#need to tell my coworker if she ever wants to revisit her childhood. i mean it's free on tubi

[bugtransport]

FINISHED ULTRAMAN

THAT WAS A REALLY GOOD SHOW it definitely isn't one to watch as quickly as some others imo because it was fun taking my time and picking through them and letting things sit with me. there were so many different tones and styles through the show and i can definitely now see how influential it was on so many different things. REALLY GOOD WATCH I RECOMMEND IT and it's free on tubi 👍so what the fuck are you waiting for

[antonio-morra]

[ nick zano, thirty-nine, cismale, he/him ] ━ hey, I just saw [ antonio morra ] walking down the streets of crownsville. they’ve lived in town for [ on and off his entire life ], and you can catch them around town working as a [ cruise ship entertainer and mc ]. i hear they’re known to be [ intrepid & savant ] and [ stubborn & irascible ]. if asked, they would say their aesthetic would be [ a crowded room full of laughter, a thumping bass, waves slapping against the side of a boat, a reassuring smile, joints rolled with flavored papers, black coffee, & intense debates about historical theories ].

aaayoo! it’s lisa and here is my new bby ant or tony. he’s going to be a quite a bit like an old muse i used to have here, PJ and i’m reallllly excited to use him because he’s a real goofball. though fair warning, his backstory is very sad and intense.

[ triggers: bad parenting/parental negligence, alcoholism, violence, physical & emotional abuse, pregnancy, drowning, & death ] 

The Morra family has resided in Crownsville, Georgia for generations, each family having fallen in love with the small town a little more than the one before them. Though for one branch of their intricate Italian family tree, the feelings of contentment for their home never existed at all. Alessio Morra knew he would never find happiness in Georgia so at eighteen he enlisted in the US Navy hoping to see enough of the world to find a new place he might like to call home. The home he ended up finding wasn’t a where, but a who. Rosalie Hassen was the first woman he ever fell in love with and for several years their life was more like a fairytale than reality.

He finished his tour with the Navy and brought Rosalie back to Crownsville so they could be married; Alessio was foolish enough to believe that she would be enough to erase the deep-rooted resentment he’d always harbored for his hometown, but unfortunately, she wasn’t. Nor was their healthy, beautiful baby boy who they named Antonio. The three lived together feigning happiness for four years before Alessio’s drinking and Rosalie’s ill-temper tore them apart. In the middle of the night after a screaming match turned violent that resulted in two broken windows, Alessio disappeared leaving only a note stating it was what was best for everyone. 

Unfortunately for Antonio, it wasn’t the case. His mother grew to resent her son in time, just as his father had resented the “perfect American life” his family had tried so hard to force on him. On all of them. All she could see when she looked upon her son was the man she once loved who’d abandoned them. He possessed so many of his father’s best qualities like his intellect and free-spirit, yet she could only focus on the bad ones and blamed the child for what their life had become.

They relied heavily on the Morra family for support in the years to follow, often struggling just to pay their rent and get dinner on the table. Rosalie began to dull the sense in the same way her husband used to, with alcohol. And for a short while, she’d achieved the desired effect, but the booze only brought out the worst in the woman. During her drunken fits of rage, the cruel mother often took out her anger on Antonio, punishing him for things that were never his fault. Putting him down however she could, every step of the way as he grew up. 

Though the beatings and the bruises didn’t go unnoticed by other members of the Morra family and when his Uncle confronted him, demanding the truth, Antonio told him everything. At fifteen, his mother was arrested and for the first time in his life, he felt truly safe and unafraid. He moved in with his Uncle, but it didn’t last more than a few months as his father returned to Crownsville upon receiving the news of what had occurred. 

It was difficult, to say the least, trying to make a relationship that no longer existed work. Alessio tried his best to be a father, but Antonio’s respect for him disappeared the same night he did and the teenager refused to take orders from someone who’d left him and allowed him to be abused. The father who didn’t take him away when he’d had the chance, knowing full well what kind of malicious acts his mother was capable of. It was his own personal resentment toward the man he’d been carrying with him for years, one he didn’t think would ever go away.

Despite Tony’s very troubled home life, he’d always been popular among his classmates, never failing to make everyone around him laugh or smile. The young boy refused to let his mother change him, to turn him cruel and monstrous as she had been, so he always did whatever he could to make everyone around him happy. Happier than he ever thought he could be. While he had plenty of friends, none of them knew what was really going on in his life, except for one very special best friend. They were the only person Antonio shared his darkest secrets with.

After graduation, Tony left for California where he attended Stanford on a full-ride scholarship and studied History and Philosophy. The choice he made to leave Crownsville was all too easy for him, just as it had been for his father when he was the same age. He left his best friend behind and it was something that ate at him for years, but he feared what his life would have become if he’d stayed in the small town he saw as nothing more than a dead-end. 

He graduated from Stanford magna cum laude but was unable to find a job he actually wanted to do. A year later, he found himself working on a cruise ship unsure of exactly what to expect except maybe a little adventure. History seemed to repeat itself as the young Morra found himself quite at home on the cruiseliner, enjoying the open sea more than he’d ever enjoyed anything in his life. The passengers loved Tony and the high energy and can-do attitude he always seemed to carry with him, it was something his higher-ups noticed as well and it helped get him out of hospitality and into entertainment.

Tony couldn’t imagine a life any different, the thought of settling down in one place was enough to give him nightmares, He revisited Crownsville every few years to see his family and nothing ever seemed to change which only made him all the more eager to set sail once more. 

At thirty-two, Antonio found himself falling in love with another member of the crew and it was something he never expected to personally experience. Always having believed it was the sea who held his heart, but Lydia had stolen it without him even being the wiser until it was too late. They became very close and spent almost every free minute they had together, 

Settling down was never something he’d imagined, but the thought of doing so with Lydia was enough to change his mind, though knowing it was something she didn’t want he was too afraid to speak up and tell her. They had no choice but to keep the severity of their relationship a secret out of fear of being fired for breaking the company’s code of conduct, though they didn’t seem to mind as it only made things all the more exciting. They were so in love with each other they decided that one weekend when they found themselves at port in Florida, they got off the boat and got themselves married.

A few years later, they had no choice but to come clean as Lydia found out she was pregnant. Her contract was terminated early and so Tony insisted she go to Crownsville, knowing his family would help her with anything she needed and he promised he would join her as soon as his own contract was up the following year. Antonio was right and the Morra’s did everything they could for her, including Tony’s own father who helped get her set up in Tony’s childhood home. They wrote to each other constantly and for the first time in his life, he wanted to fo back to his hometown. 

