#Melissa said one of her colleagues wanted to see how much you need to touch (just touch!) to experience effects

[eggtrolls]

Found a small devil’s snare (sorry former Harold Potter readers, that’s a real plant) on a walk in the woods today and did some reading.

It’s a hallucinogenic plant (cool) from Mexico but it’s only rarely used recreationally because it is an almost guaranteed bad trip. You will feel like shit. Your brain and body will hurt, you’ll experience a profound AND long-lasting delirium, and you may actually die. It’s been used in indigenous ceremonies and for some funky medicinal purposes but I love the idea of a plant that has evolved to get you high and it is 99% certain that it’s going to be super unpleasant no matter what

[dontsh0vethesun]

the principal's favourite

masterlist

ava coleman x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, my poor attempt at humour ig? it was funny in my head :(, kissing, implied smut

word count: 1895

a/n: this is my first abbott fic so i'm still trying to get into the flow of writing for the characters

Though Gregory was beyond relieved that Ava’s flirtatious attention was finally directed elsewhere, he accompanied the rest of the staff with the shock at the sudden change in behaviour. It started on your first day at Abbott, a couple of nearing laughs in the hallway before the two of you entered the breakroom. 

Glances were exchanged throughout the room at the way Ava’s hand touched your arm and you thanked her for giving you the tour of the school. The way she smiled at you was different to any smile they’d ever seen her direct towards a colleague; it was soft and genuine and for once her attention was focused on you rather than mocking quips towards Janine. 

“Oh, Janine, I didn’t see you there. Back from The Shire already?” She laughed and you bit back an amused smile as you took the hand offered to you. 

“Hi, I’m Janine, it’s great to meet you.” She spoke, ignoring the comment from the woman beside you. 

It didn’t go totally unnoticed when Ava lingered as you had your introductions with the rest of the staff, rather than escaping to her office she sat beside you at the table not saying much but hanging on your every word. Melissa and Barbara shared a look at the way she laughed at something you said, a raise of eyebrows in silent communication. 

“I can show you to your classroom if you want - it’s across from mine so we’re neighbours. We can-”

“Janine, she doesn’t want you breathing all over her with your nasty excited toddler breath.” Ava grimaced as she stood from her seat and gestured for you to do the same. “I’ll show her. I can probably give you some tips to avoid an invite to a playdate or something.” She added to you in a whisper loud enough to be heard. 

You threw an apologetic smile to Janine as you left.

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Melissa spoke as soon as you were out of earshot. 

“Lord help that girl if Ava’s taken a liking to her.” Barbara answered. “We saw what happened to Gregory.”

–

“Good morning, Ava.” Janine greeted with a grin as she bounced into the breakroom on an early Monday morning, expecting little of a response. 

“Morning.” She responded without looking up, instead focussing on the mugs in front of her with a quick glance towards the doorway. Nobody said anything about her greeting, wary of causing her to backtrack and Janine was more than pleased. 

There’d been hushed conversations on the woman’s change over the past few weeks. Less of her energy was directed towards witty insults, her eyes chose to look at you instead of her phone and she sat talking with you at lunch. 

When Principal errands needed to be done she’d actually begun to complete them, even going so far as to bring her laptop with her to work on tasks beside you. 

You weren’t aware of the strangeness of her behaviour, how it had changed because of you and nobody had dared say anything. She was finally doing her job beyond sufficiently, they didn’t want to risk spoiling it. 

“Morning, everyone.” You spoke when you walked in and suddenly Ava’s eyes were on you, no longer ignoring the others in favour of her phone that she slipped into her pocket. 

“I didn’t even realise you weren’t here.” She spoke to which you scoffed, a sound that was mirrored by a few others in the room. 

“Sure.” You uttered with a roll of your eyes as you walked over to the coffee machine. “So this mug you’re nudging towards me isn’t mine? You didn’t make me a drink and wait patiently for me to get here?” You teased her. 

You were the only one that could make her stumble over her words the way she did, she’d never thought it would happen, that somebody could fluster her. But for the first time, she’d met her match and it often served as entertainment for the rest of the staff. 

“I just accidentally made two.” She shrugged with a laugh as though you’d said something foolish. “Anyway, it’s your first day with your double class and I have a meeting to get to. And by meeting I mean an under desk foot massage.” She spoke as she poured the sugar you handed her into her cup. “You best be waiting under my desk by the time I get there, Gregory, or you’re fired.” 

You didn’t hear the exasperated whisperings between Melissa and Barbara, the comments on her reverting back to the comments about Gregory. But you had made her realise that perhaps what she was harbouring was more than a workplace crush and rather some genuine feelings.

She’d made your coffee just as you like it and you sipped it as you stressed about the day ahead. Just like Melissa, you’d been given an extra class to teach but unlike her, you’re still waiting on a teacher’s aide.

So by the time your lunch break came around you were slumped over with your head in your hands and your fingertips massaging your temples in hopes it’d will away the throbbing in your skull. 

“Oh, hon, I can lend you Ashley for the afternoon. We can have shared custody.” Melissa softly spoke when she took a seat at your table. 

“I can try and figure something out, I don’t wanna leave you without help.”

“Maybe Ava will hurry along the search for an aide,” Barbara answered but you missed the smirk that pulled at her lips. “Considering the soft spot she has for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t be that dense, ya gagootz.” Melissa chuckled. “She’s like a totally different person when you’re around.” 

“She actually does her job, for one.”

“Mhm, and Gregory isn’t being harassed quite as much.”

“I am,” Janine interjected, “But it’s fine. I’m totally fine with it, y’know I’m probably starting to like it now, actually.”

“So what the hell did she used to do?” 

“Pretty much anything the principal shouldn’t be doing-”

“What’s going on in here? Some kind of boring, silent, convention?” Ava commented when she strutted her way in, noticing the way the room was hushed. “Oh, is it a silent disco situation? I hope Barb’s not in charge, I don’t think I can sexy dance to gospel.” 

“This one has a headache.” Melissa answered with a nod of her head in your direction, easily noticing the way the woman’s expression softened at the slight pout on your lips. 

“If only there was something the Lord could do to help, huh Barbara?” Janine added with a poke of her elbow into the woman’s side. You laughed lightly at the scowl she received though she reluctantly went along with the comment.

“He works in mysterious ways, Miss Teagues. I’m sure some help is on its way.”

“Actually, an aide is starting next week. So I suppose God did do her job.” Ava bragged with a flick of her hair. 

“That’s still a week of what I can only describe as the inner circle of hell.” You groaned. 

“I’ll help.”

“You’ll what?” A chorus of three sounded out, watching her roll her eyes. 

“I’ll be your assistant - for a week only.”

“Ava Coleman, you’re the best.” You grinned, hopping up from your seat to pull her into an appreciative hug. The feeling washed over her, the feeling of your arms wrapped around her body and her hands on your back. She smiled at your closeness only snapping her eyes open to scowl at the table of people behind you. 

When you asked her to come with you to prepare your classroom for the rest of the day she followed willingly.

“What is it that the kids say these days?” Barbara asked. “Whipped?”

– 

The two of you worked well together, you could bounce off one another with jokes and comments to amuse the children and you seemed to be the perfect pair to teach without much of a struggle. 

What had been an overwhelmingly loud heap of chaos this morning was transformed into an enjoyable afternoon, you even worked on a colouring page together at your desk. Of course she was adamant her side was the superior one, mocking the way you’d accidentally coloured outside of the lines a couple of times. 

Though you’d only smile the following day when you’d see it pinned to her office wall. 

“Thank you for today, Ava.” You smiled, she’d stayed behind after all the children had been dismissed home to help you tidy up.

“I actually had fun. I was kinda planning on scheduling fake meetings for the rest of the week to avoid it.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. I think we’re a good team. And I don’t mind being in charge of you for a week.” 

“Don’t get used to it.” She scoffed, stepping towards where you’d perched on the edge of your desk. “Best believe it won’t be happening once the week is over.” 

You swallowed thickly at how close she was, at the way her voice lowered and her hand lay on your knee. 

“I can’t tell if you’re picking up what I’m putting down. Usually people are lining up for my attention - as they should be - so it’s hard to know if you’re somehow immune to all this.”

“I’m definitely not immune.” You murmured sheepishly, suddenly wishing you could exude the same confidence as her. A hand on your cheek stopped you from hiding your face, softer than you could’ve hoped with a thumb swiping over your bottom lip. 

“Obviously. I was just trying to be humble.”

You laughed at her words, so perfectly Ava, and pulled her closer with a hand on her waist. She caught herself with a hand on the desk beside you; you felt her breath against your lips, air tense and thick with the delicate scent of her perfume wrapping around you before you closed the space between you. 

She wasn’t gentle with the way she kissed you, claiming your lips with hers in the way she’d wished to for too long now. You could taste the apple juice on her tongue, the carton she’d taken when you passed them around the class, and you could feel the softness of her lipstick you knew would be left behind. 

Her tongue pushed against yours while her hands held tightly onto your thighs, standing between your legs with your fingers tangled in the material of her dress where they clung onto her back. One hand dared to creep further up your thigh, sneaking beneath your shirt to rest her palm on the bare skin of your waist. The way you sighed at the feeling of the goosebumps she ignited made her ravenous for you, too hungry for your classroom. 

When she pulled away your breath was heavy and her eyes were dark and lusting, surging forwards just for a few more pecks, however many she could fit in without running out of breath. 

“Meet me at my car?” She breathed. “It’s the nice one in the parking lot.” She emphasised and you could only nod with a huff of a laugh. She planted one last peck to your lips before you parted ways to collect your things and she was waiting eagerly in the driver’s seat a few minutes later. 

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

A Twist of Fate ch.30 -True Love's Despair

The Elementalist au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

words: 2299

Series Master List

Complete Master List

This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

  Beckett was able to avoid his friend’s questions Thursday, but when Friday arrived, they both jumped on him almost as soon as he walked in the door. Late. Again.

“Happy hour!!” Tom cried. “I have permission to stay out until 8pm!! But then I have to put the kids to bed so Jesse can have a break…”

Beckett rolled his eyes. “I don’t think we’ll be out that late, guys. It doesn’t take three hours to drink two pitchers.”

“What I’m saying is, there’s no rush. Jesse and Melissa are both worried about you. They can’t believe Oriana just up and disappeared.”

  “There were a few uh…select words Melissa used about the situation.” Dave grimaced.

“She’s coming back.” Beckett replied. “Don’t talk bad about her.”

“She was actually wondering who you’ll be spending Christmas with?”

Beckett blinked. He hadn’t even thought of the holidays that were fast approaching. “I haven’t thought about it. I’ve never been big on celebrating holidays, it was never a big thing in my family. So…I’m probably doing nothing.”

He frowned thinking of his last encounter with his parents. If they knew Oriana was gone, they’d probably be thrilled. Katrina had called him a couple of times, but he ignored the calls and didn’t return them. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll…see you later.” He mumbled, turning on his computer and getting settled. Overall, he was feeling better. He was no longer nauseous; his friends were making sure he was eating. He was still barely sleeping, but it was better than nothing. All the same, he was broken, and only Oriana could put him back together. He knew neither Dave nor Tom would be as forgiving when she showed up again. Or their wives, apparently.

At this point…I wonder if it’s even possible to forgive her. She’s been gone five days without a trace.

He tapped his pen against the wooden desk. He’d called all the area hospitals and police stations. He had managed to get through to Shreya, and she seemed genuinely surprised that she hadn’t heard a thing. It was the same with Zephyr.

There was only one person left he could think of to get in touch with, and he really didn’t want to find his phone number. Is it worth it? What will he do if he finds out she’s missing?

He pondered the question. But he needs to face facts. It’s possible Oriana went back to Chase, and as soon as he’s done doing god knows what to her as punishment, he’ll send for her things. Shaking that from his thoughts, he searched the internet for his phone number. Once he found it, he took a deep breath…and dialed from his work phone. It rang twice.

“Hello?” The voice sounded through the speaker.

“H-hi, Chase, this is Beckett. Harrington.”

The was a pause on the other end of the line. “The fuck you want? How’d you get this number?”

Beckett cleared his throat nervously. “I was wondering…uh...if you’ve seen…”

Suddenly loud laughter crackled through before Chase spoke again. “She left you, didn’t she? It was only a matter of time, loser.”

“But…”

“Look, I don’t know where she is, but she’s not here. And if she shows up, her ass will be on the street anyway. I know she’s been fucking you, but I didn’t give her permission to, like I did with…”

Beckett hung up, anger coursing through him. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to call that guy. But at least Oriana isn’t there.

He felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief that she wasn’t with Chase, but disappointed because he had nothing else to go on. But as long as her things were still in his house…there was hope she’d return.

Turning back to his computer, he opened file after file, inputting notes and adding instructions, going through the motions as though he was on auto-pilot. At lunch, Dave dropped a sandwich off at his desk that Melissa had made him. I can’t believe someone else’s wife is taking care of me…making sure I eat. This is ridiculous, I have to pull myself together. I can use the locator spell later, to hell with telling her I wouldn’t use it. This is my life and I’m going to put it back together. I have plenty of her things, it’ll be easy enough. She’s had enough space. No more.

Nodding to himself about his plan, he attempted to focus the rest of the day, and when 5pm rolled around, the three men went to their usual bar.

