sound better than just a rag-tag of people who still think they change something.”

“We can,” Shiro answered simply.

No, you can’t, Keith thought, and perhaps more so than the world they lived in, that was the real tragedy: hope.

-x-

This wasn’t love. This was sex, pure and simple. A raw need, a primal urge. A way to forget the present. A way to feel something other than despair.

Keith bit Shiro’s throat, feeling the resulting rumble tremor through this body. Shiro’s hand interlaced in his. His nails scratched on Shiro’s back. All he could smell was Shiro’s musky scent. All he could feel was Shiro’s touch. Nothing else existed—not the road, not the government, not the possibility of death.

“Keith,” Shiro moaned, but Keith didn’t say anything back. He refused to.

This wasn’t love and therefore, he didn’t have anything to lose.

-x-

Through the half-open blinds, neon lights spilled into Keith’s bedroom. It was a spartanly furnished room, consisting of just a bed and a table. And now, Shiro, who was lying face down in a pillow to block out the light. The pinks and oranges from the street signs painted Shiro’s pale back and Keith traced familiar patterns over the many scars that littered his partner’s skin. The one on his shoulder blade, from when he’d been thrown in prison for eight months. The one on his side, from when a gun had almost hit his stomach.

Propping his head up on his hand, Keith idly touched the scar on Shiro’s lower back. Hearing Shiro’s breathing change, Keith asked, “Why do you fight?”

For a long moment, he thought Shiro was going to pretend to be asleep. Instead, he finally turned over, the sheets tangling up around his legs as he stared up at Keith. His single white lock glowed in the dim light. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“There’s no right, not anymore. Not here.” Keith dismissed the argument entirely. That was old world crap. His nail scratched line left by a blade on Shiro’s chest.

“There’s always a right. Especially here, especially now,” Shiro countered, grabbing Keith’s hand. “If I don’t fight, then who will?”

“Someone else.” Keith lowered his eyes. They had this same discussion every time, this useless argument that never changed anything. Soon, Shiro would disappear again, off on some doomed rebellion plot or the other. Maybe he’d die this time, his picture plastered on the photos.

“There’s no one else.” Shiro tightened his grip, interlacing their hands. “Just us.”

And maybe that was true too. But Keith wouldn’t stay around to find out—if he was going to be left again, he might as well leave first. There was always something that had to be transported, some job that needed doing. He’d find one as soon as his bike was fixed.

Instead of answering, he pressed his lips on Shiro’s chest, his hand already reaching down. At least during sex, he didn’t have to think these useless thoughts.

-x-

“All done.” Hunk proudly wiped his greasy hands on a dirty towel and Keith wasn’t sure if his hands or the towel were dirtier than before. Holding onto the handlebars, he glared. “At least give it a few weeks before you break it.”

“No promises.” Prying the bike free, Keith gave it a once over. It looked almost new, except for the scratch on the side. “Impressive.”

“Of course it is! Who do you think you’re talking to?” Excited, Hunk tapped on the engine. “I also spruced up the engine a bit—it’ll go a little faster than before.”

“Nice.” Sling his leg over, Keith slipped onto the seat. Turning the key, the engine purred under him. “I’ll take it for a test spin.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll count the cash.” Hunk picked up the metal box Keith left by his workbench. “It’s all here, right?”

“Yep, paid in full.” Keith revved the engine and closed his eyes. Yeah, that sounded right. “Got a job lined up for tomorrow, so you finished just in time.”

“I finished exactly on time—I said I’d be done now!” Hunk rolled his eyes, popping open the box.

Pulling out of the garage, Keith felt his mood brighten. There was something about the open road, about the one thing, the one place where he wasn’t restricted. There was freedom in flying down the road, the wind in his hair, and nothing but an archaic vehicle to keep him safe. It was a simple happiness.

There weren’t too many of those anymore.

-x-

Shiro was still at his place when he returned, and that was an oddity. Keith had almost expected to find an empty bed, their usual arrangement. Instead, Shiro was brazenly sitting on his kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.

“You’re here,” Keith said, more a statement than a question.

Shiro looked just as surprised as he felt. “I thought you left.”

“I had to grab some supplies.” Keith set his helmet on the table. Shiro was drinking from the wolf mug. His favourite mug. Did Shiro know that?

“Oh.” Shiro’s fingers curled around the table’s edges. “I was just about to leave.”

“It’s fine.” Keith entered his bedroom. It was funny. Shiro’s scent still lingered on his sheets. Picking up his first aid kit, he glanced back at the kitchen. At Shiro’s back, at the weariness in his shoulders.

It wasn’t that easy to be optimistic, was it. It wasn’t easy at all. His feet moved automatically and before he knew it, his hand was on Shiro’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Keith?” Shiro asked, looking up curiously.

“I’ll help,” Keith muttered. A pile of newspapers was stacked in the corner, remnants of him checking for any rebel news. Any sign that Shiro had died. He did that every time he arrived at a city and maybe it was time he stopped lying to himself. It wasn’t love but he would be heartbroken nonetheless if he just read about Shiro’s death and did nothing to stop it. Maybe he could show the futility of it all and drag Shiro out of the mess entirely.

“Keith…” Shiro smiled at him brightly and Keith swallowed.

It wasn’t love.

Maybe, if he said it enough times, his body would believe him.

#sheith #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #shiro x keith #vld #voltron #fanfic

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romancandlemagazine · 3 years ago

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An Interview with Alexander Wolfe, the man behind Pedestrian Magazine

Pedestrian is a magazine about the humble art of walking. In this interview, I talked with the man with the plan, Alexander Wolfe, about his love for this much maligned form of transport, his recent expedition from New York to Philadelphia, and the art of conversation.

First off, you recently walked from New York City to Philadelphia over nine days. What made you want to do that?

The initial desire to walk to Philadelphia came out living in New York City during the pandemic. I was bound to my apartment for a few months with little to do but walk around my neighborhood. I've always had a habit of walking around the city, but the pandemic only made these walks longer and longer, which eventually led to a 23 mile journey from my apartment in Brooklyn, to the Bronx, and back.

Around that time I was reading The Roads to Sata by Alan Booth and started contemplating longer, multi-day walks. I needed a change of scenery and found the idea of traveling by foot and living out of a bag very appealing. I felt like I'd developed a process here in the city (go on a walk, take photos, write a newsletter about the walk, repeat) and needed to give myself a challenge. I wanted to lean further into this practice that I've been developing for the last three years.

I'd never considered my walks to be hikes, so it made sense that I'd keep it in an urban setting. Walking to Philadelphia seemed like a no-brainer. What most people don't initially realize is that most of my time was spent walking through New Jersey. I liked the idea of walking in a place that is commonly misrepresented as the "armpit of America" and typically deemed unwalkable. New Jersey is actually a very underrated state. It might be the densest state population-wise, but it's called the Garden State for a reason. Oh yeah, I'd never been to Philadelphia and just really wanted to visit.

How did the walk go? Quite often trips or excursions can be a fair bit different to how you first imagine them… how did the reality of the walk differ from how you thought it was going to be?

I was presented with a new challenge every day. Don't get me wrong, the walk turned out better than I could have ever imagined, but you can never anticipate everything in advance. This was the first time I'd ever walked with a 25 pound bag on my back, let alone the first time I'd walked 9 days in a row. Originally I set out to average 17.75 miles per day, but thanks to my own curiosity, ended up waking 20 miles a day on average. I mapped the entire route a month or two before leaving, but would always deviate from the path in favor of exploring some neighborhood, road, or park that looked appealing. The first day alone ballooned into 27 miles because I got cocky and thought I didn't need to use my map while walking in Manhattan. I learned my lesson and kept my eyes on the map for the rest of the trip.

Another thing I didn't expect was the sensitivity one develops after walking 6-8 hours for days in a row. The smell of exhaust and gasoline becomes more potent. You realize how violently we've shaped the land to build huge highways and abysmal business parks. So much of our infrastructure is built in favor of the car, which makes being a pedestrian incredibly difficult at times. If the built environment didn't present a challenge, it was always the weather, the gnarly blisters on my feet, or my gear malfunctioning. I quickly learned to accept these challenges. It was just another component of the walk.

A lot of times people go for ‘a walk’, they’re seeking out beauty spots or nice scenery—maybe in nature reserves or the countryside, but your walk was cutting through some fairly overlooked places… industrial estates and small towns. Do people miss out by not seeing the whole picture of somewhere? Is just driving through these places to get to the destination sort of cheating?

I wouldn't consider driving to be cheating – it's just another way we alienate ourselves from the world around us. When we drive, we experience the world at a speed that makes it nearly impossible to pay attention to the fine details. Our relationship to place is abstracted, especially thanks to the rise of GPS. We no longer have to have a physical relationship to these towns. We don't even have to remember how to get to them. Driving around in a car reduces these places to nothing more than a label on a map or a convenient place to stop for gas.

It's important to have relationships with the places surrounding you. The walk has given me an intimate experience with the space between New York City and Philadelphia. I know what it looks like, I know how it feels to be there. I can tell you where residents stop hanging New York Yankees flags in favor of Philadelphia Phillies flags. If I'm watching the Soprano's and Tony references Metuchen, NJ then I know exactly what he's talking about. I think to understand a place, such as New York City, it's just as important to understand the places around it. There are generations of people who once called the Big Apple home, but decided to plant their roots in Jersey for one reason or another.

I suppose you could have read about some of these places on Wikipedia, but being there is a completely different thing. Is experiencing stuff first hand important?

It's very important if you actually want to understand a place. It's too easy to create our own narratives without ever visiting a place. I still tried to do my share of research before heading out. I have friends from North Jersey or the Philadelphia Metro and tried to take their opinions with a grain of salt. I spent some time reading about certain towns along the way on Wikipedia or scanned Reddit to get a vibe. I even previewed chunks of the walk on Google Street View to mentally prepare and know if it was actually safe to walk near some of these roads. I could have spent months preparing, but it never would actually replace walking in these small towns and cities. It's so much different when you're on the ground.

I suppose the main reason we’re talking is that you make a magazine based around the idea of walking. How long have you been making Pedestrian? What started it off?

I released the first issue of Pedestrian back in March of 2018. I was living in Ridgewood, Queens at the time and made friends with a guy named Curtis Merkel (I actually met him while out on a walk). He ran a moving business for a few decades and retired. At 84 years old he opened up a tiny little bookshop to keep himself busy. I'd visit him every weekend to check out his books and eventually we'd just get to talking. He'd lived in Ridgewood his entire life and loved to talk about the neighborhood's history. Moving to NYC also introduced me to a thriving community of zine makers. I wanted to share these conversations I'd had with Curtis in print form, so I decided to start a magazine. I invited a few friends to contribute and the rest was history.

Since then, the identity of Pedestrian has become quite fluid. While it started as a magazine, I would now describe Pedestrian as my own practice. It's a platform that allows me to collaborate with others, produce magazines, write newsletters, go on these long multi-day walks, and produce t-shirts. I have found this configuration gives me the most creative freedom.

A lot of your magazine is about meeting people and striking up conversations. Is this a lost art these days?

I don't know if it's a lost art per se, but there's less incentive to reach out and talk with strangers these days. Thanks to the rise of social media it's just getting easier and easier to stay within our own "bubbles." Starting Pedestrian, in a way, was an excuse for me to speak with those I typically wouldn't reach. It's amazing how having a publication kind of takes the fear out of speaking with strangers. You can do anything when you have intention.

Although walking is something most people do, is it overlooked as an activity? It seems it’s mostly seen as an inconvenience, rather than a hobby in itself.

It depends where you live. In New York City, for example, walking is a part of the culture. The city is built in such a way that makes walking a viable means of transportation. And if you can't walk to your destination, you're likely walking to a subway or a bus. Where I'm from in Iowa, walking is very inconvenient. Everything is spaced out, which makes walking anywhere very difficult. It’s not that people don’t want to walk, it’s just the way we’ve built certain communities has made it very hard to enjoy. It makes people think walking is very inconvenient.

I’m here in Iowa until August and it’s been interesting to walk a place that is so reliant on cars. The other day I did a 13.5 walk around the city. There’s nothing here stopping you from walking (unless the heat gets you. Technically we’re in the middle of a drought. It’s been incredibly hot as of late), and there’s plenty of sidewalk. I think it’s mostly just a mindset people have to develop. It doesn’t matter how many miles you walk, it’s just about getting out there. Your mental health will thank you and you might even learn something new about your surroundings along the way.

Walking is maybe the antithesis to the internet, but Pedestrian also has a decent presence on the World Wide Web, and you regularly send newsletters and... er... partake in the digital world. How do you balance the real world with the matrix?

It’s a relationship I’m constantly reevaluating. I’m not a master of balancing the two yet, but I’m slowly building habits that will protect my time. I often daydream of abandoning social media altogether and picking up a flip phone. I obviously haven’t done that yet, so in the meantime, I’m investing a lot of time in my newsletter. Sending out a newsletter is a much more thoughtful, intimate, and slow experience...kind of like the way I approach my walks out in the world. I understand that the web is a tool and I’m not sure the Philly walk would have gotten the same amount of attention had I not had an Instagram account. It’s cliche, but everything in moderation, right? I try not to take it so seriously.

What next for Pedestrian?

The Philly walk was such a great success and I’d like to keep that momentum going. Later in September I have another big, big walk planned, but I have yet to announce the route. Look for an announcement sometime next month. This one will be a bit longer and involve 3 different cities. I can’t wait.

Once winter hits I’m going to buckle down and produce a proper book for the Philly walk that will include all my writing and photos I took along the journey. I’m already excited to share the finished product with the world. Stay tuned.

Final question, what are your walking shoes of choice? And what's your soundtrack? Are earphones advised for long walks, or do you prefer the ambient sounds of the streets?

I’m a big fan of Hoka Clifton’s. I wore them throughout the entire Philly walk and have two pairs in my closet. At this point, Hoka should probably pay me for how much business I send their way. I’m always recommending them.

I prefer not to wear headphones and just listen to the ambient sounds of the street. More often than not, I find wearing headphones to be a bit distracting and it takes me out of the present moment. Although, I’ll admit I have been trying to introduce music into my walking once again, but few tracks make the cut. Lately Andrew Wasylyk’s Last Sunbeams of Childhood has been on repeat. There’s something about that track...

Find out more about Pedestrian here. Pedestrian is available in the UK courtesy of Central Library.