One month before Antonio was set to come home, Lydia gave birth to a healthy baby girl who they decided to name Orabelle, meaning beautiful seacoast. For seven blissful months, they lived in perfect happiness, in a place Tony was once sure he’d never find it. His relationship with his father even began to heal as it meant the world to Antonio that his father took Lydia and their baby in and made sure they were safe in his absence. He continued to work for the same cruise line company having worked out quite the nice deal for himself to stay on as one of their master of ceremonies, but only for special occasion cruises. Which was, of course, his favorite kind. 

They took their first official family vacation together to Florida, excited for their little girl to take her first dip in the ocean. Though the trip quickly turned into an unimaginable nightmare when Lydia found herself trapped in a powerful rip current with no way to escape. By the time Tony left Orabelle in the care of his father and managed to reach her, it was already too late and he nearly drowned himself while trying to rescue her.

Her death broke him in a way he never thought he could be, as though she took the most important piece of him with her when she left this world. Orabelle was a constant reminder of his beloved wife and what he lost, but also what he’d gained. Lydia would be with him forever because they’d created the most precious thing in his entire world, their daughter. Where he is now in life is so far from where he thought he would be, but he’s come to terms with the fact that it’s now exactly where he belongs. 

❦ WANTED CONNECTIONS ❦

childhood best friend — would be happy to have this be a highschool sweetheart type thing

childhood friends

new friends

college friends or roommates

family members 

coworkers

other friends with kids

[7-seas-of-bri]

In The Future -- A Roger Taylor x Reader Fic [part 3]

Read the Past Parts Here! Part 1 Part 2

Here’s the next part for you amazing people. 

I hope you all are enjoying it !!

A few days go by and you do most of your internship work from within the walls of your flat. Nothing exciting, just revising statements getting sent out to venues, reviewing album art, and making calls to ensure tour dates are booked in advance. You loved it though, you felt as if you were apart of something.

You haven’t seen Roger since the day in the recording studio, and for that you’re glad. It has given you space to revisit the past events.

Yes, the trauma still haunts you to this day, and, yes, Roger still reminds you too much of that night, but you decide that these facts cannot get in the way of your work. Just because he’s around doesn’t mean that you have the right to pretend he’s not. You have to try to move past it and see him as a coworker.

As you review yet another statement, you’re phone rings from the end table near you. Picking up the phone, a familiar voice greets you.

“Hello, is Y/n there?”

You shifted on the couch sitting in a more comfortable position with your legs laid out across the length of the couch. “Hi there, yes this is y/n,”

“Awesome, this is Brian, from the band?” he asked, hoping you recognize him and he doesn’t sound like a lunatic.

“Of course,” you responded, smiling at his carefulness. “What’s up?”

“The boys and I are catching lunch this afternoon to hang out before going to the studio tonight, any interest in joining us?” he asked.

You mulled the question over in your head. Going to lunch means you have to be with Roger, means you have to talk to Roger. You snapped out of your thinking; the past events cannot keep you from making friends.

“I’d love to!”

“Great! We’re meeting at the diner down the street from the studio. See you there in an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,”

Hanging up the phone, you gather your papers into a neat pile set out for later when you work on them again. Feeling nervous yet again to meet the boys, your stomach knotted up. You wish you didn’t have a physical reaction when anxiety took over your thinking.

It’s in these moments you wish that Gracie was living with you. She was your rock, your support system and always knew how to talk you off the edge when your anxiety struck like it has. She lived in Manchester now, working a job between school years. You knew this was best for her, to get experience just as you are, but you longed for the experience of sharing a flat as you did last summer.

You change, putting on an outfit that showed you tried instead of staying in your lounge gear that you had been wearing that morning. Grabbing your keys, you exit your flat, knowing that it was going to be a long walk in order to make it to the diner in time.

--

Upon entering, all four boys are already seated, viewing the menu and talking about upcoming shows.

“The show this weekend needs to perfect,” Freddie said. “Gotta prepare for that American tour,” he grinned at even the idea of having a tour outside of London pubs.

At that moment, the boys noticed you entered. You received three smiles and an unreadable look.

Brian got up and gave you a hug. “It’s so good to see you, y/n! Come sit, we saved you a spot,” he motioned to the open space in the booth between him and John.

“Thank you,”

Taking the offered seat, you picked up a menu and started looking at it yourself, realizing you had a strong craving for dumpling soup. Freddie continued his thought on the gig and turned to you.

“You’re coming to the gig, right y/n?” he asked, you suddenly had four sets of eyes on you.

You haven’t been to a concert in a while, not since the pub a year ago. Ironically, the band you were going to see perform next was going to be the same as the last.

“I haven’t been to a concert in a long time,”

“Hasn’t been to a concert in forever and you get a job with a band?” Brian asked, smirking. “Got something against concerts?”

You laugh, it’s uncomfortable. “Not a huge fan of crowds,” you answered honestly.

“You still must come, though, you need to see your favorite boys in action,” Freddie smiled.

“Favorite boys? That might be a little overstated,” you grinned.

Freddie placed a hand to his heart and fakes as if he’d just been shot. “Y/n, darling, I’m hurt,”

“Please come?” John asked from next to you.

Yet another offer that caused your head to spin slightly.

“I’ll be there,”

Brian, John and Freddie’s smiled. You looked over every single one of their faces before landing on Roger. He seems happy you’re coming, but his reaction was unlike the others. He’s hard to read, you notice, something you’ve always been good at. You couldn’t help but wonder if he remembered.

The rest of the lunch passed with small talk about the band, and about you. You tell the boys about your college experience in the states, something that they all seemed jealous of. You tell them about your childhood in London and about Gracie. You learn things about them, how John barely goes by John and instead prefers Deacy and how the boys called Jim Beach, Miami. Freddie insisting that his given name was much too boring. You couldn’t help but enjoy your time with them. Jim, excuse you, Miami, was right, you were going to love being around them.

“So we have to be at the studio in a half an hour, I think I’m going to run home and grab some things,” Brian said, looking at input from the other boys.

“Same here,” Deacy responded.

“I think I’m going straight to the studio,” you added. “It’s a long walk back to my apartment and it wouldn’t make sense to go there then come right back,”

“Wait, you walked here?” Brian asked.