Beckett hadn’t been planning on drinking a lot as he was going to search for Oriana right after, but his glass kept filling up with fresh beer. Since he didn’t drink all that much, by his third glass he already felt a bit tipsy. The guys were talking about anything and everything that didn’t evolve around relationships. Beckett was half-heartedly chiming in every now and then. He knows they mean well but…

“I’m going to find her tonight.” He suddenly announced. “I have a lead and I’m going to use it. I’m finishing this drink and I’m going.”

“What’s the lead?” Tom asked uncertainly.

Beckett just shrugged. “Let’s just say I have access to some excellent resources.”

“Then why did you just drive around looking? Why not use those resources before?”

“She told me not to.”

Dave spoke quietly. “Look, Beckett…it’s been five days. I hate to say it but…I don’t think she’s coming back or she would have by now. I hate seeing you so distraught every day and now that it’s the weekend…”

“We won’t be around you all day to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” Tom finished. “And honestly…we’re all pretty pissed at her for doing this to you. It’s not right.”

Beckett slammed his glass down on the table. “You guys just don’t understand. You don’t know the full story. The things she said to my parents? She defended me so fiercely and with so much passion. You didn’t see it. You didn’t hear it. You weren’t around her on a daily basis, you have no idea what she’s truly like. Something bad happened after dinner and it triggered a flight response in her. She thinks she’s protecting me. She literally thinks that leaving me was the best thing she could do to protect me. It’s not that she doesn’t love me because she does. It was the last thing she said to me. So I would appreciate it if you would all lay off her, because I will get her back. And then you will accept her again as though she never left. Nothing is her fault. It’s not my fault. It just happened.”

He picked up his beer again and downed it before noticing his two friends were still staring at him, surprised by his outburst.

“What?” He asked angrily.

Tom finally managed to speak. “I’ve never seen you be this vocal before. In fact…you’ve never been this assertive. It’s just surprising.”

“Do you need help? Whatever you need, we’ll be there.” Dave added. “I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t realize…you didn’t tell us exactly what happened. I shouldn’t have assumed to know anything. Seriously, Beckett, let us help you. That’s what friends do.”

Beckett blew out a breath. “And I told you before, I don’t need help. I can do this on my own.”

“Of course, you can. But you don’t have to.”

Beckett looked back and forth between his friends faces and found himself nodding. “Okay. If what I have planned doesn’t work…then you can help figure out my next move. But let me try this first.”

For the first time in a week, he had hope that he was going to find her. He’d go home, get one of her bracelets, perform the spell, and have her back within the hour. He was completely positive.

  Meanwhile….

  “Have a good weekend, Oriana. See you Tuesday. Let me know if you want us to still screen your calls.”

Oriana looked up from her desk and gave her colleague a half-smile. “Thanks Linda. Enjoy your weekend.”

“Are you doing anything fun?” Linda asked

Oriana thought about the plan she had for the evening. “No. Not even close. See you Tuesday.”

It was 5:05 on Friday night and she was leaving the Aquarium along with everyone else. She’s been doing this every day since she ran away from Beckett. She couldn’t believe she hurt him. The guilt was eating her alive. She’d shut off her cell phone, so she wouldn’t be tempted to answer his calls or call him herself. She knew he was worried sick, literally, she was nauseated and throwing up on a regular basis, and she knew he wasn’t okay by any means. She wasn’t either. In fact, leaving him took the last amount of strength she had, and she’s been miserable ever since. She was starting to question whether she’d made the right decision or not.

She knew he’d called looking for her, but she was having the secretary screen the calls for anyone not business related. She’d given Linda several names specifically, and if it were one of them, she was to inform that Oriana had not shown up all week.

She felt terrible for lying, terrible for making her colleagues lie, and terrible knowing how Beckett felt when Linda told him she wasn’t around. That’s what was making everything so much worse. The fact that she could still feel him. She’s been searching for ways to block it, but so far has come up blank. Just like magick is innate…so are these types of connections.

There was a cab waiting to take her to Beckett’s house. She’d told everyone that her car was in the shop getting fixed after being rear-ended, but now that it was the weekend, she needed it. She was hoping that Beckett’s friends persuaded him to go to the bar that night. They hadn’t been out just the guys in a while, and she had a feeling they would drag him there even if he refused. She was counting on it.

Normally at this time of day, she just made a lap around the block a couple times before returning to the Aquarium. She’d unlock the door, slip back in unnoticed, locking it behind her. It was a well-equipped building with tons of supplies. There was a couch in the employee lounge that she slept on, there were extra blankets, laundry machines, microwave, refrigerators, and extremely large showers. Monday after work she’d gone to get several new outfits and toiletries, since all of hers were at Beckett’s and also picked up food for the week. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but she managed, and no one knew what she was doing. But now she needed to do something different. She’d found a nearby hotel that gives discounted rates for long-term stays. She was only booking by the night, but had an agreement with the manager to not be forced to switch rooms if she stayed. Each room was equipped with a small kitchenette, a television, fridge. She’d stay there until she found an apartment, which she’d already found a couple online she’d tour this weekend. Another reason she needs her car. She’d even taken the coming Monday off in case she needed it, in case, miraculously, she found somewhere she could move in right away, or needed to continue her search.

Driving across town in the backseat of the cab, she let her tears silently fall as she kept thinking of Beckett’s face when she’d physically harmed him. It was the exact thing she was terrified of the entire time she’s known him. He should have listened to her when she said she wasn’t good for him, that she was dangerous.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as the car approached her house. Only Beckett’s house now. She thought miserably. She was right, there was no sign of him. His car wasn’t there. Paying the cabbie, she stepped out, inhaling the fresh air, letting the cold wind dry her tears. She knew what to do. She went inside.

  Several Hours Later…

  Beckett finally arrived home, glad his friends let him go after he’d sobered up a bit. As he approached his house, his heart basically stopped beating. His driveway was empty, Oriana had come while he was out. Cursing under his breath, he dashed inside, calling her name and running up the stairs into the spare bedroom, stopping short when he saw the empty dresser drawers and empty hangers in the closet. There was nothing in the room. He went into the bedroom they shared, already knowing what he’d find, but needing to see it. Sure enough, everything of hers was gone, including any dirty clothes that hadn’t been washed yet. He tore through the upstairs rooms, not even noticing that several of his shirts were missing as she’d taken them with her.

Numbly he went back down the stairs. There’s nothing left. I have nothing to use to find her.

Walking into the kitchen he immediately noticed something left on the counter. He picked up her key and stared at it, wondering if he could use it to locate her, quickly muttering the spell…but nothing happened. He felt nothing. There was no pull, no sense of direction.

That’s because technically it’s not her key…it’s my spare key. We never made one just for her.

Realization hit him like a freight train. She’s really gone. She came here, she was waiting until she thought I would definitely not be home. And she knows me well enough that she was right.

He collapsed against the wall, sobbing. There was no way to find her now.

@annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @coffeebeandragon @drakewalker04 @jlpplays1 @desiree-0816

@alesana45 @mfackenthal

 @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @endlessly-searching-for-you @rissah @damienswhore @giulia2372 @nerdynstoned @wickedgypsymoon @the-writerly-night-owl  

@aworldoffandoms @cordoniasmost @syltti78

@feartheendlesssummer @elainew13 @the-soot-sprite @paisleylovergirl @dottie-minerva-mikas @emichelle @symonde @kendrasgue @pbmychoices @flyawayboo @divergentofhogwarts @sonsie0613 @brightpinkpeppercorn @symonde

[unsuccesscr]

here it is , the All Might death fic, roughly 4k words of pain ft; Izuku being a mess, Melissa deserving the world, and Bakugo starting a fistfight (for the greater good)

warning; major character death. no gore or graphic depictions but a lot about the grieving process.

blame @eighthilles

“Sir? Sir, you can’t go back there--” A nurse pleads after Izuku as he follows the stretcher through the expansive hallways of the hospital. Towards one of their surgical rooms. He can’t quite see, over the seeming ocean of hospital staff. Doctors and nurses dressed in crisp, clean clothing, and masks on their faces.

A bit of blond hair, one hazy, blue eye, the tips of bony fingers. And then someone’s holding him back as their wheeling the only father he’s ever known beyond huge, unyielding, double doors.

“No, no,” He protests, plaintively, but not truly putting up enough of a fight to potentially hurt the one restraining him. “I have to see him, I have to…”

I have so much I need to say. 

I’m sorry

Thank you

I love you

Please don’t go

Seeming to sense his escalation in panic, the nurse gently guides him back to the waiting area. For some reason the touch is calming, and he can feel his adrenaline draining away slowly. A result of her quirk, in all likelihood, but even calmed he’s in no state to analyze it properly.

“I understand how you feel,” The woman attempts to soothe “But the sooner Mr. Yagi gets into surgery, the better his chances are.”

“Chances?” Izuku parrots, unintelligently, throat closing. “He’s going to be fine, right? He’s going to be ok?”

The nurse looks at him sadly, but doesn’t say yes. Instead she hands him a clipboard, asks him to fill it out; and tells him that she will let him know when they know something.

Izuku takes the forms and nods numbly. Spends a long time staring at the page without really seeing the question. Pen in hand and pressed against the paper but not writing a word. 

How many of these questions can he actually answer? He doesn’t know any of this. Not Medical History or Family History or Medications. Even at their closest the retired pro had a habit of hiding his ailments in a ridiculous attempt to not become a ‘burden’ like he could ever be that after everything he’d done for Izuku, for the world.

The young hero begins to fill out what little information he does know. Name, age, occupation. Details the injury that All Might received from All For One nearly two decades prior. Tries not to think about how he’s the least qualified person in the world to be doing this. 

And yet, somehow, he’d been All Might’s emergency contact.

He’d almost ignored the incoming call from an unknown number, deeply entrenched in getting the paperwork for the still fledgling agency sorted. No sidekicks meant that each hero had to pull their weight with police reports, incident reports, press releases. Not to mention the reassignment applications, recommendation letters, and other legal documents pertaining to the people who entered their doors looking for help. It added up, quickly, and it needed to be done.

That, in the end, was why he’d ended up relenting and answering his insistently ringing cell phone. After all, it could be an emergency. 

It was an emergency.

“...ku?” 

Izuku’s head snapped to attention at the sound of someone speaking directly to him, looking up at what he assumed was another doctor. Dressed in a white coat over formal attire. The older man looked familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t exactly place it. But he was smiling at Izuku with a nervous warmth.

“Deku,” the doctor starts again, and the hero’s name causes some heads to turn. Izuku isn’t shocked he wasn’t recognized earlier, he rarely is; out of costume. He didn’t have the remarkable stature of some of his colleagues and he wasn’t exactly exuding his normal levels of confidence.

“You saved my family, three years ago,” he prompts, as if sensing that Izuku has no recollection. Ah, now he remembers. This man and two young girls trapped beneath a collapsed building, fires from a barely over villain fight still raging. Of course, there were plenty of other heroes on the scene as well, all performing similar rescues. It wasn’t exactly an extraordinary achievement. 

“I’m glad everyone was ok,” Izuku says, somewhat mechanically, still unable to quite function under the circumstances. “My fa...All Migh...Yagi Toshinori, do you know what happened? Will he be ok?”

The doctor’s expression shifts, closely mirroring the look of pained empathy the nurse had given Izuku before.

“Mr. Yagi suffered from acute heart failure, seemingly caused by stress. A neighbor found him outside his apartment and made the call to have him brought in. His condition is very unstable, and we won’t know until we’ve cleared the blockage if there’s been any permanent damage…”

Somewhere along the way Izuku stops listening to the explanation. Alone, he’d been all alone. Did he see? Did he hear? Did he know Izuku was here, before they took him away? Even if he didn’t….he had to know he was loved, right?

“...let you know when I know more,” The doctor concludes and Izuku nods to indicate he’d heard at least that much.

______________________

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” The doctor says, not even an hour later. And he does, truly, seem sincere. But Izuku cannot comprehend it. Dead. All Might was…

Gone.

It didn’t make any sense. Of course no one is immortal, of course All Might had that old injury to contend with. But he was always ok. Even after his retirement, he was always ok. Until he wasn’t.

The doctor is explaining, now, what went wrong during surgery. How they’d lost him on the table. How he was under anesthetic at the time, asleep. Hadn’t felt a thing.

Good, that’s good. He deserved to go peaceful.

Izuku abruptly stands up, hands the doctor the partially filled out forms, and fishes out his phone.

“Calls,” He mumbles to himself in a tone of voice so robotic even he doesn’t recognize himself. “I need to...call people. Let them know. Make arrangements.”

The doctor seems puzzled by his reaction, but gives him his space as he paces their waiting room making call after call.

“Mom? It’s Izuku,”

“Melissa? This is Midoriya Izuku,”

“Lemillion? It’s Deku,”

Over and over, repeating the news. Apologizing. Listening to the immediate, intense, feelings of grief and wondering what is wrong with him to just feel...hollow.

“Hello? Iida, it’s me, I’m at the hospital and…”

_______________________

The calls continue, well into the night and now into the next day. Izuku’s in his office once more, dressed in the same clothes as the day prior. Looking disheveled and focused. A ghost of his high-school years. 

The other heroes working at the agency move around him nervously. Looking at him, then whispering to each other. He ignores it, there’s too much to do. The funeral service, friends and family. Then, of course, the public memorial. There’s the matter of what to do with possessions in All Might’s now vacant apartment, plus his remaining assets.

He’s muttering to himself now he’s aware, because more heads are turning towards him. More concerned expressions.