#Interviews

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desire-tenderness · 4 years ago

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I will return to old Brazil

I’m three weeks away in New York on a laser and independence trip, I miss home. It’s only two days away and soon I’m back in Brazil to meet my family and friends. I was taking the opportunity to organize some of the things, like some clothes and documents, that’s when I missed my passport. “Where did it go, my God?! My credit card was on the cover. I’ve turned this apartment upside down and can’t find it anywhere. There’s no way I lost! This shit only happens to me. I only have two more days stay in this Irbnb, how will I solve the problem of passport loss in two days without my credit card!? I don’t have a penny more.” [ranting, going into outbreak] “OK, relax, I’m smart! I need to raise money for at least another day or two, I have enough for daily meals. Well, didn’t I want to experience something unique and inspiring? Here’s a chance to have a tragic story to tell and laugh at later.” [I thought out loud] “I can manage as a street performer, starting tomorrow. I take my ukulele and some blank sheets of paper and make illustrations of pedestrians, I hope to reap the benefits of that. The last place I remember seeing my passport was yesterday when I was at the MoMA. Now I need to go back there and hope that I find in the "lost and found" of the place.” [The next day] I woke up early today and I’m already on my way to Central Park, hoping to find a space on Bethesda Terrace to play. The first time I went I saw a young man playing the cello so beautifully, it made me overflow with emotion. I played some songs, I noticed that I had a very positive return looking at the cover of Ukulele, I was curious to tell how much money I had made with those 5 songs played. It’s quite amazing the satisfaction of playing there, people seem to want to hear me play. I thought of ending with Naive - The Kooks and so I did. - I'm not saying it was your fault Although you could have done more Oh, you're so naïve, yet so.. {music}

Soon formed a circle of people singing together, I was shivered, did not imagine that The Kooks still had an audience. A little girl left $16 on the cover of the instrument, it made me float. With less than a minute to go, I saw a wonderfully attractive boy, at least 15 feet away, "do I know you?" I thought while I messed up a song. At the end of the last song I thanked him and forced my eyes to reach the boy again, but he was no longer there. The minute I thanked her, the same little girl started pulling a leather saying "one more, one more". I didn’t have a repertoire anymore and I couldn’t think of anything. The sky was with an attractive texture and the climate had a palette of color that sent me the song Postcards From Italy - Beirut and without thinking too much about whether or not it made sense for the moment, I started playing and singing. As I played, I closed my eyes to feel the instrumental climax of the song that was approaching. And when I opened my eyes the same boy I saw from afar was standing in front of me watching my show. Who was he? Timothée Chalamet. My whole body was frozen with the fright, but I didn’t want to leave anything evident. If I showed my anxiety, that space would turn into an afternoon of autographs and I don’t want to take your time. Did he give me money? The cover of the instrument had received more notes of paper, but for being with eyes closed I could not see. He smiled and nodded, turned away. I kept silent. Second then I hurried thanking everyone for my return, guarding my instrument and taking my bag. I run after him. - Hey! Timo! He turned at the same second, confused, trying to find who called him. He must have noticed me tightening my stride to get close to him as soon as possible. - Hi! Our is a pleasure, I can’t believe it’s really you. I let you go so you wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, but I needed to talk to you and thank you for listening to me play and a lot of other stuff. Sorry, I’m talking too much, all right? I spoke so fast that I hardly breathed. He laughed. - Hi, Beirut, huh? It goes well with today’s weather. It was nice! Am I well and you? Alias, your name? - Do you like Beirut? Gee. My name is (xxxx) but it doesn’t matter now. - Yes, you do. Are you from New York? - No, I come from Brazil. I’m traveling.. The words were disappearing from my mind as the minutes passed, I was somewhat hypnotized. - Cool! I really want to see Brazil someday. Do you want a photo? - Man I want a photo yes. I never thought that moment would be here and now. We took the photo, he thanked me for coming to him and for me playing with such emotion. He finally said that it was "very harmonious". And with a lot of pain in my heart I let him go. "Gee, I met Timothée chalamet two days before returning to Brazil! I must confess that fate has killed, just bring my passport back." [I thought out loud] Arriving at the Moma I received the terrible news that my passport was not there, it was my only hope going down the drain. I wanted to cry out of desperation, but I was also totally happy to have met Timothée and to have taken a picture that I will keep for the rest of my life. "I wish I’d been calmer and sane, I guess I just thought I was crazy. I hope he hasn’t noticed my despair, anxiety and complete fascination. Well, back to what I need to focus on.. Do I get some freelance work at some designer studio? Well, it could be a coffee shop. " The day has gone by so fast, the clock is almost 4:00 p.m. I think I’ll have a cup of coffee and a bite to eat, and I’ll get a job, if that’s not too embarrassing. I thought I’d walk around the West Village and find some cool coffee over there. Said and done, I found a coffee visibly attractive and had a delicious smell coming out the door, but it was empty. I think this is the perfect opportunity for a presentation, so I’m gonna eat something first. I ordered a latte and a lobster, one of my favorite treats. That crispy puff pastry, filled with vanilla cream, caramel and flor de sal makes me roll my eyes. I ate with such desire that I began to remember how surprising my day was. I thought I would make an illustration of the Timothée, a drawing of how I met him, the ambience was delicious to draw in peace and so I did. I noticed that someone came through the cafeteria door, I heard the sound of the door open. It was him, he was again in the same environment as me. The coincidence was so much that I could hardly believe it, I kept my calm. He sat across the room, pretended not to see it.

On the local radio started playing First date - Blink, obviously I started singing and trying to finish my drawing as soon as possible, who knows he could see before going. "Lets go! Don’t Wait! this night’s Almost over Honest, Let’s make this night last Forever' {Music} Suddenly someone came to my table and put a glass of Vanilla Malt and a snack with a great smell. When I looked up he completed the harmony. - Forever and Ever, Let’s make this last Forever. Hi again! "Are you kidding that this is really happening? And if it is not? Well, I will act as if I were dreaming, I can do better in this communication" - I don’t believe it. This is crazy, what are you doing here at my table?! - Would you like me to leave? - You’re crazy, of course not, sit down, please! - So, what are you doing? Wait, that’s... that’s me?! Fuck! [He pointed to the drawing] - hãnn yes, look.. this coincidence I will never live again. Now in my head I go through a cruel dilemma. - Which would it be? Excuse me. [He took the marvelous drawing and took a photo] - Should I finish it and give it to you, or should I ask for an autograph and frame it? - Hmm look.. my autograph is nothing, I would ruin the drawing, but it’s so awesome, I would love it if it was mine, but I took a picture, it’s worth the frame! - Arranged, Mr. Chalamet. I told him about my passport drama and how distressed I was. His face of "Holy shit, I’m sorry, you’ll have a headache" didn’t help. But he offered me real help with this red tape. "Does that mean I’ll see you beyond today?!" - Okay, you’re tense. Let’s break the ice by relaxing with a theatrical technique. I say a word, you think fast and say the first one that pops into your head. -Okay... Can I get started? [What’s going on here? ] -Yes, of course, yes! - Silver - Gold - Desire - Fire - Friend - you - Call me by your name - And I call you by mine. Oh shit! [laughed with his hand in his mouth] - That’s pretty cool hahaha let me ask. What are you going to do now? I’m really surprised to see you "living normally" - It is sometimes I get this feat. But anyway, I have no plans. - Do you want to go to the street cinema and see what classic is going on today? - My God, yes I am, thank you for the suggestion. We left the cafeteria and I didn’t ask for a job, I don’t regret it, my day is being fucking awesome. We went to the cinema of East Village and Singing in the rain was on display, that was perfect! I’ll watch one of my favorite movies with Timothée, it’s the fourth time I’ve pinched myself and I notice it’s not a dream. This day cannot end. We took the tickets and entered without him being stopped or recognized, I was relieved. And sitting next to him in a movie theater, all I could think about was how I wanted to be able to take his hand, kiss it as classically as the movie we’re watching. He made a story, I’m dying to open my phone and see, knowing that I’m next to him and nobody else but me and he knows, fuck!

At the end of the movie we came out, another coincidence or not, it was raining. I had my instrument and drawing sheets in my purse, but I wanted to literally sing in the rain, only without an umbrella. I dropped everything on the stairs and called him into this brief shower of rain. EPIC. I danced and sang in the rain with Timothée Chalamet and he seems absurdly happy about it.

We end with: "Come on with the Rain I have a Smile on my face I walk down the Lane With a happy refrain Just Singin', Singin' in the Rain" - Do you fancy a bagel or something? - I’m in! Tompkins? - Sure, and you have better? I answer, no way. - That’s so sweet, come on! And so we continued, hungry, laughing and wet. I think he appreciates moments like this, you can see in his eyes extreme pleasure and relief, that’s beautiful. The hunger was so great that we ate 3 bagels with bacon, eggs and cheese. We were wet so we ordered for the trip and ate outside. During the final bites we’ll talk about my passport again. - Where was the last time you saw him and when did you realize he was gone? - The last time was in Moma, the day before yesterday. But I went back there and they did not find.. I realized last night when I was starting to leave part of the suitcases ready to "go back to Brazil tomorrow". - Have you looked in the pockets of the clothes you wore when you went to Moma? - I looked at that jacket 10 times and I couldn’t find it. - Why do you think it’s in my jacket? I always carry a full pair of pants. - My God this is so obvious! I took the laundry to the building, if it is there I owe you my life. - Stop it. Can I go with you and film you finding your passport? [He laughed] - That if I find, will know a mix of relief, gratitude and anger. [laughs together] - Come on.

Yes, my passport and credit card were always "with me", were in the inside pocket of the pants as he had said. I was about to explode with relief!

I was ready to corrupt the good impression made during the day, but I was so excited and happy that I jumped in his lap grabbing his neck and kissing his cheeks.

He was silent as he stared at me confused as he held my thighs around his waist. I felt his breath on my neck, I didn’t want to leave, but I needed to.

- I’m sorry, really, I’m just happy. Thank you. - Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m glad you found it. Do you still want that autograph? - Of course! [ He signed my drawing and took another picture of it, but this time with me holding the art. ]

- Sing one last song before I go. - My God that hard, I don’t know. Huh.. Sing with me? - If I know. Then I started singing Marvin Gaye’s Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, he seemed surprised. "Just call my name I’ll be there in a Hurry You don’t have to Worry'Cause, baby, there Ain’t no mountain high enough Ain’t no Valley low enough Ain’t no river wide enough To Keep me from Getting to you, baby" We laughed and finished. I was almost crying. Shame, I’m not a child. - So that’s it, I will be eternally grateful for today. Thank you and good luck girl, it was a pleasure. He turned and opened the door, waved his hand. And I recited.. "Now, when Twilight dims the sky above Recalling Thrills of our love There’s one Thing I’m Certain of I will Return to old Brazil" He smiled and came back to me, kissing my forehead. - Until one day, anywhere in the world. - See you, Timolito. He came out and I cried. {This is a fanfic. All I write about is my feelings and desires. TEXT BY: L.M }

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #fanfic #nova york

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miracu-ace · 5 years ago

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Orange and Blueberry

Happy holidays, @iamcatchild , I’m your @mlsecretsanta ! I hope you enjoy this Marigami piece I wrote for you! It was an interesting pairing to write for and more of a challenge than expected, but I’m happy with what I’ve written for you.

Meet me as soon as you can at the Pont des Arts. -Kagami

Provided you are not busy, of course. -Kagami

Be there soon.

-Marinette

Sprinting down the street as fast as she could, Marinette glanced down at her phone and checked the conversation for the millionth time. Marinette nearly tripped when her eyes left the screen, but she kept her balance and stayed on her feet. She was already late, but in her defense, Kagami had sent the text only moments ago asking to meet nearly halfway across the city. Why she suddenly wanted to meet by the Pont des Arts, Marinette wasn’t sure, but it was clearly important. And spontaneous. Which wasn’t like Kagami at all.

Pausing at the last crosswalk, Marinette doubled over, leaning on her knees, in an effort to catch her breath. Once the crosswalk changed Marinette would be able to cross the street and then it was only a matter of locating Kagami. She glanced from under her bangs in time to realize finding Kagami wouldn’t be so hard. She was already within sight, occupying a nearby bench alone just before the Pont des Arts. She was too far away to see clearly, but Marinette didn’t believe Kagami looked distressed. Good, that was a promising sign.

“Marinette! You can go now.” Tikki prompted, careful to be just loud enough that only Marinette could hear.

“Uwah! Thanks, Tikki!”

With a sudden burst of energy, Marinette quickly sprinted across the road, careful to dodge the few pedestrians walking past her.

“Sorry for taking so long.” Marinette apologized in between gasps for air. “I came as fast as I could from the bakery.”

With one arm propped against the bench, Marinette gave Kagami an exhausted smile.

“Don’t worry. I believe you.” Kagami softly laughed, brushing flour off Marinette’s shoulder.

Marinette perked up at the laugh and carefully slid next to Kagami on the bench, only now noticing that Kagami was holding a rose.

For a second, her heart skipped a beat. And the next, she felt the cold reminder of the last time she had seen Kagami with a rose. When she had been akumatized because of Lila’s photo with Adrien.

“Oh, did something happen between you and Adrien?” Marinette asked, careful to swallow the lump in her throat.

Kagami hummed to herself, her attention drifting from Marinette to the rose in her hands.

“I wanted you to be the first to know.” Kagami began, twirling the rose between her fingers.

“The first to know what?” Marinette interrupted; eyebrow quirked as she looked between Kagami and the rose.

Taking a moment to breathe and calm herself, Kagami slowly raised her eyes to meet Marinette’s.

“I’ve decided to change targets.”

The look of confusion on Marinette’s face only grew. She scooted closer, leaning on one knee so as not to get too close. Kagami was rather particular about her personal space after all.

“I’m not sure I heard you very well. Could you repeat that? I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“I’ve decided to change targets. I will no longer be pursuing Adrien romantically.” Kagami articulated, this time much louder. “Or in any manner really. I’m content with just being his friend.”

“I thought you didn’t like the idea of losing. Isn’t that the same as giving up?” Marinette went on. “If this is because you are worried about one of us ending up with Adrien will cost us our friendship, you don’t need to worry.”

“I can assure you, Marinette, I’ve had time to think this over. And while I certainly come to value our relationship above pursuing a romantic relationship with Adrien that’s not why I’ve decided to change targets. It’s hardly worth winning when you’re heart just isn’t into it, you know?”

“Oh.” Marinette paused, realization setting in. “You’ve moved on too, haven’t you?”

This time, it was Kagami’s turn to stare back in confusion. Although from Marinette’s perspective, her eyes merely flickered wider for a second. Even in a shocked state, Kagami was the calmer of the two.

“Yes,” Kagami responded. “But what do you mean by ‘too’? I’m not sure that I follow you now.”

“Oh, well I.” Marinette trailed off before shifting awkwardly on the bench.

Her cheeks tinted pink and her gaze fell to her shoes. Marinette wasn’t sure whether now was the time or not to mention her new crush.

“I have decided after everything that’s happened that I’m moving on from my crush. Or rather, finally accepting that those feelings have passed.” Marinette sighed. “Like you said, I’m content with just being Adrien’s friend.”

When Marinette finished, there as only silence between the two. Too nervous to go on, Marinette focused instead on settling the flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

This wasn’t where she had anticipated the conversation going at all.

Next to her, Kagami took a measured breath. She waited for Marinette to continue and when Marinette stayed quiet, Kagami opted to take hold of the conversation once more.

“I’m glad to hear that, honestly.” Kagami gave a small smile, eyes trailing back to the rose in her hand. “After a while, I realized I didn’t like the feeling of competing against you and even more so, I didn’t like the idea of assisting you in your pursuit of Adrien. Like you mentioned, I thought maybe it was my pride that I didn’t want to see you win even if I was no longer interested. It took me a while to understand exactly why.”

Rising from her seat, Kagami moved in front of Marinette. She waited for Marinette to look up, nudging Marinette’s shoe. She didn’t say anything more to Marinette until she had Marinette’s full attention, even going so far as to wave the rose in front of Marinette’s face.

“Walk with me,” Kagami spoke softly.

Looking up at Kagami standing confidently above her only sent Marinette’s stomach into a round of somersaults, but she kept her attention on Kagami. There wasn’t much that could pull her attention away from Kagami now.

Tentatively, Marinette took Kagami’s free hand and rose from her seat.

With a gentle tug of her hand, Kagami led Marinette up the steps onto the Pont des Arts. Kagami kept her steps measured as they walked together, careful to guide Marinette rather than simply pulling her along. All too aware of Marinette’s clumsiness, especially when hasty.

When the pair had made it up the steps of the bridge, Kagami paused by the edge. She held the rose up, catching Marinette’s eye and brought her hand out over the water.

“I want this to be symbolic so that you understand my feelings for Adrien have passed,” Kagami explained, her fingers releasing the rose.

Together, they watched as the flower fell into the water below and disappeared out of view.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask who my new target is,” Kagami remarked, a playful smile on her lips. “Granted, by now I’m wondering who has stolen your heart away from Adrien.”

“Why would that matter?” Marinette asked, her voice hesitant.

“Well, originally I was going to challenge Adrien in a fencing match, but it seems that won’t be necessary anymore. Instead, I will have to send my challenge to whoever your new crush is.”

With a confident smirk on her lips, Kagami gave a playful wink in Marinette’s direction.