You shrugged. “Yeah, it’s my only mode of transportation,”

Freddie shook his head. “Next time you go anywhere, give any one of us a ring, you don’t need to be walking that long way when we all have perfectly good cars,”

Smiling, you nodded, feeling happy that these boys were already becoming good friends in the short time you met them.

“Roger, didn’t you say earlier you were heading straight to the studio?” Brian asked the oddly quiet drummer.

“I mean, yeah,” you sensed the hesitation in his voice. “I could give you a ride, y/n,” Roger offered.

“You really don’t have to-”

“What did I just say?” Freddie interrupted. “You don’t need to be walking, we can give you a lift,”

“Alright,” your mouth tugged up in a small grin, attempting to hide your discomfort.

The five of you stood after a few more moments, leaving a tip and heading out. On your way out to the lot, you follow Roger to a small car, one that you know well would be leagues out of your price range. It’s painted white with it’s top down.

“Nice car,” you commented.

He laughed a bit. “Thanks, been saving up for it for a long time,”

Roger jumped into the driver's seat as you slid into his passenger side. The air was extremely warm for May, and that relieved you. The light shirt your wearing wouldn’t fare well for your comfort in a topless car if it were cold outside.

The first few minutes of your drive were awkward to say the least, neither of you talking.

You decided you needed to get over whatever was holding you back.

“What are you guys recording tonight?” you asked, breaking the silence

Roger still wouldn’t meet your eyes from under the sunglasses he threw on upon entered the car. “Back half of the album,”

His short answer was a bit disheartening.

“This must be really exciting for you guys, getting to record an album and all,”

For the first time since meeting him, a smile tugged at the edges of his lips. “You could say that, we’ve been wanting this for a long time,” he paused, seemingly wanting to add more to his comment. “We were under the name Smile for a long while and then when we met Jim. We changed our name and started to really get to work on what we wanted to accomplish,”

The name suddenly rings a bell, that’s why you didn’t recognize the band name before you met them.

“Wait, I think I may have seen you at a pub about a year back,” you answer, not knowing why you decided to reveal that information to him.

“No way,” he said excitedly, his tone becoming more friendly as the two of you continue to converse. “That’s amazing, do you remember what you thought,”

Do I remember?

Suddenly flashbacks of the night started to protrude your thinking.

Don’t struggle, princess.

No, stop.

You’re going to enjoy this.

Please.

Bet no one’s ever touched you like this before.

Make it stop.

You turned to Roger, and see him waiting for an answer. His face becoming more and more unreadable the longer you take to respond.

“I remember I thought you guys were going to make it big, but I don’t remember much else though. I believe I was pretty hammered that night,” you lied.

You couldn’t tell if he liked your answer, it was almost as if he could see through the lie you told. 

Deciding he doesn’t recognize you from that night, you let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you will be able to work through this without him knowing, maybe you can try to forget. But the memories continued to pry at your brain.

Roger didn’t say anything else for the remainder of the ride and you believe your change in demeanor is the reason. You can’t lie to yourself, the thoughts of the night caused you to shrink down a bit, even to turn away from him slightly it. It was rude, no ignoring that, but you couldn’t help the reaction you had to the thoughts.

The both of you enter the studio and head towards the booth. Not wanting to sit alone with only the company of the soundboard, you followed Roger into the booth setting the work you brought along with you on the small table that was in there. Roger didn’t seem to notice, or care, that you followed him. He immediately moved towards his drumkit and sat down.

“What’s the first song you guys are recording?” you asked him, attempting to start writing down an agenda for the night. You wanted to focus on anything besides the memories. As soon as you began talking, Roger purposely started playing his drums. You scowled at his actions. “Roger?” you asked a bit louder than last time.

He stopped. “Sorry princess, can’t hear you over the drums. I’ve got to practice,”

Princess.

You thought he was finally warming up to you, but guess not.

You didn’t know if it was the stress of what was buzzing through your head, or what it exactly was, but a small strand of you snapped when he muttered that one term of endearment that will never be the same to you.

“No Roger, I need you for thirty seconds,”

He was shocked at your assertiveness, something he had yet to see out of you. “Alright boss, what can I do to make your day easier?” the sarcasm apparent in his voice.

“I just want to know the lineup of the songs you will be recording tonight” you huff, wanting to be able to do your work and move on. 

“If I tell you that, will you answer one questions honestly for me?” he asks, raising a cocky eyebrow at you.

“Fire away,”

“Why don’t you like me?”

You were caught off guard by the question. “I don’t think I know what you mean,”

Roger chuckled at your cluelessness. Have you been that rude to him?

“I mean,” he stared. “Since the first day I met you here, you have barely looked my direction while talking to the other boys as if I’m not there. When I reached out to shake your hand upon meeting you, you pulled away quicker than I have ever seen. Also on the drive over here, halfway through our conversation, you completely checked out, seemingly not wanting to talk to me any longer,” he paused, collecting his thoughts. “Look, you seem like a nice girl and all, I just want to know how to make this more civilized,”

Roger’s eyes meet yours as he aimlessly twirls a drumstick in his right hand.

I’m here to help, I promise that awful man is gone.

“I didn’t realize I was being rude,” you offered back as an apology. “It’s just…” you trailed off. You wanted to be honest with him, maybe the honesty would help fight back some of the thoughts you’ve been having. But you didn’t want him to see you as that helpless girl he may or may not remember. He thinks you’ve only just met for christ’s sake.

“It’s just, what?” Roger asked, catching you again from within your own head.

It’s now or never.

“So you know how I mentioned that I’ve seen you guys at a pub before?”

Roger nodded, letting you continue.

“Well, something more happened,” you couldn’t find the words to phrase it.

He looked confused. “What do you mean something more?”

“I mean--”

You heard the door to the studio bust open. Whipping around, the remaining three boys, led by Freddie, came trotting in excited to record.

Roger gave you a look asking you to continue but you shook him off. This was a horrific and embarrassing truth for the two of you to hear, you didn’t need the other boys worrying about it.

You sigh and college yourself. “I’ll get the music set up for you boys, I just need the list of songs you’re going to record,” you let them know, handing the piece of paper to Freddie for him to scrawl down the list. When he returns it to, you turn around and give Roger a soft smile before returning to the booth and starting to set up the music.

Miami came into the studio not long after you sat down.

“Thanks for getting things started for me,” he commented, sitting down by you.

