#Or can he even put together a simple sentence? One with four words max

[zoomzooml]

You know, as much as I doubt that wild dragons would do it, I think that in the case of those living with humans, those with sufficient vocal capabilities could try to imitate human speech.

And be a hunter and be brave when the dragon you are supposed to guard makes noises all the time and only after a while you realize that they sound like human words.

It must seem to you, but are you sure? In fact, this place is a little uncomfortable, will move the chair closer to the exit. Yeah, that's a fine idea

[ilcaeryx]

Cultist [Sukuna/Reader] - NSFW

Summary: You have one god on this earth.

Tags: Sukuna/Reader, NSFW, Smut, Humor, Size kink, Cock Warming, Body Worship,

Words: Cirka 2k

Author’s Note: What’s up, sluts? I’m back. This is NSFW, so beware.

---

Sukuna did regularly mention that domination and conquest were his pastime hobbies and you would tentatively add that he adhered to them with slave-like zealotry. Whenever he insulted Itadori Yuji by calling him simple-minded, your heart ached with the desire to tell him that he was not any greater regarding his obsessions with strength. However, your self-preservation kept you alive, since a bitch that talks back to Sukuna is a bitch that gets their head separated from their body, after all.

Having sex with Sukuna is somehow leagues safer than speaking to him, you thought, gaze surveying how the apex of his back muscles cast shades upon the trenches of his spine. Inhalation, the shadows grew and deepened. Exhalation, the light re-conquered its territory. You suspected he never slept, even though he physically seemed in deep slumber. His arms were splayed on his pillow, face turned away from you.

You had self-preservation to save your ass 99 percent of the time – this time was probably that one percent where he would snap.

“Sukuna,” you called out, very lightly stroking his biceps with your nails. No answer, but his arm muscles flexed subtly as he moved his arm.  “I want my side of the bed back. I can’t sleep on this side.”

You let out a shriek when his hand shot out at you, palm plastered over your lips. The sharp edge of his index nail hovered uncomfortably close to your eye, the thumb nail piercing your cheek. Out of reflex, your dug your fingertips into his upper arm and attempted to pull away from his show of force.

Sukuna turned his head to face you. His eyes glared with disinterest, though his grasp weakened slightly.

“You’ve been plenty loud during the night; why must you continue now?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks together to allow you to speak.

“I’ve slept like three hours max,” you said, ignoring his question.

“That is not my problem.” He let go of your face to return to his original position. “Go find somewhere else to sleep and I shall wake you whenever I have need of you.”

What an absolute dickhead. This was your bed, not his domination playground.

You released him and patted your face with your fingers carefully. There were no stinging scratches left behind, which was good considering his reasoning that if ‘you weren’t bleeding out, you didn’t need help’ would leave you with annoying scabs everywhere. Why you were even fucking this guy was beyond you, honestly. This was one of the top 3 worst life choices you had ever made.

You slid towards him beneath the covers and supported your upper body with your ribcage on his lower back and elbows on his upper back. His body heat intermingling with yours gave you a dull ache, from behind your breastbone flowing into a tidepool in the pit of your stomach. After pushing your hair to one side of your neck, you lowered yourself onto him. Your lips wet and breath hot across his skin, you blew softly before planting a kiss below his shoulder blade. Had it been another person under you, you would have had the gratification of seeing goosebumps forming across the area.

“Sukuna…” you said, barely audible between his skin and your lips.

The King of Curses arose from his relaxed position. “Did you not listen or are you an idiot?”

“Bit of both, to be perfectly honest.” You pinched a tuft of his hair strands between two fingers, pulling gently. “You don’t need to do anything – I just want your attention.”

He issued you a warning glare, daring you to pull some weird shit on him.

You shrugged one of your shoulders and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s not like I can hurt you, right? I don’t have sharp claws.” To testify, you released his hair, buried your nails below his neck and dragged them down his back in one stroke. Four faint lines were left behind, a stylistic contrast to his dark markings. “I don’t have superhuman strength or speed.” You felt the muscular ridges above his ribs, your fingers travelling up and down each rib. “At my worst, I’m just very obnoxious.”

“How self-aware,” he mocked and laughed half-heartedly. He seemed to enjoy your tiny monologue, judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows. “Continue.”

His approval increased your confidence. While you scoured your brain for whatever concept that might amuse or interest him, you broke eye contact and directed your thumb to pad the black line running along his back. You followed it up to the crest of his shoulders and pulled yourself up over his torso. A low growl hummed beneath you, indicating that perhaps you were pushing your luck. When you brought your left hand down his chest the sound reverberated through your being, reminding you that you were not the apex predator in here. His eagerness showed as he willingly moved his hand into your range when you struggled to reach it.

“Look,” you said, just as eager to sate his curiosity, “at the difference.”

With his attention on your hand enveloping his, you settled your head on his shoulder, finally eye to eye with the King of Curses. You shifted so that your palms met. Even when ignoring his nails, his long fingers and thick wrist eclipsed yours. Finger pads with rough callouses created in combat, the evidence of a reign of lasting a millennium. You could feel the wisdom beneath your soft pads; you could’ve devoted your entire life to warfare and your hands would still not understand it the way his do.

“You know, I never used to consider myself a small person,” you lied, your voice perfectly stable, “but now I am not so sure anymore. It is quite overwhelming.”

Sukuna’s head tilted towards yours, almost tenderly grazing his cheek against your jawline. The movement gave you shivers, causing your toes to curl. You had no option but trusting his self-control when he dove below your jaw and put his lips to your neck. He sucked the flesh between his lips, occasionally tasting with his tongue.

You sighed, content for the brief attention you had earned. Sukuna’s heartbeat rate did not increase nor decrease beneath your hand, his chest just as firm. He detached from your neck, his saliva cooling down that particular spot. You were on the brink of complaining when the world swirled around and your back hit the mattress, your chest and stomach feeling the room’s chill without Sukuna’s body heat.

Sukuna was not playing around anymore; he aligned his forearms beside your face and blocked off whatever else existed outside with his mere presence, lips taut and eyes alert. He situated his torso on top of yours and separated your thighs with his knee. Not close enough to grind on.

“Tell me more,” he stared you down. “What does being completely outmatched feel like?”

You wondered if he meant how it physically felt or how the emotional part of being outmanned and outgunned felt like. Considering how his empathic ability was low-functioning to non-existing, you wanted to bet your money on a physical description… Yet, your tongue prepared to tell him about the terror and the uncertainty. It was not wise to divulge such details to Sukuna.

Scheherazade’s silver tongue might have saved her life a thousand and one times but not everyone’s talent was located in their mouth cavity. Like always, your hands bought you more time to think, to evaluate your words. You tentatively reached for his collarbones before changing your mind and guiding one hand to his lips. Perhaps he had meant to kiss your fingertips, perhaps he had yet another inquiry but his lower lip separated from his upper one and you cautiously pulled it downwards. A predator’s teeth greeted you.

“I can’t say it without sounding lame,” you said and crossed your arms across your chest. “Don’t laugh.”

Almost immediately, Sukuna leaned his weight on one forearm, allowing him to use the other to restrain your hand against the mattress. “I assure you,” he said, his eyes staring lazily at you, lids half-down, “you are not that funny.”

Suddenly, you wished Itadori Yuji would regain his consciousness to not have to deal with this asshole. Kind, encouraging Yuji would worship your existence. Perhaps you would eventually have learned to worship him in turn. ‘Learning’ being the key word, of course. You would fumble in the dark while attempting to appreciate him. This seemed like a good idea for about three seconds and then you returned to your occult god.

“I want to be inside you.” Sukuna, no longer interested in your thoughts, showed more interest in your body. He seldomly spoke of his wants, rousing your curiosity and – honestly – your arousal. The thigh between your leg shifted closer to your mound, touching your nether lips softly.

“You’re so demanding,” you complained, ending your sentence with a deep sigh. “You want me to be quiet, you want me to talk, you want to be inside me – will you ever be satisfied?”

You rolled your hips upwards in a slow movement, enjoying yourself as your lips parted against his flesh. It did not please you enough, so you continued to alleviate yourself.

“No.” His voice  was unusually quiet. His lower lip brushed yours as he spoke. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You moved your chin downwards, the movement nearly imperceptible for someone who was not expecting it.

“I agree… if it’ll keep you quiet,” he said, releasing your arm to steady himself above you.

And you did keep quiet. Although he remained stone-faced, Sukuna seemed attentive to the way you opened your mouth and frowned in frustration, his crimson gaze traversing across your face.

He angled his hips downwards, pressuring your clit as you ground against him. You had never been more thankful for the things he did than when he let you use his body as a tool to get off. Each upwards motion elected a pang of pleasure, a beach in ebb and flow.

You don’t know for how long he tolerated your grinding but your lower body ached and his thigh was slick with your fluid when he removed his leg from you, its absence pulsating throughout your stomach. Despite your fear that he would push you away, you grabbed onto his neck to heave yourself against him, anything to regain that comfort. The relief that accompanied the heartbeat after he brought you up with him to sit upright lightened your entire being. His hands felt excruciatingly hot, almost unbearably so, on your ribcage.

Although you felt ready for him, your grip on his neck remained hard as he lifted you up above his cock. Sukuna descended you slightly, his tip bulging at your entrance. You knew your limit and didn’t hesitate to sink onto him, a movement less gentle than you wished due to your legs being wrapped around his waist. Your breath was uneven, hitching up whenever you strained against him. Avoiding getting your insides impaled by a guy’s dick was surprisingly hard labour. Eventually you settled at his base, a sense of completion glowing off you.

There were no comforting touches or encouraging words from Sukuna, whose tranquil expression made him seem more like Yuji than himself. His eyes almost shut, jaw relaxed... This was the alternate universe version of Sukuna, a man who did not lust for domination and who would settle down with his loved ones for an eventless life. 

Hearing your dumb fantasies echo in your head, you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles until you saw stars. What idiocy. You had to cease these daydream scenarios or you’d be in deep shit in the future. You were an atrocious cultist.

---

I hope everyone enjoyed this. If you liked this, please give a comment/like/reblog. I listened to the Professor Tox remix of LOONA’s Girl Front and Ariana Grande’s Love Me Harder while writing this.

[hockey-fics]

2 from the kissing prompt list and 5 from the smutty prompt list with Crosby or Tito please!

This is 2 from the kissing prompt list with Crosby. I’ll add 5 with Tito to my list!

Prompt: Kiss in the middle of a fight

A/N: never used someone else’s gif before but huge thank you to the person who made that one, I know how much effort goes into making gifs 

Warnings: argument (obviously), language, and an age gap. 

Four years. 

Four years since your first date. 

When he took you for dinner at a restaurant that was way out of your budget and your comfort zone. Because you were barely 20, a college student living in a rundown apartment with bars on the window and three locks on the front door. And he was almost 30, making more money than you could even wrap your head around, living in an apartment on the side of town you only fantasized about living in. 

But as soon as you were with him that night all your worries subsided. And when you saw the drink menu, hesitating at the prices, Sidney made a casual comment to order whatever you wanted. And when you excused yourself to the bathroom towards the end of the night Sidney paid for the bill while you were gone, not even giving you the chance to have to worry about splitting it. He drove you home that night and parked his car, walking you to your door and waiting till you were securely in your apartment before leaving. 

You never would have admitted it then but you fell in love with him that night. 

But it wasn’t always easy. Because he was almost a full ten years older than you. You were at different points in your life. For the most part it wasn’t an issue, you were mature for your age and he was accepting of the fact that occasionally you did just want to go out and party with your friends. But there were comments, from your family, from his family, from your friends, hell, even the media seemed to have an opinion on your relationship. You saw the tweets, the Instagram comments. You tried your best to pretend you didn’t, but even though he tried to avoid it as much as he could he was in the spotlight and it was inevitable. 

You moved in together three years after you got together, you settled in with him easily. And in the beginning you thought maybe the flood of happiness you felt waking up every morning in a bed that the two of you shared would fade, but it didn’t. You figured at some point cooking dinner together in your kitchen would become routine, but every time he wrapped his arms around your waist while you were preparing dinner or he would step between your legs while you sat on the counter placing his large hands on your thighs, you were just as overcome with joy as the very first time. 

Your whole life you never believed in soulmates. People just found someone they clicked with and made it work. But when you met Sid all those thoughts changed. Because you never met anyone who made you feel the way he did, not a single friend or ex could compete with the overwhelming happiness and comfort that Sid brought you. 

When your family was having a reunion there wasn’t any hesitation in your mind over Sidney coming. Sure, you weren’t married, he wasn’t technically a part of the family. But it really only felt like a formality at this point, that piece of paper. 