Marinette, for her part, simply stood there in shock. She could feel the warmth spreading to her cheeks but couldn’t find the words as her mouth hung open. Instead, she could only open and close her mouth the words dying on her lips.

“That won’t be necessary, Kagami.” Marinette finally spoke up, cheeks still blazing.

Kagami quirked her eyebrows in response but waited for Marinette to explain further.

“That won’t be necessary because I don’t think you would be able to challenge yourself to a fencing match,” Marinette added with a soft, embarrassed laugh.

Marinette had hoped to catch Kagame off guard. Maybe even cause her to end up a blushing mess as Marinette had been only moments before, but once again Kagami maintained her composure.

Her face did not betray her emotions and the only indication that Marinette had otherwise was the slow blush that spread along Kagami’s cheeks. A small victory for Marinette.

“So why bring me here?” Marinette asked, still flustered herself.

Just as Kagami was about to explain, she was interrupted by another voice.

“My name is Andre, Andre Glacier the sweetheart matchmaker.”

Marinette’s eyes widened in surprise as she noticed Andre setting up his ice cream cart on the other side of the Pont des Arts. She could already see a crowd of couples forming around his cart.

“It’s why my text to you earlier was so urgent. I had figured out where Andre was going to be set up today and I didn’t want to miss my chance.” Kagami explained once she found her voice, “I thought you might like to get some ice cream with me. I’ve been meaning to try the orange and blueberry ice cream together.”

#mlsecretsanta 2k19 #miraculous ladybug #marigami #kagaminette #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #my fic #iamcatchild

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chiagappy · 5 years ago

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*shrugs* age swap// Cop Josuke and Student Rohan (when he debuted).

Imagine Josuke being a failure of a police officer, being too hot-headed and impulsive to wanting to catch criminals that he gets suspended for a few days after letting a local thief escape. This was the second time it happened and he feared that if he kept this streak going his rank might be lowered to work at a police box, not freedom, no fun just helping old ladies and folks with directions. Then his grandfather tells him he was given one more chance to work at the precinct if he finished this next job successfully: to be an undercover cop for an awards ceremony down at the opera theater. With Josuke's quick response and keen eyesight, he'll be able to spot out any trouble if it ever arises. Hopefully he'll be able to redeem himself after the latest screwup.

So Josuke takes on the job, and there he was waiting near the entrance of the opera theater nonchalantly as he pretends to be a pedestrian looking over his phone through his dark shades and casual wear with a leather jacket, his pins neatly in place as he observes the guests as they entered. He couldn't understand why anyone would cause trouble here but still he prioritize their safety and kept an eye out for the emergency exits. The evening was gone through without much disturbances, so decided to go on break early when the next officer arrived to relieve him.

He'd figure he can probably smoke a cigarette by the the stairs or something, maybe call Okuyasu about he bored he was if he wasn't working over at Tonio's, until something caught his attention not so far from him. He notices a young man being harassed by a couple thugs. Even if he was off-duty then, he knew it would have been wrong to leave after watching them so he decides intervene. Unsurprisingly the thugs were trying to extort money from him, claiming how their 'friend' owes them an amount but the younger man doesn't speak against it. Upon closer inspection, this young man looked like a student, wearing a school uniform and carrying a camera and sketchpad. There was no way this kid would have anything to do with them.

So he basically blew his cover protecting this kid, but not completely unscathed, as a dark bruised swelled up in his face and recieves minor lacerations to his arms trying to defend himself against a pocket knife one of the thugs had. Before Josuke was able to question him, he catches a glimpse of them disappearing up the stairs and into the opera house. He must have been in a hurry because Josuke notices he dropped a photograph on the ground. Josuke inspects it and sees a scene where the kid is offering a small smile away from the camera while a girl with pink hair was holding said camera, an infectious kind of smile bloomed on her face as she leaned against him. He flips the photo over and reads the words 'For Ro-chan, see I told you I can get you to smile :p." It was endearing, you can definitely tell that they had been awfully close friends for photos, yet he couldn't place his finger on it - she looked awfully familiar. He quickly brushes it off.

He'd figure he should return the photo to the kid, so he makes his way back to the opera house until he hears a horrifying scream with the cacophony of panic following shortly. He headed in immediately only to see the pink haired girl in the photo taken hostage on the stage by a lanky man threatening to blow her brains out if they didn't hand over the money from the award. The officers on duty had their guns pointed at the two, it was a stalemate as he sees the head officer overseeing this event trying to defuse the situation. In the middle of the chaos, Josuke manages to sneak closer to the stage prepared to use his gun out of his jacket to shoot the man down but someone beats him to it, and he notices the student running across the stage and struggling against the lunatic over the gun. Without thinking, Josuke quickly ran into the stage too, trying to help the student until the man's gun went off.

It all happened so fast as the cop sees the girl shielding the student, her back and dress soaked with blood while the man was sitting on the floor, shakened by the turn of events that he loses his grip on the gun. She whispers something in Rohan's ear before she died as the officers rushed to seperate them. The rest of the night becomes a blur with him arresting the criminal, investigations and evacuations proceeding, but the only thing that was on his mind was the student. He was the only lead they had on this case, yet he felt sorry for him. Apparently the winner of this award ceremony was going to a Reimi Sugimoto, age 17 for her extraordinary talent in opera singing and was going to win a check of ten grand along with a golden trophy. What was supposed to be a crowning achievement turned into a night of terror for not only the teenage girl but also for her friend who tried to save her. His name was Rohan Kishibe, a student in ---------- high school, the same age as Reimi.

Josuke hadn't seen him since the opera house, until he returned to the precinct, his grandfather asking him various questions regarding Reimi's death in one of the vacant interrogation rooms. He refused to answer them all, so Ryohei offered to give him some space before leaving the room. He asks Josuke to handle him since he'd probably relate more to someone his age ("Is 20 still being young?" "Maybe not but you sure act a brat like it sometimes so try to get him to talk. And make sure you take him something to drink!")

Confronting the teen was the last thing Josuke wanted to do, especially after what he went through (how can I relate to someone who had their friend die in their arms?) but he also knew that if he can get Rohan to talk then this will bring them one step closer to finding the other criminals who were involved. He had a hunch that the criminal hadn't planned this alone given the background check for robbery and use of illicit drugs, he seemed inexperienced to this and judging how easily he managed to slip pass the security meant he had to have accomplices. As far as suspects went, the ones involved would had been those present at the opera house that evening. It could have been anyone. He also felt there was more to this crime, especially after witnessing how Rohan's expression changed the moment Reimi whispered in his ear. Was her death predetermined? He wanted to get to the bottom of it.

He kept all this in mind, as he casually walks inside and takes the seat across to Rohan who was looking down at his hands, his anger evident yet he remained silent. Josuke asked if he wanted some water and Rohan quickly recognized that he was the officer who saved him earlier that evening. He takes the drink. He never got to thank him for it since he was in a rush to attend the award ceremony, and wouldn't plan on doing so given how the cop couldn't stop the criminal from taking Reimi away. So he was also given the silence treatment for while before Josuke returns the photo he found. That was when Rohan had spoken up about his relation to Reimi. He discovered that Rohan had in fact attended the same school as Reimi had and they were both enlisted in the same creative and performing arts program, however to attend these activities you had to have more than just talent, you needed money and connections to which they both lacked in some part. Fortunately enough, for Rohan he had his parent's support as they noticed his potential, however Reimi wasn't so fortunate. With a broken household struggling with finances, she had to juggle school and her activities with her late night job at some exclusive club downtown. She assured to him it was safe and it guaranteed large amounts of money fast- she said it was a better pay then babysitting and could help her pay for the program. So Rohan thought it was okay, but what he hadn't known was that she was fighting off a debt in addition to this that her father owed recently and had gotten involved with suspicious characters. She only ever mentioned such details vaguely but would alway carry a happy demeanor everyday not to worry her friend. Rohan never suspected of the pressure she was under and had told Rohan to "search for the black box in my school locker. You'll be able to find the one who are responsible for this," before passing away in his arms. He knew something was wrong, and he wanted to answers too.

By the time Rohan was finished telling his story, his hands were shaking with anger, mostly in lament and disappointment with himself that he couldn't protect her when she needed him, as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. Josuke reached out his hand over Rohan's reassuringly, giving it a squeeze and tells him that they will do everything in their power to bring these criminal to justice, but of course Rohan wouldn't give in that easily and joins the investigation.

(So I would like to think of teen Rohan being one cheeky bastard who seems distant and cold at first but very intelligent and will not hesitate to do or say what is on his mind in the face of danger like Josuke, but he's still quite vulnerable to losing close attachments such as Reimi. Josuke calls him a "weirdo kid" or "Ro-chan" to rile him up but he means it as a joke, while Rohan calls him "old man" or "punk officer"

As for Josuke, he's still the same caring person that jumps into action when it calls for it, really popular and truthworthy with everyone but can be playful and clever when he wants to be. He doesn't think things through sometimes and relies on sheer gut feelings and instincts when it comes down to tough choices. He would often voice out his worries over Rohan at the start trying to take the "responsible adult" approach but the more time he spends with him he realizes that he's way more mature than any teenagers he dealt with and lets him lead the investigation. He deserved the right to avenge his best friend afterall, and knew more about her than most people claimed.

And after they handle the Reimi case, Rohan was offered an internship at the police station with Josuke as his mentor. They have a rough start at first but eventually Rohan warms up to the cop and learns to trust him as they continued to solve more cases. Also Josuke is the one of the first people to push Rohan into writing Pink Dark Boy after looking through his sketchbook when it was left on Josuke's desk one day. I feel like it would be similar to Nanase in TSKR with Rohan lacking some confidence in his work and Josuke just overall praising his art skills and telling him to have a passion is a gift and gives his own story of why he became a cop. Naturally Rohan is embarrassed and defensive about at first but overall felt grateful to have met Josuke. And eventually their relationship changes into something more than just detective partners.

// This is random but think Rohan would freak out internally when he sees Josuke with five o' clock shadow, he would have pulled all nighters for several days beforehand and Rohan finds him snoozing on his desk and gets the urge to draw him with his facial hair.)

#josuhan #✒☮#chia thoughts #just another idea that turned bittersweet :')

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cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

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Friends Will Be Friends

And we have reached the last part to this story in the Robyn and Taron series. Thanks so much for all the love and comments! What are Robyn and Taron going to get up to next I wonder????

“Even though you’re growing up, you should never stop having fun.”

It was Taron who feel asleep first just as Anna and Hans met each other in the movie and started to sing. Robyn had carefully eased his bottle of beer from his left hand and placed it on the floor beside her, Taron barely getting two mouthfuls before his eyes closed and he nodded off. It didn’t come as a surprise to Robyn that he slept. She knew even with a good night’s sleep the night before he was still suffering with the time difference and jet lag and it had been a busy day for him. She had moved from his shoulder and a little awkwardly slipped under his arm and sat up, letting his body lean into her, making sure he was comfortable against her left shoulder and the bean bag.

As Elsa walked up the mountain singing Let It Go, Rosie who had been fighting the sleep, gave in and joined her sister who had fallen asleep soon after Taron. It was wonderful sight to see all of them resting but now that Rosie and Mari had fallen asleep it was supposed to be her and Taron’s time to sneak out of the tent and have their own sleep over of sorts but as she looked down to Taron, she felt conflicted. Although she was desperate to get to spend some time alone with him, she knew he was back to work bright and early on Tuesday and another hectic schedule of filming would begin for him. He was due to start his stunt work on Thursday too and was just a little anxious about it all. Another clean night’s sleep was exactly what he needed right now and when he was sleeping, Robyn knew his mind wasn’t over thinking every little thing.

Lifting her right hand, she gently ran her index finger down his nose, just like he always did to her before making a feather light trail along his left temple and down his cheek. She continued down his jaw, enjoying the feel of his soft skin which was lightly littered with growing stubble. His role for Eggsy had him clean shaven for the last two weeks and being home he was taking a break from having to shave every day, giving his skin a chance to soothe itself for a day or two. She left another delicate trail down his nose, dipping into the space above his top lip and with a hitch of her breathe, down his soft rosy lips and to his chin. She lifted her hand when Taron’s whole body shifted a little, his head snuggling further into her shoulder, a happy little sigh leaving his lips. She brushed her hand through his hair and down his face again, her fingers dancing over where his dimples were on his left cheek before running back to his forehead and smoothing over his left eyebrow. She let her whole hand rest on his face, her eyes taking in his wonderfully smooth skin before her thumb stroked the darkened skin under his eye. He didn’t look anywhere near as tired compared to when she first met him in Florida but with his swift return to work, the fatigue was starting to show on his face. Letting her fingers glide through his hair, she liked how it was growing out and gave his head a loving scratch.

“You having fun?”

She jumped a little when she heard his voice in a whisper and looking down, his sleepy green eyes were open and staring up at her. She gently tugged his hair before returning to her hand to his cheek, Taron laying back down on her shoulder. “You feel asleep and yes I am. I like doing this and you do this…” She ran her finger down his nose. “To me all the time.”

“That’s ‘cos I am looking for your freckles.”

“Hmmm.” Smiled Robyn as she trailed her index and middle fingers down his nose, lips and chin again, enjoying how his lips pulled up into a smile as she did. “Did I wake you?”

“Well yes but I don’t mind. I would like to be awake if you are going to give me a face massage.”

Robyn laughed quietly. “It’s a good thing your mother is not here to see me doing this to you. She is already highly suspicious of your head massages.” She tapped her finger down the bridge of his nose.

“You are just too good with your hands.” Taron froze and quickly tried to correct his words as he sat up. “I mean because you play piano and guitar and can bake and are good at massages and rubbing my tension away and…Oh shit. Fuck Robyn I don’t mean anything by it. I just mean you have lots of talents that you need to use your hands and fingers for and Jesus fucking Christ Taron. Just stop talking.”

Robyn had to place her hands over to her mouth to keep her laughing from waking Mari and Rosie, enjoying how Taron turned completely scarlet, the red shade deepening right into his neck. She placed her hands on his red cheeks and bent his head down so she could give his forehead a kiss. “You are just too cute for words Taron. Why don’t we go and get some air? I think you might need some. The girls won’t be waking up any time soon.”

Nodding his agreement, Taron crawled out from under the back of the tent, lifting the sheet so Robyn could follow him, bringing the two glass bottles with her. Taron plugged all the fairy lights outs and taking the bottles off her and walked into the kitchen and left them on the sink. “Let’s just go and tell my parents where we are going.”

Robyn followed Taron and they walked into the other sitting room where Tina and Guy were on the couch, watching TV.

“Mari and Rosie are asleep mam.”

“Well that didn’t take them long.” Smiled Tina. “You two off then for the night?”

“We are going to get some air. It was getting a little stuffy in the tent with four of us.” Said Taron. “Just a short walk and then we will come back and head home to mine.”

“Your face is quite red.” Said Tina looking to her son. “It must have been very warm in that tent.”

Robyn saw the growing smirk on Taron’s parents faces but also how Taron’s cheeks were turning red one more. “He had a quick power nap Tina and was snuggled deep under all the duvets. It was just a little too warm for him.”

“Hmm I see. Well just be careful love. It is getting quite late out there. Don’t be too long.”

“We won’t. Be back in a few.”

Taron led the way once more and he took Robyn’s jacket from the coat hooks and gave it to her to put on while he pulled on the navy one he had. Once they were dressed to face the chilly November air, Taron opened the front door for her and she waited for him at the gate while he made sure the door was closed firmly.

“Thanks for the cover up there.” He said to her as they started to walk. “I am sure my mam thinks we were up to all sorts.”

Robyn chuckled. “Just some face massages. So where are we going?” She asked him as he held his arm out for her to link with.

“Wasn’t it your idea to get some fresh air?” He asked her.

“Ok so let’s go this way.” Robyn pulled on his arm and tried to get him to turn around but he held tight and kept her in the direction he had started to walk them in. “I want to go the other way.” She pouted.