“It’s really no problem, Jim,” you said. “Or should I say, Miami,”

Miami gave you a sideways look paired with a grin. “So the boys told you about my nickname?”

You giggled. “Yeah, yeah they did,” Even just thinking about lunch with the boys made you smile.

He smiled at you. “I’m glad you and the boys are getting along, it makes me happy and assures me I made the right decision with you,” he returned to the board, messing with a track the band was recording. “I will warn you though, I wouldn’t suggest getting caught up with any one of them, work relationships are hard enough without any added stress from any flings or relationships,”

Miami didn’t look up when he said this, he kept his eyes on his work. You didn’t understand where he was coming from, but as far as you know you’d never see any of the boys this way. You work with them, plain and simple.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you answered. “Just good to make some new friends,”

“I’m glad,” this time he did look at you and placed his hand on your shoulder. You never thought you’d be able to adjust to a new job this quickly, it’s only been a few days and you already feel like one of them, a feeling you weren’t expecting to feel at all. “If you want, I’ve got the rest of this held down tonight. You can head home for the night and work on things there if that’s more comfortable for you,”

You considered his offer, but the music the boys were making was too encapsulating for you to pass up. “I think I’ll stay for a bit longer, to hear the music and all,”

Jim nodded, smiling. “They’re good, right?”

“Yeah, really good,”

Observing the boys play was something you would describe as show-stopping. Their energy and passion came through their instrument when each one of them hit a note. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at Roger, though. For the first time since you met him, you were able to look at him without memories bombarding every thought. He looked off though, as if something was bothering him. You hoped it wasn’t you.

After a song or two, you decided to leave, calling it quits for the night. When you returned home, the fact that you were alone hit you hard. Hard enough for your brain not to shut off for hours. You sat alone in the darkness, with nothing but you and your terrible, terrible thoughts.

--

The boys finished recording around 11.

“Does anyone want to grab a drink with me?” Freddie asked the group.

The other three all chimed in agreement as they exited the studio.

The boys all left their cars at the building for the pub was a mere five-minute walk from the studio. Freddie and John got slightly ahead of the Roger and Brian as they discussed the setlist for the show that was, now, only two days away. They were pitching ideas as to what they wanted to play, and what they wanted to introduce to the crowd before the album came out.

Roger was lost in thought, wondering what it was you wanted to tell him before the boys interrupted you earlier. In those few moments, Roger realized that he had been an arse and saw a side that you hadn’t shown yet. It was a vulnerable one, one that Roger felt lucky to see. He knew none of the other boys had seen it yet, but it made him wonder what caused you to do so.

Brian took notice to Roger’s thinking. He’d known Roger for a long time, and this introversion was something that only showed when something was really bothering him. If anyone could read Roger, it was Brian.

“What’s got you caught up?” Brian asked out of the blue.

Roger, surprised by Brian’s question, frantically started to find a way to talk himself out of the situation. Whatever he had to tell you was a secret you only wanted him to know, but he wasn’t sure if he could escape this conversation without telling him what he knew.

“Nothing, mate. I’m fine,”

“You’re not,” Brian observed. “Did something happen between you and y/n before we came in?”

Roger shook his head causing his blonde hair to shift. “You could say that,”

“What was it? If you don’t mind me asking,”

Roger knew that if he could trust anyone with information, it would be Brian, but he didn’t know what information he had to share. You didn’t tell him anything. It was the lack of information that was causing Roger to think.

“The problem was nothing happened,” Roger answered, leaving Brian confused. He continued. “When we were in the car together, she talked about a time last year when she saw us perform, she didn’t realize that she was working for us because of the name switch,”

“That’s awesome, what a coincidence,” Brain butted in, but when he saw the look on his friends face, he let Roger continue.

“But when she spoke about it, she got all quiet and seemed to regret saying anything,”

“Why is that?”

“That’s the issue. When we were in the recording studio she went on explaining that something more happened that night besides just her seeing us perform. Then when you guys came in before she could tell me and she wouldn’t say more,”

“What are you thinking happened then? You don’t remember her?” Brian asked, trying to help and find you an answer that you are searching your head for.

“That’s what I don’t know, I don’t remember. I knew she seemed familiar when we met her the other night, but I don’t recall anything specific about her,”

“You don’t think--?”

“I don’t know, I’m notorious for not remembering every girl I hook up with,”

//

yikes, Roger.

This could make things interesting.

Thank you all for reading, and I truly hope you enjoyed ! 

Reblogs, likes, comments, messages and asks are always majorly appreciated. Come and talk to me about the story, what do you like, what do you think is going to happen?

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, send me an ask/message, I’d be happy to keep you updated!

Taglist: @pterodactyal | @sabbrriiinnaa | @gftoimnicole | @fics-for-my-heart | @dccomicnerd-world | @lovethis-lovethat | @mswinterfalcon | @fantasticchaoticwho | @magicwithaknife | @yxseminx 

READ PART 4 HERE! (x)

[imamessofawriter]

Tododeku week 2018

Day 5

Theme: Promises

Quote: “Life is bristling with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to cultivate one’s garden.” — Voltaire, letter to Pierre-Joseph Luneau de Boisjermain (21 October 1769)

Warnings: Alternate Universe.

@tododeku-week 

FF.net | AO3

Garden of promises

Todoroki Shōto had started his part time job as barista in a coffee shop close to his university campus. After rebelling against his father by choosing a fine art major, Todoroki Enji had cut off all financial support in regards to his son. Leaving a nineteen-year-old boy almost broke and without any money. Shōto had been grateful for his scholarship to take off the load by paying the tuition fees. Leaving whatever money he has to pay rent, and as living expenses for food and other necessities.

The coffee shop was small and located at the corner of an empty street. Its location made it ideal for coffee loving college student to frequent and order coffee that wasn’t Starbucks or Costa. The entire street wasn’t appealing, it consisted of small random shops whose target was definitely not the academic demographic.

Opposite of the small shop was a huge and loud flower shop. Colors and designs that are enough to blind one’s eyes. However, it was the busiest and most visited shop in the street. Having more customers than Zero Gravity Coffee.

“Listen Todoroki, every day you will be delivering a flat white, except on Fridays it’ll be an Americano, both in extra-large to All Mighty flowers across from us at 11:30 in the morning to a guy named Midoriya Izuku,” Uraraka Ochako, the shift manager, explained, “he has wild and untamed green hair, the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen and freckles.”