So you and Sid packed a suitcase for the three nights you were going to be away, giddy with excitement at getting to introduce Sid to your entire family. He had met your close family on so many occasions, but it was the distant relatives, cousins you yourself had only met a few times, that could get to meet him now. 

Of course Sid splurged, getting a suite in one of the nicest hotels in the area. You told him it wasn’t necessary, that the two of you would be busy, wouldn’t be there that often anyway. But he insisted. 

The second night you two got ready for an afternoon barbecue with your entire family. Your aunt and uncle had rented space at a local country club, a large outdoor gazebo, lawn space for the younger kids to play on. It was all gearing up to be a great afternoon. 

“What if I can’t remember someone’s name? Should we have a codeword or something?” Sid asks, voice hushed and panicked as you walk along beside him, hand in hand towards where your parents had told you to meet everyone. 

Coming to a stop you tug him to face you. “Stop worrying. This is supposed to be fun. Everyone is going to love you.”

And perhaps you shouldn’t have been so confident, an egregious error in assuming you knew your distant family well enough to make that statement. Because by the time dinner is over and a few drinks have been poured the conversations seemed to be taking a turn you weren’t expecting. 

“So, Sid,” your uncle Max says, drawing the attention of you and Sid along with the rest of the group that was sitting around one of the large outdoor tables. “How old are you again?”

Sid clears his throat and you reach over, grasping for his hand beneath the table. “Thirty-three,” he tells him with a nervous formality of being interrogated by the police. 

“And Y/N, darling, correct me if I’m wrong but you’re twenty-two?” You Aunt chimes in. 

“Twenty-three,” you correct, with a force smile. “Almost twenty-four,” you add quickly, immediately regretting it, cringing internally at the childish way it had come across, trying to prove yourself to be older. 

“Sid, you’ve never had any kids? No ex-wives?” Max asks, prodding questions he had no right to be asking when he had barely even asked about the mundane facts of Sid’s life. 

“No,” Sid replies, a defensive edge to his tone. 

“Hm,” Max hums, picking up his drink and taking a rather large swig. “Didn’t want any…or?”

“I…uh,” Sid stammers, rarely at a loss for words but now unable to form a simple sentence. 

“We’re thinking about it,” you suddenly chime in. You feel Sid’s eyes on you, wide and confused. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t talked about it before. In fact, you had talked about it on a number of occasions. Early on in the relationship it came up as a general question ‘do you want kids?’. As things got more serious is became more clear that when you two were picturing having kids it was together. Discussing how you wanted to raise your kids, how many you wanted. And you had been thinking about it, just hadn’t brought it up to Sid that you were starting to think maybe you were getting close to being ready. 

“Oh, hunny, you’re so young and he-,” you aunt begins, trailing off as she glances over at Sid. 

You can feel your emotions building, rage coursing through your veins. “Like I said, we’re thinking about it. I know it’s a big decision.” With that you shut down the conversation, pushing your chair back and watching Sid follow suit, walking with you away from the table. Neither of you say anything till you get back to the car you were renting for the weekend, needing to get away from it all for a few minutes. Hot, angry tears filling your eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

You stare up at Sid, blinking away your tears as you try to put together what he was talking about. “You’re sorry? Sorry for what? That’s my asshole family, I’m the one who needs to be apologizing to you.”

“But this wouldn’t be happening with another guy,” Sid says, holding both your hands in his. “You shouldn’t need to be standing up for me like that. They’re also your family and I can’t put you in the position of needing to be at odds with them for a relationship.”

“What are you saying?” You ask, shaking your head as you pull your hands back from his, using one to wipe away a few tears before crossing them over your chest. 

“I don’t know,” Sid admits, looking around as he takes a deep breath. “Maybe we…you and I-.”

“No,” you interject, shaking your head. “If you think my family’s opinions are going to change how I feel about you, about us, then you’re a fucking idiot, Sidney. I love you…so much. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you because you make me happier than anyone has ever made me, I’m the best version of myself when I’m with you and I’m never going to let that go because someone thinks you’re a few years too old for me or whatever other bullshit people will criticize us about. And I really thought you felt as sure about this as I do, so-.”

Suddenly Sid is stepping closer, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and tender and filled with a thousand words he hadn’t spoken out loud. Your arms fall from across your chest to around his shoulders, letting him pull you closer. “Marry me,” he whispers against your lips. 

You’re silent for a second, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “What?” 

“Marry me,” he repeats. “I have the ring already, I’ve been thinking about asking you for months but it never felt like the perfect moment and this sure as hell isn’t the perfect moment either but I can’t wait any longer. Because I do feel as sure about this as you do and you need to know that now.”

You have tears in your eyes again as you stare up at Sid, only able to nod in response for a minute. “Of course I want to marry you,” you finally whisper, your arms wrapped tight around him. 

[echo-of-sounds]

adhd pt.2

How Fatgum, Gang Orca, and Midnight would help and support their s/o who has ADHD. Midnight’s are a little shorter than the others. I had a hard time thinking of more headcanons for her.

Warnings: nothing incredibly explicit, but a couple of these talk about sex

Toyomitsu Taishiro

Tai is a friendly guy. He talks to everyone when you're out and about. Sometimes it's fine. Sometimes it's a lot to handle. He wants you to immediately tell him when you’re starting to feel overstimulated or anxious. Before it gets too bad, he’ll carry you to a safe space. And it doesn’t matter where you are, his sweatshirts are yours. Weight can be very grounding and with his size, they’re very heavy. He’ll hold you close and talk you through the emotions.

Any time you lash out, he might try to ease the tension by making a joke. If you’ve ever been angry, you know jokes just make it worse. He’ll give you time to gather yourself when he realizes you’re actually angry. He won’t snap back. Fighting isn’t what he wants to do. Take some time to cool down. You’ll find him waiting for you with a smile. It’s hard to get him angry and it doesn't hurt his feelings when you lash out, but you should still apologize. He would appreciate it.

Feelings overwhelmed can erupt suddenly. When you sit down at your desk and there are five notebooks, scattered pens and pencils, loose papers, and just useless junk everywhere, you feel completely engulfed under them. It’s almost like you can’t breathe. You don’t know where to start or what to do. Tai will set some time aside to help you sort through your stuff. He may not know exactly where everything goes, but he really wants to help. He hates the look on your face when you’re overwhelmed and he’ll do anything to make it go away.

Lack of restraint and risk-taking behaviors are the most concerning to him. Sure, impulsively buying a dumb stuffed animal is one thing. But buying a new gaming system and four video games is another. The costs add up quickly. Or maybe you take another shot at the bar because screw it, you only live once. Then you do that over and over. ‘Just another shot’ turns into ten more. Your safety is always his number one priority and he worries himself sick thinking you’re going to damage your finances, career, or worse, yourself.

If you didn’t catch what he said, he has no problem repeating himself. Though he worries you aren’t paying attention while you’re in public or when something important is happening. He doesn’t want you mindlessly agreeing to something that you don’t actually want to do or potentially getting hurt. Like how you fling your arms out when you’re talking and hit someone or a wall. To ease his anxiety about you, he’ll hold your hand a lot and offer to give you piggyback rides.

He has a little trouble focusing on smaller tasks as well. He would much rather be doing fun activities out in the world. So he understands your trouble. He also understands how you forget to vacuum even though you promised you would. He isn’t annoyed. He’ll remind you when you’re home to do it. 

Since Tai is such a big guy he taught himself to be gentle early on in his life, particularly when it comes to sex, therefore he isn’t worried if you have sexual hypersensitivities. He's also great at communication and loves talking. He’ll ask what positions you can’t do and where you don’t like to be touched to ensure your comfort is at its max. During sex, if your attention starts drifting, he’ll let you take over to help keep you focused.

Gang Orca

Kugo’s a clean, organized man. To him, it’s helpful knowing that everything has its place. If you leave bowls and books around or are an overall cluttered person, he’ll pick up after you. Eventually, when your clutter gets to be too much, he’ll create a routine and a to-do list. Before bed, look at the list and look around the room if there are any pillows to put back on the couch or papers to straighten out.

Having physical sensitives is something Kugo can understand. While it’s not to the point he’s overstimulated like people with ADHD have, his skin is still quite sensitive- more than your ‘average’ human skin because of his mutant-type quirk. Whatever you need for self-soothing, he can bring to you when you’re starting to feel overstimulated. Your favorite heavy quilt will be wrapped around your shoulders and he’ll light some vanilla candles.

He’s utterly unbothered by tapping, fidgeting, or restlessness. However, he’s deeply concerned when he notices blood on your lip or fingers. It’s mindless. You don’t hurt yourself on purpose. No matter how many times you explain, it won’t quell his worries. He just really hates seeing you bleed. Out in public, he’ll hold your hand to stop your picking. At home, he keeps a close eye on you and points out your unhealthy habit so you can find a fidget toy or a pen to click. He hopes if he does it enough times it’ll become a subconscious reaction for you to grab a toy to play with instead of your body.

High mood swings and anger are easy for him to take. Your quick snaps go in one ear and out the other- mainly because he knows it's not about him. While he understands the frustration comes at the flip of a switch, he strongly urges you to find ways to deal with your emotions in a healthy way. He’s willing to listen if you want to talk it out. He’s willing to go to the gym if you need to exercise it out. And (if you’re at that point in the relationship), he’s willing to have sex if you need to fuck it out. 

Kugo loves listening to your interests. He supports any and all of your studies. Are you currently into a new TV series? He’ll buy you posters and action figures for surprises on your bad days. Or is the Viking culture suddenly fascinating and you need to learn everything about it? He scoops up some obscure book from that bookstore he passes every day. Even though his presents might not be exactly what you’re looking for, his excitement and passion to support you is really cute.

Focusing on smaller tasks is incredibly difficult. You strain yourself then get frustrated then give up. Seriously, that one piece of paperwork should take ten minutes tops to complete. But it ends up taking over two hours because you just can’t sit and do it. Whenever he notices you fussing at the table, he’ll sit down with you so you can go through the paperwork together. Having someone next to you is helpful. They keep you on track and guide the way through the long passages of words and seemingly confusing questions.

He's uneasy when it comes to any sexual sensitivities. It takes him a while to be ready for sex in general, but if you’re hypersensitive, it’ll take him a hell of a lot longer. He’s so scared of hurting you, especially since his fingers are more like claws and his teeth are sharp. He tries his damnedest to be gentle because he’s always scared that he’ll overstimulate you to the point you’re crying. Your sexual relationship will start with oral and fingering, plateauing at that for a while until he convinces himself he won’t hurt you.

Kayama Nemuri

Thoughts that bubble up and instantly spout from your mouth are common. Half the time you don’t even realize you spoke. Nemuri will be a little miffed if you keep interrupting her. She doesn’t want to forget her train of thought. She knows you have difficulty controlling it but she would appreciate it if you let her finish her sentence so she can fully listen to and understand yours.

Fidgeting and squirming don’t annoy her. She’s a Hero and a teacher. She’s become desensitized to all sorts of restlessness. Though she is in the same boat as Aizawa in that, if you’re a clicker or tapper, she’ll ask if you could find something else to fidget with. But she won’t snap at you as he may. She has a serious soft spot for her partner and rarely raises her voice.

However, those times when your anger gets sparked because your lotion bottle broke or you thought you had more of your favorite chips and you lash out when she asks what’s wrong, she’ll get defensive from time to time and might snap back. It depends on how long her day was and how tired/stressed she is. Most of the time she can reel herself back, realizing you’re not angry at her. But if she had a hard day, her retort comes quickly and sharply. It’s enough to make you pause, recognizing how you reacted to her simple question. When you apologize, she will too, wanting to make up as soon as possible.

Her quirk is quite convenient for overstimulation. If you give your consent, she can emit a tiny amount of her aroma to relax you. If you need serious instant relief, she can put you to sleep. But she won’t rely on her quirk every single time. She doesn’t like completely knocking you out. Any self-soothing techniques you use, she’ll read about and work out ways she can provide you with what you need.

Nemuri will have to change her outlook on sex a little bit. She’s very dominant, loves being the active partner, and dips (more than a little) into sadism. But she’s experienced. She’s aware her kinks aren’t always liked. Before you’re ever intimate, she’ll sit down with you to set clear and defined boundaries about what you can take. If pain is something you can’t handle or just don’t want, she’s fine without it. Her love for you is more important than her kinks. 

[hournites]

Maxed Out

Hournite semi-smut fic? Yeah. Okay.

Summary: Beth asks Rick to turn over his hourglass in bed. Calamity ensues.