“Dekukun,” It’s Uraraka who seems to be feeling brave, approaching the manic hero directly “You should go home and rest, you look like you haven’t slept at all,”

“I can’t, I have to stay. I have to get things ready. The casket and flowers and...shit, I almost forgot, Katsuki and Melissa are stateside, I’ll have to book a flight--” He reaches for the phone but Uraraka puts her hand over that.

“We’ll handle that,” She says with a look that says even more pointedly that this isn’t up for debate. “That’s the point isn’t it? For us all to work as equals,”

And she’s right. That is the point of the agency. But this isn’t agency work.

“This is different, it has to be me,” Izuku shakes his head.

“Why?” Todoroki asks, not bothering to hide that he was eavesdropping on their conversation; his stare piercing through Izuku’s entire being.

“Because…” Because he owes it to All Might. Because he hadn’t been there, let him die alone. Because he’d never done what he was supposed to, never made things right. Never said all those things on the tip of his tongue. Had let his fear swallow him whole and now there was nothing left to do except arrange All Might’s funeral.

“It’s my responsibility,” Izuku says, simply. Firmly. Gathering his notes and list of numbers and cell phone. “I’ll go home, do the rest of this there. I shouldn’t be disturbing your work. I’ll be back after the memorial has finished.”

No one stops him from making his exit.

______________________________

“Izuku!” Melissa calls out the moment she sees him by the baggage claim. Katsuki stays a distance a way, watching as the young engineer rushes to hug the haggard looking hero.

Startled, just for a moment, he stumbles a foot back. Melissa, seeming to have predicted this, keeps him up right as she buries her face in his shoulder. “I can’t believe Uncle Might is gone,”

Slowly, he wraps his arms around her as well, holding her close and letting her tears wet the fabric of his shirt. He has no idea what to say, no words of comfort, so he just holds her while she collects herself. Ignores Katsuki glaring daggers at him over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Melissa says, finally, after coming up for air “I’m sorry, you must be more upset than anyone and here I am carrying on--”

“I’m fine,” Izuku replies with a tilted smile, squeezing her hand. “It’s good to see you.”

She pulls away, brushing off her clothes and sniffling a bit; clearly on the verge of even more tears. “My dad wanted to be here, too, but…”

“I know. I tried to pull some strings, get him amnesty so that he could attend but…” he trails off, shaking his head. The authorities had been clear, they consider David Shield to be too dangerous for such a journey. It was unfair, after just one incident all those years ago. It left Melissa alone, too.

“I booked you guys rooms at a hotel not far from where the service will be held, I’ll take you over so you can get some rest,” He changes the subject to one that is slightly less awkward. Katsuki continues to not say anything as he follows Izuku and Melissa out of the airport.

________________________

There isn’t much time left before the funeral service, and a lot of things to get done before hand. At least, that’s what Izuku tells himself in order to keep busy after all the invitations had been passed out and the funeral arrangements made. 

He’d found a lovely funeral home to plan everything, they handled a lot of heroes. Izuku was asked to make a few decisions. Flowers, venue. What All Might was to wear when he was buried. He had suits, more fitted to his form after his retirement, but there were his hero costumes as well. Of every era. That could be refitted if needed.

Izuku thought it would be unfair, after all All Might had done for this world, to have to remain the Symbol of Peace even after being buried. And, selfishly, he wanted to say goodbye not to his childhood hero but to the man who raised him. So he’d decided on a suit.

But using the funeral home meant that there wasn’t much of an active role in the planning process. Which means large blocks of time which Izuku had requested off of work to do nothing but sit and stare at the wall. Or worse, be passed from person to person as they all expressed their condolences.

The brief stints on which he paid visits to his own apartment he’d been handed enough home made meals to feed the entirety of Japan. He’d brought them to the agency, so they could be passed out to anyone who was currently using it as refuge. It wasn’t as if he’d eat all that regardless.

That had killed an hour or so, but had come with the extra painful process of each one of his friends telling him to ‘take it easy’ and then having to persuade them that he was fine, really.

And he was. He was fine. Oddly fine. Exhausted, sure, but he’d been busy. He keeps waiting to not be fine. For it to finally hit him that All Might had died, was gone, that he’d never see him again. To cry his eyes out like Melissa did at the airport.

To cry at all.

While he waits, he finds things to do. Like pack up All Might’s old apartment. Sort his belongings into boxes so they can be stored somewhere and then auctioned off for charity. It’s what the former number one would want, Izuku is sure of it.

The man hadn’t owned much, most of it was keepsakes. Some from his years as a pro, but most from his time as a teacher at UA. Handmade trophies and cards from students. Pictures in frames and in albums. Izuku tries not to think too hard about how many of them feature himself. Pointedly avoids looking directly at a framed photo of his mom, All Might, and himself at his high school graduation ceremony.

“I can’t believe it, my little Izuku is so grown up,” Inko Midoriya wailed, holding a squirming eighteen year old Izuku in her arms as he whined in embarrassment. Still, it had felt nice. To have accomplished what no one thought he could.

Well almost no one.

All Might, the first person to ever tell him he could ever be a hero, strode right up to the small Midoriya family with a big smile. “Midoriya my boy! You really have come far, you should be proud.”

“Thanks dad,” Izuku said, the relief of finally being able to escape his mother’s grip preventing him from thinking about what he was saying. The realization hit him a moment later, a moment too late. He looked up at his teacher with a red face, sputtering. “I’m sorry--I didn’t--”

All Might looked stunned for a moment, before pulling the boy into a hug of his own. “I’m proud of you, my boy.”

That was, of course, was all it took for Izuku to start bawling. Which was exactly what he was doing when the picture had been snapped.

Now, a decade later, he stares at the photograph for just a moment, mouth dry, before gently placing it face down on the side table. There wasn’t time for reminiscing. He had to pack these things up.

________________________

As more and more people file into the room and take their seats, Izuku wonders if he should have looked for a bigger venue. He’d had the list of attendees before hand, had invited them himself, but somehow the crowd seems bigger within these solemn walls. Suffocating, even.

The air is thick, causing his brain to go hazy as he greets people as they walk in. Some shaking his hand, giving condolences; others daring to pull him into a hug. Mostly those were the people he knew well. Mirio, Iida, Uraraka, his mom. And Melissa again, as she ushered in a disgruntled Katsuki.

“Katsuki,” Izuku greets, unsure of what to say. There are so many years between them. The extended silence the most amicable their relationship has ever been. Apparently the explosive man feels less so now, keeping his hands firmly in the pockets of his dark colored suit until Izuku takes the hint and retracts his own hand. “It’s good of you to come.”

“You too,” The blonde speaks for the first time (at least to Izuku) since his plane landed. “Surprised you weren’t too busy to show up.”

Sharp red eyes wander around the room, landing on the sunflowers next to the portrait of their deceased teacher. Not exactly traditional, but Izuku had spent hours staring at, frankly, depressing flower arrangements before coming to the conclusion that All Might would have hated all of them. 

Katsuki seems to agree because he actually smiles slightly. That is, until Izuku returns it with an awkward smile of his own; causing the other hero to click his tongue and frown irritably, rushing off to find his seat.

“Bakugo!” Melissa calls after him, distressed by his behavior “I don’t know what’s up with his attitude, I swear.”

“That’s just...Katsuki,” Izuku replies. Although that wasn’t entirely fair. He hadn’t been this volatile in years. But there were other people to greet and Izuku really didn’t care to spend any more time analyzing Katsuki’s sour mood.

Melissa looked hesitant, but eventually turned to find her own seat. “I’ll talk to you when it’s over, good luck, Izuku.”

______________

It’s not until the service is over that Izuku registers that he won’t remember any of it. It was as if he’d been asleep. All of it, the crying, the speeches, even his own. If he hadn’t written it down he would have no idea what he’d even said. Did it go well? He had no idea. It had all faded into the background, keeping him in a stupor.

He’s snapped to attention by a hand on his shoulder. Aizawa looks almost the same, somehow, even after all these years. His eyes say that he’s on the verge of giving Izuku a lecture, but he decides better of it as he sizes the young hero up.

“Midoriya,” He says, eventually. “It was a nice service. Go home, get some rest.”

Maybe it was force of habit but Izuku almost immediately says ‘yes Mr. Aizawa’ before he remembers he’s not 16 and a student in Eraser Head’s class anymore. So instead he forces a smile, and says “Thank you, I will. As soon as I take care of everything here.”

Aizawa pauses, opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. He opts instead to nod and give Izuku another pat on the shoulder, before leaving with the now nearly grown Eri in tow.

Things continue in this fashion. People tell him it was a nice service, express their condolences, insist he get some rest, then go home. Until almost everyone is gone. Melissa and Katsuki are waiting, hanging in the back so that Izuku can give them a ride back to their hotel. 

Maybe he should have made arrangements for someone else to take them, he would probably be held up for a while. He walks over to them to suggest just that but Melissa cuts him off before he can start.

“We’re fine waiting.” She insists on Katsuki’s behalf. “It was a lovely service, Izuku, Uncle Might would have thought so too.”

“Yeah, real fuckin’ nice” Katsuki spits, having reached his limit of polite conversation. “It was real fuckin’ nice how you didn’t let anyone help, like you’re the only one affected by all this. It was real fuckin’ nice that you disappeared, didn’t say a word to him for years and now show up like the prodigal son after the fact and pretend like nothing happened. It was especially nice when you stood up there and talked about All Might, the hero, the Symbol of Peace. Like he was a fuckin’ stranger. Like you didn’t even know him.”

Izuku flinches with each pointed, and frankly, true, accusation. Backing up almost subconsciously. Scared of Katsuki in a way he hadn’t been since high-school. Or, more accurately, scared of his words, scared of what he may say next.

“Do you even care? Do you give even a single shit that All Might is dead? Because you’re acting like you couldn’t care less. Did he really mean that little to you? You, the favorite, the golden child. Oh we’re so proud of Deku who can’t be fucked to pick up the fucking phone” Katsuki growls, following Izuku as he stumbles back.

“You know, I get it. Why you never talk to me. I was a jerk, the biggest asswipe on the face of the fucking planet. I made your life hell and you hate me and I deserve it. I deserve for you to pretend I don’t exist. But what I can’t fuckin’ figure out is what the hell All Might did to earn the same treatment! Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you treated him like shit when all he ever did was support you!”

“Even now you’re just staring at me with those fuckin’ zombie eyes, say something! Say something you piece of shit! Show any emotion, if you even fuckin’ still have ‘em!”

Katsuki’s impromptu speech is interrupted by Izuku’s fist connecting with his jaw.

The blonde looks stunned, holding his jaw where there’s now a large blossoming bruise. For a split second it seems like that will be the end of it before he lets out a guttural yell and tackles Izuku to the ground.

Izuku retaliates by slamming his knee, sharply, into Katsuki’s gut. Causing the taller man to cough and roll off him, briefly. They get a few more kicks and punches in before they’re separated. Izuku being lifted off of Katsuki by a not at all amused Tetsutetsu while Ashido hooks her arms under Katsuki’s shoulders to keep him from lunging again.

“Get off of me,” he hisses, shoving her away enough to stand up and straighten his suit. He glares at Izuku but makes no moves to lunge at him once more. Tetsutetsu, in turn, sets Izuku back down.

The moment his feet connect with the floor, a hand smacks him across the cheek. Before he can question it, or even comprehend what had just happened; Melissa has turned around to do the same to Katsuki.

“I can’t believe you! Both of you! Acting this way at Uncle Might’s funeral!” She scolds, potentially the angriest Izuku has ever seen the American. “What would he think, if he saw this? What would he say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” to the surprise of everyone, the sullen, bitter, words come from Izuku and not Katsuki. They turn and look at him, expecting him to apologize or give any indication that he was joking. 

“It doesn’t matter!” He asserts again, wiping blood from his nose. “He’s gone! It doesn’t matter what he’d say or what he’d think because he’s gone!”

His voice cracks on the last word. Because it’s true, All Might is gone. He’d died without Izuku even getting to say goodbye; let alone all the other things. 

I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch, I was scared. Terrified, that you’d hate me.

I admire you, more than anyone else. And I appreciate everything you’ve done, for the world, for me. I wouldn’t be who I am without you, I wouldn’t be alive.

Because of you I had a safe childhood. Because of you one of the biggest threats to man kind is rotting in prison. Because of you people had hope. I never meant to tarnish your legacy, you’re the entire reason I wanted to be a hero in the first place.

I know it doesn’t seem like it, that it looks like i’m tearing down everything you worked for. That’s why I've been avoiding this, because I didn’t want to hurt you. Because I want you to be proud of me. But this is what needs to be done it’s the right thing to do. Just like what you did was right then.

You were there for me when no one else was, when my biological father couldn’t care less. You took me in, you raised me. I shouldn’t have shut you out, I shouldn’t have avoided this. I wasted precious time.

I’m sorry, thank you. I love you.

“It doesn’t matter, whatever I say, or do; it won’t reach him anymore,” Finally, the damn breaks. Starting with a gasping, hiccuped breath, silent tears streaming, working its way up to full on sobs, enough to wrack his entire frame.

“It’s about damn time,” Katsuki mutters, although there’s no more malice in his tone. “I’m taking a cab back to the hotel, let me know when the waterworks are over,”

Melissa looks angry once more, like she wants to say something, but Katsuki makes his exit quickly, and chasing after him would leave the trembling Izuku alone. So instead, she holds him like he did for her, letting his tears soak her dress.

“It’s going to be alright, because I am here.”