“We do deliveries?” Shōto had asked, confused. He hadn’t read anything about deliveries in the job description.

“No,” she answered in a bubbly voice, “Deku is a close friend and our number one customer so we kind of spoil him.”

“Deku?”

“It’s a nickname,” the lively manager smiled sheepishly, “now off to work.”

It was only the first week and Shōto had went to deliver the flat white in extra-large every day at 11:30 as told. And every day he would be greeted by a huge smile and a dirt covered teen, who seemed to be quite flustered and doesn’t know his bearings as well. The freckled man would pay Shōto and thank him for his cup of coffee, and then he would start muttering excessively about pot’s and seeds.

On Friday per Uraraka’s instruction, he made an Americano in extra-large and took it to the flower shop. His backpack on his shoulder and out of the shop’s uniform. “Midoriya, your americano is here,” he announced, looking around the unusually, almost quiet shop.

“Just a second,” he heard the frustrated yell coming from the back of the shop. Soon he was greeted with Midoriya, looking different from usual. The green haired male was out of his gardening apron and uniform, he wasn’t covered in dirt for once, and he was carrying a backpack.

“Thank you,” he greeted, taking the foam cup and handing Shōto the money.

“You are a student as well?” Shōto asked, never having seen Midoriya in anything other than his work uniform or anywhere out of the shop.

“Yeah,” Midoriya nodded, moving to grab a small flower arrangement made of yellow lilies, goldenrod and daffodils. They were the same exact arrangement as the one in the middle of the shop front window, even in the same vase. “Uraraka said that the old arrangement is withering so I made a new one,” he explained, “I need to drop it off.”

“I’ll help you,” Todoroki offered, “either way I need to put the money in the till.”

“Tsyu-chan tell Yagi-san that I’m going to class and take care,” he yelled to his coworker, who was at the other end of the shop. He had seen her on Monday, Wednesday and now Friday. At first, he thought that she and Midoriya were siblings until he read her name tag. There was another girl who worked at the shop, Todoroki had only seen her working after 3PM. She also had green hair that looked like vines, and he again thought that she was related to Midoriya somehow.

“Don’t worry Midoriya-chan,” she replied, “Ibara-chan will be here in a few to cover your shift.”

The two went to the coffee shop together. Todoroki giving one of the workers the money to put on the till while Midoriya placed the flowers in the shop window. “Mind if we walk together?” Midoriya asked as he skipped towards Todoroki. He was already out of the shop and in the street.

“It’s fine,” was all Todoroki said, his eyes glued to the phone in his hands. They walked in an awkward silent, Midoriya occasionally sipping his americano and tapping on his phone. “What major are you in?” Todoroki suddenly asked out of the blue to break the ice. As they neared the campus, the number of students around them growing larger.

“Social sciences, majoring in psychology,” Izuku replied, “what about you?”

“Fine arts, architecture.”

“I thought architecture was part of the college of engineering?”

“That’s Architectural engineering,” Shōto answered, annoyed with the question, “I specialize in the aesthetics of architect, the visuals and designs.”

“I see,” Izuku nodded and stopped in his tracks. He pointed towards a second road, “I’m heading that way but I’ll see you around.”

Shōto waved and headed towards his class. Ever since that day, he and Midoriya became close acquaintances but not enough to call themselves friends. Shōto had learned that all of Midoriya’s classes were from 8 am till 11 am and then he will resume from 2:30 pm till 4:00pm. The only exception was Friday where he had some sort of research class from 12:00 pm till 2:15 pm.

Months have passed and Shōto was free to visit his mother during winter break. He decided that because it’s the first time in almost a long time since he last saw his mother, he would ask Midoriya to make a flower arrangement for her. He had seen the wonderous arrangement the psychologist had done and had full faith in his abilities.

“Who are they for?” Midoriya asked, taking a sip of his flat white.

“My mother,” Todoroki admitted, rubbing his neck sheepishly, “I haven’t visited her in a long time and I wanted to give her a nice basket or arrangement.”

“Sure thing,” Midoriya smiled, “just describe her to me and I will make you the perfect basket.”

“I don’t understand how describing my mother will help you make a perfect basket, I thought I would pick her favorite flower and some red roses?”

“Todoroki-kun, red roses mean love and romance,” Midoriya explained. He bore an aghast expression as if Todoroki had said something offensive or scandalous. “If you want to show your mother that you love her you would go with pink or orange roses, or maybe something that means pure love like a white carnation or perhaps a sunflower or, or a sweet pea, something like that.”

“I didn’t know that.” The dual haired boy admitted, not bothered by the muttering and rambling, having gotten used to it since the start of the semester, “what about amaryllis?”

“Let’s see, a star shaped means pride, determination,” Izuku began, “and it is also used to indicate worth beyond beauty. But the story behind it is quite sad, the Greeks said that Amaryllis fell in love with Alteo, and to win him over she dressed in white and stabbed her heart 30 times in front of his door with a golden arrow, killing herself. When Alteo came out he saw a beautiful crimson flower covered in red from the blood of her heart.”

“That’s deep.”

“Most flowers are,” Izuku chuckled, “but people don’t care about their meanings, they care about how beautiful and attractive they are. Like surface attraction but once they know what’s underneath they get turned off by it.”

“I see,” Shōto nodded, seemingly thoughtful for a few seconds, “then can you make a basket that represent strength, appreciation, and innocence?”

“What’s your budget?”

“Since it’s for my mother I would rather not put a limit.”

“Any specific date or time you want them done, so they can be fresh when she receives them?”

“The week after the next, on the 15th, how about it?” Shōto asked, after revisiting his schedule in his mind, “when I deliver your flat white would be nice.”

“Got it, in 10 days” Midoriya noted in his book, muttering about many possibilities and combinations, seeming very focused at the moment. Shōto smiled and left the boy to his own devices, heading back to the coffee shop with a box of new centerpieces for their tables.

In the next ten days that he would visit to deliver the coffee cup, he would stay at Midoriya’s for five minutes and learn about flower’s and their meanings. Afterhours, the two would meet and talk about life, their past, their hopes and future. Shōto began opening up about his childhood, how his mother has been hospitalized for a decade, and his father cutting him off financially. How every other week a challenge stood in his way and he had to fight it. How sometimes he almost thought of giving up his dream to satisfy his father.