~.~

Beth trailed her fingers over Rick’s chest, unbuttoning his breezy summer shirt. His muscles were more defined than the last time she did this. She didn’t need Chuck to notice the build he’d put on over the last few weeks during training. Beth wasn’t complaining.

He tilted his head back, watching her as he settled against her yellow decorative pillows. “You act as if you’ve never undressed me before.” 

Beth met his gaze with a shy smile. “Every time is still exciting,” she admitted.

Beth had no reason to be embarrassed. She loved the slow stripping tease of removing all his layers to get to her boyfriend’s skin. Besides, if it didn’t feel that way, should she even be doing it?  

Rick chuckled and kissed her, chaste for their compromised position. The dark hum of the dim lamp in the corner, the way the bed creaked under their weight when she leaned down to continue making out. They were sounds Beth grew familiar with, in bed with her boyfriend. Rick lifted his head to remove the hourglass around his neck. Beth stopped him abruptly, her hand over his. 

 “Have you ever wondered…” she trailed off. He frowned. 

“Have I ever wondered what?” 

Beth flushed, looking aside to stare at her old wallpaper. There used to be butterfly decals, but she decided she outgrew them suddenly last summer and peeled them all off. She sort of missed them now. One was never too old for butterflies. 

“Beth?” He brushed her thigh, breaking her out that thought bubble. 

“Hmm?” 

She bit her thumb, eyes darkening when she took him in again, loose, pliant, ready to have her whichever way she wanted. Oh right. 

Perhaps any way, really. 

She let it out all in one breath.  “Do you ever think about flipping this over when you're with me?” 

His silence was terrible. Beth withdrew her hand. She was still straddled over his lap but this was awkward now, she should get off him. 

“...Yes.” 

Beth sucked in a whole lot of air and just sort of kept it in until her lungs were on fire. Sure, she asked but she wasn’t prepared for his answer. 

His hands went to her hips. “I’ve thought of it a lot.” 

Beth shifted a bit. “You’ve never brought it up.” 

He gave her a knowing look. “Because it’s a terrible idea? A really really terrible idea.” Though by how torn he looked and sounded,  it didn’t seem like he meant that at all. 

“We haven’t trained since Saturday,” she reminded him. She kissed him again, slow, teasingly, breaking away right when he wanted more. “We don’t have anything JSA to do until next week.”

“I know,” Rick groaned, tightening his grip. “God, I know. I want to.” 

A slow smile spread over Beth’s face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he said. He started to laugh softly when she played with the chain around his neck, like he couldn’t believe they were seriously entertaining the thought. “Beth. Beth, sweetheart. We really shouldn’t.” 

Beth knew that. Every logical part of her brain knew that. It didn’t stop her from wanting to.

She flexed, placing her soft hands on his chest to hover over him as his eyes went wide and dark, taking her in. She was still in her shorts and shirt, but really those should come off soon too. Beth was in a really interesting type of mood. A Rick Tyler mood. Only with him did she ever feel this way. 

“I say we should.” 

The sentence came out breathlessly. She’s already feeling the zing of anticipation.

God, she wanted it. She wanted the hour of his unlimited strength. She wanted to see him pick her up effortlessly, she wanted him to pin her somewhere, hold her up without breaking a sweat. She wanted the way his ego boosted when he was powered up. She loved Rick with all her heart, but right now she was dying for the touch of Hourman. 

The kiss she gave to enunciate her bold claim had Rick gripping onto the back of her neck, groaning. Beth leaned back again before they got too involved, toying with the hem of her shirt as Rick, weak and dishevelled, cursed under his breath. She liked it when he did that. Not the swear words exactly but the fact she made him utter them.

“What would you want me to do?”

“So that’s a yes?!” 

“I didn’t say that,” he warned, chuckling at her eager impatience. She grabbed his hourglass again. Rick covered her hand over it. Beth wasn’t going to turn it without his permission, it wasn’t her object and it wasn’t her decision. But she couldn’t seem to put her hand anywhere else at the moment. And she desperately hoped she could get him to join her on the dark side. 

“I’m just curious. What do you want, Beth?" 

Beth’s eyes slid over to the wall again. 

Rick followed her gaze. His jaw dropped. “You want— there?” 

Beth nodded, flushing. 

Rick flipped the glass over without hesitation. “You should’ve said that before.” 

 ~.~ 

Rick pulled Beth flush against his chest. He cocked an eyebrow, hiking her higher up so she could wrap her legs around his hip. “You like this?” he teased, nipping at her ear. “You’re fucking beautiful, Beth.” 

She whimpered, arching her back against her missing butterfly decals, aching for Rick to stop running his mouth and just do what she’d been pleading him for. 

“You’re so light,” he whispered, picking her up again to carry her around the room just because he can. 

“You’re so strong,” she marvelled. “Don’t break any of my furniture!” It would be impossible to explain to her father. He’d been away on a business trip for a few days now, but no matter how long he was on the road, she knew there’d be no way she could hide a broken chair or bed from him. 

Rick huffed, rolling his eyes before slamming her back against the wall just to prove that he won’t. Her pictures of Courtney and Yolanda on her wall shook in their frames, but she could tell he was using only a fraction of his strength, or else they would’ve shattered. 

“We’ve got fifty-five minutes.” His voice was low and sexy, a rumble deep in his throat that she could feel the vibrations of as he mouthed at her jaw and neck. She whimpered again, mind racing, trying to catalogue his every word, every touch, every move for, well—scientific research—intellectual curiosity—a very important personal project for Beth. He slipped his other hand behind her back and under her shirt to unclasp her bra. “I’m not wasting a second of it.”

“Then don’t.” She wanted Rick so badly she could hardly breathe. “I want you in me.”

Rick paused to look at her, taken aback. Her eyes widened and her pulse skyrocketed, worried she went too far. She never was one to talk like that but neither was he. What if he didn’t want to do this anymore? What if he was having second thoughts? But Rick didn’t give her the opportunity to panic any further, pulling her leg back up when it slipped from his waist. His grip was unshakable, steady, relaxed even like he knew exactly what he was doing, and that unreadable expression morphed into a smirk.

“How much do you like this top?”

“I— What?”

“Let me rephrase that,” he murmured. His fingers wandered up the black buttons of her simple floral shirt, unbuttoning one to access the dark valley hiding underneath. “How much would you mind if this is the last time you could wear this?”

Oh. He wanted to rip it off her. Everything Beth could ever feel for Rick liquified southward in slow, syrupy pulses. She squirmed against him, suffering. Her boyfriend destroying her inventory from Forever 21 really shouldn’t be so hot. 

“Not very much,” she managed out and the sound of the fabric tearing echoed in the quiet room immediately after, the cool exposure and Rick’s warm palms handling the new expansion of skin drove Beth insane. “Not my bra! Bras are expensive.” 

The kiss he gave in reply was filthy, but he listened and he raised her up again so she could shimmy out of it, letting it drop to the floor. 

Another hard press that made her bookshelf shake beside them had Beth reeling, begging for more. She clung to his shoulders and buried her face in his neck, already overheated. And this was just the beginning. Beth knocked her head back against the wall when his hand snaked up past her thigh, tugging at the waistband of her shorts, knowing she was doomed. She was wet and shaking and so ready.

“Rick,” she begged with a gasping breath, unable to wait any longer. “Please .”

“I got you…” he promised, voice deep and rasped. He kissed her again. “I love you.”

This was Beth’s smartest idea yet. 

 ~.~

Courtney leaned against her staff, taking in the damage. Trees upon trees upon trees fallen over themselves. It would take forever to climb through it. 

Yolanda jumped over the first dead trunk on all fours. “It looks like Grundy had a temper tantrum.” 

Beth listened, folding her arms over her chest. This mission took them all by surprise. It had been days, weeks even since they had to suit up. ISA went quiet. There hadn’t been any danger in quite some time. This was worrying. She leaned into Rick’s side. Her mind flitted away from the forest or the potential lair hidden behind all the forestial destruction. Last night took up every spare thought.

They were good together. They were always good together. But last night was something out of her locked up compartment of fantasies. The way he held her, the way he looked at her. Rick was gentle and sweet and considerate with his touch on her when they made love, and Beth adored him for it. But making love was not what happened yesterday during that hour.

Rick fucked her.

They fucked until the sand timed out, her legs wobbled, knees buckling after he put her down and every lucid thought in her brain fizzled out like smoke. He carried her to bed, and brushed the sweat from her forehead, whispering praises in her ear, telling her how much he loved her. Making sure he never hurt her, letting her curl against him until the world stopped spinning and she could gain her breath again. Even now, she could only think of Rick. The way he made her feel. The way he moaned out her name. He was strong and exuberantly confident with himself in a weird way Beth could never grow tired of. That hourglass was magical. 

She shook her head, tilting her head to tune into the debate in front of her. JSA was important. This was important, Beth knew that. She tried to tell herself this.

It was kind of hopeless. Really, she wanted to drag Rick by the hand right out of this forest and go back home to bed. 

“Beth?” Pat asked. “Why don’t you ask Chuck if this is worth the effort. Maybe there was just a wind storm and we missed it.” 

“But that cryptic note,” Courtney said. “There’s no way that’s not something.” 

Rick was awfully silent. Beth tugged on his sleeve and looked up to check if he was alright. He met her gaze and his eyes went soft with a hint of heat.

I want to get out of here too, he didn’t have to say.

It was especially bad with that hourglass around his neck right now. Just sitting there. Taunting her. A teasing visual memory of last night. Rick looked down at what she was staring at. A red blotch crept up behind the mask on his face. 

She relished not being the only one of the two of them disastrously turned on. 

“Beth? Beth???”

She snapped her eyes to the team and mumbled a quick apology. Right. They wanted her to use Chuck to see if there was anything worthwhile behind those trees. She tapped on her goggles, picking the right setting. Not X-Ray or Night Vision. Maybe infrared. 

She squinted at the looming box figure in her magnified sight. “What do you think that is Chuck? A hideout? There’s only one story. It looks like it’s centred by an underground basement.” 

“Gee. An underground hideaway. Never heard that before.” Pat shared an annoyed look with the JSA.

"You’re quite right, Beth. It seems there are several heat signatures underneath the roots of the decayed birch trees and foliage. My guess is an underground hanger, an off branch location perhaps for the regrouping of the ISA."

They all groaned. 

“Thanks, Chuck.” 

“So we have to get there.”

“That’s gonna take all day,” Courtney groaned. Her staff complained too, lifting her off the ground to survey the distance from the start of the forest to the nearest clearing. “Yeah, it goes on for miles. Maybe we could fly over with the Staff and STRIPE.”

“A big robot and you in the sky? Pretty sure they’ll see that, Court.”

“Yeah, we need to do recon from the ground.”

They all turned to Rick. 

“What?” he snapped at their stares.

“How do you feel about being a lumberjack?” Yolanda asked. “Throwing away all the trees?”

Rick tensed, and so did Beth. 

“That’s stupid,” he said. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” Courtney frowned.

“Uh.” He shared a panicky look with Beth, who stared at him back, stumped. “I pulled a muscle. Don’t want to.” 

That’s what he came up with!? 

“You know what,” Beth said hastily, putting a hand on his arm, “Rick’s not feeling well.” She flashed a grin at her friends. “Let’s do this another day, I’ll take him home—Bye!” 

Courtney flew over on her staff, blocking their way when they turned around to leave. She crossed her arms over her crop top. 

“Rick always said he doesn’t feel that kind of stuff when the hourglass is turned over because of his adrenaline rush.” 

“Um. Well, now I do.” He continued to walk away. 

Chuck went silent in her ear. Like he knew exactly what was going on but didn’t want to comment. And thank god, for that. Beth’s palms broke out into a sweat under her gloves. This was so embarrassing, she thought she might pass out.

What was she going to say? Heyyyyy guys! Actually, we can’t do any type of heavy lifting today, nope! Oh? Why, you ask? No big deal really, my boyfriend just decided to use his superpower to do dirty, dirty things to me while I screamed into his shoulder ha ha ha funny, right!?

Heat flared up to her face, Beth couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. She put one of her gloved hands over her cheek and kept her gaze on the weird twigs on the ground. She needed water. She needed a bath of ice. Where was Icicle Jr when she needed him? Getting blasted with frost would be better than this. 

“Rick,” Pat snapped. “Stop fooling around. Turn the hourglass. Now.” 

“No,” he said stubbornly, batting away Yolanda’s swat at his glass. 

“Why are you being so weird?” Yolanda hissed. “You think you’re the only one with things to do? My brother has a piano recital in a few hours. We all want to go back home.”