[buckymcbuttfacebarnes]

when hands touch (4)

wht masterlist

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: abt 2600

summary: a pair of two best friends, bucky barnes and y/n live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another. it is only natural that they spend a majority of their time together.

a/n: girls..............the softness consumes me i lied to one of yall and said this was gonna be angst city but thats, as i said, a lie. love yall

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ “Why didn’t you tell me it was hot?” Bucky asks, his question accompanied by a sharp intake of breath to cool his scorched tongue.

“I didn’t think I needed to!” you reply, matching his whiny tone. “It’s hot chocolate, Bucky.”

A little more than two weeks had already passed since the night of that office party. An entire seventeen days and you hadn’t brought up what Sam had said to you. You didn’t want to...but that unfortunately, did not keep the conversation from weaseling its way to the forefront of your mind, repeating itself at the most inopportune times. You were in the midst of preparing a presentation with one of your colleagues when Sam’s voice just started playing in your brain: “You wanna know somethin’—I’ll tell you something…”

And then on top of whatever information Sam had given you, there was Bucky and his delicate touches, those little semi-romantic comments. Before Jack had turned into a psycho and tried to kill his wife, they had been a “happy couple”—his reasoning for why the two of you made the perfect Jack and Wendy. You tried not to think much of them, those heart-warming asides, as he was always known to be so charming, but everyday it grew harder and harder. Sometimes it felt a little too genuine.

You had only seen each other in passing in the weeks between now and the party, as you were both so occupied in work to spend much time together, so you were now making up for lost time.

“Guess you’re right,” he huffed, glancing over at you with the faintest hint of a smile. He gingerly takes another sip, whipped cream left on his upper lip. He looks at you goofily, but you pretend not to notice and focus your gaze on the television. You were watching The Simpsons, old reruns.

“Y/N,” he leans towards you, closer and closer as you ignore him, “Y/N.” His mug clunks solidly against the coffee table. Then his face is next to yours again, you can smell the chocolate on his breath, so sweet. “I know you can hear me.”

“Jesus, why are you so annoying?” you laugh, pushing his face away with the palm of your hand against his forehead.

“Just look at me.”

And so you oblige him, and turn your head to finally gaze upon his whipped cream-mustached face, grinning widely at you with that childlike joyousness that never failed to make you smile too.

“Are you happy now?” you ask.

He pretends to think for a moment. “No.”

“What will make you happy then?

That familiar one shoulder shrug, a slight turn of his pink mouth as he ponders his answer. “Well…”

“Don’t say anything gross, you perv.”

“I wasn’t going to!” He holds his hands up, palms out, a show of his supposed innocence. His coy smile says otherwise though. “Not anything too gross anyway…”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Don’t be mean.” He wraps an arm around you. You look at him as if he’s lost his mind. You stare at each other until you both begin to laugh. It’s that jovial type of laughter that feels so natural...it’s so often shared between the two of you. You don’t even think about how you reach for his hand, the one hung over your shoulder, or how he lets you hold onto it.

“You plan on keeping that there forever?”

“The mustache?”

You nod.

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You can get rid of it, if you hate it so much.”

Your brows raise at the challenge, trying to figure out what he meant exactly. That is until his head dips towards yours, making the most obnoxious kissing sounds with his puckered lips.

“Buck—Stop it!” you laugh, one hand pushing at his shoulder, the other tugging at the fabric of his shirt. The loose pieces of his chestnut brown hair tickle your face.

It’s your natural reaction to laugh and push him away, but in your head you cannot help but quickly wonder what might have happened if you had let him kiss you. He doesn’t.

“I’m so damn tired of you.”

To this Bucky chuckles, his eyes search yours. You don’t know what for.

“Hey,” you say after a pause, your grip on his t-shirt finally loosening until your palm rests flat on his back. “Why did you wait to tell me about Melissa?”

Surprise flits over his face quickly. If you blinked in that instant you would have surely missed it.

“What do you mean?”

He knew exactly what you meant.

You tuck his hair behind his ears. “Don’t play dumb, Sam told me.”

“Him and his big mouth.”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugged, sitting back on the couch.

You sit up too, eyebrows raised expectantly. How was he gonna try and spin this one?

“Part of it was that I didn’t want to tell you that I had failed in another relationship.”

“Sam said you broke up with her.”

“I—okay, well that’s true.”

“You told me that she broke up with you, you liar.”

“Well,” he starts, but doesn’t know how to finish. So he doesn’t say anything and just looks into your slightly amused face with a sort of hopefulness.

“Well?” you ask.

“I guess I just—”

“Wanted sympathy?”

“And cookies. And pizza. And to spend time with you, I guess.”

“What do you mean? We’re always together!”

Bucky turns his gaze away, he is smiling. This one’s different from any one that you had never seen before, soft and sweet. There was nothing else behind it but that, a sort of purity. He purses his lips and you think you see the hint of blush coloring his cheeks. Is he embarrassed?

“Well, it’s just that we’ve both been so busy these past few months!” the words are rushed, strung together clumsily. “You know with dating and work...and all that. I knew if I was sad you’d make time for me. I know, I know it sounds so stupid. I know,” he says again. “But it worked, we’ve hung out so much, we practically live together in two different apartments.”

He wasn’t wrong. He had clothes at your house, you had a toothbrush at his (in addition to the one at your own place). He took his meals in your dining room or on your couch. You fell into your most comfortable naps wrapped in his duvet or tucked into the crook of his arm while the two of you watched reruns of stupid late-night tv programs in the living room of his apartment. You were close before, but now every waking moment that you weren’t at work, was with Bucky. Inside, outside, on the subway, in a cab. Everything of his was yours, everything of yours was his—including your time. It was just the two of you.

“You don’t have to lie to me for me to be your friend.”

He traces the curve of the back of your neck with the pad of his forefinger. “You’re my best friend.”

“All the more reason for you not to lie to me.”

“I know, I know. It’s just—”

There is three sharp knocks at your door that stop him mid-sentence. You peer at each other quizzically as if to ask, Were you expecting anyone? Neither of you were.

“Want me to get it?”

“No, I’ve got it,” you say, already jumping up to get the door.

“Is Bucky here?”

Your response doesn’t matter because she can see him through the open doorway and she pushes past you with a hastiness that makes you go quiet.

“Mar—Melissa!” he sounds utterly surprised as he jumps up from his place on the couch. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been waiting outside your apartment for twenty fucking minutes!” she shouts, waving a hand towards the door. “I knew you would be here with her!”

Neither you nor Bucky say anything. You both look at her, bewildered.

Melissa (not Marissa), takes notice of this, your shock and his confusion, and crosses her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrow in Bucky’s direction. “You don’t even...I knew I shouldn’t have fucking answered your call.”

“My what? My call? What the fuck are you talking about?” Bucky sputters.

“You called me last night and said you wanted to meet a—” she cuts herself off, she seems to know that nothing she would say would make Bucky remember. At least she’s not stupid. “Is this her?”

“Her who?”

“The girl you were screwing when we were together?” 

Screwing. What a terrible word.

“I wasn’t screwing her, Melissa, there weren’t any other girls!”

“Just say fucking,” you interject. It’s useless, they both ignore you. 

“Bullshit, I know she’s the girl you left me for, I saw you guys like three days later on the fuckin’ street, you were holding hands!” Then she swings around to you with such a quickness that you’re unsure what to do with yourself, so you just stare at her with that amused look on your face. No matter how you try and hide it, it doesn’t go away. “What happened to female solidarity?” She touches a hand to her chest, “I met you! I thought we would have been friends.”

“We still can be. I wasn’t fucking your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, we weren’t...we’d…never! Would we? No, we wouldn’t.” Bucky fumbles for his words, stumbling over them like a drunk over stairs. It didn’t make sense, you hadn’t ever seen him so...at a loss. Especially when it came to women. Usually he was so cool.

There is a long pause. Melissa, who looks between the two of you with narrowed eyes, just shakes her head. “I don’t give a fuck. I don’t need this shit, fuck you—” she points at Bucky, she might have been menacing had her voice not been so nasally “—and fuck you too!”

Then she was gone, stomping out the door in a pair of knock-off Jimmy Choos, out of both of your lives for good. You close the door behind her before turning around to look at Bucky.

“Good for her,” you say.

He is still lost, brows furrowed and eyes slightly widened with the horror of the whole situation. You abandon him for a moment, going to the kitchen for a glass of water, trying to recover from the obscurity of the last two minutes.

Bucky enters with his mug of hot chocolate (now lukewarm chocolate) in hand.

“You handled that really well,” you tease, leaning your back against the edge of the counter.

“Shut up.”

“I mean it, you were spectacular, phenomenal, so smooth, I see why all the—”

He covers up your mouth with one of his large hands, the rest of your words come out muffled and incomprehensible. He shushes you, and you fall quiet. The only sound now is your breath, warm beneath his cupped hand, and the pulse of your heart. He smiles, crooked, the same one as usual. Playful and unpredictable. There is little space between the two of you. You are backed against the counter, how did he always get you like this? Trapped between him and a hard place. He was inescapable.

“You talk too much,” he murmurs. Blue eyes peer into yours for a fraction of a second, then he drops his hand. It comes to rest on the countertop, right beside your hip. You are still trapped. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“No, it was a pleasure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you struggle so hard in our entire relationship.”

“You get off on my pain?”

“Yes.”

Ever so cheekily, he says, “Good to know.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“What?”

“Do girls think you cheat on them with me?”

He winces and shifts awkwardly, as if it were some dreaded question. The reaction is enough to tell you that the answer is indeed a yes.

“No way!”

“Way.”

“Often?”

“More often than not,” he says.

“Whenever I get a boyfriend they don’t think that,” you tell him.

“That’s because when you get a boyfriend you shut me out.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Give me an example.”

Bucky sends his gaze up to the ceiling, head tilting back for a moment. He sighs, “Okay. Remember Jordan?”

“Jordan, Jordan, Jordan. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

The smile on your lips says otherwise, he touches the corner of your mouth fondly as if to say: Gotchya!

“You dated him for, what? Like seven months?”

“Six,” you correct.

“Doesn’t matter. But what does matter is that I only hung out with you five times in those six months, and one of those was only coincidental, it wasn’t even planned.”

“I was busy!”

“No, you weren’t, you just like to ignore me when there’s another guy in your life.”

“You’re so needy. I like to put boundaries between us, that’s all. So that shit like this doesn’t happen.”

“Shit like what?”

“Shit like you’re poorly dressed ex barging into my apartment to throw around ‘fuck yous’ and talk to me about ‘female solidarity’,” you pinch the bridge of your nose to mock her nasally voice.

“She didn’t really come here for you.”

You push roughly at  his chest with the heel of your hand, “You know what I mean though.”

He rubs at the spot with a frown. “I guess.”

“What do you mean, you guess? If one of my exes showed up at your door just to say fuck you you’d be like, ‘Damn, Y/N, you couldn’t give me a heads up?’ Also, you’re an asshole for flaking on her the way you did.”

“I didn’t even call her!”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I don’t remember calling her...”

“So what you’re saying is, you called her.”

He shakes his head and waves a hand dismissively. “Listen, all I’m saying is that you shouldn’t sacrifice what we have for a guy that’s only gonna be around for a few weeks.”

This makes your brows furrow, it hits you somewhere between your heart and your stomach. It settles there heavily, you try not to let it faze you too much. The other guys would only be temporary, but Bucky was forever.

“And what do we have?”

You are looking at him, but he is not looking at you. Instead, he looks down at his hand, the one that rests on the counter. He is thinking, you can tell by the crease between his brows, barely visible now. His lip twitches upwards, a smile grows slowly. There are butterflies in your stomach, your face grows warm and you pray that he doesn’t notice the way your voice had grown quiet when you asked him that terrible question. Charged with so much emotion that you had immediately regretted it as soon as it had fallen from your lips, you wished you could somehow rewind and bury them away. Never to be heard again.

The air between you is tense, like a rubber band pulled taught. 

You feel his hand slide down your arm, fingertips cool against your skin. He catches his lower lip between his teeth to keep from grinning too widely. Oh God. And that’s when his hand slips into yours, but this time it feels different. It’s so different. You feel it, the way his hand fits perfectly in yours, the butterflies in your stomach, the quickening of your breath...but this time you are completely sure that he feels it too. He feels it all. He feels you. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb runs across your knuckles. He finally looks at you again, and you feel ready to melt beneath his gaze, but he holds you up, just like he always has. Like he always will. He hadn’t said a word, but there was nothing to be said...you communicated by your expressions, your own secret love language that had developed between you long ago, when you first met.

Bucky brushes his lips against your knuckles, they linger there for a short moment.

“We have everything.”

Everything seems so much different when hands touch.

-

swag tags:  @bambamwolf87 @princesse-de-ravenclaw @thunderous-flower @just-another-fangirl777 @pingu89  @piensa-bonito @shane-knight @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @insposcollective​ @krybaby-krybaby​ @kat-lives​ @drunkinthemiddleoftheday​ @geeksareunique

[ofmartiians]

( MELISSA FUMERO, FEMALE, SHE/HER ) — ✧ that looks like M’GANN M’ORZZ, known as MISS MARTIAN! she adopted (1) children and she is SINGLE. i hear she’s ETHICAL & LOYAL, but tends to be OVEREMOTIONAL & UNRESTRAINED. she works as a SOCIAL WORK TEACHER at paragon.

like this post and i’ll shoot you a message for plots!