In turn Midoriya was able to quickly assess Todoroki’s mood, his mental state. He used his knowledge in psychology to cheer the boy up during their five-minute exchange every morning. During those visits, sometimes the florist would hand him a single piece of flower and say that it describes him or to cheer him up. And every time, Shōto would put the flower in a vase at his dorm room until it withered and he had to throw it out.

He had chrysanthemums because he is honest. Alstroemeria for their friendship and fortune. Pear blossom for a lasting friendship. Aster because it symbolizes Shōto’s patience and elegance. A gladiolus for his strength of character. And every time, he would open his laptop and search for the meaning and history of the flower. Looking for more meanings and symbols than the ones Midoriya had gave him.

“Your total would be 30,600 yen please,” Midoriya stated as he took the flat white from Shōto, “but since you are a friend I gave you a 15% discount and now it’s 26,000 yen.”

“That’s…” Shōto looked at Midoriya trying to think of the right word. That was roughly his entire paycheck for the week. He was just grateful that he had been saving almost 3000 yen per week and setting them to the side.

“Expensive I know, but it’s the cheapest arrangement I could make but still enough to wow your mother and she can use it like a centerpiece or decoration” Midoriya stated, leaving his coffee on the counter and grabbing a large basket. Or what was supposed to be a basket. It was a large round blue glass vase with yellow and gold engravings. There were many different flowers arranged accordingly, sage and oak leaves wrapping the flowers. Purple hyacinth’s, daylilies, a single lotus at the corner next to some sweet woodruff. There were white carnations, goldenrod, blue forget-me-not’s, white valerians, blue and yellow irises, and even some amaryllis.

Looking at the basket, Todoroki understood why it was expensive. It was neat and elegant even though there were tons of different flowers in there. It had exceeded his expectations.

“I used a blue vase instead of a normal basket because it’s much nicer. The hyacinth means sorrow, forgiveness and regret. Don’t worry the daylilies are not toxic, and in Chinese they represent mothers. A lotus for purity and rebirth. Some woodruff because it means humility since both you described your mother as a modest person. The white carnation means sweet and lovely, as well as innocence and pure love. Goldenrod are used to encourage people and I thought that your mother would definitely need encouraging. Blue forget-me-not’s that pretty self-explanatory, white valerians are known to calm people. And some blue Irises for faith and hope while the yellow are for passion. I also added a few amaryllises since they are her favorite and they mean pride. I also covered any holes or areas with sage, they symbol of wisdom and oak leaves which mean strength.” Midoriya explained rather quickly, before clamping a hand over his mouth, cheeks red in embarrassment, “I’m doing it again, aren’t I.”

“Wow,” Todoroki breathed, awestruck, “they are beautiful, thank you.”

He grabbed his wallet and paid Izuku for the arrangement. All the while a smile on his face, seemingly happy and content with it. “If she takes care of them well and water them, they can last up to a month,” Midoriya pointed, “and tell me about the visit when you come back, I’ll miss you bringing my coffee.”

Shōto had said goodbye to Midoriya and went back to his dorm room. Picking up some things and heading out to visit his mother. The visit was quite short in itself, he had reconciled with his mother in his first year of high school, and the last time he saw her was at the beginning of his third year. He had updated her with his situation, but it seems that her mental health had not made any progress since he last saw her.

“It’s like the don’t even try with her,” Shōto complained, the sun low in the sky as he sat on the flower shop counter the weekend he returned. He turned and looked at Midoriya who was busy trying to arrange some red roses, primroses with some heliotropes in a medium sized bouquet for a guy who was going to propose to his girlfriend on their four-year anniversary.

“They are giving her the wrong treatments,” Midoriya commented, completely focused on his flowers. “If it were up to me I would start by having looking at the source of her breakdown, making a list of factors that affected her in chronological order. Then I will start slowly from the last factor making my way to the first. They are trying to treat the root of the problem without addressing all the other problems, it’s like asking a baby to walk before he starts crawling. They seem desperate to have her forgive your father without acknowledging everything else. Mentioning him at every session will damage her more than help her. but that would also depend on how willing she is to discuss everything and to seek therapy. Did the hospital change her doctors? Do they let her walk around the hospital or be out in the open? Being cooped up on the same place for ten years can be pretty damaging as well. Do –”

“Midoriya you are muttering again,” Todoroki had cut off the florist, looking at him with a smile, “I barely made a word of what you’re saying.”

“Sorry,” the florist blushed as he wrapped the flowers in black tissue paper with a brown string holding it all together. He smiled brightly as he sat the flower down, looking at it in deep thought. “Hey Todoroki,” he called, “can she wait for me?”

“Who?” the architect cooked his head to the side in confusion. Not following where the conversation was headed to or who the florist was talking about.

“Your mother,” the other smiled, a soft and comforting smile, “once I finish my degree I will treat her and help her.”

“You would?” he asked. Knowing that the other was fully planning to help his mother. He got to know Midoriya and the kind of person he was, there was no doubt that the freckled man was going to help her.

“I promise to you that I will make her better.”

“In that case I will design your office,” Todoroki smiled back, “There will be a lot of flowers engravings and flower prints, the ceiling will have a painting of a flower garden, how about that?”

“That sounds lovely.”

Since that week, Midoriya Izuku would study about abuse victims in his free time. He would still continue observing Shōto whenever they would hang around. Making the boy a flower crown of his favorite flowers whenever he was sad or overly emotional. Sometimes he sends Shōto a flower with a small note whenever he delivered some centerpieces to the coffee shop. Occasionally picking the coffee order himself just so they can chat. Uraraka giving them the look and shooing them back to work, sporting a knowing grin.

One day a small bouquet with only six flowers, was delivered to Todoroki Rei’s hospital room, two pink roses, two irises and two white clovers. She was surprised to see the flowers and wondered who had sent them. She took the card and read the message, shaking as tears of happiness trickled down her cheek.

Pink roses are for grace. Irises are for good new. White clover means ‘I promise’.

Todoroki Rei, I promises to help you and your son in any way I can. I will make sure that he is happy.

The future will be bright.

Signed, Shōto’s friend.

That day Todoroki Shōto had received a call from the hospital. His mother told him about the flowers and asked him to thank Midoriya. The next day the florist arrived at the flower shop to find a steaming cup of flat white on the counter, next to it was a single dark pink rose with a note attached.

Would like to go out on a date sometime?

Todoroki Shōto.

P.S. The coffee is on me.

Midoriya smiled at the carefully chosen flower, the symbol it meant. Gratitude and love.