She glared at Beth like she was mad at her for not talking sense into Rick herself. Like it was a chore to be the one that had to do it. “Beth, c’mon, what’s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with us!” Beth said, hearing the way her voice pitched an octave higher than it was supposed to. 

“Rick. Turn the glass over!” Pat said, increasing the volume of his voice modifier for extra emphasis—not really extra menace, he couldn’t scare them anymore. Not that he didn’t try. 

“I can’t,” Rick gritted out through his teeth. He ran a hand through his hair, even more flustered than before.

Beth covered her ears, starting to hyperventilate as they all began to argue. This was her fault. This was her fault! 

She pestered Rick into using his strength and now they couldn’t do their jobs and they were going to end up revealing their sex lives in explicit detail in front of Courtney’s dad. She whined, hiding her face into Rick’s suit, unable to bear her mortification. 

His hands wrapped around her tight, which was her briefest solace of this embarrassing nightmare. 

Yolanda stared at them, narrowing her eyes. She jumped off one of the trees and circled the couple to Rick’s chagrin, who was now staring up at the sky, looking extremely uncomfortable. Beth closed her eyes and nuzzled her head further against his chest. She wasn’t even horny anymore.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Courtney echoed, tilting her head to the side. “We haven’t had a JSA mission in like, forever so—“

“I can’t!” Rick nudged Beth to the side so he could flip over his hourglass to show them. Beth watched as it did nothing. The sand just stayed there in the top half like a fixed, broken toy. “I told you, I can’t!”

Yolanda gasped, finally putting two and two together. “Beth Chapel, you didn’t!” 

“We did!” Beth admitted miserably against Rick. 

“What?” Courtney was unable to follow along. She whipped her head at Yolanda. “What did they do??”

Yolanda began to laugh. She covered her mouth and turned around, walking away to lean against a spared tree. “Don’t make me tell them, because I won’t.”

The hiss and metallic clanging of the STRIPE head unlocking echoed through the forest. Pat’s seat raised. He looked between the two with his brows furrowed. Suddenly, understanding dawned in his eyes. He swore under his breath as his face twisted in a complicated combination of shock, horror and disgust. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Rick!” 

Rick stiffened his jaw. “If we were kidding do you really think we’d be having this conversation?”

“What conversation!?” Courtney shrieked. 

“We’re sorry!”  

“Sorry about what!?!” Courtney tugged at her hair, stressed out, looking at the JSA for answers. “Pat?!! They’re sorry about what?”

“Not now, Court—” Pat warned. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it."

“Ugh!” Courtney landed on the cracked ground and stomped off to sulk with her staff. "This is now how teamwork works!" 

Yolanda lifted an eyebrow, shrugging as she cleaned some leaves from her claws. She sat at the base of a standing trunk, knees pulled up to her chest as though she knew they weren't going anywhere for a while. “I mean, was it at least good?” she asked with a tiny wicked smirk after a stretch of awkward silence. 

“Yes,” Beth mumbled hotly. Her cheeks burned.

Pat glared down at them from his towering height in STRIPE, the ultimate patented look of parental disappointment etched upon his face. 

“Are you two out of your minds?!” he yelled, trying to guilt-trip them further into the valley of shame Beth decided she now permanently lived in. “You could’ve risked your lives—What if we were ambushed right now? You’re a man with no hour—You could've died!”

Yolanda snorted from off to the side and even Beth had to bit her lip to keep in a smile at how silly that sounded.

“—What on earth did you think you were doing?”

“Uh,” Rick looked down at Beth. She looked up. They shared a funny look, an almost laugh. His eyes lit up when their eyes met and she let out a giggle. “....Having really good sex?”

Pat grimaced, regretting that he asked. 

Courtney’s head shot up. “You used the hourglass to have sex?”

Beth smacked his shoulder. “Rick!”

Rick smirked, far too pleased with himself for their situation right now. “Look, we learned our lesson. We’re not doing it again.”

 “You’re damn right, you aren’t!” 

Courtney couldn’t stop staring at Beth, utterly baffled. “How would you even—Why would you want to do that?”

Beth opened her mouth to reply, but Pat held up a robot hand, stopping them from continuing.

“Nevermind that,” he said pointedly. “Court, let’s go home. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”

Yolanda dusted the dirt and soil from her suit silently to follow Court and the stomping robot back down the trail. 

“I have nothing to say to you Richard,” she sniffed, then gave Beth a fist bump, leaning to say something in her ear. “We’ll talk later.” 

Beth looked at Wildcat, wide-eyed and gulped. “...Okay."

And then they were alone.

“So…” Beth said after a moment of them standing there in the bushes like two idiotic teens who just screwed up a very important superhero mission because of their screwing. She looked at one of the silver maple trunks that looked securely fixed upon the others and hopped on top of it, sitting down. She took her gloves off and stuffed them in one of her many Dr. Mid-Nite pockets. “That was the most embarrassing moment of my life.” 

“Yep.” Rick put his hands on the back of his head, elbows out as he began to pace, walking the distance between the only two trees left standing. His cape rustled against the dead leaves. A black squirrel stared at them from a foot away. Beth didn’t blame him, they looked like quite a sight. 

Her goggles came back to life.

"Lack of judgment happens to the best of enhanced and metahumans in their first few years in the field, Beth. Do not beat yourselves up so hard. Rick is young and impulsive, and you have a curious mind. Perhaps this learning experience served to put your wonderings at ease."

“Thanks, Chuck,” she said softly, but somehow his words were not as comforting as they usually were. “But it wasn’t Rick's impulse. It was my fault. I knew we shouldn’t have. Rick was the one that told me not to.” 

“You make it sound like it wasn’t me who turned it over.” 

Beth shrugged. “You wouldn’t have if I hadn’t brought it up.” 

Rick threw his head back and laughed. The squirrel startled, scurrying away. 

“What?” 

He walked over and held her chin, stroking her cheek with his covered thumb. “You underestimate how much I think about having my way with you.” 

Beth’s heart stuttered in her chest. She blinked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Do I?”

Rick’s boyish smirk shined through the Hourman mask. “You really liked it, huh?” 

She nodded. “I really did.” 

 He pressed his lips against hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing back hungrily, knocking his hood off his head so she could reach up and fist his hair. She’d been wanting to do this ever since he put his stupid glass back around his neck after school. She leaned back against the logs, and Rick climbed over her, pulling off her mask so he could kiss the skin of her neck. 

"While this is all well and good, Beth, need I remind you there is an unconfirmed ISA base, not even an acre away, and you have removed integral pieces of your costumes crucial to conceal your identities?"

Beth pushed Rick away to yank off her goggles from their perch on her head, blushing madly. “Chuck!” 

Rick ran a hand over his face and groaned, stepping away. “He’s right,” he said and pulled up his hood. “The damn computer’s right.” He reached onto the ground where Beth’s mask fell and tugged it over her hair and face. “We can’t afford two JSA screw-ups in one day. Pat would kill us.”

It was true. They had to stop now before things spiralled and they ended up captured by new ISA members in the middle of Samuel McKelvie, Nebraska.

“No more hourglass in bed,” Rick told her sternly, giving her a hand to haul her up from the trees. 

Beth let out a sad sigh. “No more hourglass in bed.” 

She grabbed Chuck and repositioned him over her eyes, then reached back to hold Rick’s hand again. They walked through the forest back where they came, listening to Chuck’s directions when they got lost a few times. The walk back was nice, relaxing. Beth felt the tension leak from her shoulders, content to simply chat and walk around with Rick. 

So they’d had their moment of wild times and reckless behaviour, and as much as she enjoyed it, Beth loved soft, quiet moments with her boyfriend too. Cuddling together after missions, going out for movies and drives, being gentle and sweet when they’re intimate without worrying about breaking anything...

Now she knew, both were possible, whenever they wanted it. Just without the help of magical strength-inducing hourglasses to boost stamina along the way. 

She still kind of wanted it, though. She peeked up at him with a new idea. 

“Rick…?” 

“Yeah?” 

“If a mission ever ends early with time still left over…” 

Rick stopped in his tracks. 

Beth continued walking, only turning her head over her shoulder to pull Chuck off her face and wink at her dumbstruck boyfriend. 

“...Then I wouldn’t say no to that.” 

[okay-victoria]

Writing Dialogue

While some choices in dialogue will come down to style preference, most fanfic dialogue suffers from a much earlier problem of being done incorrectly, no matter what the stylistic preference. Once basic spelling & grammar is mastered, and assuming the fic contains more than a handful of dialogue, I think bad dialogue is the thing that kills my enjoyment the fastest. I can handwave plotholes and understand emotions that weren’t conveyed right, but I can’t read people having a conversation that doesn’t look anything like an actual human conversation.

Problem 1: Too Much Drama

We want our scenes to pulse with energy! Of course we want the dialogue to be dramatic! The problem here is, what makes for good dramatic dialogue is not people yelling powerful words at each other very passionately. What makes for dramatic dialogue is mostly the importance of that scene to the plot & the characters, so to achieve dramatic dialogue, the best thing you can do is not overly rely on the dialogue itself to be dramatic. Set up a dramatic situation, and then people don’t have to yell. They can say a few basic sentences and the audience already knows why it is important and why the characters care so much.

Have you ever seen the scene in The Room where Tommy Wiseau yells “You’re tearing me apart, Lisa!” Did you actually find that dramatic or did it just make you laugh because it was overdramatized? That’s what dramatic dialogue does to a story. Unless your characters are middle schoolers exclaiming it out in the hall between classes, chances are, older and more mature characters aren’t going to do a lot of yelling or make weirdly dramatic statements like the world is ending.

One of the biggest offenses on this count is overusing exclamation points and overusing emphasis. Exclamation points should be used very, very rarely, as should telling your reader what words are meant to be emphasized. Your character’s mood should primarily come through action - are they slamming doors, pacing back and forth, collapsing into a chair? Dialogue tags like “shouted” or “replied angrily” can be used to help, but should not stand on their own as the only thing portraying mood.

Instead of looking like this: “OMG! Can you believe it! Drama! Let me scream all the drama out in a monologue!” Lisa screamed, it should look like *Lisa kicks off her shoes, one leaves a mark on the wall* *Lisa slams bag down on counter, opens fridge for beer* *Lisa’s boyfriend stands frozen, as this is not normally how Lisa comes home from work. “This thing happened.” *Lisa collapses into kitchen chair and sticks head in her hands.* *Lisa’s boyfriend comes to put a hand on her back*. “One sentence reminding reader why Lisa is upset about this”.

Problem 2: Too Little Drama

Alternatively, you get scenes that sometimes look like two college roommates got high and are trying to acquire a pizza with as little effort as possible. Let’s say, for example, you have one character that has a crush on another character, and they are trying to find out information about them. While maybe the character learning this information is going to do something with it, so it’s important to the plot in another way, so the conversation itself does not need to be dramatic, it might end up looking like this:

I met Crush after class and we walked together. “What’s your favorite color?” - “Red” - “Do you like dogs?” - “Yes. Did you do the homework?” - “Yes. Math is my favorite class. How about you?” - “P.E.”

Like with the above, setup and action are everything. If you set up the scene where we know in advance how long it has taken Karen to get up the courage to talk to Chad and things like that, and then include actions in between the dialogue to show that she is nervous and therefore not very talkative, like her glancing up at him briefly but looking away as soon as he makes eye contact, or have her analyze Chad’s mood and wonder if he’s annoyed, etc, the scene can be made much more meaningful without needing to be a “dramatic” scene.

Problem 3: Dialogue is written like exposition

This tends to go unnoticed by some authors who are otherwise decent, and for me really ruins an otherwise decent story. The writing within the dialogue tags is written well, it just isn’t written like dialogue. It is written like exposition/narration.

In exposition: This project was doomed from the beginning. The improvements might look nice on paper, but the law of diminishing returns was going to stop it before it really started. Sounds...not excellent, I just pulled an example out of my ass, but fine.

In dialogue: “I think this project is doomed already,” Bob said, looking around the meeting room. “The improvements might look nice on paper, but the law of diminishing returns is going to stop it before it really starts.”

...sounds like Bob is kind of a psycho, or possibly your most pompous and hated coworker. Who the hell says “Law of Diminishing Returns” out loud if they aren’t a professor? The longer the dialogue and more flowery/technical/big vocab it becomes, which often *adds* to exposition, the worse and more unnatural the dialogue becomes.

Dialogue should not feel the same as the “speech” when a character is thinking. We tend to be fairly limited in how we express ourselves, use shorter and more simple sentence structures, more basic vocabulary, and haven’t memorized what we are going to say, so it doesn’t come out eloquently.