“Thought we might go see the ocean.”

“So, let’s go this way.” She agreed picking up her pace a little with longer strides, Taron having to move a little faster to keep up with her. Robyn smiled a little as they walked. “See the ocean. In the dark?”

“There are street lights and it’s a clear night with a full moon.”

“Okie dokie.”

It was a fifteen-minute stroll from Taron’s childhood home to the sea front and Robyn inhaled the cool night air, filled with an ocean breeze. “I love that ocean smell.”

“Just to cross the road and we are there.” Taron walked her down the path a bit more before they came to a pedestrian crossing. “I know it is nearly eleven but you can’t be too sure when crossing the road.”

They looked left and right before stepping off the path and crossed the road and up onto the promenade.

“Wow Taron this is beautiful.” Robyn stopped so she could look out at the wonderful night view of the ocean and stone beach which was in front of her. The light from the moon reflected on the ocean, carefree waves rolling in and the orange of the street lights provided enough light for Robyn to see really well in the darkness of the late evening. “Wish I had of brought my phone to take a picture. Did you bring yours?”

“Didn’t even think about it. We will come back tomorrow and get some photos in the daylight and if you want, I will come down tomorrow evening and take some in the dark for you and send them to you.”

She grinned. “Please. So, can we go down?”

“Onto the beach?”

“Well yeah. You have walked me all this way and expect me not to walk towards the water?”

Taron grinned. “This way.” He walked her down the stone footpath some more and they took a ramp down onto the beach. “It’s not a sand beach.”

“A beach is a beach.” She replied as she unlinked her arm from his and took to a little run, heading straight for the water. “I love any kind of beach.” She said as she turned around to look at him. “Well come on!”

Chuckling Taron took to a run to catch up with Robyn and they stopped as they reached the edge of the water. He looked to Robyn as she stood with her eyes closed. “Whatcha doing?”

“Listening.” She felt him move to stand beside her and she slipped her left hand into his right. “Just close your eyes and listen.”

Doing as Robyn had told him, Taron closed his eyes. He had been on this beach so many times throughout his life and had heard the ocean waves break along the stony shore but for some reason standing and listening to it with Robyn was such a different experience. It almost felt intimate, as if the ocean was putting on a private show just for them and opening one eye, he snuck a look to Robyn who still had her eyes closed.

“I love this sound.” She said. “In Florida, almost every evening I would go down to the beach and sit on the sand and watch the sun set and once the sun had set, I would just lay back on the sand and close my eyes and listen to the waves. I found it almost cleared my mind after a hectic day. Of course, it helped that Florida is always warm so it was easy to just sit there and listen.”

Taron rubbed their encased hands with his left hand, before he pulled on her hand, making her take a few steps backwards up the shore. “Rogue wave. We don’t need to go swimming. That water will be freezing. Let’s move back a bit and lay back and listen.”

Agreeing with him, Robyn followed him back up the beach a few meters and they sat down on the cold stony sand and lay back, moving a bit to get comfortable.

“Perfect. Ocean waves and the stars above us. Don’t fall asleep on me here.” She said as they lay, the left side of her body snug against his right.

“Just rub my nose and I will wake up.” He laughed.

Silence fell between them, the ocean waves, an odd car and a shout from people out on a Saturday night the only noises that could be heard but Robyn drowned everything out except for the ocean.

“Robyn?”

“Hmmm.”

“We need to talk about the media.”

Suddenly the ocean wasn’t so calming to Robyn and she could hear the anger with which the waves hit the stones in its path, the water rushing back into itself, moving anything and everything in its way. She felt Taron move as he sat up, a rush of cold air hitting her side now that his body wasn’t there to shield her.

“I don’t want to start an argument between us.” He added as he sat up, which made Robyn sit up as well and stare at him.

“Well you are on your way to one.” She answered him. “You already know my opinion and feelings on this topic.”

“And you know mine.”

Robyn frowned at him. “And you are definitely itching for another row on this topic Taron.”

“Just hear me out ok? And try your best not to interrupt me.” Taron regretted saying the words as soon as he said them and reached for Robyn’s hands, when he saw her eyes flare a little with defensiveness and anger. “Just please.” He took a breath, remembered the advice his mother had given him and started before she could say anything. “I have never had someone like you in my life before. I have friends who will always stand up for me no matter what and my family believe in everything I do and I know they have my back. If something comes out in the media, sure they read the story but that’s where it stops. They don’t go digging through every social media outlet possible.”

“I don’t dig…” Robyn stopped speaking as Taron looked her with incredibly sad eyes that begged her to listen to him. “Sorry.”

“My family stay away from most of that shit because that is what it is. It is bullshit from idiots who have no fucking clue what my life is like. They feel they can judge me and comment on my life because they have seen one picture of me where I wore something a little too flamboyant or happened to be bringing my sisters for lunch or was kissing my best friend’s cheek after not seeing her for two months. I glance over the comments sometimes and naturally Lyndsey is going to read them, letting me know if anything out of the ordinary has been said but everyone else ignores them and doesn’t read them so thoroughly except you, my wonderful, crazy, stubborn and head strong Robyn. I get tagged in so many posts and while I ignore them, you go out of your way to read every single one and honestly Robyn it frustrates the hell out of me. You shouldn’t have to read any of them and see what everyone is saying. Just because you are associated with me and are my friend, due to circumstances that were totally out of our control, no one has the right to judge you either. I just wish you wouldn’t read them. It kind of scares me a little that you take all of this in your stride Robyn. Like I said, I haven’t met anyone like you. I can only say that I am sorry for what may seem like an over-reaction to you when I get so fucking mad at you but it’s because I love you so very much that it hurts me when arseholes write such shit about us and then you reading it, ugh it makes me go crazy.” Robyn reached over to his hands and linked her fingers with his. “I hate that you have been dragged into it. I hate that they can’t see what I see when I look at you and understand how you have made such an impact on my life.”

“Taron…”

“Please can we try and figure something out Robyn because if I hear that you have read anything else online, I am going to go insane. Like proper heading spinning around like the exorcist shit. I love how strong you are and I adore how you are so protective of me but in my world, it is my job to protect you and I cannot do that if you always insist on reading every little thing that is posted. I know I cannot ask you to stop. I don’t think I could stop you but I need you to try and work with me on this somehow. I don’t know when we are going to see each other again Robyn and I don’t want to have this conversation with you over the phone if another story pops up about us. Please can we come to some sort of compromise on it.”

As Robyn held Taron’s hands in hers, she could not only hear the emotion in his voice and see it in his face as his eyes creased with concern and his forehead frowned with frustration, she could feel his hands shake a little. While she had created intricate plaits in Rosie and Mari’s hair, she had seen Taron and Tina sitting at the table in the dining room talking and just as Tina has spoken to her about the media and how it upset Taron, Robyn was one hundred percent sure, his mam had a word in his ear too. “I am sorry that I get mad at you when you get mad at me. I know I shouldn’t dig into social media but my curiosity gets the better of me and I have to read the posts, stories and comments, the good and the bad. You know it is only five percent that are bad right?”

“I couldn’t care if ninety-five percent were bad. I still hate it when you read them. You told me that first day we actually got to sit down and talk with each other in your garden, that you never googled me, that you didn’t know a lot about me and we had to learn about each other the old-fashioned way. Why now, do you feel the need to google me now?”

“I don’t actually have an answer to that question.” She answered him honestly.

“Ok so let’s try and work on this compromise. From tonight, I am going back to the way I dealt with the media before I met you. Sure, I would read a story in the newspaper or sometimes Lyndsey would point one out online to me but I am not going to delve any deeper into the world of social media. Of course, I will still use my Instagram but I will let Lyndsey filter through the comments. I might have a quick browse but that’s it. If we happen to go to something together again and we get photographed I will read the article, look at the picture and try my hardest not to get pissed off by what is written. When I made the press release back in September, I was so fucking stressed over it all and I know I didn’t have to be but it’s just the way I am. I agree with you when you constantly tell me that our story is so different from all the others printed. It gives us an appease and understanding with the media, but not with the fans.”

“Taron your fans are wonderful and so supportive of you.”

“True but some of them, not so much.”

Robyn looked to his face which was still miserable. “I am sorry that I frustrate you so much with the media Taron. It is never my intention but you know I am so used to just to dealing with shit by myself and I know…” She finished her sentence quickly when Taron opened his mouth to interrupt. “I know I shouldn’t do that and I know I have you to talk to but the things I want to talk to you about make you angry at me like reading the twitter comments so it’s a catch twenty-two in some ways which is not me putting any blame your way. I never want to make you upset over all of this. It’s a horrible part of my personality, needing to prove people wrong and I guess, by reading the comments and knowing that they are complete bollocks, I am doing just that to fulfil the part of me that needs to be somewhat in control of the situation and know that I am showing all those who think they can write such disgusting stuff about us that it doesn’t bother me and I won’t react to it.” Robyn let go of his hands and kneeling up to her full height, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I agree with the compromise but you also can’t get mad at me any more for reading a comment or two. This is something that is always going be an issue with us and we have to try and work our way around it.”

Taron slowly inched his arms around Robyn’s back. He was trying not to, to keep the conversation as serious as he could without reaching for the comfort he ached from her and once her arms touched him, he melted into her body. “Please can you not read any?” He whispered into her hair on her shoulder.

“I can’t make that promise for you Taron.”

“Robyn…” He lifted his head to look at her.

“I can’t but I don’t want to have an argument with you over the media again Taron. So, let’s compromise. I will not go out of my way to google anything or hit a link that has our names on it but I will not stay away from my own social media platforms and if there is something on my feed relating to you, I am going to read it because it is there and possibility the comments underneath and not because I purposely went looking for it and I will continue to comment on your Instagram pictures but you can’t keep me in a bubble with regards to the media. Don’t you think we have already been through what could be the worst of it? They know about how we met, they know about the CPR and we have been seen out together in public at an event you attended. If I choose to read something, then that is my choice and you cannot blow up at me every time I read something because then I get mad at you and we just go back and forth with angry words and someday something may be said, that we may not be able to take back Taron. So, while I agree not to read everything and talk to you about the things I do read, you have to promise me that you are not going to get frustrated with me for doing so.”

“You won’t go looking stuff up and let me try to keep you in a little bubble?”

“I won’t and I will try not to burst the bubble and you won’t get angry at me for being my stubborn old self and remember that sometimes I forgot I have others to lean on.”

“I am sorry Robyn.” Taron buried his head into her shoulder. It was a conversation he was dreading to have with her but when he thought it was going to be a fiery one, it was civilised, both listening to each other and he appreciated so much how she was finally starting to understand how distressed it made him.

“You don’t have to be sorry Taron. This is how a relationship works. Open and honest communication and if me and you cannot be honest with each other after what we have been through, then there is no hope for us. Thank you for talking to me about this. I wanted to say something but didn’t know how to breach the subject.”

“Thought you said we needed to be honest with each other as well as open with our thoughts and feelings.”

“Guess you are the bigger person than me this time. You know I need a little coaxing sometimes but please remember how compromise works ok? I know you want to protect me within an inch of my life form your world, but don’t forget, I have already stepped into your world and so far, I think I am doing a pretty good fucking job.”

Taron chucked as he finally knelt up straight and gave his whole heart to the hug. “You have been amazing. Elton still won’t stop raving about you.”

Robyn smiled into his neck. “That was such a mind blowing twenty-four hours.”

“This weekend was supposed to be just as good and look at it.”

“What do you mean look at it. It looks pretty perfect from where I am standing, well kneeling on the beach.”

“Seriously? Even after this?”

Robyn moved a little back from him. “This weekend has been perfect. I would rather have the tough conversation Taron and talk to you about how we are both feeling then keep the emotions in.”

“Are you broken?” He asked as he moved some of her chalked coloured hair away from her face as a light breeze swirled through it.

“Broken?”

“When I met you were queen of keeping your emotions in.”

“Yeah I met this actor, you might know him. He played Elton John in some little film last year. Well he gave me some good advice while we sat together on the floor of a 7/11 in Florida. It has kind of stuck with me since.”

Grinning, Taron wrapped Robyn up in a squishy hug, no more words spoken between then for a full minute as they got a good tight cuddle together. Taron felt a little shiver run through Robyn. “We should head back. It is getting late and cold out here.”

Agreeing, Robyn took Taron’s hands once he had stood up and he pulled her to her feet. “I really like this beach. I think I will have to come back in the summer and actually have a proper beach day with a picnic and a swim.”

“I think that would be fun. Maybe your freckles will come back.”

Robyn chuckled as they walked along the shore, Taron nearest the water with his arm around her shoulders. “You are obsessed. I still have lots of freckles in other places.”

“Other places?” Giggled Taron. “Can I see them? I mean you did promise to show me your tan lines at Elton’s but we never quite got there.” He laughed some more as she gently pushed him on his side. He stepped into a small wave that slowly came his way and looking at Robyn who was three steps ahead of him, kicked his foot so a little bit of water from the ocean speckled her jeans. Robyn stopped and turned to look at him.

“Sometimes I wonder who is the younger sibling in your family.” She said smiling.

“It is the time and place now?” He asked her.

“Time and place for what?”

“For this!” As another wave rushed towards him, he gave it a long swipe with his shoe again and this time a lot more water sprayed Robyn.

“Taron! That is a whole different ball game compared to flour.” Robyn held her hands up as he stood at the water’s edge. “Let’s have a pillow fight or something instead back at yours.” She jumped as he kicked more water her way, her jeans now covered in little wet circular spots. “Taron…”

“I don’t want a pillow fight.” He said watched as another wave rolled in. “I want to do this!” Taron took a step into the ocean, ignoring how the cold water filled his converse and bending down with bigger swipe then before and using his two hands, splashed Robyn with chilly sea water, drenching her left leg completely.

The cold water was horrid against her skin and as the wet fabric of her jeans clung to her, she watched as Taron started to laugh. “Really? I love the ocean Taron but not in November and definitely not the Atlantic Ocean in November.”

“My foot slipped.” He said shrugging his shoulders walking towards her, his two shoes and sleeves of his coat completely soaked through.

“Oh, right your foot slipped. That is what you are using as your excuse.” She said enjoying the cute little innocent look on his face as he got closer to her.

“Yep.”

“Ok then.”

“However, I am afraid I don’t have an excuse for this.”

Taron took one long stride towards Robyn and slipping behind her, swung his right arm tightly around her waist and lifted her off the beach on one quick strong fluid motion, slipping his left arm under her knees and walked straight for the water, Robyn wriggling under his arms when she realised what he was doing and where he was walking to.

“Taron no! Taron! Taron! No!” She laughed as he walked into the shallow waves. “Taron seriously. This water is going to be freezing.”

“Oh I know that chicken. I am standing in it.” Taron waded in a little deeper into the water so it was up past his ankles and it was colder than ice water.

“Taron don’t you dare drop me.” Robyn draped her arms around his neck and shoulders and held tight onto him and kept her legs up but the man holding her was extremely strong and as he kept informing her throughout the day, back to his full strength and as he held her snug against his chest, he was still walking straight into the dark water. “Taron what are you doing?”

“Walking.”

“In the wrong direction.” Complained Robyn. “Taron lets turn around. Your legs are going to get really wet and we have to walk back and we both have work next week and you are going to get sick and you can’t get sick and Jesus Christ that’s cold!” Taron continued walking and once he was thigh high in the water, Robyn feet and bum were starting to hit the top of the ocean as the waves increased in height and she started to squirm more in his arms. “Ok so now we turn around right?” She asked with hope in her voice. “Taron, come on rocketman.” Robyn couldn’t lift her legs any more and the waves were coming a lot higher now, the water was lapping against her and the further Taron walked with her into the ocean, the colder it became.