.

“Hey Izuku,” Shōto greeted kissing Midoriya on the cheek, and waved to the other occupant of the room, “hey mom”. The two had grown older since then. They graduated from college and started their careers.  Izuku as promised had went to Todoroki Rei and helped her more than any doctor had accomplished to do. He managed to have her check out of the hospital and is currently living with him and Shōto in their house.

Todoroki had paid him back by designing his therapy center. A wall covered in 3D flowers with their meanings underneath each one. The ceiling looked like a roman painting of angels and cupids tending to a flower garden. The garden had greatly resembled the personal garden in their backyard, it was filled with flowers ranging from roses to poppies, carnations, dandelions and jasmines. There was also a cherry blossom tree.

And every time they went through something or felt an emotion strongly, they would grow a flower that represent that emotion. They called it their garden of promises. 

A/N: Todoroki’s receives minimum wage which is 800 yen (appx $7.25) which I worked out by converting $7.25 into yen and rounding the number, he works for 6 hours a day and makes roughly 4800 yen/day ($45), again 800x6, every day during the week makes his weekly allowance, 33600 yen ($300). The bouquet initially costed $275 but was discounted to roughly $230. The arrangement is professionally made and uses many different flowers so obviously this bouquet will be expensive compared to grocery shop bouquets, also taking into account that the thing was really huge, almost 20 inches in diameter.

[justsomebucky]

Ten Years (Part 5)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,483

Warnings: language, sarcasm, fluff, mentions of past cheating

A/N: All right, I’m pushing this out so that I can get to the actual reunion. It’s been done for a couple of days, but I wasn’t sure I liked it. However, it’s necessary filler. I mean, I want to know what happens, too! Thanks for all the well wishes, I am feeling slightly better. Also I used a gif with words for the first time because RED HENLEY MENTION.

When Friday finally arrived, you woke up with a terrible feeling.

It was like one of those moments you’d see in a Star Wars movie, where one of the main characters says, ‘I have a bad feeling about this.’ That was you, as soon as your eyes had opened.

The reunion wasn’t until Saturday night, but your boss T’Challa had instructed you and Bucky to leave a day early and stay two nights in a hotel near your hometown. He figured that would give you enough time in case you needed the extra hours to work out more details of the plan, or to meet with someone the day after.

You highly doubted that you’d be meeting Tony Stark on a Sunday, or at all, really, but you didn’t tell the boss that. Never tell the boss that sort of thing, ever.

Since you were familiar with the area and Bucky wasn’t, you offered to drive on the way there, and he would be the one to drive back to the city. The plan was to leave work after so you threw your bag in the backseat and gently laid your dress over top of it, leaving enough room for Bucky’s things.

The first thing you noticed when he stepped out of the lobby was how casual he looked. He was wearing a pair of dark pants, and a light blue button-down shirt that had the top few buttons undone with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You bit your lip, internally screeching at how handsome he looked. It’s just for work, you reminded yourself, peeling your gaze away from him as he got in the passenger seat and shut the door. You’d been spending way too much time with him, both on the phone, on Facebook, and in person. It was starting to mess with your head.

“Hey,” he said, giving you a small smile. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, tearing your gaze away as you adjusted the side mirrors so that you could see properly. “You can listen to whatever you want, I don’t have a preference.”

Bucky reached for the radio. “This has satellite radio, so we can listen to eighties music if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.” You carefully pulled away from the curb and into traffic, following the route home that you knew by heart.

It was going to be a long drive, not because of distance, but because of your own thoughts and anxiety.

At least, you assumed the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety.

---

The hotel that the company’s travel agent had booked for you was on the smaller side, but there wasn’t really all that much to offer near your hometown anyways. Bucky’s room was just down the hall from yours. The plan was to unpack, change, and meet up for dinner.

The reunion itself was being held tomorrow at in the gymnasium of your old high school. Being back at your school was something you were kind of looking forward to, but still kind of dreading. That setting made it more of a true reunion to you, but it also brought back lots of memories you weren’t sure you were ready to confront.

You had just changed for dinner when a knock sounded on your hotel door.

Bucky stood in the hall, wearing jeans and a red Henley shirt that fit him just right. You nearly keeled over at the sight of him looking even more casual than before, but now with an outline of muscles showing. When did those get there?

“I wasn’t sure if you even owned jeans,” you quipped, stepping out into the hall with him and slinging your bag over your shoulder. You tried not to stare, so you kept your eyes off of him altogether.

“Funny,” he retorted. You hear the amusement in his voice.

“So, I thought we could just take a scenic route to a diner I used to go to when I was in high school.”

“Sounds good.”

Bucky walked beside you as you pointed out the library, the house everyone used to say was haunted but was really just abandoned, and the entrance to the park.

“My first car broke down on that street, right in the middle of rush hour,” you told him, pointing. “Clint had to push it to the side of the road because people were screaming at me for blocking the road. It’s not like someone plans on breaking down in the middle of the road, but you know New Yorkers.”

He looked over at the side street, but didn’t say anything.

You bit your lip, wondering what he was thinking. You’d gotten to know him better over the last couple of weeks, but you still couldn’t read his silence very well. Was he bored? Was he comparing it to his hometown?

Was he wishing he was somewhere else right now?

The two of you turned down another side street, then walked a couple blocks before you came upon the place you were looking for: your old house.

It was a modest, two-story home, on the corner of a street called Nolan Court.

You gestured toward the home. “This is where I grew up.” Your eyes slid to Bucky’s face, trying to gauge a reaction.

Bucky gazed at the home in front of you, the streetlight making his eyes sparkle a little. “It’s nice,” he said softly, a small smile playing on his mouth. “I could definitely see you living here.”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a nice home in a quiet neighborhood, not far from the city you love.” He looked at you, his smile widening. “A little quiet rebellion always calling to you, though you knew you had it good here.”

“I did,” you agreed, looking back to the home. It used to be blue, and now it had a false brick exterior, but he didn’t need to know that. That wasn’t something you told a coworker-slash-pretend-boyfriend.

Wasn’t he more than a stranger now, though? He was getting to know little pieces of you, day by day, and putting together a puzzle of your life in his head. And what’s more, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

If someone had told you two weeks ago that you’d be standing on the sidewalk outside of your childhood home with Bucky Barnes, your competition at work, you’d have laughed in their faces.

Now, you couldn’t imagine being here with anyone else.