The one real exception to this that isn’t really dialogue, but is speech, is if you have a character making a speech or presentation, which they have prepared for in advance, and it is reasonable for them to give it uninterrupted.

If you want to make a point of one of your characters sounding like a total tool when they speak, you can also do this to achieve that and make it immediately clear to the audience why everyone hates them, but unless that’s what you’re going for, avoid this at all costs.

Problem 4: Dialogue is otherwise unnatural

Always, always, until you’re pretty damn sure you’re pretty damn good at it, say your dialogue out loud.

Would that personally really say “What is that?” or is it “What’s that?” Along the lines of not needing to use emphasis as much as you might think, if you were, say, in Scotland and just saw the Loch Ness monster pop out and want to ask your companion what it is, “What is that?” is fairly unnecessary. “What is that?” suffices. The simple fact that you didn’t use the standard contraction means the character emphasized the “is”. If you just see a piece of mail on someone’s desk that you are curious about, you’re going to say “What’s that?” and it won’t sound like you are dramatically asking about a generic piece of mail.

There are lots of very minor and small things that can easily go wrong in dialogue of this nature. It’s really important to say to yourself: if I was in this situation, how would I say it? Read it like you are acting it out in a movie and see. Also, question if a person would even say a sentence like that to begin with, or if they would be more or less direct in their approach. More direct is appropriate in many cases because people are usually trying to communicate clearly. Even if they are lying, they usually just say a direct statement that is a lie, they don’t dance around it indirectly and give hints to the other character. More indirect is appropriate when a character is trying to have a difficult conversation - we don’t tend to give tough advice or be directly rude, we try to work around it to make it sound better.

Because people want to have “exciting” or “cool” dialogue, they will often also give characters great rebuttals all the time, where they have these snappy conversations. This *can* work, but it’s really hard to pull off well, so in general I’d limit it to having a character having the occasional good rebuttal than a conversation of back-and-forth snark. Honestly, most of us just can’t think on our feet that well, and unless you’ve built the case that these characters can [ie, they’ve been married 20 years and are having the same arguments over and over so have it all thought out] it just seems very unrealistic.

Problem 5: Underutilizing dialogue tags

If you have two characters speaking, theoretically, if we know who the first speaker is and they switch off, a reader can follow the conversation indefinitely and know who is speaking.

In practice, that doesn’t happen. We like to be occasionally reminded. Personally, I try to max out at four consecutive lines of untagged speech, so no more than:

“Hey” said Kyle when he saw Brad.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Partying, bro, what did you think?”

“Haha, true. Do you think Lindsey will be there?”

“Man, you have such a crush on her,” Brad laughed.

Problem 6: Overusing dialogue tags

Conversely, in a conversation that is easy to follow, every single line does not need to be followed by a variation of “X person said”. If you are going for a tight back and forth conversation where neither character is thinking in between, you want to gum it up as little as possible with extraneous non-conversation. Hit us with occasional dialogue tags, and that’s it.

Problem 7: Not breaking dialogue up

This is somewhat of a style question, but in general, conversations should only be quick back and forth when that’s the point, but otherwise should generally pause briefly to “show” people doing actions, give some character thoughts, or otherwise break it up so the entire scene isn’t just a conversation.

Also, you can use these pauses as a way of showing hesitation/actual pauses that happen in the conversation.

Problem 8: Huge breaks between dialogue

This is something I am probably the *most* guilty of myself, because I’m writing a story where characters analyze the other characters a lot, so sometimes they’ll pause and think for a while in between. I haven’t quite arrived at the level where I’ve figured out how to get that all to flow in a way that breaks the dialogue up nicely, but not so much it is jarring and you’ve forgotten what the last thing a character said was.

But, anyway, definitely something to keep in mind. While a scene shouldn’t usually be all conversation, breaking the conversation up too much makes it feel like it isn’t a conversation at all.

[nowaynoee]

at least i got you in my head

also on ao3

the typical clichè: very gay Maya falls in love with her very straight best friend Lola but it’s actually easier than they think.

enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

this work is inspired by this gifset 💜

She doesn’t know exactly when her feelings for Lola started to bloom.

For what she can remember, it happened quickly and her self control got thrown out of the window. Maya did try to repress them, to convince herself that she was just a whim and that sooner or later they would go away as rapidly as they came. Truth is that after almost four years her feelings are still there, strong and apparently irremovable. The thing is that while she’s confident about her being a loud and proud lesbian, as far as she knows Lola is straight, very straight, and she’s also her best friend. What a situation.

Maya met Lola the first year of high school. They sat near each other for a while before starting a conversation and as soon as that happened they got inseparable. It’s special the bond that keep them still attached even after years and both of them felt it immediately, since the first word spoken with a hint of shyness. Maya was there for Lola when her mother died and Lola was there for Maya when she came out to her foster family and they threw her out. Coming to terms with her sexuality was easy. She always knew she is attracted to women. Let’s say that when she met Lola, well, she had another confirmation.

Maya even lived with her for a short time, while she was searching a job and another place to stay. Probably the best moments of her life. She left school at the end of the second year, soon after she started working and living alone in the tiniest flat ever. Her friendship with Lola continued, maybe even stronger than before.

As said, she can’t remember the exact moment her feeling bloomed but she can remember that little istant in which she admitted to herself that no, Lola wasn’t just her best friend.

They were having a sleepover at Maya’s apartment, the very first time Lola slept there. She mocked Maya a few times about how small it was and she was right but in a way it felt like her little nest and safe place. They laughed all night long, eat here and there and did an extreme marathon of movies wrapped in a huge blanked, side by side. Maya was about to turn off the tv when she realized Lola already fell asleep and her head was comfortably placed on her shoulder. She gazed at her: her face was relaxed, her mouth slightly open and she was breathing calmly, the warmness of it directly on Maya’s neck. Lola looked beautiful like this. Maya lost herself for god knows how much to take in all the details of her. When she came back to reality, she knew. I’m in love with you . ...

Same bed two years later, she’s still in love with Lola. It’s summer and her duvet has been replaced buy just one white sheet. Lola is under it, her hair splayed on the pillow and her eyes closed in a deep sleep. The shine caused by the sweat looks surprisingly good on her and Maya has to hold herself back from caressing her cheeks. The outline of her small body is evident under the light fabric and the little top and shorts she’s wearing doesn’t help hiding it. Maya feels like a creep when she looks at Lola like this. It’s not like she doesn’t try to not do it, she does, but when you’re in love with someone you have an hard time with that. It’s even harder to accept that nothing is going to happen and you have to let go of the hope it will. She fantasizes sometimes about confessing to her, about finally be able to kiss her and call her her girlfriend. Lola lives in her mind rent free ans she wants to punch herself for letting her in in the first place.

...

“I hate it.”

This is the third outfit Lola tries for the night and once again she’s undressing only to redress again with another pairing. Maya gives her advices through it, her already having chose what to wear for the night. She knows Lola’s room by heart but every time she’s in it she always finds something new. A photo, a drawing, posters of her favourite bands. Is on those that she centers her attention while her best friend changes clothes because the view would be too much for her gay panic.

“What do you think about this one? ╴Hey? Earth to Maya?”

She turns her gaze towards Lola immediately, realizing only then that she has zoned out once again. “It’s very much your style.” She replies with a small smile curving her lips. There’s nothing special about what her friend is wearing, it being a normal pair of black jeans and a top that cuts right before her navel, still Maya can’t take her eyes of her. “I think I’ll go with this one, then. Do you still want to do my makeup and hair?” Lola asks her and Maya nods, sitting up from the chair and leaving it to her.

She loves this part of the preparation. Firstly because she gets to do what she likes and secondly because it allows her to be close to Lola without it being awkward. Sure, they cuddle sometimes but Maya always interrupts it as soon as possible: it hurts her to have Lola cuddled to her in that way. It makes her feeling want to erupt.

“Do you remember the last urbex party we went together?” Lola asks her, bringing up her eyes to let Maya putting the kajal on the lower rim. Maya does remember it, well even. It was three months ago. “You were so mad because you spent like an hour doing my makeup and the rain smudget it like thirty minutes after we arrived.” She chuckles and suddenly stops when Maya gives her a little punch to not mess up what she’s doing. “It was one of my best works! It looked so good.” because it was on you , she wants to say but doesn’t. Instead they keep small talking until Lola’s ready and they get out of her house.

…

The party is crowded, like really crowded.

Once they arrived they met up with Jo, Max and Sekou and headed directly to the bar. They all took something to drink while Maya, as always, decided for a simple soda. Maya doesn’t like dancing that much, she definitely enjoys more listening to the loud music and laying on one of the free couches. Max and Sekou usually stay with her while Lola and Jo get crazy on the dancefloor for hours. “ ╴so, no target tonight?” Max’s voice gets her out of her thoughts, at least enough to take a look at the whole place in search of someone interesting. It’s not like Maya waited for Lola all these years, at least not apparently. She had a few night stands and one relationship even. It didn’t last that long and plus, Lola hated the girl in question. They mocked each other all the time and they were practically in an ongoing competition of who knew Maya better. Lola won each and every time.

“I don’t know.” Maya answers because she really doesn’t. There’s really no girl that attracts her that much and them being in a random club and not into a gay one makes things a little difficult for her. Better to keep some distance from straight girls, right?

“Oh, come on Maya—“ before Max can finish the sentence, Jo comes running towards where they’re seated, spreading herself in the free space they left for her. “God, I’m sweating from every pore, I swear! The drink I swallowed in one go didn’t help either, my head spins so bad right now.” She cups her face with her hands and Maya brings one of hers on her back, moving it in small circles.

“Wait — where is Lola?” Maya asks her as soon as Jo seems to feel better. “Mmh, she’s with a guy, I don’t even remember his name. He was cute though, she has taste!” Her words make her sigh, fortunately the loud music covers it. It doesn’t take to much of looking to find Lola in the crowd, pressed against the wall with a guy literally eating her face like there’s no tomorrow. Maya feels her stomach clenching and a sharp pain right where her heart is placed. The nausea hits her suddenly and she has to take a few deep breaths to swallow down the food she ate a few hours before. It’s not the first time she sees Lola with a guy, she has seen her with plenty flirts and even in a short-term relationship. This time hits different though. Maybe because it’s been three months since the last party they went to and she didn’t have to see her making out with anyone for all this time.

“I’m going out. I need some fresh air.” She blurts out, sitting up. Her head spins and tears are threatening to come out each second that passes.

“Maya, wait.” She hears Sekou say and she stops, turning around only to find that all three of her friends are looking at her with a concerned expression.

“You can’t keep going like this. You have to tell her what you feel.” He adds, signing her to sit again with them. They knew from the beginning what was going on between her and Lola. Even before Maya admitted it to herself. At first, when they tried to bring up her feelings, she brushed it off saying it was just in their head. Obviously it wasn’t. Jo, Max and Sekou mocked her about her crush for Lola for a long time when she finally told them they were right all along. Only when they realized that it wasn’t just a crush but that Maya really fell in love with Lola they stopped and tried encouraging her to tell her everything.

“I can’t, I can’t tell her what I feel. I would lose her! She doesn’t love me like that.” She said the same exact words a million times but it still hurts her to repeat them out loud. If Maya was sure that she wouldn’t lose her by confessing her feeling, she would at least think about it. The truth is that just the idea of not having her in her life is worse that having Lola just like a friend.

“It’s just what it is. I’ll get over it.” All three are rolling their eyes and Maya can tell they’re truly done with her bullshit.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

Maya recognizes Lola’s voice as soon as she hears it and she finds Lola right behind her, bringing her arms around Maya’s neck and pressing herself on her back. The sitting position which Maya’s in makes Lola more comfortable and she leans in to her fully. “Are you tired?” Lola speaks in her ear to make herself be heard only by Maya. The latter nods, tilting her head up to see her friend’s face. “Guys, I don’t want to ruin your fun but tomorrow I’m working. I really need to go home.” It’s a lie , Maya thinks. She knows that Lola doesn’t work on sunday and probably the others know too but don’t say anything. They gather their things quickly, none of them too sorry to leave. During the ride home she gazes at Lola sometimes, the image of her kissing the stranger still very vivid in her head. She can’t seem to ignore it like she did in the past.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Lola whispers, their bodies tangled in a tight hug in Lola’s bed. Her best friend is caressing her hair, scratching her scalp from time to time, till she drags her finger under Maya’s chin to make her turn up her head.