Once the water went past his waist, his whole-body shivering with the cold, Taron stopped. “So, you know how to swim right?” He asked smiling when Robyn said yes. “Great! Enjoy your swim!” Bending his knees and turning his body sideways, Taron swung Robyn in one great swoop and let her go, his arms moving completely from her body so she went straight into the ocean, her whole body sinking into the dark water. He chuckled when he heard Robyn properly scream as he threw her and was in a full body laugh when she rose from the water, her hands running through her hair, coloured water dripping from her hair as the chalk washed out, her whole body shaking almost like a dog.

“Jesus fucking Christ that is fucking cold.” Robyn jumped up and down in chest deep water as her whole body turned to ice, the waves crashing into her back. “Fucking bollocks. Cold.” She looked to Taron who was still laughing at her. “You.” She growled at him. “Are still half dry.” With one quick dive, Robyn swam under the water and as it was dark she used Taron’s legs to orientate herself and once she knew she was behind him, jumped out of the water and up onto his back and before he could grab her legs, she threw her weight to the left and as a large wave rolled past them, it caused Taron to over balance and fall straight into the water, Robyn letting go of his body once they were both submerged under the waves.

Robyn surfaced before Taron did but stayed hunched down in the ocean, as the cold November air was chillier than the water and laughed as Taron shot out of the water just like she had, his hands wiping water from his hair and face.

“Fuck it’s cold. Fuck fuck fuck!” It was an idea that just came to him and he knew it was a ridiculously dumb and stupid one, going for a swim in November in the ocean but the opportunity was just too good to miss and he owed Robyn a payback for the flour and sugar fight in her kitchen. As he carried her into the water, there was an immense contrast in temperature as her body was scalding hot against his chest while his legs were shaking with the cold as he trudged into the freezing cold ocean.

“You are a fucking tosspot.” She laughed to him as she splashed water at him. “This was such a terrible idea.” She turned her own back as water was tossed back in her direction.

“Oh I know.” Agreed Taron as he followed Robyn’s stance and dipping his body into the water so the waves lapped against his chin. “It’s cold.”

“No shit sherlock. You do realise you are going to be so sick after this?”

“You too.”

“Yeah but I don’t have the responsibility of a multi-million movie resting on my shoulders.”

“We won’t be in here too long.”

“We shouldn’t be in here at all Taron.” She felt some water splash her way and without hesitation she dove under the water again and swam around and past him and up behind his back again, wrapping her arms around his neck once her head was above the water. “Such a bad idea.” She said, smiling as Taron started to move backwards and thread water once he couldn’t touch the stones under his shoes any more.

“You definitely can swim?”

“You know I have a diploma in dolphin therapy right.”

“Good. I won’t go too far.” Taron took to swim a little, Robyn still wrapped around his neck and stopped when he had moved a few meters.

“This is really terrible idea. Don’t go any further.” Said Robyn as she let him go and swam around to thread water in front of him. “Not because we can’t swim but it is dark and this water is fucking cold and we are not staying in here longer than thirty seconds.”

“Yes chicken.” He replied grinning at her, splashing water at her face.

“You are going to be in so much trouble when you go home.” She chuckled, enjoying how the moonlight reflected in his eyes and water droplets slowly trickled down his face from his hair, some of them blue from the hair chalk she had put in his hair. “We have to go back to your childhood home to get our stuff before we go back to yours and when she sees what you have done, well I can’t wait for the tongue lashing you are going to get.”

Taron’s face quickly changed when realisation set in. “Oh shit.”

“Oh, shit indeed and we had better get out of here. Your lips are turning blue.” She reached out of the water and gently touched his cold lips. As much as Robyn had enjoyed the sudden dip in the ocean and playfulness from Taron, she was absolutely freezing cold and could see that Taron was too. “Race you!” She called putting her hands on his shoulders and with a hard push, dunked him under the water with surprise before she started to swim the few meters back to shore, hearing Taron splash behind her as he tried to catch up with her. Robyn reached the shallow water before he did and standing up, she shivered from head to toe as the beach breeze hit her, a breeze she hadn’t noticed before. The small stones of the shore crunched under her sopping converse as she walked up onto the beach. Once out of the sea water she turned to look at Taron as he stood up out of the water. The cold rushed out of her body as a current of heat ran through her blood as she watched him saunter out of the water, drops of sea water dripping down his face. It was a clichéd vision from every romantic movie she had ever imagined in her head and she mentally told her mind to stop thinking inappropriate thoughts and her heart to resume its normal rhythm. Even though she knew she was chilled to the bone, she couldn’t feel it as she watched him and as he took the few steps to get closer to her, his lips were pulled up in a wonderful smile.

“Did I do a good James Bond impression?” He asked her grinning.

Robyn pretended to be thinking over his question when in reality she was trying to find her voice and hoped the silence conveyed that. “Didn’t he have a lot less clothes on?” She asked regretting the question as soon as she said it.

“Well I can work on that.” He said as he started to take his jacket off but Robyn stopped him.

“I know common sense tells us to take the wet clothes off but we gotta get back to yours before we even take something off.”

“I thought I needed to have less clothes on?” He replied with a smirk on his face.

“Believe me, I want to get you out of those clothes.” Inside she enjoyed how his eyes changed to a much darker colour and his whole posture stood up straighter but she had to ignore every tingle in her body and explain herself. “I really didn’t mean it like… Taron stop! Taron!”

He had closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I love it when you get embarrassed like that and I understand what you mean. No clothes coming off until we can shower.”

When Taron hugged Robyn, she normally soaked up the warmth he provided her but now she was being squished against wet and damp clothes and as he hugged her, he was squeezing the sea water from the clothes onto the stony beach. “So, this was a terrible idea.”

“Oh, you think?” Robyn stepped away from him and he could see him visibly shivering in front of her. “We need to go and get back to your parents as quick as we can and then back to yours and into a shower. You are frozen.”

“As are you.” He watched as Robyn wrung her hair out. “Though at Elton’s I am sure I heard you say that you were used to the cold and wet. That it was pre-requisite to be born Irish.”

Robyn grabbed his hand and started to pull him up the beach. “I don’t think being cold and wet as a result of being thrown in the Atlantic Ocean counts. Your hands as so cold Taron. They are normally so warm.”

As they walked back up the ramp, Taron was starting to feel his teeth clatter with the cold and he could feel endless shivers running through him. Once on the footpath, he curled Robyn into him, with his arm around her shoulders and was glad to feel hers creep around his waist. He was hoping to steal some of her body heat to try and warm himself up but she was just as frozen as he was. The biting wind from the beach was ripping through him and he quickened their pace wanting to make the return trip back to his parent’s house in five minutes rather than the fifteen they had taken to stroll to the beach. He could hear Robyn’s converse squeaking with the wetness and the tremors that flowed through her whole body as he grasped her close to him. Every now and again an icy water droplet dripped from his hair and down the back of his neck and it was extremely uncomfortable. They reached the front door of the house within the five minutes and Taron looked to Robyn as she waited for him to open the door.

“Yeah I only brought you with me. I don’t have a key.” He stepped away from her and walked over to the window of the sitting room where they had left Tina and Guy watching TV. He lightly rapped on the window, not wanting to ring the door bell and wake up his sisters. He hurried back to Robyn and wrapped both arms around her again. Although they were both ice cold, their body temperatures were the same after being in the same water together and could gain a little heat from each other.

“Hey you two. Thought you were just going for a… Jesus Christ Taron!” Tina had wondered why her son and his guest had decided to take a late night stroll but figured they needed the time to talk to each other. She had hoped her separate pep talks had helped them to sort out their thoughts before they confronted each other about their individual opinions on the media. When she opened door to let them back in, she was a bit concerned with how the atmosphere between them would be but she had never in her wildest dreams could have imaged the scene that met her once she opened the door. Taron and Robyn completely drenched through and shivering in the night air. “What happened? Are you both ok? Why are you all wet? I did try to call you but I realised you left your phone here and then I used your phone to call Robyn’s but her phone was left here too and I just don’t understand why you have a phone if you never bring it with you when you go places.”

“Mam do you think you could let us in please?” Asked Taron as he still stood outside with Robyn, both their bodies convulsing with the cold and as much as he loved his mother, it wasn’t the time for her to stand staring at them with her mouth open in shock.

“Oh right. Yeah come inside.” The blast of heat that hit them was wonderful as they stepped over the threshold of the front door but it also made them both realise how bitter cold they actually were.

“I will get some towels.” Taron left Robyn’s side and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“Robyn?” Tina turned to look at her. “What on earth? Why are you two all wet?”

“Well we had a run in with the ocean.” She could see the frown on her face.

“Did my son do this?” She asked as Taron came running back down the stairs with two large fluffy towels in his arms.

“Well kind of.” Answered Robyn as she shrugged her wet coat off, struggling to get it off her arms, Taron helping her to pull it down.

“Kind of?” Asked Tina as she watched the two start to take off some of their wet clothes, Robyn now helping Taron to get his hands out of his sleeves of his coat that were stuck on his wrists.

“Taron David Egerton!” Tina spun to look at him as he started to pull his hoodie off, taking his t-shirt with it. “You put her in the ocean? In November?”

Robyn watched at Taron struggled to get his hoodie off his head, getting stuck inside. The wet material was much harder to pull off in a fluid swift motion. She stepped over to him. “Hey relax, you’re a bit stuck.” She pulled the hoodie back down his chest. “Arms first. Then head.” She held onto each sleeve cuff and with a bit of pulling and manoeuvring, Taron got his arms out of his jumper and was able to pull it over his head.

“Thank you. Need some help?”

“Nah I got it.” With a much smoother movement than he had, Robyn got her jumper off and took the towel Taron gave her, swinging it around her shoulders, while Taron tugged his t-shirt off before wrapping the other towel around his body.

“Right I need an explanation. Now Taron.”

“In short, I threw her in the ocean.”

“Taron!” Tina’s voice had an edge to it. “It is about five degrees outside. You are both going to get pneumonia. Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

“Tina, it’s ok.”

“Robyn it is absolutely not ok. I will not have my grown son doing such childish and dangerous things. The ocean Taron? It is not only freezing cold outside but one of you could have been hurt or drifted out to sea and it is pitch black outside.”

“Tina…”

“No Robyn. I will not let you try and make excuses for him with this.”

“There is no excuse mam. We sat on the beach and had a chat about the media, started to walk back and I picked her up and threw her in the ocean.”

Tina looked to Robyn after Taron had given her the simplest of explanations as to why they were looked like they had been caught in a terrible rain shower. “That is exactly what happened.” She agreed, stepping a little closer to Taron. Although they were both cold and wet, as they had walked back to his parents, the side of her body that was tucked into his wasn’t as exposed to the elements of the late-night weather and was slowly becoming a little warmer, so she craved any kind of heat he could give her and as he hugged her outside, she felt a little snug in his arms. Taron felt her inch closer to him and opening his arms, wrapped his arm around her right shoulder, encasing her into his towel too.

Tina stood with her hands on her hips and stared at her son who was avoiding her eyes, watching as he kept his whole attention on the woman he held close to him. She had seen how taken Taron was by Robyn, how his lips pulled up in a shy smile with intimate laughs they shared, his eyes never leaving her during the day, even more so when Robyn wasn’t looking his way. They moved together and around each other without even realising how in sync their bodies were with each other and when she walked in on Robyn giving her son a wonderfully close and private head massage, it was a little insight to what he got up to at her home, seeing for herself how this young woman cared for her son. It made her heart warm to see someone looking after her son with such delicate affection and pure love and as she watched Robyn carefully re-arrange their position so he was wrapped in her towel too, her anger faded and her heart was filled with so much joy and happiness for Taron. She knew and it was obvious without a doubt that Taron loved Robyn in every way possible but it was also easy to see that even though she hadn’t admitted it to herself, Robyn felt the exact same way as her son and Tina was more than happy for this blossoming relationship to carry on blooming.

She sighed and stepped closer to the two. “You both need to get back to Taron’s and shower and get something hot into you. I am glad my daughters are asleep because they absolutely idolise you Robyn and if they heard that you were thrown in the ocean, they would be running to do it too. You are both adults so I cannot chastise you too much and I have heard about the pranks that happened at your house so I shouldn’t be too surprised but I am still slightly mad Taron. It was dangerous what you did even with someone as responsible as Robyn and I am glad she was there again as you got yourself into and out of another tricky situation. You are lucky you are my only son and I love you and she is the woman who saved your life and I love her too.”

Robyn felt Taron’s hand tighten on her shoulder and she slipped hers around and onto the cold skin of his waist above his jeans.

“Grab your stuff and go home and shower. You are both going to catch your death and Taron, save the swimming for when the weather is warmer or you are at a swimming pool and do not tell Rosie and Mari what you did.”

“Sure mam. Sorry.”

“Sorry Tina.”

“You don’t have to say sorry to me and Robyn I definitely don’t need an apology from you. Let’s just not have a repeat of this but if you do, don’t let me know alright?” Tina moved closer to her son and placed her hands on his cold cheeks. “I already nearly lost you once, I don’t want it to happen again.”

Guilt flooded every part of Taron and he dropped his hand from Robyn’s shoulder and pulled him mam close for a tight hug, this towel falling from his shoulders onto the floor. Tina could immediately feel how cold he was and rubbed his back up and down with her hands, trying to warm him up. “I don’t one which of you is a worse influence for the other.” She smiled turning her head to look at Robyn. “At least tell me you have worked something out to come to a compromise for the media and you didn’t just throw her in because she had a better argument then you.”

Taron laughed a little as he gave his mam a kiss on her cheek and stepped back. “We have worked something out.” He gladly accepted the towel that Robyn covered his shoulder’s back up with, missing the heat his mam was trying to rub back into him.

“I am glad to hear that now get out of here and go home. Robyn…” Tina took a step to her and gave her a hug. “I know you put up with a lot from him but thank you for taking such good care of him too.”

“He makes me smile.” Robyn simply replied.

“Yes he does.”

“We had a laugh Tina and I will make sure to look after him and get him warmed up.” Robyn gave Tina a squeeze.

“I know he is in good hands.”

“And we can stop talking about me now and we really should go. I don’t know about Robyn but I am starting to get colder.”

“Frozen.” She answered him, smiling.

As they gathered their belongings and threw them into Robyn’s suitcase, Tina went upstairs to Taron’s old room and got them something dry to wear and came back downstairs with two of his jumpers, giving one to each of them. Taron almost greedily threw his on, sighing into the dry soft material he pulled it down over his head and down his chest. It felt wonderful to have something dry on his skin. Tina frowned as Robyn started to pull her t-shirt off while facing them but when she saw the look on Taron’s mam’s face, turned around so her back was to them and took her t-shirt off, slipping her arms into the blue hoodie before she pulled it over her shoulders and zipped it up. She returned Taron’s grin when she turned, knowing what it was for and picked up her wet shirt.

“Right everything in the car?” She asked him.

“Yep.”

“Thanks for a lovely day Tina. I had a brilliant time. Those girls are so wonderful and you already know what I think about your son. I will come back tomorrow to say goodbye to you all.”

With more hugs and goodbyes to Tina and Guy, Taron and Robyn were finally in his car making the journey back to his home, the heat on full blast in the car. Once inside, they both ran towards the bedrooms, Taron going to his room to his en suite, Robyn taking the bathroom both agreeing to take as long as they needed to warm up, Robyn making sure Taron knew to heat the water up slowly rather than stepping into a scalding shower.

The water was delightful on Taron’s cold skin and he let it run fully over his head and down his back, just standing under the stream enjoying how it heated his chilled body up. As he stood, he used the time to think about the day and how he agreed with Robyn that it had been absolutely perfect, even the conversation on the beach. Even more so the swim afterwards. He had absolutely no hesitation as he picked Robyn up and walked into the ocean and even though she protested, she giggled as he carried her into the water and had played along with him in the water as she always did. He loved that about Robyn. That he could just spontaneously do something so ridiculous without a second thought and she enjoyed it as much as he did, even getting her own back by pulling him under the water. He definitely wanted to take her up on her offer of coming back to have a picnic and a swim in the summer time. He smiled to himself as he turned around in the shower, running his hands through his hair. It was so nice to be able to see Robyn again so soon after Elton’s party and he tried not to think about the next time he would see her because it wasn’t set in stone and they had briefly spoke about trying to meet over their Christmas break as they both had time off. Turning around again so the water splashed on his lower back, he brushed those thoughts aside and instead, focused of thinking of a plan that would get Robyn sleeping with him in his bed without it being too obvious that he really wanted her there. Although he had enjoyed spending the day with his family, it was his time with Robyn that he cherished the most and he wanted to try and get as many cuddles in as he could before she went home, trying to ignore how each cuddle drove his love for her deeper into his heart and soul.