History:

(skip this if u want lol it’s really not all that important)

M'gann was born one hundred and two years ago to a pair of white martians, a minority race on mars known for being vicious warriors. Her parents, disagreeing with the majority of what the white martians stood for, shipped M'gann off before the feud between the races got too intense. While away from the fighting, M'gann became acquainted with green martian refugee J'onn J'onzz, who took her under his wing and basically raised her as his own. She considered him her uncle after the fact.

M'gann and J'onn travelled together to earth, where it was said many white martians had been captured whilst seeking refuge from the fighting. She was told her parents were among those who escaped her home planet, and arrived with the intent of saving them just to see them executed by the U.S. government. Upset and distressed, M'gann and J'onn went into hiding, adopting earth names – Megan and John respectively.

J'onn went on to become Martian Manhunter, and M'gann was sent to become a founding member of Young Justice, where she finally felt accepted. However, she continued to hide her true identity, shapeshifting to appear as a green martian around her Young Justice colleagues and using a more conventional earth appearance in public. After her team disbanded, she went on to join Teen Titans, and later began doing more independent work while staying in touch with her teammates.

After several years of being on her own (but not really on her own), M'gann led a bust of the Sportsmaster Lawrence Crock and some of his cronies, leading to her discovery of the mysterious Sam. It didn't take much digging around in his head to find out that was a bullshit made up name and that he was really the heir to the mastermind and she probably shouldn't trust him. However, a little more digging and she could see that, as young as he was, he had never had a true role model to follow, and at only fourteen she couldn't bring herself to wipe his brain, so she took him in. She showed him what it meant to rise up from the ashes, from a literally or figuratively destroyed home. She gave him everything she wished she had.

Only after he was sent to jail did she feel like she failed him. She had sworn off reading his mind to help cultivate trust between them, and it had backfired. She let him pay for his mistakes, saddened by the charges he faced but knowing it was right. After a year and a half of being on her own again, she agreed to move to Paragon to help keep tabs on him during his parole.

Tidbits:

When undercover (presenting herself as an earthling, usually how she appears out in public), M’gann introduces herself as Megan Morse. It’s the alias she’s been using since she arrived on earth and it hasn’t failed her so far.

Although she has a lovely youthful glow to her (aka melissa fumero is fine af), she’s 102 in earth years. Martians age three times slower than humans, so she appears 34, the age she uses when undercover.

As stated in her app, M’gann is overemotional. This isn’t entirely her fault, as martians are more susceptible to other’s emotions than humans, which makes her extremely empathetical even without directly reading someone else’s thoughts. She’s easily overwhelmed but has also mostly learned how to keep herself in check.

She tries to avoid using her mind powers as much as possible. She didn’t understand the invasion of privacy when she first arrived on earth, but ever since learning what it feels like to be violated she only activates her powers when she absolutely needs to.

She’s terrified of fire! A trademark among all/most martians, M’gann can’t stand fire. She keeps a safe ten-foot buffer between herself and the gas stove in her home at all times.

Powers & abilities: 

there’s a lot to put here lol so if you care enough i’ll be portraying her with these powers. I’ll try to steer away from mind control though just to try and avoid godmodding.

Wanted connections:

friends!! – I imagine as long as she’s been alive she’s managed to fall into the good graces of at least a few people lol. Having been part of young justice, teen titans, and affiliated with the Justice League gives her lots of opportunities to meet people & befriend them

longtime rival – not really an enemy per se, but someone who’s probably known M’gann since her younger days right after arriving on earth, probably someone she competed with or maybe they just straight up don’t get along.

partners – M’gann was on her own for a while, and i feel like she would have teamed up with most people as long as they had pure intentions. These people probably also fall under friends but maybe not?? Basically just colleagues, coworkers, etc. People she would know from having helped them out or vice versa.

sparks flying?? - M’gann has lived most of her life happily as an independent woman. It doesn’t take much to get to know her but she’s always been selective with dating. If someone really got through to her i think i would be fun to imagine how it would affect her life. she’s pan so any character welcome lol

i’m sure i’ll think of more but this is what i got for now!!

[thewaitisogre]

WEEK 4 RECAP: Trios Night October 15, 2018

This week the couples were asked to perform a trio with an all-star, a friend from home, or in Alexis and Alan’s case Maddie Ziegler. Why? Because why not. Producers are feeling frisky and concepts are being explored all at once. The takeaway tonight was Bachelor Nation is powerful and we need to make sure they vote for the right candidate this midterm election. Joe is still in the game despite his complete lack of timing and it’s thanks to his fans. Is there a point in keeping Joe still? Bachelor Nation, you’re voting for him out of brand loyalty, but at what cost? My sanity? Joe reached his peak weeks ago and it’s time to get real. Vote for Milo, Evanna, Len Goodman, anyone! Just stop voting for Joe. 

Dances

Juan Pablo featuring Melissa Rycroft | cha cha | 8 8 8

Juan Pablo and pro Cheryl were paired with All-Stars winner Melissa Rycroft.  This cha cha had a lot moments of just Juan Pablo pounding the air. We get it, you can swivel your hips. 

Tinashe featuring Amy Purdy | tango | 9 9 9

Is this a Kavanaugh hearings inspired tango? At the end the jury raised a sign that said “guilty.” I’m just saying! Here is the thing with Tinashe and other stars that come with dance experience. They come polished and trained. They can’t grow week to week because they’re already dancers. If a dancer does come on the show they need to play the game with storytelling, like Lindsey Stirling, and I don’t know what her journey is yet. Heck, Tinashe’s Willy Wonka bob gave me more to talk about than her journey. 

John featuring Joey Fatone | Argentine Tango | 7 7 7

John and Emma get assisted by Asterisk NSYNCer Joey Fatone in an Argentine Tango where they play space commanders in Ancient Greece? I’m confused by the concept. Hair caught in zipper incident aside, this was an ambitious number with too much on its plate. 

Evanna featuring Scarlett Byrn | salsa | 8 8 8

This week they’re aided by Harry Potter co-star and friend Scarlett Byrn. I knew when I saw Scarlett wrongly breaking the fourth wall that she was going to be trouble. In the package I noticed Scarlett suffers from Caucasianitis. For just 15 cents you can sponsor a patient suffering from this condition. I was hoping it wouldn’t hinder their saucy salsa, but it did. Second-runner up Janell Parrish would’ve been a great fit.

Demarcus featuring Rashad Jennings | paso doble | 7 7 8

A pretty nominal paso set on football field to a OneRepublic-sounding song. Nothing much to say, so let’s talk about Demarcus’ finger! When season 24 winner Rashad Jennings entered rehearsal Demarcus and Rashad had a greeting (that totally wasn’t practiced 27 times) so epic that Demarcus broke his finger. The good news is his finger is fine now. The even better news is surviving an injury improves your chances of winning by 12%.

Mary Lou featuring Nastia Liukin | charleston | 9 8 9

In the package Mary Lou talked about how she is having a hard time not comparing herself to others because her career depended on being perfect. “I don’t need to win the Olympics in everything I do.” Thanks for giving us a quote worthy of Pinterest. Something clicked this week for this couple and the scores were stellar. You all know how I feel about Joe, but I would understand if Mary Lou left next week because she had the breakthrough all contestants dream of.

Milo featuring Riker Lynch | salsa | 10 9 10

Dance soulmates Milo and Riker assisted Witney in a salsa very derivative of Jordan, Corbin and Lindsay’s trio salsa to Meryl and Maks’ salsa song. This could’ve gotten a perfect score if I hadn’t seen it before. 

Joe featuring Jordan Kimball | salsa | 5 5 5

While everyone else was paired with a somewhat competent dancer, Joe was paired with a Bachelor colleague who is shockingly worse than him. A second into the dance Jordan’s tareaway didn’t tare completely defeating the purpose of dancing to “I’m Too Sexy.” I guess Jordan wasn’t too sexy for his shirt. About the dance, Joe and Jordan jigged and flailed like drunk aunts doing the YMCA. Luckily, the boys provided a chemistry class safety shower to wash our eyes with. Evanna, can you spare a spell to forget this dance?

Alexis featuring Maddie Ziegler | tango | 8 8 9

This was the palate cleanser I deserved. I’m not mad at it! I liked the spins, the charisma, and the frame, but it was missing some signature tango elements. I think Alexis suffered being paired with a dancer of Maddie’s caliber. There was no way she could ever match her lines and she was upstaged. 

Bobby feauturing Lindsay Stirling | cha cha | 7 6 7

A quirky cha cha to “U Can’t Touch This.” Has MC Hammer done the show? He should. We all know he could use the money. Caroline Rhae of Sabrina The Teenage Witch fame is in the audience. She should do the show. I’m talking about everything but this dance and that’s not good. Lindsey Stirling deserved better. 

Tom Bergeron Quip of the Night

“It’s Marie Osmond all over again,” says Tom after Joey Fatone fakes fainting. Marie Osmond fainted on Dancing With The Stars.

Len Goodman Zinger of the Night

To Juan Pablo: “Your bottom is the tops.” This is not even the first time Len has made a comment about Juan Pablo’s butt.

Jeopardy

Evanna and Tinashe

Elimination

Tinashe and her partner Brandon were eliminated. 

JOE LASTED LONGER THAN TINASHE. I was heartbroken at first, but then I ate a twinkie dipped in kerosene and it numbed the pain for a bit. How could this happen? I recommend you read this article Dance Network wrote on the factors that went into this elimination. My take? Girls, get the V For Vendetta mask because we are voting for Milo and Evanna from 12,000 different VPNs. 

Observations

Joey Fatone has tape on his hat during rehearsal. It could be to cover up a logo, but I want to think he is doing research to play a railroad tramp

If I see that “Oh oh oh ozempic” commercial while watching the show one more time I s2g

They apologized for mistakenly listing the wrong number for John so I wonder who they actually voted for

“You’ve got guns but not always the ammunition.” That’s Len’s burn of the night

Evanna and Scarlett’s lighting bolt on their costume screamed “WE WERE IN HARRY POTTER DO YOU REMEMBER THAT?”

Bruno fanning Len while Len gathered his critiques about Joe’s trio 

Click here for more Dancing With The Stars Recaps.

[ilikeoldchangke]

Seduction

This is a work of fiction.

............................................

I was a little shocked when I heard that my friend Welly wanted to quit his job in a bank to start a food stall. It didn’t make sense at all to me.

Why would he do that ?

He’s making cool 5 figures a month in a foreign bank, if there is a measurement for success in this country, Welly is practically it

Welly stays in a condo in district 21, has a fully paid car, goes for holidays at least 5 times a year, as if that were not enough, he has a hot girlfriend, or rather wife to be.

Welly and I knew Melissa together when all of us were doing our internship at a bank. She pretty, well spoken and she has a great pair of legs.

Her breast is a full B cup and on days if she decides to give her figure a little boost with a push up bra, Welly and I would take turns counting the number of hardons we get throughout the day while working with Melissa.

The tight dresses and the hip hugging skirt set out tongues wagging whenever we had a chance to talk. I’m sure you know what it’s like, a couple of guys, talking about how you want to do that hot colleague of yours.

During the short 3 month internship, Welly and I took multiple photos of Melissa. Discreetly I mean.

She’s hot and I want her, and I know so does Welly. I caught him secretly taking a photo of Melissa at her desk before, and I’m pretty sure the awkward quick turn he did when I tried to take a upskirt of her at the pantry was evident enough he knew my feelings towards Melissa.

Our friendship blossomed in a way, if you could use that word to describe 2 guys lusting after the same girl.

The 3 of us went back to school after our internship but we kept in contact, meeting up once or twice a month to catch up.

Eventually it came to the point when it was obvious both of us wanted to go after Melissa.

Being brothers and all, we made a pact to compete freely. No matter who lost, it shall not affect our friendship.

Welly : Brothers….

James : Brothers….

We shook hand on the agreement like gentlemen and sealed the contract.

Melissa is aware that both of us are interested in her but she is afraid to make the choice for fear that it will tear us apart. We reassured her that we are not school kids, this is fair game.

It took close to a year and I lost eventually.

I lost because of certain choices I made.

Welly decided to continue his stint in the bank whereas I decided to roll the dice and start a business of my own.

It was this roll of the dice that sealed my fate with Melissa.

While Welly was the classic example of stability, I was the one that chose to take the path less travelled.

And stability is what all women wants.

Something that I was unable to give Melissa.

And to reinforce that her choice is right, my business did badly for the 1st 2 years. I was literally surviving on the 600-700 dollars profit after I take away the necessary cost.

I made mistakes, a lot of it, but with each mistake, I learn. I improvise, and the most important thing of all, I survive.

Welly, Melissa and I still kept in touch, meeting up regularly at least twice a month to catch up. The only difference then was that Melissa was always taking the seat on Welly’s side and the couple always paid for my meals and drinks.

Melissa : When are you going to stop James ?? … you know… get a proper job and all….it’s been how long already… ?

James : coming to 2 years already… blink of an eye….

Melissa : 2 years already…. You are already missing out on a lot…. Welly is already a vice president in the bank….

Welly : Dear…. You take a stone and throw into a bank… you can literally hit a vice president….don’t listen to her James…. You are already turning a profit right…..?? just a bit more to go I’m sure….

Melissa : His profit is what…. A few hundred…. ?

James : Well it’s 6-700…. After expenses and cost but I’m figuring things out along the way…… I think I might know what to do going forward….