Everything about this is wrong. Everything that she’s feeling is wrong but Maya can’t say it. She can’t bring herself to form the right words. Even thinking about that hurts her. Lola knows something is not right and Maya can see her questioning and concerned look. She gulps and looks away, trying to escape any further question. “It’s nothing.” She brushes it off, placing her head again on Lola’s shoulder.

“It’s not nothing if it bothers you.” Lola murmurs in her hair, her breath warm against it. She always knows when something is wrong and doesn’t leave it until Maya actually talks. It’s not the first time Maya feels like this, jealousy striking her until she almost stops breathing and shame after because they aren’t even together. She managed for a long time to swallow it down, to cry even when it all became too much, without Lola seeing it but she can’t seem to bring herself to do it now.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Maya mutters, voice so low she’s not even sure Lola heard her. “I’m sorry.” She adds after a few seconds. A tear escapes and she’s fast to dry it out but not fast enough for Lola not to notice.

“Maya…”

Her heart clenches at hearing Lola saying her name and when one tear starts to become a full on crying session, Lola just holds her tighter. Maya grabs Lola’s shirt with her fist, as a way of saying please don’t leave me as her cheeks dampens, leaving a wet stain on the fabric.

“It will all be alright Maya. I promise.” She whispers and for the first time Maya can’t bring herself to believe her.

…

It’s been a week since her breakdown in Lola’s arms. They didn’t talk about it again, Lola deciding to leave Maya her privacy and time to come to her when she’ll be ready. Except that she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be ready. During the last seven days she kept some sort of distance with Lola, trying to shake off the image of her from the last saturday. Maya even tried to go on a date to remove the said girl from her mind for at least a bunch of hours. Her date was cute, hesitant when she pressed her lips against Maya’s ones, only to start kissing her deeper when she felt her hands pinching her waist. They spent the night together and the sex was good, it served its purpose. Maya didn’t call this girl again. As soon as she left in the morning, she put the bedsheets in the washer and brought herself under the shower until the girl’s perfume wasn’t on her skin anymore.

When Jo sent her a message proposing her to go out again on saturday, she initially refused. Parties weren’t fun anymore. Jo, being the chaotic girl she is, tried again, this time asking her to do a sleepover at her house. She wanted to find an excuse but she couldn’t keep ignoring her friends and Lola. Maya’s flat is small but it can handle five people if they squeeze enough to sleep. One thing was for sure, Maya wasn’t sleeping near Lola again.

...

“Never have I ever… Kissed someone of the same sex.” Jo speaks first, getting immediately puzzled looks towards her. “Seriously Jo?” Maya jokes, laughing quietly and drinking from her cup. Max, Jo and Sekou have vodka in their cups, Lola has it too but barely drinks it and Maya can tell because she doesn’t see her swallowing down the liquid when she should be. Maya, as always, has a simple soda. “I know you did, you silly, I just wanted to know if I was the only one that didn’t. Apparently I’m not!” As soon as Jo lets out the last words, she takes a look at Lola which has her gaze on her glass and isn’t drinking. It’s late night and Maya can see she’s tired of playing this game as much as she is. Fortunately it doesn’t take long until their three friends collapse on the mattress she placed in her living room. The only two that sleep doesn’t take are Lola and Maya.

They remain in silence for what it feels like an eternity. It’s uncomfortable but at the same time it’s not if it’s even possible. They’re facing each other while sitting on Maya’s small couch but they both are keeping their eyes down, avoiding the other’s looks. The unspoken weights on them like a million bricks and neither of them is  courageous enough to lift it. At least that’s what Maya thought.

“Never have I ever fell in love with my best friend.”

Lola’s voice isn’t loud but Maya hears it amplified ten times more than it actually is. The implied question leaves her surprised and makes her heart skip a beat. She snaps her head back up, her eyes locked in Lola’s ones unable to move them somewhere else now. Her lips part slightly but no sounds escapes from them. She doesn’t even have the cup in her hands anymore from where she could drink. In a way, Lola trapped her. Lola didn’t say that innocently or without thinking about it. They aren’t even playing anymore so there’s a second ending for sure.

“Why are you asking me this?” Maya ends up saying after gaining enough confidence to form a coherent sentence.

“I remember. I remember everything .”

╴╴╴

Three months ago

Lola’s body was pressed against Maya’s side, while one of her arms was lazily placed around her shoulder to steady her. She felt dizzy but she wasn’t drunk. Or at least she wasn’t anymore, the effect of alcohol slowly left her body during their long ride home. Max decided to bring them and their friends to an urbex party on the other side of the city and the traffic, especially when they were going back home, was unbearable. They had fun that night, Lola dancing as always with Jo and sometimes bringing Maya with her even if she was complaining. She felt Maya’s front against her back and she couldn’t help pressing herself even closer to her, swinging her hips at the rhythm of the music. Thanks to the non-existent distance between them, she could feel Maya holding her breath.

It’s not like Lola didn’t notice that Maya was sometimes awkward around her. She tried to ignore it for some time but not thinking about it made her do it even more. Not only about what was going on in Maya’s head, but also what was going on in hers. She was straight as far as she knew, she has always been with boys and she liked it. Lola knew that Maya was attracted to girls only and she never had a problem with it. At least until her best friend wasn’t near one of them that wasn’t her. Maya’s first relationship was with a certain Charlotte, a girl she met at work. Lola hated her from the first second she saw her and never failed to make that very known. Maya tried so hard to find a common ground between the two of them but she never succeed. She knew that Maya didn’t love Char, she could see it in her eyes. It was just a matter of time until they broke up. When they did, Lola wasn’t surprised.

What she was really surprised about was her — jealousy towards her? She couldn’t explain exactly what she felt at the time, she just realized that she wanted to be the one Maya was holding. She wanted to be the one Maya was kissing. She wanted to be the one Maya looked at. She wanted to be at Char‘s place. Her feelings were confusing and Lola didn’t try to let them out for fear of hurting Maya. She ignored them by throwing herself in the arms of random guys, having even a relationship with one of them for a few months. At the end of the day though, she always ended up in Maya’s arms thinking what would it be like to be held. Seriously held by her.

She couldn’t ignore them anymore that night, after the urbex party.

Maya helped her going up the stairs and when they arrived inside her house she splayed herself on the couch. “This party was awesome.” Lola said, placing her head on Maya’s shoulder when she sat on her side. She could hear her trying to breathe slowly and, when she brought her hand on her friend’s chest, she took the time to feel her heartbeat against her palm. “Your heart is beating so fast.” She murmured, moving her chin until it was placed on the crook of Maya’s neck. Lola knew that with her lips being so close to her skin she could feel her breath against that sensitive spot. Lola’s mind is dizzy but not on alcohol and Maya’s silence is somehow motivating her to not stop. “Maya, look at me.” It was whispered extremely low but Maya must have heard her because she turned her head on Lola’s side.

“Lola, w-what are you doing?” Maya’s voice was unsteady, breathy and insecure. Lola tilted her head up a bit, until she could make their fronts touch. Maya closed her eyes and parted her lips almost immediately but nothing happened for long. They remained like that, enjoying their closeness and the silence that filled the room again.

Suddenly, Lola couldn’t hold back anymore. She slowly got closer and closer, until their lips brushed one another. Maya let out little sigh and that’s when Lola took the opportunity to bring their lips together one for all. It wasn’t more than a simple peck, even if it lasted a bit longer than that, but it still was enough to make Lola shiver.

Yes, she was acting drunker than she was only to make this easier. Only to pretend she forgot about it just in case Maya reacted badly.

Before she was able to deepen their kiss, Maya pulled her back by placing both her hands on Lola’s shoulder. “No Lola, this isn’t right.” She marked, getting up from the couch. It took Lola a few seconds to realize what was happening and when she did a wave of regret hitted her. Tears threatened to come out but she held them back as much as she could. “I’m bringing you a blanket.” She heard Maya say but her voice seemed like it came from afar. She felt the warmness of the fabric enveloping her and her back pressed on the couch cushions.

“You’re drunk, you need to get some rest. You won’t remember anything in the morning.” And she placed a kiss on her forehead, delicate as the tone of her voice.

She wanted to scream: no, i will. Sleep took over her before she could even part her lips.

╴╴╴

“You remember that you —“

“I kissed you.” Lola mutters, letting out the words that Maya can’t seem to pronounce.

Maya is in full on panic. Lola was drunk as far as she knew but apparently not as drunk to forget the moment they shared together.

She thought about that kiss a lot in the last three months, she couldn’t get it out of her head. For the three seconds it lasted, she was the happiest person on earth. She leaned to the touch of Lola’s lips even, soft and plump just like she imagined them, and she lost herself for a moment. Her heart was ready to burst out of her chest and her body was shaking from excitement and relief. It all came crashing down when she came back to earth and realized that none of that was true and felt. Lola was out of it, she had to carry her throughout the stairs and help her to sit on the couch. Probably the kiss was nothing more than an induced action caused by the effect of alcohol. Maya obliged herself to forget about it but she just couldn’t. After their kiss, at least, she didn’t saw Lola entertaining herself with a guy for a long time. Until the last party they went to.

Now Lola is there, saying that she remembers anything and the only thing Maya wants to do is to run through the door. She doesn’t want to handle rejection. In a way, it’s better not to know and still have a minuscule hope than knowing that nothing is going to happen ever because her best friend is straight as a line.

“Let’s not talk about it, okay? It doesn’t have to mean anything. It was just a kiss.” Maybe the reverse psychology can work to get her out of the situation. Maya tries to brush it off as nothing important, as something they can forget because it didn’t have to mean anything for their future. They were still going to have a future, right?

“Just a kiss.” Lola repeats and Maya can hear almost disappointment in her voice. She doesn’t get it, though. Lola shouldn’t feel disappointed. After all, none of them talked about it after it happened and even if Lola remembered chose to not talk about it.

Lola is suddenly closer to her and she fails in the intent of backing off from her. She feels paralyzed all of the sudden and confused too. Their eyes lock again and the intensity of Lola’s gaze is almost unbearable for her poor heart. “Lola…” Maya manages to whisper when one of Lola’s hand come to rest on her cheek and, unable to think in a rational way, she places one of hers on top of her friend’s. Their forehead touch, just like they did three months ago and at this point Maya is too far gone.

Words become unnecessary when, in a surge of courage, Maya closes the distance between her and Lola. I’ll probably regret this in the morning , she has barely the time to think. Their lips meet in an innocent kiss, a soft press that is enough to send sparks all through Maya’s spine. She doesn’t dare to deepen it but in the end she doesn’t need too because Lola is doing it for her. She brings the other hand on Maya’s free cheek and uses it to move her head how she wants it. If it wasn’t for Lola’s firm hold, Maya would probably already stopped to see any sign of discomfort in Lola’s face. But her tongue is licking her bottom lip and Maya lets her in, giving up any form of resistance. It’s heavenly and it feels good but she can’t bring herself to enjoy the moment fully. She feels dirty, like she took advantage of the vulnerable moment to do what she wanted the most for years.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I-I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” Maya parts their lips abruptly and almost immediately she can see that Lola didn’t expect it. It took her a few seconds to open her eyes and realize that Maya wasn’t kissing her anymore. She still tastes the delicate vodka flavour of Lola’s mouth and the softness of her lips against hers. The thing is that she can’t handle all of this. She can’t handle to be kissed passionately by Lola just because she feels sorry for her and her stupid feelings she can’t ignore. If Maya could go back in time before she knew how having Lola that close to her felt, she would. Three months ago she wouldn’t have let herself lean into her friend’s touch even if she thought that she wouldn’t remember it. Lola tries to mutters something but nothing escapes from her lips but a sigh.

“I have to go.” Maya forgets for a moment that she’s in her own house and there’s nowhere she can go. The flat is so small that there’s no way to stay far from Lola how she would like to. She ends up locking herself in her little bathroom, like a baby, and drags her back on the door until she’s sitting on the pavement. Her head bumps on the wood as she tries to inhale and exhale without shaking. She wants to punch herself, again.

She hears a knock on the door and then a dragging sound on it. Lola is in the same position as she’s in. “Maya, please. Can we talk?” Lola pleads, her voice shaky. Maya wants to let her in but doing it also means making her dreams crush after almost four years. There’s no way Lola feels the same for her, she doesn’t even know what it means to be in love with someone and not being able to breathe because they’ll never be yours. There’s nothing in the world she would like more now than to be held by her, to hear her voice saying that it’ll all be alright even if it’s a lie, to feel her fingers caressing her head and making her eyes flutter in the process. But Maya can’t. Her heart is already too broken. In the end, she doesn’t answer. Instead, she closes her eyes and lets a tear run on her cheek. A tear that quickly turn into many and quiet sobs escape her mouth.