Robyn slipped the blue hoodie that Tina had given her back on and over her white tank top. She had another jumper with her, but preferred the cosy feel and oversize of Taron’s hoodies. The shower had been wonderful and she felt warm and snug now that she was dry and not cold any more. It had been a day of adventures and so much more then she thought it was going to be. She had felt so at home in Taron’s flat and loved spending time with his sisters. She finally got a taste of what it felt like to live in a house full of activity and it was wonderful. Robyn never felt like she missed out being an only child but it was nice to get a chance to be in such a whirlwind of activity and she loved getting stuck in with Taron’s sisters. However, the time she got to spend alone with him was her favourite part of the weekend so far and even though she could have murdered him at the time for their sudden swim, now as she dried her hair, she grinned. Taron and her had a knack for re-creating those cringey fluffy romantic movie moments and their late-night swim was just another moment of wonderful cold memories for her. It was when Taron was playful that she found her heart racing and beating with an unconditional love and affection for him. She was glad the water was so cold; it stopped her cheeks from blushing because swimming with Taron fully clothed in the cold Atlantic Ocean was such a private and intimate experience for them. Even though she enjoyed their late-night swim, it was when he was asleep against her that had definitely been her favourite part of the weekend so far and not just because she got to stroke and caress his beautiful face as he slept. When she originally met Taron, she had taken care of him and it was she liked to do for him and enjoyed how she still could, Taron letting her do so. She was hoping to convince him for another squishy cuddle in her arms once they were settled on the couch in a while but was sure he wouldn’t refuse especially if she threw in the option of another head massage. It was her absolute favourite thing to do for him because it was the ultimate source of relaxation for him and she wanted him to feel relaxed especially when his filming schedule was so full on for him next week.

Finally getting the last front piece of her hair dry, Robyn put the dryer down and ran a brush through her hair. When she left the shower, she could still hear Taron’s running and as she left the guest room, the water was still going. Her shower had taken her just over five minutes and now that she was dry and dressed, she made her way to the kitchen with her wet clothes to make something hot for them to drink and have it ready for Taron for when he was all warm and toasty and she had the perfect drink in mind.

She was just squirting the cream into the cup when Taron padded into the kitchen, wearing some blue check pj pants and a white t-shirt, carrying all of his wet clothes.

“Seriously, I thought we have already had a conversation about matching outfits.” Robyn stopped squirting the cream into the cup and looked down to her own blue check bottoms and white top. “Blue is my colour Taron.”

“So, I am not allowed to wear blue?” He asked grinning as he bent down to put his clothes in the washing machine, where he noticed that Robyn had put hers too, just as he had asked her to do in the car on the way to his house. He quickly switched it on and stood back beside Robyn, pulling the hood of his jumper up over her freshly washed hair.

“No. Blue is my colour. It matches my eyes. You can have every other colour but I like the bottoms though. I don’t think I have seen you wear pj’s before.” She sprayed some cream into the second cup, leaving the hood of the jumper pulled up on her head.

“I like to be cosy and being in my own home with a wardrobe of clothes, I figured it was best choice after being so cold and wet.” He dipped his finger in the cream in the cup.

“I love them.”

“And my hoodies it seems.”

“Your mam gave it to me.” She picked up the cheese grater she had found after routing through his presses and carefully grated a small square of chocolate evenly over the top of the cream in each cup. “And it matches my eyes so I can wear it.” She winked at him and turned around to put the grater in the sink. “For you.” Once back at the counter, she pushed the cup towards him. “Something to help warm you up and I want you to take these too.” She pushed two white tablets to him. “Some paracetamol, just to keep that oncoming temperature and cold away.” She slid a glass of water beside the cup.

“You have some too?”

“Yep.” Robyn picked up her own two tablets and quickly took them with her own glass of water. “And I waited for you to see that I took them because I knew you would ask me.”

Grinning Taron took his own too. “And what looks so delicious in this cup?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“I don’t think I have hot chocolate in my house Robyn.”

“No you don’t but I had some chocolate in my case that we were meant to use during our sleep over, so I made some from it with the milk from your fridge. I thought it would be more of a treat and cuter way to warm up rather than boring tea or coffee.”

Taron grinned as he wrapped his hands around the cup and bringing it to his lips, took a sip, closing his eyes as he tasted the smooth chocolatey drink, the hot liquid helping to further warm his body up. He licked some cream from his top lip. “Hmm that is not some shop bought hot chocolate. Delicious.”

Robyn smiled and reached over and rubbed some cream away that he missed from the left corner of his top lip. “Nice way to warm up.” She agreed taking a drink from her own cup. “And made with Cadbury’s chocolate. First time actually but figured chocolate is chocolate.”

“This is wonderful. Thanks Robyn.”

“You are very welcome.”

“Want to go and watch some TV?” He asked. “I am ready for some chill out time. It has been a busy day.”

“I would love to do that.” Robyn lifted her cup and headed for the couch.

“Let’s go to my room and just lay down. I know this is going to put me right to sleep and we both know I cannot sleep on a couch.”

Robyn stopped walking and turned to him and smiled. “Is this your sneaky way of getting me into your bed for the night?”

“Maybe? Is it working?” Taron concentrated on taking another drink of the hot drink, rather than looking at Robyn. “Was kind of hoping for another head massage.” He laughed.

“And you deserve one?” Robyn asked. “After dropping me in the sea?”

“I helped you build a tent and it is my birthday weekend.” He tested enjoying the smile that grew on her lips. “And you love me?” He added. “And you go home tomorrow and I go back to New York on Monday and it will be a long time before we see each other again and only you can get me to sleep so soundly.”

“And you keep adding more and’s and we will be here all night instead of watching TV and keeping warm and cosy.” Without another word, Robyn walked away from him and towards his bedroom. “So are you coming or going to stay here by yourself.”

Robyn headed towards his bedroom chuckling. She was kind of hoping he would suggest a sleep over in his room and she knew he was going to try and convince her somehow to sleep in his bed and it really didn’t take much convincing on his part. It just seemed the right decision to make the night before, to sleep in separate rooms, Robyn using his guest room but she struggled to sleep. It was such a strange situation for her because at home without him she slept fine but knowing he was only two doors away, she found it difficult to shut her mind off and not think about him and now that they were going to be in the same bedroom, she knew she could definitely find a way to sleep tonight and persuade Taron to settle in for a cuddle.

She could hear Taron closing off the his flat for the night once she walked in the door of his room she could see the throw she had given him on his bed. She was happy to take up the left side of his bed and slipped under the duvet cover, hugging her warm cup to her, enjoying how she heard him thumb down the hallway.

“You spill that drink Taron; I have no more chocolate to make another one!” She shouted to him, and heard another thumb of footsteps, the sound getting fainter, before it picked up again but wasn’t as loud or heavy sounding.

“I forgot my cup.” He said as he walked into the room. “Don’t you look all cute settled in my bed in my room.”

“And you got your way once more.”

Taron placed his cup on the locker beside the bed and left the room for two minutes to make sure the rest of his home was closed up for the night and once in his room, turned off his main light, flicking the switch on his bedside lamp. He lifted his new throw and duvet up and climbed into the bed, getting himself settled against his pillows, before picking his cup up. “This hot chocolate is so good Robyn.” He turned the television on and snuggled a little back into his pillows.

“It is.” She agreed. “I’ve had such a great day Taron. Thank you for letting me be myself with your family.”

Taron chuckled. “They all loved you Robyn. I don’t think Rosie and Mari will ever stop talking about today. You are definitely their favourite person at the moment.”

“You will always be their favourite person. They wouldn’t stop talking about you as I did their hair. They idolise you.” She moved over on the bed, so she could lean into him a little, Taron quickly accepting her cuddle, his left arm wrapping around her shoulder, pulling the hood down from her head on his way around, which she still had up. “They love you so very much.”

Smiling Taron drank some more of his drink. “Thanks for accepting my mam’s invite. I’ve had a wonderful day. I love making new memories with you. I had such a great birthday weekend. We are also the same age now.”

“I am still older than you.” She answered kicking his foot with hers under the covers. “Don’t forget that. You always have to listen to your elders.” She enjoyed the laugh she heard from his and the kick he returned.

Once they had finished their drinks, Robyn rid herself of the hoodie she was wearing, feeling a little too warm as she lay against Taron and under the duvet and the throw he had spread over them. Taron snuggled further down into his bed, taking Robyn with him so they were both laying down. He had his arm wrapped around her shoulders but he felt Robyn wriggle out from under him and sit up a little, his arm now by her side. She lifted her own right arm and slipped it in behind his neck and giving his right shoulder a little squeeze, guided him into her. “Tables have turned. Your turn for a snuggle. It’s your birthday weekend.”

Taron didn’t need further encouragement and nuzzled a little further into Robyn, resting his right arm across her stomach, letting a full satisfied sigh slip through him. He could already feel sleep calling his name and closing his eyes, he listened to the steady beat of Robyn’s heart under his ear, enjoying how she was already scratching head with her right hand, while her the fingers of her left hand drew lazy circles around his right arm. His conversation with his mam was in the back of his mind and deep down he knew this was dangerous territory he was currently lying in but it felt too comfortable and cosy to move from and as he became more relaxed in Robyn’s arms, he enjoyed how she burrowed a little further down the bed, cuddling him a little closer to her, placing a kiss on his head. Even though he realised he was falling further down the rabbit hole every time he saw Robyn, he was fully prepared for the fall and buried his head deeper into the wonderful warm body under him, enjoying how Robyn nuzzled him even closer to her. After how disastrous his journey home for the weekend was, it was worth every frustration for him and he tried to etch every feeling he had into his memory book, ready to pull them out when he needed them once he was back at work next week. A satisfied sigh left his lips and Robyn applied a little more pressure to the kneading of her fingers in his hair and quickly found himself being lulled into a wonderful deep sleep, trying not to think about how long it would be before he got to do this again with the woman who held him so close in her arms.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Family #friendship #Love #Messing #Late Night Swim #Cuddles #Hot Chocolate #Serious Conversations #Compromise #Robyn and Taron

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quicksilversquared · 5 years ago

Text

Rumble On

Thunder rolls and lightning flashes overhead, but this time, Marinette isn't falling in love during a thunderstorm. Instead, she's decided to give up on her crush and move on.

links in the reblog

Marinette gave up her crush on Adrien Agreste on a stormy Tuesday afternoon.

It had been a long time coming, she reflected as she raced home in the rain, dodging pedestrians the best that she could as she tried and failed to not get too wet without raincoat or umbrella. She had held a torch for him for ages, trying again and again to ask Adrien out with no success whatsoever, only managing to make a fool out of herself as she tripped and babbled and mixed things up when she tried to confess. It was a more recent revelation that she had compromised parts of herself and her beliefs and even her feelings to make Adrien happy- standing down and not making waves instead of standing up for injustice, for one, and feeling bad about celebrating when her long-time bully (and the school's biggest bully) was meant to leave the school- and she had sometimes even acted in ways that, when she looked back on them...

Well, that wasn't her. It shouldn't have been her.

The last straw had come when Chloe had bullied Rose that afternoon. Marinette had been comforting Rose (no, her scrapbooks didn't look bad, Chloe just had no taste and liked making people feel bad about their work because she herself didn't have an ounce of talent in her body) and Chloe had gone up to Adrien and he... just started talking to her like everything was normal. Like she hadn't just bulled someone into crying, even though she (and everyone else in Paris) knew better than to deliberately make people feel bad, because of the danger of akumas.

As though the person being bullied to the point of near-tears wasn't a friend of his, too.

The worst part had been when Rose had seen Adrien talking to Chloe, giving a small, polite smile in response to something that she had said. Her entire being had crumpled.

And Marinette could no longer make excuses for him. She wouldn't.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" Tikki asked as Marinette headed up the stairs and into her room, determination in every step. "You look like you've decided something."

"I'm giving up on my crush on Adrien." Marinette reached for the first of her photos, pulling it down as thunder rumbled outside. "I fell in love with him because he was so open and kind about the misunderstanding over the gum incident. But that kind of gets cheapened when he's too kind, even to people who certainly don't deserve it. It's just- whatever connection I thought was there- it wasn't."

It seemed like too often lately, Marinette was seeing the downsides to Adrien's kindness- he was giving people who certainly didn't deserve it too many second chances and tolerating people basically walking all over him and over the rest of their classmates. It was like he didn't see the consequences of not taking action against bullies and liars.

It wasn't attractive. And it was exhausting to have to deal with those consequences all the time.

"It's very likely that Adrien was raised to avoid conflict no matter what," Tikki said, flying higher to help Marinette pull down a couple posters that were too high to reach. "Just based on what I've heard of his father, it would be really, really likely. And it's frustrating to see, I know, but habits like that can be hard to break."

"I know, but you still have to have to recognize when enough is enough!" Marinette yanked down another photo, frustration bubbling under her skin. The lights flickered overhead as lightning flashed over Paris. "And there's a difference between avoiding conflict and actively enabling bullies! And there's a difference between avoiding conflict and telling other people that they should avoid it, too, or that they shouldn't be happy when a bully goes away! Like sure, it's not good to be celebrating someone else's misfortunes, but we weren't. We were celebrating the idea of being able to come to school without getting bullied, mainly. And he didn't like that. That was important enough to him to speak up about it, but watching Chloe bully people isn't, apparently."

Several more pictures came down, hard enough to pull off a couple specks of paint on the wall. Marinette scowled at that and then at the tape on the offending poster, then huffed and tossed it in the slowly-filling recycling bin.

"If I had been able to think straight then, I would have spoken up about that," Marinette added after a minute, dumping another armful of pictures in the bin with a scowl. She flinched at a too-close flash of lightning outside of her window. "I would have stood up for ourselves instead of getting all sad that I had made Adrien upset. Maybe he could have recognized that what he wasn't doing wasn't right then. He shouldn't be standing up against a bully's victims but not the bully herself."

Tikki flew after her. "You're not going to stop being his friend, are you?"

Marinette wrinkled her nose at the question. "I've not really been much of a proper friend to Adrien, have I? More of a friend of a friend, considering that we don't hang out with each other without Nino and Alya much. But no, I'm not going to stop being his friend. And I want to be a better friend."

"Oh, good!" Tikki landed on Marinette's shoulder, watching as Marinette pulled down her calendar to erase - well, not all of Adrien's activities, because she kept all of her friends' schedules on it so that she could help organize group outings that would be able to include everyone, but all of the extra notes that she had taken on what Adrien was up to. "Maybe with your help, he can grown past the unhealthy behavior that he's been taught."

"Maybe." Marinette gave her calendar one more look before shutting it and returning to her desk, setting all of her pictures in the recycling bin under her rain-soaked window and sitting down at her computer to change her desktop photo. While Tikki's suggestion sounded good, Marinette kind of needed some time and space for herself before diving in to try to help someone else improve themselves. She couldn't keep giving and helping and being there for people if she pretty much burnt out already. "And speaking of not-so-healthy behavior, I think giving up on my crush will be good for me."

Tikki frowned. "What do you mean, Marinette?"

Marinette sighed, turning away from the computer to give Tikki her full attention. "I mean, there's a lot of things, I think. It's emotionally exhausting, getting all anxious about how Adrien sees me and if I should try asking him out. And then when I say dumb stuff because I'm all wound up, and then I hyperfocus on that and what Adrien probably thought afterwards, and it- I'm busy enough with other stuff without spending time on that, and it feels awful besides!"