Melissa : James…. Please….. 6-700 is not enough for a bag these days…

Welly : I think that’s because of your choice of bags….. don’t listen to her James…. If you need capital injection…. You know where to go…

I know Welly, he is the kind of person that will stand with me on my decision. That’s what brothers are for isn’t it ?

He has offered several times to inject funds into my business if I needed but I turned him down everytime. It hasn’t come to that, besides, my initial capital of 20k is still intact.

I’m making money, just not enough.

Which tells me what I’m doing is right, I just need to find the way forward and all will be fine.

Melissa : Maybe you should give yourself a deadline James ?? … I don’t know…. like another 6 months…. Or something…. If it doesn’t work… my office is hiring… operations executive….. if you are keen….

Welly : My bank is hiring too James….i’m just saying… I can hook you up…. But I just think you should try a little while longer… I’ve seen your books…..it’s good…. 90% of businesses shut down within the 1st year….. 95% won’t make it through the 3rd….. from the looks of things.. you are doing well…

Melissa : Don’t encourage him you idoit…..

Welly : Why not ?? …. I wish I could be my own boss one day too…..

I could see Melissa rolling her eyes and I laughed.

I envy Welly. The 2 of them look good together.

Seeing Melissa in her long sleeve white blouse and tight pencil skirt, I could pretty much imagine how Welly is going to fuck her after dinner that night.

Hiking her skirt up to her waist and making her hold onto the bed frame as he do her in her heels.

When Welly broke news to me that he got a promotion and he’s entered the 5 figure range for monthly pay excluding bonus, I was genuinely happy for him.

We’re 26, turning 27.

How many mid twenties chap could do 5 figures ? Welly is good with his work, he is dedicated, and he can talk. His salesmanship is top notch, if there is someone who deserves to get paid that amount, it would be Welly.

With Welly doing do well, Melissa decided to quit her job to start a small blogshop selling trinkets and accessories.

During my 27th birthday, Welly and Melissa brought me to a nice steakhouse and we blew close to $800 on the food and drinks for 3.

Welly signed for it without batting an eyelid even though I offered to take the bill.

James : Let me….

Welly : It’s your birthday bro…. when it’s my turn… then you pay…

Melissa : It’s 800 bucks James…. Don’t blow your entire month’s budget on this meal… hahaha…

I smiled but said nothing.

It’s the 4th year of my business and things are starting to look bright.

I have 2 staff and after taking away staff cost including my $5000 a month salary, the company still retained a profit of almost $60000 that year.

Welly : James is already making a profit ok…. In 3 years…. I think he will be the one paying for all our meals…..hahah

Melissa : He was turning a profit for very long… the thing is… whether is it enough or not…. Right… ? haha

Welly just smiled but said nothing.

He did not tell Melissa how I was doing and I could understand why. He was still unsure about her. As you can probably see by now, Melissa isn’t really the go getter, choosing to settle for the comfortable life.

Welly and Melissa are still dating, he had hinted about a proposal but so far nothing is concrete. Still this doesn’t stop Melissa from using Welly’s credit card for herself, chalking up easily 2-3k in charges every month.

2-3k is nothing to Welly, his annual package can well afford it but the question is how long will it stay at 2-3 ?

It will eventually go up to 3-4, then maybe 5-6.

I know what Welly is worried about. I can read him as well as he can read me.

He worried that if Melissa sees that I’m doing well now, she might have a change of heart.

I can’t say she’s exactly a gold digger because when she knew us, we both had nothing.

She liked the both of us the same. In fact, I had kissed Melissa first before Welly.

I had fondled her firm breasts before Welly.

I even touched her outside her panty and she did not resist me.

These are things that Welly did not get to do during the competition stage.

I know because the moment Melissa made her choice, she asked that these stay between us.

I agreed of course.

On Welly’s 28th birthday, he popped the question to Melissa and she said yes.

It was my turn to get the bill and I did not blink when the $1000 dollar bill came to me. I already have 4 employees with the 5th joining in a month’s time. I increased my monthly pay to 9k and put the car down as part of the company’ expenses.

I was truly happy for Welly and Melissa. The 1.8 carat diamond ring sparkled like the way it should. Welly was over the moon and so was Melissa, for a while at least.

After getting the bill and keeping my card, Welly had something else to say.

He had another announcement to make.

Welly : And there’s something else…. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time…..

Melissa : what is it…

James : More good news ??!! shall we open another bottle ??

Welly laughed and he announced that he is going to quit his job and start his own business.

Welly : I’ve been thinking about this for a while…. And I want to sell food….i really like food… and I think moving forward… that’s the way to go….

Welly reasoned that rain or shine, market crash or not, people need to eat, and people will queue and wait for good food.

To keep cost low and to get some experiences, he will first start off as a hawker. In fact, he has already scouted out a location in town and he plans to put things in motion within the next 3 months.

When Welly was done, he looked at both Melissa and my expression.

Welly : are you shocked ? hahah… to surprise to speak.. ? hahaha

James : but… why …. ? you’re…. getting what…. An easy 18 a month…. Excluding bonus….

Welly : but…getting 18…. Is not making me happy…. It’s not about the money James…. You’re your own boss.. you should know what I mean….

James : I… bro I’m with you all the way … you know I am but….are you sure ??

Welly patted his chest and said he has thought about this for a while.

Welly : 100%.... haha…. I’m going to be a hawkerpreneurs…..

I nodded and topped up his champagne.

James :well…. If you need anything… money… advices… contacts… you know who to look for…..

I proposed a toast and I noticed something.

Melissa was a little too slow when reaching for her glass even though she forced a smile.

The news came as a shock to her. It was obvious.

That shock eventually because a flashpoint in their relationship.

A small crack appeared in their otherwise undying love for each other.

When I saw that crack appearing, it was too tempting for me not to do something about it.

Especially more so when I always wanted to fuck Melissa.

How can I do this to my brother you say ?

Well, the thing is, I think Welly, is too good for Melissa.

He just doesn’t see it, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so as his good friend, I believe it is my duty to make him see that.

…………………………………………………………………………………

16200 + words

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[baronessblixen]

It got long so you get a read more. Prompt was “I don’t want to have a baby”. This has been on my mind for DAYS. A mid-ep kind of thingy I suppose for “Home”. 

"I don't want to have a baby." Melissa's voice tears through the darkness and startles her sister. Dana turns around, causing the chair to squeak loudly, further disturbing the quiet like a warning signal. She can't see Melissa in the yellowish light her desk lamp provides. Her sister is bathed in darkness instead, hidden in the shadows.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh you know… things."

"Very random things, Melissa. Why are you even thinking about babies? You should be thinking about college or finding work." All Dana is thinking about these days is college. Doing well. Becoming a medical doctor. She's trying to get a glimpse of her older sister sitting there on the bed, but all she sees, or thinks she sees, is a silhouette. Her long hair falls into her face and she brushes it away quickly, almost angrily. She needs to get it cut and soon. It's not practical and Dana is practical – or wants to be anyway. Long, wavy hair is for girls who spent their days at the beach. Dana is no longer that girl.

"A career is not the most important thing in the world." The sheets rustle and Melissa comes into sight. She smiles secretively and leans over Dana's shoulder to look at her homework. Who does homework on a Friday night? She shakes her head gently in disbelief before she sits back down on the bed again. Melissa's hair is long and unruly. Dana used to be so jealous of her soft curls. Melissa has never tried to tame them and only ever laughed at their mother when she suggested a different hair cut. Dana touches her own hair now. She's going to miss it, she thinks, wearing it short.

"You need to earn money, Melissa," Dana flinches; sometimes she sounds just like their parents, "before you can even start a family."

"That's just it, though. I don't want that. I just want to see the world. You know?" The two sisters stare at each other. Once or twice an aunt will mix them up at a family gathering and they both end up giggling. Dana loves her sister fiercely; these months without her while Melissa was out travelling, doing her thing (throwing her life away, their father has grumbled once), have been hard. Just having her here now, even when Dana can't keep away from studying, feels right. But sometimes, times like right now, Dana is not sure she understands her sister; wonders if they grew up in the same household with the same parents.

"You can still change your mind. You don't have to do what mom did and have babies this young." Melissa smiles at something only she can see. Dana feels like she should turn around and try to figure out what exactly it is her sister is looking at.

"I don't want to have a baby, Dana." There's determination in her voice and Dana startles; she gets it now. Her heart starts beating faster as her homework is forgotten for the moment. This is real life, she realizes; not numbers, not some theory she can pick apart. Her sister is confiding something real even if she's not saying the words.

"Oh my god, Melissa…" she whispers. She doesn't know what else to say or do right now. She's heard about girls who got into trouble; that's how the adults would always put it. Got into trouble. Her sister nods as if to confirm it. She puts her legs under her and for a moment Dana wonders what her sister would look like pregnant. She'd be an aunt. The thought seems foreign to her still. They're both just so young.

"I'm so proud of you, Dana. For doing what you do. Going to college and doing exactly what you want to do. Don't let mom or dad ever push you, all right?" Dana is frozen in place; she can't move, can barely think. She has so many questions for her sister and yet she can't ask any of them. Not now. Not in her childhood room, not in the house where their parents sleep.

"Forget I said anything, Dana."

"I can't, Melissa. This is… this is… have you talked to anyone? Maybe there's a different way? What about the… you know?" Melissa shoots her one of her 'oh Dana' looks before she puts on a bright smile. Her sister, the enigma.

"It was a fling, Dana. Never more. It's all taken care of. I don't want a baby. Now or possibly ever. It's not something I can just talk about over breakfast with mom and dad."

"But…"

"You on the other hand," Melissa sighs, getting up; Dana knows she is going to leave now. Not to her own bedroom, but somewhere. Melissa always goes somewhere. "You're going to be a great mother one day. A wonderful doctor and an even better mother. Trust me, Dana. I know it." And she's just gone.

Scully wakes with a gasp. She needs a moment to remember where she is; she's not in her home, not in her bed. No, she is in Home, Pennsylvania, in a hotel room. She takes a few deep breaths, relaxes again. A glance at her watch tells it's shortly after midnight. Scully rubs her eyes but the images of Melissa on that night remain with her. She hasn't thought about it in ages. Pushed it from her mind like so many things. They never talked about it again; Scully immersing herself in her studies and Melissa, like she'd planned, travelling the world. Now, though, she thinks about it with a heavy heart. Melissa hadn't wanted a child back then. A child, Scully realizes, that would now be an orphan.

She knows she won't be able to fall back asleep. Mulder. The thought of him pushes forward in her brain. At least he knows what it's like to wake from nightmares. As she gets up, reality and dream merge together: Melissa telling her she'll be a wonderful mother, Mulder with his intense glare telling her he's never seen her as one before. Him mockingly calling her mom. A noise on the other side of the wall tells her that Mulder is still awake just like she suspected. She puts a shirt over her tank top and runs her hands through her hair, unnecessarily as it's only Mulder, before she goes to his room, knocks quietly. There is some shuffling and then Mulder opens the door. Unlike her, he apparently didn't think about putting on a shirt. He raises his eyebrows at her, obviously surprised she's still awake.

"Did I keep you up, Scully? I'm sorry, I was just watching this documentary – it's the only station I could make work. I'll turn it down."

"No, Mulder. I couldn't – I just woke up," he stares at her trying to figure out if she's telling the truth, "I had a – can I come in?" Now he's even more surprised but he steps away to let her in. True to his word, there is a documentary flickering on the screen. Scully doesn't pay much attention to it, doesn't care. There is something on her mind, it seems, and she'll never sleep if she doesn't talk about it.

"Too quiet for you to sleep here?" Mulder chuckles at his own bad joke. He still doesn't think about putting on a shirt. Of course Scully has seen his naked chest plenty of times (she's seen much more than just his naked chest), but right now it adds to her anxiety.

"I slept just fine, actually," she replies feeling weary; Mulder tends to plant himself on every piece of furniture whether it's in her hotel rooms or her home. This time she decides to do the same and she sits on the unused side of his bed while he watches her from across the room.

"I had a bad dream." Scully finally admits. "Or maybe not a bad one just… it woke me up." He nods, understanding. Slowly, as if expecting her to stop him, he walks over to his bed and glances at her, still waiting for her to tell him to sit somewhere else, and when she remains quiet, sits down himself.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks without looking into her direction.

"No." Scully immediately answers. She doesn't want to talk about Melissa, or babies. I never saw you as a mother before, he said earlier. The words ring in her ears unwanted. She wonders how he does see her. As a partner. His colleague. His friend, most likely. Does he even see her as a woman? She chances a glance over at him; he's chewing on sunflower seeds, his eyes directed at the screen, but she is absolutely certain that his mind is somewhere else. She runs her hand through her hair again and she sighs. Her hair is short, it's practical; just like she'd planned it years and years ago in college.

"You can watch this thing with me," Mulder tells her, "I swear it has no mutants, aliens or even babies." So much for not thinking about those.

"Mulder?"

"Hm?" But he's still not looking at her.

"Could you really live in a place like this?" His head turns to her and he doesn't even need to think about his answer.

"Yeah," there is no mockery inside his voice, nothing to indicate he's not truthful, "I'd love to live in a place like this. If things were… different." His sister, she thinks. If he didn't have to look for his sister, he'd move to some one-horse town in the middle of nowhere.

"You wouldn't live here alone." It's not a question. Scully tries to picture a tall brunette business woman living in a place like this. She can't. Then again, she can't really imagine Mulder living here either. Without his suits, without a cell phone; just an average man. Mulder might be many things, but average is not one of them.