Little warning alarms started going off in your brain. You weren’t supposed to think that way; you were supposed to stick to your mantra. Bucky would never settle for you, and besides, he wasn’t the type to actually date the competition. His work meant too much to him, as he’d proven time and time again.

“Let’s get going,” you said quietly, feeling a little more defeated than a few minutes ago. “I’m hungry.”

Bucky snapped out of whatever thoughts he’d been lost in and nodded. If he noticed the change in your demeanor, he didn’t mention it. “Lead the way.”

---

“So all we’re doing is finding out about me. I want to know more about you.”

Bucky shook his head, hands clasped together in front of his mouth. “I don’t know what more to tell you. I’m pretty boring.”

“You don’t seem boring to me.”

He glanced to the counter of the diner. “I don’t have anything nearly as interesting as your little Long Island getaway here.”

The diner you were both in was a throwback to the fifties.  It had a bright red counter, with white bar stool seating and a checkered tile floor. All the waiters and waitresses dressed up like they could have been in a James Dean movie. It was so popular and special that they featured it on the Food Network several times. So many of your favorite memories with your friends had happened in this very diner.

But you weren’t going to get into that. That wasn’t something you should tell a coworker.

“Oh yeah, we’re the only town in America to have a diner,” you joked, making a face. “Seriously though. What were you like growing up? Did you have a nice childhood?”

“I had an okay childhood,” he relented, his blue eyes gazing back at you.

You felt a little shiver roll down your spine.

“My best friend, Steve, and I used to get into some trouble here and there, but nothing major.”

“Does Steve still live in Connecticut?”

“He does. He’s got a wife and a kid on the way.”

You nodded. It was interesting how different they seemed just by what he was describing, but you and Natasha hadn’t been very similar from the start, either.

Bucky reached for his glass of water, taking a sip before continuing. “I was kind of a nerd growing up. Steve was sort of like your friend, Natasha. He was popular, tall and fit, and all the girls went bananas for him. I was shy and quiet. I didn’t want to settle down right away, and I couldn’t find anything of interest work-wise, so I left for the city. I threw myself into my job, and here I am.”

“Do you ever go back?”

“Once in a while to see my parents or Steve. That’s all, though.”

You nodded. “No one special?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of a workaholic. I’ve had more dates cancel on me because of my being held up at work than dates that actually happened.”

Ah, yes, the rumors were true then. He was married to his job.

You secretly relished the fact that he was single, though. After all, he’d found plenty of time for you lately, even if it was work related. Maybe if this whole account thing worked out, you’d be assigned to work with Bucky more often. Surely, you’d at least have to help oversee Mr. Stark’s account.

Then he’d find even more time for you, for work of course.

The waitress arrived just then, bringing you each a plate of breakfast foods. Bucky had been about to order a burger and fries, but you had pretended to be offended. You insisted that breakfast for dinner, especially at this diner, was a must.

“Wait!” Bucky held up his hand. “Food selfies are the most infuriating, aren’t they? We can brag about our breakfast, and our relationship.” He dug into his pocket and retrieved his phone, getting the camera settings ready for the waitress. He gave her one of his winning smiles. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”

“Sure, honey,” the waitress said, smiling at you both. “You make a cute couple.”

The two of you leaned over your plates and smiled at the camera, and Bucky posted it to Facebook right away. “Maybe we should have started an Instagram account, too?” he mused.

“I think that Facebook is fine.” You didn’t want this charade to completely haunt you once it was over and you were alone with just Mr. Fuzzypants to keep you company. Why torture yourself, right?

“So since I ordered breakfast for dinner, am I officially in the club here?” Bucky looked up from his waffles, the corner of his mouth lifting enough to bring out those handsome laugh lines around his eyes.

You felt those damn butterflies acting up again. “Well, it’s a start, but you have to make it through the reunion first. You have to really witness what hell was like up close.”

Bucky laughed, taking a bite of waffle. He nearly groaned as he chewed that first forkful.

“It’s heavenly, right?”

His smiled widened. “You’re a genius.”

You grinned to yourself as you started into your own waffles. It was still hard to believe you were having this much fun with a man who once closed the elevator doors in your face.

---

The walk back to the hotel was one that you were dreading, so you kept the pace as slow as possible. The sooner you went to sleep, the sooner you had to be awake again for tomorrow, and the actual reunion.

You weren’t ready. You knew it deep down that you weren’t ready to face Clint and Natasha, and you especially weren’t ready to try to use your old relationship with her for business purposes. It felt wrong, it felt insincere, and most of all, you didn’t want to exploit her. But you also didn’t want to lose your job. You didn’t want to ruin the company’s chances with Mr. Stark.

And you certainly didn’t want to disappoint the man beside you.

“So, tomorrow,” Bucky began, as if reading your mind. “Don’t worry about it so much. Even if we don’t get the in with your friend, ex-friend, whatever she is…even if we don’t get any progress there, I’m not going to give up.”

You offered him a small forced smile. “I just have a bad feeling that if I don’t pull through with this connection, that I’ll be looking for a new job soon. The rumors-”

“The rumors are crap,” Bucky interrupted, stopping to look at you, his face serious. “T’Challa isn’t that kind of man. He sees hard work, too, not just the end result. He knows how hard our team works, and he knows which people aren’t pulling their weight. He’s a fair boss, and an observant one.”

“What, do you have some kind of insider info about this or something?”

“I do,” he admitted. “T’Challa asked me to become the head of our department yesterday. That’s why he was so anxious for us to get back to the office…that’s why he was waiting for me. They want to do some restructuring. I told him I’d think about it.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you just accept the position?”

“It’s a lot of change for me.” Bucky shrugged, looking thoughtful. “I think I like the chase better, the feeling you get when you can land a new client, another big account. I don’t think I’m meant to be a manager.”

The two of you started walking again. “I think you’d be a great manager,” you piped up. “Not that I’m trying to get in good before you become my boss, or anything.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “Anyways, Y/N, don’t worry about it. Either way, everyone sees how hard you work.”

The two of you made your way into the hotel lobby in silence, shuffling quietly to your separate rooms.

Before he went inside his door, Bucky looked up at you. “I wouldn’t let them get rid of you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could reply, he bid you goodnight and disappeared. You opened your own door, a thousand thoughts bombarding you at once. Now you weren’t so sure of your mantra.

It was hours before you were able to finally fall asleep.

---

Part 6

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