"Oh, Marinette..."

"And that isn't all," Marinette admitted. There was more, a realization had been creeping up on her for a while now, but she had just done her best to ignore it until more recently. "I let myself get swept up in the whole get the boy thing. Like, at first, it was just Alya and I giggling over how cute Adrien was and over-analyzing it whenever he waved to me, and maybe I sometimes thought about asking him out, but it was different! It wasn't something I was trying to do every other day, or whenever I saw Adrien outside of school. Not that I saw him that often away from the rest of the class, anyway."

"Not until Alya and Nino started dating," Tikki finished, raising her voice so that Marinette would still be able to hear her over the slowly fading rumbles outside. "And there were more opportunities for Alya to set the two of you up." She frowned. "Alya really started pushing the two of you together after that, didn't she? Even when you said no."

"Yeah, but I should have pushed back more. The last time I got together with the other girls to plan how I could ask out Adrien, I remember feeling uncomfortable with the elaborate set-ups and the whole not-being-entirely-legal stuff and the suggestions about beating out my 'competition' with Kagami," Marinette told her kwami, her voice getting quieter with every word. "And I just- I ignored that and didn't voice any objections because I was too focused on the end goal of asking Adrien out successfully. Even though he told me that he liked Kagami, which- well, that should have been enough for me to stop trying to ask him out, considering that I pretty much already know what his answer would be."

Tikki blinked at her. "Are you sure he would say no? Has Adrien gone out with Kagami again after the ice rink, do you know? As a date, not as something that their parents had them do together?"

With a groan, Marinette flopped back in her chair and threw her hands up in the air. "I don't know! And if we were normal friends who talked on a regular basis, then I would know. And if we were normal friends, I would be able to call him out on stuff like what happened today, and I wouldn't- well, I think I would have done a lot of stuff differently."

Tikki only chirped and nuzzled Marinette's cheek in comfort. For her part, Marinette just let out a long breath, trying not to let the frustration at- well, at herself, at Adrien, and the whole mess- get to her.

Honestly, even though part of her was sad to let her crush go- she had made plans for her and Adrien's future together, and she had spent nights (and days) daydreaming about those plans, and having fun drawing out plans for couple outfits, and then giggling with Alya about each and every interaction that she had had with Adrien- it was really for the better, the splash of cold water that she needed to take a step (or several steps) back and look at how she had handled having a serious crush.

Now that she had recognized that she had let things get a bit out of hand, she wouldn't let it happen again in the future. Any future crushes would be healthy ones. And any attempts to ask her future crushes out would be in completely normal scenarios, not engineered ones because she wasn't confident enough to pull her crush aside for a minute at school or when they were out with their friends and confess.

(Looking back at their whole Operation Secret Garden fiasco with a clear head, Marinette could admit now that it was stupid and illegal and really, they should have just had a picnic in the area and when Adrien finished, she could have gone to say hi instead of harassing Adrien's driver to keep him out of the way. Marinette was glad that she had at least done the right thing in helping the struggling mom get up the steps instead of staying hidden during their Operation, but she really should have had at least some reservations at the time about the whole setup but she hadn't (or at least hadn't let herself really think about the reservations she had), and that- that wasn't her. She couldn't let it become her.)

"What are you going to tell the girls next time they want to come up with a date?" Tikki asked after several seconds, jolting Marinette out of her thoughts. "The last time you thought about letting your crush on Adrien go so you could support him on his date with Kagami, they didn't really like that idea."

"Yeah, well, it's not their choice to make, is it?" Marinette did a quick couple clicks on her computer, changing her background to something more generic and deleting her entire folder of digital Adrien photos in one go. "I don't have to explain everything to them. I'll just say that I'm done with my crush."

"You might want to come up with a better explanation," Tikki advised her as Marinette deleted everything from her computer's recycling bin, getting rid of them for good so she couldn't be tempted to restore them. "Otherwise, I bet that they'll keep trying to set you up." She followed Marinette as she scooped up her recycling bin and hauled it towards her door, down to the rest of her family's home. "Are you going to go for Luka, then? If you've given up on Adrien?"

Marinette didn't even have to think about it before shaking her head. "I don't think that that would be a good idea. I don't want to jump straight from one crush to another, for one, and, well, I don't think it would be a good idea for me to try to date while I'm Ladybug."

That, too, was a more recent revelation, something that had been brewing distantly in the back of her mind and something that Marinette really should have paid attention to before. Her friends already complained enough about her missing get-togethers because of akuma attacks. If she had tried to date Adrien- if she tried to date anyone- while Hawkmoth was still active, the relationship wouldn't last long. Best-case scenario, they would just drift apart after a couple months and then break up. Worst-case scenario, a relationship would end in flames, with whoever she was dating getting so fed up with her that they couldn't even stay friends afterwards.

That- that would be devastating, especially if she really liked them.

On top of that, Marinette didn't have any time for dating. She had been overwhelmed by her responsibilities on more than one occasion recently, and she needed time to relax and unwind and catch up on sleep and design for fun, all things that were slowly getting showed to the side.

"That sounds smart, Marinette!"

Marinette couldn't resist the rueful smile that appeared on her face as she headed downstairs. "Yeah, well, it's about time I was actually smart about the whole dating thing. I haven't been for a long, long time." She rounded the last set of stairs, finally reaching ground level and ducking into the back room where her parents kept the bakery's trash and recycling bins. She glanced down at her recycling basket one more time, at the photos that she had built up over the course of the past year (past year and a couple months, really), hours of searching and clipping out and picking out her favorites to display, all shoved into the basket.

Decisively, Marinette emptied all of the pictures into the giant recycling barrel, watching them sift down between cans and collapsed boxes and vanish from view. As soon as the last one was gone, she headed back out of the room with her empty basket in hand, feeling lighter already as she shut the door behind her and headed back upstairs to replace the basket in her newly-cleaned room and to finally change into some clothes that weren't damp from the earlier storm.

Outside, the storm cleared away overhead as Marinette settled back in at her desk, feeling far more relaxed than she had earlier and already planning how she could redecorate her room so that the walls wouldn't feel so bare. It had been the healthy thing to do, letting go of Adrien. Her crush on him and how she had responded to her crush- well, it had gotten out of control and made her compromise her values and act- well, it had made her act not like herself. And...well, Marinette didn't want to spend practically her entire time in collège completely distracted by a boy who wasn't interested in her the same way that she was interested in him. It wasn't good for her, to keep holding on to that hope only to find herself disappointed or embarrassed yet again. That was no way to spend her time, and Marinette wasn't going to keep putting herself through it, over and over again. Not anymore.

Up in the sky, the first ray of sunshine broke through the clouds, making the rain-damp city below glitter and shine. It was going to be a lovely day.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #let Marinette have some rest from her crush honestly #marinette dupain cheng

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harrieatthemet · 6 years ago

Text

New York

in which Harry loves to make memories and you love the penthouse windows.

yeah this is porn.

“Why’d you bring it?”

He can just barely hear you calling out to him, your voice fighting over the vague sound of car horns and other sounds alike. The flutes of champagne in his hand waiver a bit as he rounds the corner, the open bottle of Perignon in his other hand dribbling a bit onto his thumb.

Your silhouette is cascading across the open space of the sitting area, the lighting of surrounding buildings and street lamps highlighting your face and the camera hanging from your hand.

“Thought maybe I’d need it.” he hums softly before he hands you your own glass, placing the bottle down on the table beside you.

Surely he doesn’t need it. There’s no point, especially when he’d come to New York to walk a carpet with cameras lined up from start to finish. If he had wanted a photo, all he really would have to do is going fishing around for one on the internet. But he’s working an angle, he knows that, but clearly you don’t.

“You know people literally came here just to take your photo, right?”

He can’t help but crack a smirk at your response, watching with a bit of a lustful glimmer in the pupil of his eye as you sip at your drink. A light wash of pink flushes over his cheeks, a gentle fluttering in his belly reoccurring as he recounts the event held the other night, reminiscing the Met and all the photos he had stored away in his phone to commemorate it.

“Know tha’,” he tuts, “maybe I brought it fo’ memories.”

“Memories?”

“Yes,” he chuckles lightly before the bubbly splashes at his lips, “can’t I make m’own?”

Your giggle, followed by a teasing shake of the head, drags a smirk onto his lips as he watches you.

He’s glad he picked this room. He’s enjoying the scenery just outside, courtesy of the wide and lengthy windows lining the walls. He likes the way you’re standing in front of them, likes how the light of the city is hitting you this well; the reds of traffic lights, the white from the scatter of buildings and cars.

And you like it, too. He knows because you’ve only mentioned it to him a million times since you’ve gotten here.

“They look so small.” your back is too him as you stand at the window, peering down at the scattered crowds of people down below.

Everything looks so small from up here, like ants, like they’re almost somehow inferior to you from 20 floors up. Cars fly past in brief blurs of color, occasionally evoking a horn or stopping at a light. The yelling from the streets is muffled, but audible. But they all look so small.

“20 something floors up,” he teases, “tha’s why, petal.”

You peer at him over your shoulder, an eye roll soon following, because obviously you know why.

Where have you been hiding that dress? He knows he’s never seen it before. Surely he’d remember a dress that tight, where your shoulders are on full display and the curve of your body is that inviting.

He can’t help but press the back of his body up against yours, chin resting on your bare shoulder before his hands invite themselves to run along your sides. The velvet finish of your attire feels so good underneath the palms of his hands. And your only fueling the fire in his gut when you hum at the contact.

“Think they can see us?” you breath, his lips pressing a feathery kiss to the exposed skin on your shoulder.

“Hard t’say,” he smirks, “looking t’find out?”

All it is, really, is him thinking out loud. He hadn’t meant to be so blunt, even though he isn’t entirely regretful that he was.

His lips are still comfortable attached to your shoulder before they direct their way up, paying some well deserved attention to the nape of your neck. A soft moan comes bubbling from you, your eyes closed as his teeth mildly graze against your skin. To which, he takes as a humble yes.

“Take off th’dress.”

His words come out strangled, fighting amongst a groan and the incoherent yelling coming from a few people down below.

A breathy laugh leaves you when he gives the material a tug, doing his best to entice you to remove the outfit before he takes it upon himself to rid you of it himself. But you don’t need to be asked twice, placing the half empty glass of alcohol down on before tugging on the hem of the sleeves.

His hand glides down your arm, covering every inch that becomes freed until the top half of the dress is completely off. He’s anticipating the sound of the fabric hitting the floor, watching as you begin to peel the rest off. And he’s relishing in those soft moans each time he sucks on a particular spot of your neck, his hand falling flat on the surface of your own, assisting you of peeling off the dress.

“S’a pretty dress.” he admits, words obscured as he delivers a longing peck to the back of your jawline.

“I know.”

A finger hooks itself in he hem of your underwear, pulling on it just so he can hear it snap back onto your skin. And the dress pools at your feet, his eyes watching as you lift each leg up to free yourself from the article of clothing confined around your ankles.

His fingers graze over the hook of your bra, his mouth on the back of your neck before he takes it upon himself to move your hair to one side with his free hand. The bra has to go, too.

“Y’mind?”

“Mm,” you hum, “not at all.”

The sound of the metal unclasping at the hands of his fingers is almost as satisfying as watching it hit the floor, your foot moving to kick it aside so it can lay along with your balled up dress.

And now you’re waiting to hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. But you don’t and you turn around when the warmth of his body can no longer be felt on your back, when you realize he’s not standing there waiting for you to unbutton his shirt.

“This what you meant about finding out,” you laugh, “leaving me naked in front of the window?”

“Course not,” and he’s walking back, but with the camera in his hand, “just needed t’grab something.”

He stops about halfway, and you flush purely out of shyness as he sturdies the camera in his hand. His smirk, devilish and promiscuous, is a familiar one as he holds the camera up. But it’s not first time he’s snapped a photo like the one he’s readying himself to take, you’re no stranger to his camera, and you don’t flinch when the flash goes off and the shutter choruses throughout the room.

“Memories, ‘member?” he grins.

He lets your hands work the buttons lining the center of his shirt, the camera dangling beside him as he awaits his next opportunity for a photo. And you’re quick to remove the belt too, letting him assist you in undoing the loop before the expensive accessory is carelessly tossed aside.

He directs you a few steps backwards, a hand kneading at your breast while he shimmies his trousers off, the cool air in the room brushing up against his bare thighs. And he moans a little when you bite at his lip, which evokes a grin from you, because you’ve done it enough times to know well that he likes it.

“Want everyone t’see,” he groans, his shirt falling off behind him, “yeah? Want everyone t’see me fucking you?”

He’s got your chin placed firmly between his fingers, and your throat wells up in anticipation. His eyes are completely glazed over, he’s far gone, with you not too far behind. He studies you for an answer, lips parted before they tug into a grin as you modestly nod your head.

“S’wha I thought,” he murmurs, and it’s then that you swallow a bit harder, “turn around fo’ me.”

The camera is still resting comfortably in one hand, and he uses his other one to tug his own boxers off before he goes to remove you of the only material still remains on your body.

A strangled moan elicits itself from you when his dick brushes up against your ass, his only free hand circling to the front of you before making it’s way to your clit. And he feels himself getting harder when your hand goes to reach for something, anything, to grab onto before it settles for the glass of the window.

“Tell me yeh want it,” he breathes, lips hovering just over your ear, “g’on, kitten, wanna hear yeh ask.”

“Want it,” you choke, “Harry, please, I want it. Fuck me.”

His hand bends you halfway over, gliding itself up your spine until it settles itself in your hair, balling a fist of it into his palm before yanking your head back with a subtle tug.

“Fuck,” his groan is borderline sinful as he slides himself into you, “always so tight fo’ me, yeah?”

He could almost drown in the way you’re moaning, the sound of it music to his ears as it echos back throughout the room. His eyes are trained on the way he slips in out, appearing only briefly before he buries himself balls deep back inside.

“Prettiest fuckin’ slut,” he grunts, his hand delivering a forceful smack to your ass “know tha’?”

A grunt soon follows, his eyes landing on the window. It’s pornographic, edging him even more, as he gets a semi clear glimpse of him fucking into you in the reflection of the window.

The lighting inside the penthouse is of no use, though the lights from outside serve their purpose. Not much can be made out, but it’s enough to suffice. Your hand is seen pressed up against the window in a last ditch attempt to find something to grab onto, his chest and the tattoos splayed across it accentuated nicely, courtesy of the city lights.

The slew of curses that tumble from your mouth are semi audible over the excessive sound of car horns from the street below, in unison with the loud cackling from the few groups of pedestrians crossing the street and the loud chatter coming from a few others.

The sound of skin slapping against skin, your pornographic moans of ‘yes’ and curses alike are words of encouragement, his hand tightly wrapping a bulk of your hair around it before he delivers another rough tug.

Your neck snaps back, and he can’t help but moan at the sight of you. Lips parted, eyes glossy with tears as his front rams into your ass before he pulls himself back out.

And you’re trying not to scream, your hand flat against the window as you try to keep your balance best you can. He’s got the camera flash dimmed, keeping it on record so he can play this back when he really needs it.

“Go-gonna,” you exhale, suppressing the moan in the back of your throat in order to choke the word out, “fuck- gonna cum.”

It’s like you’ve challenged him, a bit, because he picks the pace up before he releases the grip on your hair to let his hand grab onto your hip. His thumb presses into your hip bone, keeping his pace steady as his eyes stayed glued to your face in the reflection. And he watches in amusement as the tears brim your eyes, face contorting in pleasure before you release the scream from your throat.

“A minute, love,” he moans, “m’fuckin close.”

His arm holding the camera falls limp as he finishes, his grunts becoming louder and more prominent as his pace becomes sloppier and faster. But he doesn’t forget to get a shot of him sliding out, a bit of cum dribbling down your thigh as you stand yourself up.