"I guess not." Is all he says, putting another sunflower seed into his mouth and cracking it loudly.

"You'd have a wife, children and a dog. A normal life." Again, not a question. Scully knows she should stop; realizes it when he slowly turns to her, his expression unreadable.

"Isn't that what everyone wants? A normal life. Where would you live, Scully? If you didn't have to put up with your spooky partner."

"I like my life, Mulder. I like living where I live." It's the truth, she realizes, even if she's never pictured herself living in a city. She used to think she'd move to the suburbs, live the picket fence dream with 2.5 children and a husband, a cat and a dog. You're going to be a great mother one day, Melissa had told her. Dana had believed her; Scully on the other hand wasn't sure her life was still set on that path. Or if she still wanted it. The thought tugged at something deep inside of her. Just like a small child might tug at her hand demanding her attention.

"You wouldn't want to live in a place like this and raise your Über-Scullys? You want to raise them in the city?"

"I haven't exactly put much thought into where I would want to raise my hypothetical children, Mulder." It's a lie, but Mulder nods anyway.

"You should think about it, Scully." He tells her, his eyes dark and intense. Scully can't look away. It's as if he's trying to make her see something, but she feels blind. Or blinded by him.

"Think about where I want to raise children I may never have?" Mulder nods again.

"You'll have them," he says decidedly, "I know you will." Scully thinks she detects sadness in his voice. She doesn't understand why.

"I thought you didn't see me as a mother." He smiles; not at her, no, at the screen. The smile, though, it reminds her of Melissa. Seeing things she herself can't.

"Mulder." She says, hoping he'll look at her; he doesn't. She touches his hand that's next to her on the bed. He's warm, feels solid. He tilts his head and blinks at her.

"I try not to see you as a lot of things, Scully." His voice is gentle, his smile exhausted and shy. "But you're going to be a wonderful mother one day." He adds, nodding to himself. The same words. The same words Melissa used.

"Why, Mulder?" She whispers; he can't know what Melissa said back then. He doesn't know about the baby that never was. The words escape her without her consent. Mulder shrugs next to her, unaware of the emotional turmoil inside of her.

"You're my partner, Scully." She waits for him to continue and when he doesn't she decides to let it go. It's enough for tonight. She yawns and Mulder grins at her; for a split second her mind plays a trick on her. She sees a small boy with that same grin, the same set of lips, the strong chin. He's calling out for her, yelling mommy and squeaking happily, while Mulder is chasing after him, their joint laughter a heavenly sound.

"What is this documentary anyway, Mulder?" Scully tears herself away from the image, makes the mental bubble pop; she's got to be practical now, get some sleep. She snuggles deeper into the bed, ignoring the fact that this is Mulder's hotel room, and closes her eyes tentatively.  

"Oh, it's about cacti. Did you know that some cacti can live up to 300 years?"

"Hm. Tell me more about cacti." Scully mumbles. She knows she should go back to her own room, sleep in her own bed, but it's too comfortable here. The steady hum of the TV, Mulder's beautiful voice and his warmth right next to her. They don't need to lock the door here, not when Mulder is by her side; there's no need to be scared of anything. You're going to be a great mother, the voice now a blend of Mulder's and Melissa's. A smile appears on Scully's face as she listens to the soft rumble of Mulder's voice.

Her last thought before sleep overwhelms her is how she should have told Mulder that he's going to be a great father, too. One day.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Hunger - chapter 23

Hunger master post

By the afternoon, the McCalls’ house is full of FBI agents, because apparently Gerard Argent was in the drug trade and Sheriff Haigh was involved, and absolutely nothing happened that has anything to do with werewolves. Rafael McCall suggests to his colleagues that Gerard at one time was operating out of the old bunker in the Preserve, and that one of the Hale kids must have seen something. And just like that the motive for the fire is neatly explained away.

Stiles worries about the fact that the investigation is going to turn up a distinct lack of drugs, but Chris seems to think that a search of his father’s properties will uncover enough money and weapons that the drug angle will be the only one that will play. Because the alternative? The alternative is werewolves, and nobody is going to go for that.

 Stiles worries that Haigh and the surviving hunters won’t go along with it, despite Derek’s threats.

“How can you be sure?” he asked Chris Argent on the way back to the house from the woods, when Rafael McCall and Jordan Parrish were making arrests and calling in outside backup from the scene.

“Because they’re going to prison anyway, and they’ll want to do their time in general population, not the psych ward,” Chris told him. His mouth quirked in the first smile Stiles thought he’d seen from him, and it was bitter. “Because the reason we’ve been able to fight this war in secret for centuries is that nobody would believe the truth anyway. And they know they’re better off in prison that dealing with the fallout from breaking the code.”

And Stiles had shuddered, because the thought of prison is one that never fails to make him feel sick to the stomach.

His dad…

Back at the house, Stiles gets a shower and Melissa makes pancakes. She forces Allison and Scott and Stiles to sit on the couch and refuses to let them move. Stiles fidgets and worries about Derek and Peter. Chris said something about taking them to a hotel to keep them out of the way.

They’re keeping their story simple.

Stiles came back to Beacon Hills because he was unhappy in care, and it was his home. Kate recognized him, leapt to the paranoid assumption he knew something about her involvement in his dad’s set up, and kidnapped him from Parrish’s custody. Parrish, who somehow managed to escape his burning cruiser, approached Chris Argent to question him about Kate’s whereabouts, and he nominated the bunker in the woods. Parrish called in a friend of a friend, Agent McCall.

Everything else happened pretty much the way it did.

Except for werewolves.

Except for Scott and Melissa and Allison.

They’re keeping it simple.

Stiles wishes he could say he feels uncomfortable about the idea of law enforcement officers lying under oath—given the whole Haigh thing—but it turns out his sense of morality isn’t so black and white. Stiles couldn’t be happier that Agent McCall and Deputy Parrish are lying through their teeth. The means really do justify the ends. But also, motive matters. McCall and Parrish aren’t framing an innocent man.

Stiles discovers he can live with that.

 ***

 Stiles’s lawyer is called David Whittemore. He reminds the agents that Stiles is traumatized and in shock, and produces an emergency placement order that says Stiles can stay with Melissa McCall. He pretends he doesn’t notice when Stiles cries.

 ***

 “Are you going to get my dad out?” Stiles asks Agent Kim after they go through what happened. Again. Stiles is tired and every time he blinks he sees Gerard Argent’s skull explode behind him as the bullet exits, but he’s a good liar. Always has been. The trick to lying is not to add any extra embellishments that might trip him up later. And the trick to dealing with police and other law enforcement is to just let the silences go. They’re trained to leave gaps, pauses, like lacunas in an orchestral piece, laden with anticipation. Stiles knows better than to try to fill those silences they’ve left. It’s human nature to want to talk, to mistake a friendly interrogation for a conversation and keep the rhythm going.

Stiles knows better.

He jiggles his legs and chews his nails and tells Agent Kim and David Whittemore how long it’s been since he had Adderall.

It’s just hard to sit back and do nothing knowing that his dad is still in prison.

“When can my dad come home?” he asks.

Agent Kim looks grave and serious. “There’s a process, Stiles. These things take time. You—”

“No, listen,” Stiles says. “My dad is a cop, who is in prison. You think about that. Please. Please just think about that. He needs to come home. He needs to be safe.”

This is supposed to be the end of the story. This is supposed to be the easy part. Stiles has faced the bad guys. He’s fought the fight. It’s ridiculous that the thing keeping them apart now is petty bureaucracy. That’s not fair. That’s not right.

“I want my dad,” he says, and stares at his knees so he doesn’t start crying again. “I just want my dad.”

“We’re done here,” Mr. Whittemore says. “Stiles isn’t answering any more questions today.”

Stiles flees downstairs to the basement.

 ***

 Stiles is curled up into a ball underneath the comforter when he hears footsteps on the basement stairs. It’s late afternoon and getting comfortably gloomy in the basement. The little windows don’t let in a lot of sunlight, but Stiles can’t be bothered get up and turn a light on.

He wants his dad. The ache of it is impossibly sharp now that it’s so close. He’s terrified that something will happen and it will be torn away from him at the last minute. He hates that he’s too afraid, even now, to believe in a happy ending. That he’d rather be this person, cynical and pessimistic and bitter, than to nurture fragile hope into faith in case the universe destroys it.

Once upon a time he had faith his mom would get better.

Once upon a time he had faith no court would convict an innocent man.

Faith and Stiles parted ways a long time ago.

Footsteps tread slowly down the stairs, and a moment later weight dips the mattress.

“Remember how I asked you if sometimes it would be okay if I did the mom stuff for you?” Melissa asks quietly.

Stiles nods, the comforter still pulled up to his chin.

“I think this might be one of those times, huh?” Melissa puts her hand on his back, and rubs small circles there.

Stiles squeezes his stinging eyes shut.

“I know this is hard for you right now,” Melissa says. “You haven’t been able to rely on the adults in your life for the past four years, and now here they are telling you to sit back and wait. Why the hell should you listen to anything we tell you, right?”

Stiles hugs his aching stomach, and manages a nod.

“All I can tell you is we have to get this part right, Stiles,” Melissa says, still rubbing those comforting circles into his back.

It reminds him of what his mom and dad did for him when he was little and sick. What his dad did after she was gone. He’s missed simple touch like this.

Melissa exhales slowly. “We have to trust that Rafa and Jordan know what they’re doing here, because this is their territory now, okay? This is what they do.” She pauses for a moment, her hand against the knot in the top of his spine. “Well, I hope they don’t usually lie and cover things up, but you get my point.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Stiles’s mouth despite himself. He opens his eyes and stares into the gloom. He can’t bring himself to turn and look at Melissa.

“I’m scared,” he says at last.

“I know,” she says. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared too, and today? Stiles, when you boys got out of the car, I thought my heart was going to give out.” She draws a shaking breath. “I have never been more terrified in my life than when I thought you were going to get hurt.”

“You were a total badass today.”

“And so were you,” Melissa tells him. “Being scared doesn’t mean you can’t be brave at the same time.”

“I don’t feel brave.”

“But you are,” she says. “You’ve one of the bravest people I know.”

Stiles scrubs at his damp cheeks with the ball of his hand.

“I know it’s not easy, Stiles, but you’re almost there, okay?” She brushes her hand over his hair. “And you’re not alone anymore.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Okay.

 ***

 Stiles can’t sleep that night. It’s late when he hears the basement door open and then the click of claws on the steps. A moment later the springs of the foldout couch squeal as a heavy weight lands on them, and then there’s a huff of hot breath on Stiles’s face as a wolf settles down beside him.

“It’s really dark,” Stiles murmurs. “You’d better be Derek.”

The wolf chuffs.

Stiles rolls onto his side and throws an arm over the wolf’s shoulders. He presses his face against the fur of the wolf’s ruff and inhales. Derek rumbles underneath him.

“You can change back if you want,” Stiles whispers to him.

The wolf stretches, his weight shifts, and Stiles’s hand is suddenly resting on the smooth skin of Derek’s hip. It should feel more uncomfortable than it does.

“I’ll bet your hotel is nicer than this.”

“You’re not there,” Derek says, his voice low. He rolls over to that he’s facing Stiles.

Stiles’s hand finds its way to his hip again. And maybe it’s the fact that its dark now and he doesn’t have to see, but it’s very easy to move his hand back and forth, to rub more warmth into Derek’s skin without it being weird. Well, too weird. He touches Derek all the time when Derek is in wolf form. Skin-to-skin makes him feel a little breathless though.

“Can I scent you?” Derek asks. “Like this?”

In his human form.

Stiles suppresses a shiver. “Okay.”

Derek surges closer, closing the scant distance between them. He presses his cheek gently to Stiles’s, and Stiles closes his eyes at the scrape of Derek’s stubble. Then Derek’s nose is nudging his jaw up, and it’s such a familiar gesture—such a wolf gesture—that Stiles smiles as he tilts his head. Back in the alley, back when Stiles thought he had a really cool big dog, this is how Derek built their closeness. With a curious nose and a lack of understanding about personal space. Not that Stiles had wanted personal space. He’d needed someone to lean against, to curl up with, to hold, and that’s exactly what Derek had given him, and more.

Stiles reaches up and drags his fingers through Derek’s hair. It’s soft, and smells of whatever shampoo his hotel room provided him with. It’s okay. It’s not too weird. Derek is still outside the comforter, and Stiles is underneath. That’s several layers of fabric plus Stiles’s pajamas keeping this situation G-rated.

“Are you going to stay?” Stiles whispers.

Derek drags his nose up Stiles’s throat. “Yes.”

Stiles closes his eyes and sighs. “I didn’t just mean tonight.”

Derek’s breath is hot against his skin. “I know.”

Stiles tilts his head back further, and tries not to think about how much he wants to roll onto his back and feel Derek’s weight on him. How it wouldn’t be just for comfort. But maybe he’d pretend it was, because he’s only known Derek’s human form for such a short time that it feels skeevy and shallow to take the feelings he has for Derek—safety and comfort and protection—and add sex to them.

He loves Derek.

That’s been true since the alley.

All the other stuff feels too complicated to unpack right now.

But he loves Derek, and he’s loved in return.

“Say it,” he whispers as he cards his fingers through Derek’s hair and Derek’s mouth settles over the pulse point in his throat.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers. “My Stiles.”

“My Derek,” Stiles whispers back, and holds him close.

[eyez-ff-blog]

○○ eyez | forty-six

“And...it’s done. I’m finished.”