On the top of it all, she overhears Lola getting up.

…

Maya ended up passing out on her bathroom floor.

When she wakes up god knows how many hours later, it takes her a few minutes to remember what happened during the night. She feels her skin dry as the sahara and her eyes burning from all the crying she has done. The shame hits her before she can even get up and it all goes downhill from there. She looks at herself in the mirror, her face tired and sleepy, and she’s still wearing the clothes from yesterday. She doesn’t know what to do now. Lola probably run away from her after the improbable reaction she had and Maya has absolutely no intention of talking to her. After some minutes of self pity, she splashes ice cold water on her skin and washes her teeth in an attempt to remove every little particle of Lola in her mouth.

Surprisingly, she isn’t alone in her flat. The first thing she sees going out of the bathroom is Max figure fumbling with something on the table and judging from the sweet smell he’s preparing breakfast for both of them. “Morning.” She murmurs with a sleep voice. Max turns to her as soon as he hears her and a small smile curves his lips. “I made breakfast. You need to eat something.” His tone is concerned as much as his face is. There’s no way he doesn’t know what happened. Or at least, there’s no way he didn’t notice that Maya didn’t get out of the bathroom for the whole night. “I fucked everything up. You have no idea how much I fucked it up.” She admits, sitting in one of the table chairs.

“Maya, listen.” Max starts while putting in front of her a mug full of coffee. “You hid your feelings for her for four years. Do you know how much time it is? People get together, get married and divorce in even less than that.” He takes a sip from his espresso and Maya can’t help but signing. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?” She asks him, visibly annoyed. “No, this supposed to make you realize that one day it’ll happen anyway. You’re sensitive, you feel everything ten thousand times amplified. Keeping all in isn’t doing any good to you.” He knows he’s right. Maya too. Keeping her feelings to herself made her slowly spiral in an infinite vortex of what if instead of living in the present and actually making her reality go in the way she wanted it to. Maybe it is the time to get out of her comfort zone, get out of the sea of doubts that has been drowning her and finally make a move. After all, it can’t be a case it all happened.

“I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her everything, this time for real.” She gazes at Max and finds in him nothing but an expression of support and fondness. “I hope she won’t leave me.”

“ She won’t , Maya.”

…

Two days passed since her conversation with Max.

She was still convinced that talking with Lola was the best thing to do but bringing herself to do it required a bit of work. Maya spent these days taking care of herself. After the night with Lola and breakfast with Max, she took a long bath and thought about what to say to her best friend. Sorry if I locked myself in the bathroom, I’m in love with you was lame and made shame rise up at the pit of her stomach; I’m in love with you but I know you’re straight and I didn’t know what to do, so I fantasized about you kissing me for years and when that happened I got scared made her look like a creep. Maybe it was better if Lola never knew about her fantasizing. Who can blame her though?

If she couldn’t have Lola for real, she could have her in her fantasy. Maya used to dream about her a lot, especially at the beginning when she was starting to realize that what was feeling for Lola wasn’t exactly platonic. She dreamt about them in her bed, during one of their many sleepovers, legs entangled and busy lips. The heat of their bodies pressed together no matter the outside temperature, their curves perfectly fitting in one another and their fingers intertwined in a tight hold. When she woke up in the morning, she felt extremely guilty for those images running in her head, even more if Lola was by her side sleeping peacefully. She usually went to the bathroom to wash her face and to step out of that sleep induced fantasy, until she didn’t feel bothered anymore. Even if Lola couldn’t hear her, she always whispered a little I’m sorry .

Going back to the present, Maya is torn on what practically do to talk to Lola. She thinks about going to her house and wait there until Lola let’s her in or sending her a simple message, or even going to her workplace because suddenly waiting a few more hours seems unbearable. She goes for the second option in the end, hoping that Lola won’t take too long to reply.

to Lola: hey, can we talk? i’m sorry for what i did last time, it was stupid. i panicked and i left you without a word. i’ll explain it all to you, i promise.

She sends it before she can even read it again. Not even one minute later, Lola reads it. Maya’s fingers start trembling and the hold on her phone becomes precarious as she sees Lola typing, and typing, and typing.

A few second later, Lola’s not online anymore and leaves her on read.

…

Maya doesn’t even have the strength to be sad or get angry at herself anymore. She just stares at the screen, hoping that she’ll see Lola online again, but that doesn’t happen. Million thoughts spin in her head as she lays on the couch, the very same couch they kissed two times on. It’s half past eleven and Lola left work at least five hours ago. There’s no way she didn’t have time to reply to her text. She simply didn’t want to reply. Maya understands her, really. Finding out that your very gay best friend is in love with you, getting kissed, being left out of the bathroom without an explanation and, on the top of it, being completely straight must not be easy to handle. Probably if she was in the same situation as Lola, she would have reacted the same way.

Even after all that occurred between them, Maya can’t shake off the feeling that it can’t be done. If she got to know Lola as well as she thought in these four years together, it can’t be done. Maya knows her and she’s not the type to leave unfinished business behind her.

The ring of her doorbell gets her out of her thoughts and she quickly goes to open the door. Her heart clenches when she sees who is outside her flat this late. Lola.

“Hey. Can I come in?” Lola asks out of breath. She run for sure because she’s sweating and considering the five ramps of stairs to arrive to Maya’s flat is not that improbable. Maya lets her in with a welcoming gesture and as she enters her apartment, she never looks away from her. Lola doesn’t sit, instead she stands in the middle of the room, her chest still going up and down. She brings her look up, until she meets Maya’s one and takes a long breath before talking. “I want to talk first. Please, let me.” Lola says and Maya never heard her talking with such a firm voice. She simply nods as she places herself in front of her best friend.

“I met you when I was fifteen years old and I was in a bad place back then. My mother was dying and my family was breaking right in front of my eyes. I started high school thinking that I would hate every second of it but then you sat next to me and we started talking and I immediately knew that you would ruin me for everyone else. The special connection we have is something that I’ll be forever grateful for.” Lola stops for a second, a smile curving her lips. “When my mother died you were there for me and I was there for you when you came out to your foster family. We’ve been there for each other always, you are the best friend I could aim for. The truth is, though, that there is something more to it.”

Maya feels stuck, incapable to move every single muscle. So Lola did really understand it all from the beginning, maybe even before she admitted to herself that she was in love with her. She listens carefully to Lola’s words and as she asked, lets her talk.

“I knew you were having a few night stands but one day you came to my workplace with Charlotte and I was surprised. I never saw you that physically close to anyone before, not even me and I don’t know, I felt something that I’ve never felt before. I realized only later, after fighting with Char countless of times, that I was simply jealous of her. At first I thought it was because she took away most of the time we used to spend together but after truly thinking about it — this wasn’t the reason.” She takes a big, deep breath before continuing. “I was jealous of her because I wanted to be the one you kissed. I wanted to be the one you held your hand in the street with and I wanted to be the one you cuddled back home. Three months ago I shoot my shot and I kissed you on that couch not because I was drunk, not because I wanted to have fun with you. I did it because I fucking wanted to. I had to act on what I was feeling, I couldn’t hold it back anymore for fear that you didn’t feel the same. When you rejected me I felt so bad. I thought you didn’t want me.” Her voice trembles at the last words and she gulps down the lump in her throat. “ — then the other night you kissed me first, this time a real kiss, and It never felt so right with anyone else before. I know that I always told you that I was straight, trust me I truly believed it. I tried to say to myself that maybe what I was feeling for you was just affection but Maya, it’s not. I think I’m in love with you and I’m so fucking scared I have ruined everything between us.” Lola is crying, full on sobbing even but she doesn’t bother to dry her tears from her cheeks, she just leaves them stream out freely.

Maya takes in Lola’s words and has to pinch herself to make sure she’s not dreaming. Apparently, there is a universe where hers is not an unrequited love and she’s lucky enough to live in it. For all these years she was convinced there was no possibility of her and Lola together, together as a couple. She suffered so much. All those sleepless nights, all those hurtful fantasies, all the times she wanted to tell her how she felt but couldn’t because the fear of rejection held her down each time. Maya couldn’t know, though. Lola had always maintained a very good straight facade but after hearing her words, she understands why she did it. They were both scared of losing each other and Lola was most possibly confused with her sexuality, which is not something to underestimate. Maya wants to say a million things and at the same time remains silent to enjoy this moment for a little bit more before it ends. She parts her lips in an unspoken word and from her watery eyes she can see Lola’s figure blurred.

“Please, say something.” Lola’s voice is pleading, loud in the silence of the flat.

She takes a big breath, while the words in her head start to make enough sense to be spoken out loud. “Lola, I’m in love with you since the first time I saw you. It took me some time to admit it to myself but I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the exact moment my eyes met yours. This is so cheesy but it’s true.” Maya can’t hold back a tiny chuckle. “I spent the last four year asking myself why I fell in love with a girl I could never be with. I always saw you with guys, you told me you were straight and I never suspected the contrary. I fell in love with you anyway. You’re the best person I know, beautiful inside and out. You have no idea how many times I dreamed about you saying exactly what you just said to me, I swear. Maybe this is some law of attraction shit, I don’t know.” She takes a few steps to be finally close enough to Lola to wipe away her tears. She’s still crying but has her signature smirk on her lips. Maya leaves a kiss on her forehead and caresses her hair, bringing them back her ears.

“You better kiss me right now.” Lola whispers, an inch separating their lips. “ — and don’t even think of locking yourself in the bathroom again because I’ll fucking break that door.”

Maya lets out a little laugh but she’s quick to close the distance between them just like she did a few days ago. This time, though, none of them has any intention to separate. This kiss has nothing innocent about it. It’s passionate, a bit sloppy and their teeth clashes together but they don’t care. It’s perfect in it’s own way. Delicacy left the chat a long ago. They stumble to the bed soon after and it’s all fast and blurry from there. The very same bed where everything began, where Maya realized she was in love with Lola. Maya’s fantasies quickly were becoming a reality as they lost themself with the moonlight shining from the window.

…

The morning after, their role switched. This time was Maya feeling watched in her sleep. She slowly opens up her eyes, revealing Lola’s figure on her side, her head laying on the pillows and her eyes towards her.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Maya murmurs with a sleepy voice, shifting under the covers to get even closer to Lola. “Yes. Just like you did for the past four years with me.” Lola laughs and it’s the best sound Maya could hear this early in the morning. So for all this time Lola knew that she was glancing at her while she was asleep but never said anything. Maya’s cheeks turn red in an instant but Lola is quick at brushing off of her the embarrassment with a peck on her lips. “Is this some type of revenge then?” Maya asks jokingly, reaching out for Lola’s hip under the duvet and pinching it. “Oh, stop!” Obviously Maya doesn’t, and keeps pinching her hip and her stomach. Lola tries to get away from her, failing miserably, because Maya’s hold is strong enough to keep her exactly where she is. When they stop laughing, she sees Lola face changing, the same face she does when she wants to tell something but doesn’t know how to.

She talks after a while, hesitant. “About tonight —” Before she can continue, Maya puts her lips on hers in a reassuring kiss. “Hey. You’ve never been with a girl before, it’s normal. I won’t push you into doing anything you don’t want to do.” She whispers, placing a hand on her cheek and caressing it with her thumb. Maya remembers that even if she was sure about her sexuality since as long as she can remind, her first time with a girl was still all tentative touches and embarrassment when she didn’t know what to do. Lola was no different but honestly Maya can’t care less about sex when she is with the person she loves the most in the whole world. Plus, they have plenty of time ahead of them to experiment with each other.

“But — I do want to touch you.” Lola mutters on Maya’s lips, as her hands travel on the side of her body. Maya shivers and kisses her again, again and again.

…

They get out of bed around noon with the intent to eat something but instead they find themselves sitting on the couch again. Lola is cuddled between Maya’s legs, her back on Maya’s front and her head gently placed on her chest. She’s running her fingers through her hair like she always does, letting the brown strands wrap around and then letting them go. She knows Lola loves when she plays with her hair, it makes her feel extremely relaxed and cared for. It is also their way to tell one another that something was wrong when there are people around. One of them puts a hand on the other hair and they know. They sneaked off so many times with this technique and all of them they found themself alone in a comfortable hug. Today is different, though. The hugs and the cuddles that used to be platonic aren’t anymore and Maya doesn't have to dream about the softness of Lola’s lips.