“Still wondering why I brought th’camera?”

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atlantathecity · 5 years ago

Text

Dedicated lanes for transit are good, but they won't save us from the perils of car culture.

The photos above show two MARTA rail lines, one that’s passing over over I-85 and one beside DeKalb Avenue. They may appear to be sensible options for traveling into the city from these vistas, particularly since they are separated from roadways.

But MARTA ridership has not been rising along with population growth in the service area.

The fact is that even when transit lines are fully detached from car traffic like this, they still aren’t as successful as they could be if we truly addressed car culture.

That detachment from car lanes is a solid benefit, no doubt, and I’m glad to see so much conversation happening about giving dedicated lanes to streetcars and bus lines. Dedicated lanes for transit are a good thing, and we need to make sure that our future streetcars and Bus Rapid Transit plans include them. But messaging their benefit is tricky: we have to be careful to not paint them as a sole solution for transit success in Atlanta.

MARTA’s heavy rail has a dedicated “lane” but we still have a huge swelling of cars into the city alongside the tracks. And we still have streets like DeKalb Avenue that flow beside several transit stations, but that lack pedestrians who could be potential riders.

Yes, add good stuff like dedicated lanes for transit. But also address the bad stuff that affects ridership.

Transit doesn’t exist is a vacuum outside the context of our car-oriented policies, behaviors, and assumptions, and it certainly doesn’t exist apart from our car-centric use of urban space.

It’s not enough to add good new things like transit lines and distinct right-of-way for them. Even the addition of vertical developments nearby isn’t enough, nor is upping frequency for the routes.

We also have to address the bad old things, such as the remnants of car culture that linger across the city and the region:

Too much cheap parking near transit stops A study of light rail systems shows that the biggest contributor to reduced ridership was the availability of cheap or free parking along the route.

Cheap use of highways during peak travel time On the U.S. DOT site you can read about a series of studies showing that ridership of transit grows when roads are priced during peak travel times.

Disused space near transit Vacant land has been found to have a negative effect on people’s perceptions of safety, preventing them from wanting to walk in an area. People who don’t want to walk on a street aren’t going to choose to ride a bus.

Uninviting pedestrian conditions Surveys by AARP have found that half of people over the age of 50 report being unable to safely cross the main street closest to them. None of those people are going to catch a bus or a train in their neighborhoods.

Architecture that ignores the sidewalk Putting windows and doors next to the sidewalk is essential for making a street feel inviting and safe for the pedestrians who’ll use transit. Buildings that are set off the street behind parking lots or behind a sizable piece of landscaping are not supporting transit well.

Too-high car speeds In Boston, reducing speed limits has successfully slowed cars down, per study. And any amount of slowing vehicles increases pedestrian safety significantly, making it more likely that people will choose to become transit riders — who are all pedestrians at some point in the journey.

All of those things listed above can scuttle success for transit by not allowing it to compete well with cars. And in a super sprawling, ultra car-centric region like Atlanta, this is particularly important.

#atlanta #urbanism #transportation #transportation planning #transit #public transit #public transportation #cities #urban planning

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blankslateblog · 4 years ago

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Can Cars Become folklore? Exploring the Future of our Streets Post-Coronavirus

It’s 7:30pm on a Monday night in August. We are in the heart of our nation’s capital. Yes, D.C. always clears out around this time of year, and yes, it is raining right now, but this summer night is different. We are on month six (give or take) of the coronavirus pandemic here in the United States, and our streets have undergone a drastic transformation. In the time it took me to write these first few sentences, only 5 cars have driven by my window. This would have been unheard of in the heated rush hours of Before Times. As Taylor Swift languidly reflects in her song, august, “But I can see us lost in the memory / August slipped away into a moment in time.” While maybe Taylor isn’t contemplating automobile ephemera like me, her sentiments about fleeting memories have never seemed more true. Our society has entered a new normal in every facet of our lives, and our streets are no different. Coronavirus has presented us with both extreme challenges and opportunities, leading many to question if we can leverage the positive, interim changes and seeming concessions into permanence.

It seems as if our view on cars being indispensable to the American Way of Life is immutable, however many are hoping to change this. Farhad Manjoo, an opinion columnist for the New York Times, recently published a piece titled, I’ve Seen a Future Without Cars, and It’s Amazing. His thesis: Why do American cities waste so much space on cars? While this idea may be nothing new, Manjoo’s angle of focusing on space came at an apt time as society reckons with isolating in small, urban spaces, quarantining in cities once as dynamic as its transient residents, and transitioning to experiencing our neighborhoods at street level. We are being forced to confront truly living in our immediate surroundings, in a way that we may not have wanted to, or been conscious of, before. I thought I knew my neighborhood like the back of my hand, but my quarantine walks have taught me that I was sorely mistaken. In the past month I have discovered 3 community gardens, 2 cemeteries, and 1 park all within a 30 minute walk of my apartment.1 Greenspaces have become a refuge for me now more than ever. Having worked with the Parks Research Lab at William & Mary and ParkRx America in Washington, D.C., greenspaces have always been a research interest of mine. Pro-tip: If you are yearning for some ecotherapy like me, you can utilize ParkRx America’s database (located on the homepage) to “prescribe” yourself a local greenspace to visit. Now, the idea of space, be it “green” or other, has taken on a whole new meaning during the pandemic. As I type, limited to my small, city apartment, I am reflecting on Manjoo’s visceral appeal for us to optimize how we are using and creating space.

ParkRx America’s mission is to decrease the burden of chronic disease, increase health and happiness, and foster environmental stewardship, by virtue of prescribing Nature during the routine delivery of healthcare by a diverse group of healthcare professionals. Source: ParkRx America Resources

As an environmentalist, I have been celebrating the recent dearth of cars in my own city, and the proliferation of “Open Streets” and “Open Restaurants” movements across the country as the pandemic progresses. Notable examples include: Oakland's Slow Streets, Seattle's Stay Healthy Streets, and Paris' “Corona Cycleways.” Many of these initiatives have been championed by individual communities or tactical urbanists for years, but for the general public these ideas are just now becoming mainstream as we adhere to Stay at Home orders and live more locally. Scenes like Karsten Moran’s photo, below, of Mulberry Street in Manhattan evoke the plaza-culture of cities abroad. Having traveled often outside of the U.S., I always wonder why our streets don’t feel like theirs. Is it a problem of planning? Of people? Of both? Cars seem like an easy culprit, but maybe they are just a scapegoat symbol for the individualism of American society. As public health experts reckon with the threat of American individualism in combating coronavirus, can we instead channel this obstacle into collective action to improve our streets?

NYC Open Restaurants’ Siting Criteria has ushered in a new era of ‘tactical urbanism’ founded on quick-fixes, often utilizing the mishmash of materials on hand. Source: NYC DOT

“New York City’s sidewalks and streets have sprouted oases that evoke destinations from the Greek isles to the New Jersey Turnpike. In Manhattan, Mulberry Street, which was dotted with sidewalk seating before the pandemic, now features in-street dining.” Photo Credit: Karsten Moran; Source: Outdoor Dining Offers Fresh Air and Fantasy to a City That Needs Both

It is critical to explore who we are “improving” our streets for, who these changes will benefit, and who is calling for them. How would open streets impact BIPOC? People living with disabilities? Essential workers? Many urbanist activists are “challenging the practice of quick-build infrastructure projects like Slow Streets that eschew multi-year and multi-stage construction projects in favor of timely progress and rapid feedback.”2 In D.C., Ward 8 Councilmember Trayon White effectively banned Slow Streets from his ward, which is over 92% Black according to DC Health Matters, with an amendment to the law permitting them stating, “Many residents in Ward 8 have not supported bike lanes and other measures that appear to force aspects of gentrification and displacement.” Dr. Destiny Thomas, a Black transportation planner and organizer, explores these ideas and more in the article, ‘Safe Streets’ Are Not Safe for Black Lives. I highly recommend reading her article first, before I outline a few of her ideas here. Dr. Thomas explains that the onslaught of slow streets and bike lanes during the pandemic was a “nightmare” due to their lack of participatory planning. She states, “by design, their ‘quick-build’ nature overrides the public feedback that is necessary for deep community support. Without that genuine engagement, I feared that pandemic-induced pedestrian street redesigns would deepen inequity and mistrust in communities that have been disenfranchised and underserved for generations.”3 If planning is to become anti-racist, it must center and amplify the voices of communities members through inclusive methods such as participatory planning and budgeting, youth engagement, and other targeted outreach efforts. As we know, racial justice and environmental justice are interconnected, and Dr. Thomas goes on to explain how these initiatives “fail to address the environmental factors at the root of these health disparities. Encouraging Black residents to go outside without addressing the environmental crises that lead to COVID-19 complications is a tell-tale sign that Black well-being was a secondary (at best) intention of these projects.”3 Black access to the outdoors has long been limited, as illustrated by national park visitation statistics: although Black Americans represent 13.4% of the U.S. population, a 2018 study, People of Color and Their Constraints to National Parks Visitation, indicates that they represent less than 2% of national park visitors. Keya Chatterjee, a D.C.-based climate activist who organized ad hoc street closures in the first few months of the pandemic, believes projects like Slow Streets can mitigate harm to Black residents, including from air pollution and COVID-19. Chatterjee argues, “I do think that building things quickly, that result in a lower loss of life, in a situation where that loss of life is clearly based on racial injustice, is the only way to move towards justice.”2 Decreasing the number of cars operating in our cities would lead to significant reductions in toxic air pollution which currently disproportionately affects communities of color. However, we must not make these decisions in a vacuum; input from affected populations is indispensable.

Black visibility in public spaces and streets challenges the racist, ableist, and classist ideas historically underpinning “who should have access to ‘outside’ and how they should be allowed to access it. Without a plan to include and protect Black, Brown, Indigenous, trans, and disabled people, or a plan to address anti-Black vigilantism and police brutality, these open streets are set up to fail.”3 Dr. Thomas outlined seven concrete ways to address racism and inequity in transportation planning specifically:

Public works and transportation agencies should produce and publish a concrete plan for divestment from police agencies. This includes both fiscal and values-based components: Enforcement should be replaced with accessibility and accountability, and funds to police should be redistributed to community-based organizations, direct service providers and behavioral health specialists that are equipped to uphold dignity and care for everyone within the built environment.

Quick-build projects don’t solve the disparities caused by the legacy of racist planning and disinvestment. In order to be transformative, infrastructure projects should have a comprehensive environmental justice plan as a prerequisite, and basic public works should be up to date prior to implementation. This includes proper drainage and floodplain planning, addressing pavement heat indexes, upgrading underground utilities, reducing toxic industry in the vicinity, accessible curbs and crossing opportunities, adequate shelter and shade, and dignified support for curbside residents.

If you want to ban cars, start by banning racism. Planners should make an intentional effort to address scarcity across all modes of transportation so as to empower freedom of movement and choice in mobility. This should include free assistive devices, bikes and bike accessories, free transit, subsidized rideshare, and economically equitable access to zero-emissions vehicles. Until Black people are no longer being hunted down by vigilantes, white supremacists and rogue police, private vehicles should be accepted as a primary mode of transportation.

Design low-stress street networks that specifically center the safety of and joy-filled travel by Black people. These routes, networks, wayfinding elements, and reparations-centered policies should derive from a participatory process that includes the voices of Black people, people living with disabilities, trans people, elders and youth.

If your leadership can’t speak to racial equity, you should not be releasing a statement. If your organization, agency, or firm is/has released a racial equity statement in solidarity with the Movement for Black Lives, you have an obligation to ensure that your workforce is reflective of those values and the treatment of your Black employees is consistent with these values. Stop asking your one Black employee to write your equity statement overnight.

Employee agreements for transit and transportation agencies need to be modified so that no one is forced to serve the needs of law enforcement. No one should face retribution or punishment for opting out.

Bikeshare operating agreements should include mandatory long-term anti-displacement and equitable distribution plans to ensure bikeshare as a mode choice is equitable across the geographic region.

As a new “student” of planning, I am just beginning my studies into the racist history of planning, however I am eager to share with you new resources I have found as I begin to educate myself and work to amplify BIPOC voices in planning. I recently attended a webinar titled “Design for Everyone: An intro to Urban Planning & Design” hosted by Form Function Studio featuring BlackSpace, a collective of Black urban planners, architects, artists, activists, designers, and leaders working to protect and create Black spaces. The BlackSpace Manifesto consists of 14 guiding principles encouraging us to Celebrate, Catalyze, and Amplify Black Joy, Protect and Strengthen Culture, Seek People at the Margins, Center Lived Experience, Be Humble Learners who Practice Deep Listening, Reckon With the Past to Build the Future, among many others.

BlackSpace created this manifesto to guide their growth as a group and their interactions with partners and communities to work towards a future where Black people, Black spaces, and Black culture matter and thrive. Source: https://www.blackspace.org/manifesto

As we return to the tension between cars and space in our cities, we must investigate who owns these cars, and how car-owners are profiting off this status. In D.C., only about 6 in 10 D.C. residents have a car, and those who do are overwhelmingly wealthy and white compared with those who don’t own one.5 Additionally, the federal government provides subsidies through the tax code for employer-provided and employer-paid automobile parking, transit passes, and other commuter expenses, but it does so inefficiently and inequitably.6

“Ultimately, the effect of the tax benefit for commuter parking is to subsidize traffic congestion by putting roughly 820,000 more cars on America’s most congested roads in its most congested cities at the most congested times of day. [Beneficiaries] tend to work in areas where parking is most expensive (such as downtown business districts), with those in higher-income tax brackets receiving the greatest benefits. The parking tax benefit represents $7.3 billion in reduced tax revenue that must be made up through cuts in government programs, a higher deficit, or increases in taxes on other Americans.”6 - TransitCenter and Frontier Group

Similar to how the pandemic is helping those who are already ahead to stay ahead, the parking tax benefit merely serves to hurt lower income populations and non-car owners, a demographic with a lot of overlap.

In I’ve Seen a Future Without Cars, and It’s Amazing, Manjoo is told, “instead of fighting a war on cars urbanists should fight a war on car dependency - on cities that leave residents with few choices other than cars. Alleviating car dependency can improve commutes for everyone in a city.” Focusing on urban scarcity, from accessible, alternative transportation to affordable housing, to inclusive food systems, will force us to question how we are often allocating space in our cities for the benefit of cars (as if they are CarsTM) rather than the people living in them. As Manjoo has outlined, “in most American cities, wherever you look, you will see a landscape constructed primarily for the movement and storage of automobiles.”7 We cannot “continue to justify wasting such enormous tracts of land” on cars as we strive for more equitable and inclusive urban spaces.7 It is also important to acknowledge that this piece comes at a unique time, when city dwellers and suburbanites alike are vying to escape the sprawl, antsy from months of quarantine. Even I have been wishing I owned a car to set out on some, any, kind of spontaneous adventure. The unknown of life post-coronavirus is daunting, but in the chaos lies a little bit of hope. Perhaps we can channel this sliver of optimism to design for the future we are all hoping for. I know I still want the “old Taylor” back, just not all the cars that came with that era.

But do you remember? Remember when I pulled up and said "Get in the car" And then canceled my plans just in case you'd call? Back when I was livin' for the hope of it all, for the hope of it all

Inspired by “august” by Taylor Swift. Stream on Spotify.

Citations:

Washington, D.C. greenspaces discovered during quarantine; Gardens: Columbia Heights Green, Upshur Community Garden, Wangari Gardens; Cemeteries: Rock Creek Cemetery, Glenwood Cemetery; Park: Crispus Attucks Park

Do DC's Slow Streets Benefit Everyone?

‘Safe Streets’ Are Not Safe for Black Lives

People of Color and Their Constraints to National Parks Visitation

Opinion | The high cost of DC's cheap parking

Subsidizing Congestion

Opinion | I’ve Seen a Future Without Cars, and It’s Amazing

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