Jermaine let out a harsh breath and he smiled widely as he looked around the quiet studio space. He had been recording the album all around the country—for the most part it was done in North Carolina, but with visits to both New York and Los Angeles, he was able to soak in different vibes from the locations he traveled to give him more pockets of inspiration. His last known recording location was in Miami, and now he had the ‘finished’ product of what would be his fifth studio album. He aptly named it ‘Sinner Reborn.’

The story was theoretically simple. It was pretty much the true tell-all of the journey that had dated back far before Eyez was even a true thought. It was mindless and constant thoughts of a love he never imagined to obtain. As he had once spoke about falling in love for the first time, he was now telling stories about falling from the graces of love’s clutches, wondering if he was good enough for a second chance. He found the second chance within his new and who would be his last wife, and in his first in what he hoped would be a slew of children. He and Beija’s story didn’t have enough words for him to tell it how he truly wanted to, but he tried his hardest. He guessed that’s why he used a sampling of the interlude from Beyoncé’s first album.

“Yesterday I tried to paint you, but the colors weren’t beautiful enough,” She said. And Jermaine couldn’t relate more.

The sixteen-track album was a colorful journey from the moment he laid eyes on the object of his endless affection and the following summer that would serve to change his life. He rapped about tour life, and the first night she ever held his hands in hers...even now, as he played the tracks back, he wondered if Beija could feel them tremble. He talked about the first time they argued, and the anger and longing that consumed him. He remembered that time so vividly. He had never seen Beija so upset, and within that anger came a tongue so sharp that the cuts seemed only to heal with her help. He couldn’t understand how in that moment, he hated and wanted someone so much. The bittersweet dedications to Melissa and the memory of their marriage gave way to some darker material—the mood that seemed self-condemning and almost loathing. But as he came to terms with being in love again and wanting t find ways to earn that right to embrace that love came in the form of jointed punchlines and flows that he pulled from every corner of his soul. He had never heard himself be so honest, even though had done so on many of occasion. It just felt different now. He ended the album with the introduction of his daughter, and finally forgiving himself for his transgressions. The ‘victory lap’ of a final track brought upon the perfect feeling of redemption.

The man found himself in tears as he listened to it play back. It was emotional punch after punch to his gut, the memories of his lover being nearly too much to carry. He couldn’t believe how far they had come, and now it’d be immortalized. If—heaven forbid—he ever lost one of the most important women in his life, at least he’d have this. He shipped the album off for it to be mastered, and he stood up from his chair before quietly packing away his things. He left without telling anyone he was gone; he allowed them to sleep. They deserved it for a job well done.

His first stop was the nearest Krispy Kreme donut shop, who had just flicked on their light—he got two donuts and a strawberry milk before he retreated back to his hotel, beating the sun by some mere minutes. He made the short trip up to his hotel room before he downed his breakfast and packed what he needed to so he’d be ready to return home that evening. He yawned softly as he felt the phone vibrate, and he rubbed the side of his face as he saw the missed call from Beija. Instead of listening to the message she left, he called her back instead. He laid down across the bed as he shut off the light, kicking off his sneakers as he heard the line connect.

“Good morning,” Beija sounded a bit tired when she picked up the phone. “You must have just gotten back to the hotel.”

“I did,” He mumbled before he slowly lifted his body up so he could properly get into bed. He’d flal asleep jus tlike he laid if he didn’t move, and that would only cause aches for him to endure later. “Finished the album and sent it off. Now it’s time for the waiting game,” He said.

“I can’t wait,” She yawned, and he could hear Niya whining in the background. “I know, baby. Just lay right here...” Beija tiredly mumbled.

“You guys haven’t slept or something?” He asked.

“Barely. Babygirl’s not feeling too well. I think something in the air’s giving her the blues,” Beija mumbled. “I set up a doctor’s appointment for this afternoon, so we’ll have to see. You coming home tonight?” She asked.

“Yeah. My flight’s at eight so I should be home by at least 11 or midnight tomorrow,” He yawned softly. “You missed me?”

“I did, actually,” She said softly. “You went into like, full work mode. I haven’t seen that in a while—and you being gone for like a month wasn’t easy. FaceTime calls can only sate me for so long,” He heard her shifting her body as she spoke, and she yawned soon after.

J broke into a brief chuckle before he closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re spoiled, B. But I miss you. I’ll be hone soon...but you know since I didn’t have a tour for Eyez, I’m going to have one this time,” He explained. “I’m telling you in advance to give you a chance to think about what you wanna do about that. I mean, Niya’s not too old that she can’t come with us,” He explained.

“That’s true. I’ll have to think it over,” She mumbled before she yawned. “But get some sleep, champ. The hard parts over, and you deserve some rest.”

“I’m damn near sleep right now,” He yawned once more before he paused, letting out a deep exhale. “I love you, Beija,” He mumbled.

“I love you more. I’ll see you tonight.”

He hung up the phone afterwards and once he placed the proper alarm on, he placed it onto his charger before he slid deeper beneath the sheets. As soon as he closed his eyes, he felt himself succumb to a slumber his body had been asking for since he had gone into his final creative blitz. He had earned it wholeheartedly.

September 7, 2018

“Baby, come on! I finally got it downloaded,” J heard Beija’s voice, and he glanced over his shoulder before he yawned, grabbing the two bowls filled with cereal—Lucky Charms for himself, and Special K with Red Berries for Beija. He reached the dining room and sat down across from her, sitting the bowl in front of her as she fed Janiya. Once he got comfortable, Beija passed him her laptop, and he pressed play on her iTunes application, allowing his album to play.

As they had done the last time, they went through some of the album’s songs to allow his girls to have a first listen to the album in full. Of course, there were a couple tracks he’d have to play for Beija later when Niya went off to sleep, but he was overall proud of how things came together. He was extremely satisfied with what he had come up with.

“Okay, so even without the...grown-up tracks,” Beija raised her eyebrows slowly as J laughed. “That was so good! I’m...kind of speechless. It’s so honest,” She said before running a hand over the top of Niya’s head.

“Yeah—I just started writing and I couldn’t stop. Then well, here we are,” He smiled slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck slowly. “Do you really like it, baby? I know some of the tracks were touchy,” There were two tracks he was sure she had questions about—‘Forever Boy,’ a dedicatory song to her brother Rashaad and ‘Safe Space,’ his collaborative effort with Courtney that touched on Beija’s depression and the night of her suicide attempt.

“Oh no, I loved it. I just didn’t know you felt like that. It was kind of interesting to see your perspective,” Beija bit into her lip before she looked over at Niya. “I just wished you had told me everything you felt at the time, you know what I mean?” She said softly. “But Forever Boy was a perfect song. When daddy texted me and told me it was his favorite track, I was a bit curious about it,” She said, and he nodded.

“I’m glad he liked it. But I know I could tell you more than I do. It’s just hard to articulate sometimes. I guess I let the music speak for me,” He explained, and he watched her as she shifted in her seat. “You understand...right?” His voice seemed to soften, and he watched as she nodded.

“I understand, J. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to know,” She shrugged a bit before she tilted her head. “I do love this, though. I’m still not used to you writing songs about me,” She said with a small laugh. “Remember when you played Déjà Vu for me for the first time? I still blush when I hear it,” She smiled a bit as her thoughtful expression spread across her face.

“Do you, really? That seems so long ago,” He laughed to himself.

“It was a while ago, yes. But I remember because that same day, you took me into my arms and kissed me. There are many moments that you put me in my feelings but that day...hmph,” She shook her head, and a confident smirk crossed his face.

“What happened that day?”

“You know what happened, Jermaine.”

“And how did it make you feel?”

“I’ll tell you later. Stop being worrisome right now.”

Jermaine couldn’t help but to laugh as he stood up, grabbing the now empty bowls that sat on the table. “Mama’s being so mean right now,” He mumbled before kissing Niya’s forehead, heading towards the kitchen to wash the bowls out.

The rest of the day went as normal as a day could go after releasing an album. Calls and texts were sprinkled throughout the day as friends, family, and colleagues congratulated Jermaine on a job well done. It wasn’t until the closing of the day that J got the call that would send him into a pensive spiral. He had just exited the shower as he heard Beija and Janiya in the nursery—he assumed she was laying the girl down for bed. He walked over to the dresser and slid on some boxers and basketball shorts before he walked over to the bed and slid into it. Yawning slightly, he grabbed his phone before he checked some of the notifications that he had missed while he was in the shower. An abundance of love from his fans made him feel the best he had felt all day. Sure, it was a wonderful thing that everyone in his life enjoyed the new body of work, but his fans had now seen him at his very core, and he was absolutely terrified of what they would think. But they seemed to have really received it well, and he decided to give one of his rare tweets to speak upon it:

“The most personal album of my life. Thank you all for the love,” He sent off the text quickly before he went t check his missed calls. He saw that Ibrahim had called him, so he decided to call him back. He waited until he heard the line connect before he spoke. “Bro.”

“Man,” Ib’s voice seemed to hold so much excitement. “J, I’m listening to this shit for a third time and I’ve got to say—you are a piece of work. Just when I think you can’t amaze me more,” He laughed. “Congratulations, man. Well done,” He complimented.

“Thank you, thank you. How’s my sister?” J asked as he saw Beija enter the bedroom, watching as she crawled into the bed next to him.

“We’re six months and counting—expect a baby shower invite within the next month or two,” Ib paused before he began to speak once more. “And I’m not sure if B told you already, but it’s twins, J. Two girls,” He announced.

“What?! Yo,” Jermaine grinned before he patted his free hand against his thigh in excitement. “Congratulations! I know Nicole is happy about that,” He assumed.

“She cried, then she badgered me about finishing up this baby room in the house,” Ib huffed softly before he laughed to himself. “I’m about to be ran by three women. How do you deal?” He asked with a joking laugh.

“I can’t tell you that. I’m still trying to find that out. But you were trying to call me, right? Was it just to tell me about the twins?” He asked.

“Well, that and the fact that I’ve made an executive decision,” Ibrahim began.

“I don’t like when you make those type of decisions. What is it?” J raised an eyebrow.

“I’m submitting you into the Grammys,” He said, and J let out a groan. “I know. I know how you feel but man, hear me out—I just have a good feeling about this shit. I’m thinking we send in for Rap album, and for Rap/Sung collaboration for Safe Space. You and Court did so well on that, and I’ve heard it a lot on the radio today,” He said, and J’s face softened with curiosity.

“Wait...seriously? It’s on the radio?” He asked softly. “Wow...man, I still don’t know though. You know I don’t really try to do that type of shit,” He explained.

“I feel you—trust me, I do. But I feel like this is the one. As your manager and as your friend, I feel like this deserves a chance. Give yourself another chance, Jermaine. You’ve been having a good streak of second chances. You never know what would happen with this,” Ib insisted.

“Ah...you know what, fuck it. Send it on in,” Jermaine nodded as he rested against the pillows on the bed. “Why not try?”

“That’s what I like to hear! I’m gonna keep my ears open for the date we have to send it in, and I’ll get that going for you. No matter what happens, though...you win, J. You’ve won in every way to me,” He said, and J smirked slightly.

“So have you, man. We got a lot to be proud of,” He said. “But go ahead and go check on my sis. I’ll talk to you later.”

“A’ight. Later.”

Jermaine hung up the phone before putting it on his charger, glancing over at Beija before pulling her into his lap. “You know Nicole having twin girls? That’s crazy,” He commented.

“She had texted me not too long ago about it,” She ran a hand over the top of his head before she rested her body against his. “She asked me if I’d help her with the baby shower, so that’ll be fun,” She said.

“Yeah. Then Ib said he’s going to submit Reborn to the Grammy’s,” He said, and she nodded quickly.

“As he should. I think you should go for it,” Beija’s hand moved from his hair down to his chest, and he relaxed as she gently ran her fingers across his bare skin. “It seems like everyone really loves the album, and I think you should submit it. You never know what could happen,” She said as she looked up at him, smiling a small bit.

“You think so, too? Hm...I just can’t deal with all them fake ass niggas up there. You know how this industry can be,” He said as he let out a sigh.

“I know. That’s why I decided to come work with you, remember? Because I saw that you were different. If you go to the Grammys...it’d make a statement. A huge one. Even if it doesn’t go your way, you will have made a point. And you know I’m gonna stand by you regardless,” She kissed his shoulder, and he bit his lip as he watched her subdued and soft movements. She seemed to be more than affectionate. “Baby...I wanted to talk to you...”

“About what?” There it was. She was buttering him up for something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was yet.

“I decided,” The words were simple, but he knew what it meant. “...I want to do it,” She said, and he raised his eyebrows before he licked over his lips quickly.

“You for real?” He asked, and she nodded. “What made you change your mind?” He wrapped an arm around her waist.

“I realized that I just...can’t control what happens. I tried reading about it. I tried praying about it...I’m still very terrified of what could happen. But...I trust myself. And I know I have you to help me,” He nodded as he kissed her cheek, closing his eyes as he kept himself close to her. “We’ll be okay, right?” She mumbled.

“Yeah. We’re gonna be okay...” J kissed all over her face, laughing softly as he heard her giggles and feeble attempts to push him away. He pulled back after a couple of moments, staring down at her as she moved to straddle his lap.

“So...can we start practicing...?” She mumbled shyly, and Jermaine let out a soft laugh as his hands pressed against her thighs.

“Do you even have to ask?” He shook his head before he was bombarded with her passionate kiss, his arms securely wrapping around her body.