“Hey Maya —” Lola starts, turning her head enough to see Maya’s face. “ … Now I can stop calling you my best friend, right?” She ends up asking and Maya smiles against her forehead. “You better.” She imitates Lola’s tone of last night, when she told her to kiss her. Maya lost count of how many times she pinched herself already. She always does it when Lola can’t see her because she knows she would mock her for her entire life if she saw. It’s just that she still can’t believe she gets yo have Lola like this. It feels natural with her, it feels like home, but after four years of desperate longing and gay panic when she found herself a little closer than normal to her, you can’t blame her.

“I want to tell the others about this… About us.” Lola adds, shifting from her laying position on a more comfortable one straddling Maya’s lap. Maya’s hands travel from her waist to her thighs, while she locks eyes with Lola. “I’m not sure I want to do it now, though. It’s not because I’m scared of how people will react seeing me with a girl, I want to make this clear.” She clarifies, playing with the hem of Maya’s shirt. “I want to take the time to live all of this for a while, just the two of us.” Maya couldn’t agree more. She is out and proud but has nothing against Lola needing some time to process everything privately. She doesn’t care about how Lola will decide to define herself or even if she won’t at all, the only important thing is that Lola’s happy and if she can be the person to make her happy… Well, so much better. “I’ll give you as much time as you need.” Maya smiles and Lola makes their noses brush against one another.

“Thank you.” Lola murmurs on Maya’s lips and then she cups her face with her hands, bringing them together in a delicate press. Maya doesn’t answer but she’s sure that her lingering touches on Lola’s back and both of them deepening the kiss enough to get lost in it once again is enough to reassure Lola that she isn’t going anywhere,

that she’s here to stay.

[too-many-baes]

The Life of a Hunter

Pairing: fem!reader x Dean Winchester

Warning(s): Injury (bad one), blood, mentions of death, all the angst possible

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: The life of being a hunters girlfriend becomes too much for you to handle

A/N: This is another one from my old blog. I revamped it a bit and I personally like it better than before, so hopefully so do you guys!

My requests are open so fire away anything you want me to write

                                                    ************

The life of a hunter isn’t easy, that’s a give in. They put their lives on the line every day to save people, sometimes even the world. There’s no paycheck waiting when they’re done, no medal of honour to be hung around their necks. All they receive is their own solitary knowledge of their good deeds. Being a hunter wasn’t something anyone signed up for half-heartedly and was not a job to be taken lightly. Yes, hunters were outrageously brave and deserved more credit, but there was another group of people you thought deserved more recognition as well. That was being the significant other of a hunter. You know better than anyone that it comes with its own set of issues. Sure, you weren’t out saving virgins from dragons or innocents from hungry vampires or vengeful ghosts, but you were there.

You were there when they set off on a hunt, you were there on the couch every night trying to fend off sleep in case they came home. You were there to stitch them up when they came home injured and you were there waiting by the phone hoping for a call, but fearing what it could say. You were there for all of that and more, but you feared you would have to be there when shit hit the fan. There may be a day when you have to be there, crying with their loved ones, there to burn their body, and then there to just… keep going. As if you could.

These were things you always feared, things that played on your mind, but when you started dating your boyfriend Dean and he had told you what he did you had thought that those things would be something that you could handle. Being with him would be worth it, you told yourself. And it had, for a very long time. Every moment you spent with Dean you were happy. From cuddling up to him on the couch, laughing at his bad singing or even just sitting in silence in the car with your hands comfortably locked together, those were the moments that made it all worth it. Until last week when you realised something.

You had been awaiting his return from what he assured you was a simple salt and burn that would be a day max. You were in the kitchen at Bobby’s making coffee when the door had burst open, revealing a frantic Sam and an unrecognisable Dean. He had slashes from his shoulder to his hips, and his face was purple and swollen, making his green eyes disappear. You felt as though your lungs had been pulled out through your throat and your heart had given up on you, but none of that mattered as you ran to help carry him. You and Sam lifted his limp body up onto the table as gently as both of your panic would allow.

“Sammy, what the hell happened?” You screamed as you ripped off what was left of his shirt, gasping at what you saw. The slashes were deep, so deep that you were sure if you could handle looking long enough you’d be able to catch glimpses of his ribs.

“I don’t know, it happened so fast! It-it got the jump on us and-oh god is he still breathing?” You checked his pulse. It was there, but only just. You and Sam did the best you could to fix him up, running around grabbing towels and stitches and anything you could think to help him, but no matter what you did his pulse continued to slow until you were sure it had stopped. You were both yelling and screaming, begging Dean to hold on, to stay with you. In that moment you felt as though you were helplessly watching on as the life of your boyfriend dissipated from the world.

If Castiel hadn’t shown up and healed him Dean would have died that day. It was that day that you came to a realisation. As you had gone to the bathroom to clean the blood, his blood, off of your hands and let sobs rack your body, tears raining into the sink. You were falling in love with Dean Winchester. You had thought that the day you realized that would be a happy one but it had only made your sobs more intense, causing you to collapse to the tiled floor, because in that moment you knew. You just knew that you couldn’t do it any more. The sleepless nights and waiting by the phone, the stitches and tears. You couldn’t repeat what you had to go through that day again. It was because of this you knew, even though it would break your heart, you had to leave him.

You had convinced Dean to take a couple of days off hunting under the guise that you thought he should rest, but really you had just wanted a few normal days with him before you left. A few more days that you could try and prepare yourself to leave, and a few more normal days that you could use just to enjoy his company. You made the most out of it, sharing intimate cuddles in the mornings, full of light pecks and rubbing noses, followed by lazy afternoons wrapped up in each other on the couch. You had fun nights cooking and blasting rock music, air-guitaring every solo. You soaked it in, knowing that you may never be as happy in your life as you had been with him. But your decision was final, and for your own sanity you had to go.

You wake up on what you decided was your final morning with him knowing if you waited any longer you’d never go. You roll over to examine his face, mapping every line and freckle to etch it into your memory. You take in his sharp jaw line, his light stubble. The way his lips curve and the way he was peaceful when he slept, untroubled by the nightmares he had to face while awake. You turn onto your back and suck in a shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut to hold back the tears you could feel forming. You mentally scold yourself for wanting to cry already, this was the easy part.

You get up as silently as you could and make your way downstairs to put on some coffee. While sitting down at the table you let yourself get lost in your own thoughts when movement by the door startles you. You relax when you see it was only Sam, up early as always.

“Oh, Sam, sorry I was in my own world”, you say. Over the course of dating Dean you’d gotten to know Sam and you felt a twinge of sadness looking at him knowing he didn’t know he’d never see you again after today. You weren’t just having to leave Dean, you were leaving everyone in his life. Sam was someone you were going to miss a great deal. He looks at you and notices the sadness plastered on your face.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He enquires, sitting down at the table opposite you. You let out a breath you were holding and look up at him with what you hoped was a convincing smile.

“Yea”, you start nodding at him, “yea, Sammy I’m fine.” While it was obvious he didn’t believe you, he accepts your answer out of politeness. “You know if you ever need to talk…” He offers as his sentence trails off, clearly feeling awkward at the interaction. A sad smile creeps onto your face.

“Thank you Sam, you’re a good guy.” With that you choose to leave him, finally deciding to face the music. You climb up the stairs, your feet feeling like lead. You walk into Dean’s room to see he has just finished getting ready for the day, sitting at the edge of the bed tying his boots. He looks up at you with those entrancing green eyes that make you want to give up your resolve and ask him to get back into bed with you. No, I have to do this.

“Morning”, he says, moving over to kiss you. You move your head away so your lips don’t meet. You stare at the ground not feeling brave enough to make eye contact.

“Y/N what’s up, you okay?” The softness and caring in his voice kills you. You suck in one large breath of air before meeting his emerald gaze.

“Dean… I can’t do this anymore.” Many emotions flicker through his eyes at that moment, but confusion seems to be the one that sticks out the most. “You can’t do what, you can’t do us anymore? Are you breaking up with me?” Hurt seeps through his voice causing your throat to clench uncomfortably. “I don’t get it, everything’s been great. Where is this coming from?” He gently grabs your shoulders in a hold that speaks as loud as his voice.

“It’s just too much, Dean. I can’t do this anymore.” His eyes search yours for something you may not be telling him. “What brought this on? You don’t have to do this we can talk about it”, he desperately pleads. You break away from his hold and move around the room, picking up the few items that you left here for when you stayed over. You put things into a bag all the while Deans mumbling and watching your every movement.

Just as you zip your bag Dean bangs his fist against the wall, giving you such a fright that your bag falls through your fingers and to the ground. “DAMNIT Y/N, TALK TO ME, WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOU?!”

“I CAN’T WATCH YOU DIE AGAIN!” You scream in response, realisation dawning on his face. “Seeing you like that it killed me Dean. I care too much about you to see that happen again. What if next time Cas isn’t there to save you? It’s too much.” You pick up your bag and walk past him to go down the creaky wooden stairs. Not long after his footsteps are hot on your tail.

“C’mon Y/N, you knew what you were signing up for.” He says the harsh words with desperation in his voice as he continues following you right out of the door and to your car. “I know Dean, I thought I could handle it. The other day showed me I can’t”, you say while tears wet your face and neck. You don’t bother to wipe them as you throw your bag in the boot of the car as you know they’ll be replaced as soon as they’re gone.

“Y/N, please don’t leave”, he says barely above a whisper. “I think I’m falling in lov-” “Please don’t say that, please. I need to leave.” You interrupt him before he could say the four letter word that had been tormenting you for days. Turning to face him you see a solitary tear escape and slide down his cheek. You didn’t want to stick around to see any more, you felt guilty enough already.

“But it’s true”, he states. He is standing close enough to you that you can lean forward and rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes and simply breathing. “I know, Dean, I feel the same”, you admit reluctantly, opening your eyes to stare into his. “That’s why I have to leave. I couldn’t handle losing you like that.” You’re about to pull away but Dean grips onto your arms and pulls you into a kiss. Your lips were wet with tears and the kiss was filled with sorrow. You held it for a long time, wanting to relish this last moment you would have with him.

“Please.” He says one last time as you pull away from his face. You tug him into a hug, gripping the fabric of his jacket to pull him as close as you could. As you nuzzle your head into his neck Dean hugs you back just as tight as if his grip would prevent you from taking his world away.

“I’m sorry Dean”, you whisper as you separate, opening the car door and buckling yourself in. Your window was open so Dean lent on the window frame. “Y/N…” He trails off, desperately searching for something, anything that would make you stay.

You start your engine and turn your face to look at him again. His tears have multiplied to the point that you could track their journey down his cheeks with the trails they left behind. He could do no such thing with the tracks of your tears as you had cried so many your cheeks were covered with a wet blur.

“Take care Dean.” With that you drive your car out of Singer’s auto, looking in your rear-view mirror to see Dean watching as you leave and drive out of sight. Your sobs were racking your body now, so much that you had to pull over a few minutes later, resting your head onto the steering wheel.

This is the right thing to do. This is the right thing to do. You repeat this over and over in your head until your sobs die down to sniffles and your eyes run out of tears.

You drive and drive until you can drive no longer. You could feel your phone buzzing in your pocket the whole time but you ignored it. Eventually, when the sun has well left the sky and you can’t keep your eyes open any longer you pull into the first motel you see.

You get into your dingy room and collapse on your bed falling into a restless sleep with one thing floating around in your mind.

If this is the right thing to do, why does it hurt so much?

                                                        **********

Part Two

[traincat]

Correct me if I'm wrong, but was not Flash having an abusive father a retcon that happened many years later after his debut? I remember you ask about whatever Flash being a bully was a retcon too, so I wonder if its the same case for his father. Perhaps is the reason why MCU decided to avoid any hint that Flash' father might be abusive.

Okay, this is a little messy, but from my point of view the answer is yes and no, or rather, it’s kind of half a retcon, if that. It’s a retcon that, with a little connecting the dots, we can make not a retcon. A retcon, by technical definition, is a piece of canon that retroactively rewrites the continuity that came before it. “The Alicia Masters that Johnny Storm married was a Skrull all along!” is a retcon, because before that piece of information was introduced, the Alicia Masters that Johnny Storm married was just Alicia Masters, regular human woman. A piece of information that reveals something about a character’s backstory or circumstances that just never came up before but doesn’t actually contradict anything, on the other hand, is not a retcon. 

This... falls in between those two things.

First off, Harrison Thompson is in a total of 13 comic issues altogether. That’s really not a lot -- Flash himself is in 574 comics, according to the Marvel Wiki. Harrison Thompson’s first appearance is in the B story of Amazing Spider-Man #372, titled Punch... Counter-Punch, where Peter and Flash years later revisit their boxing max from Amazing Spider-Man #8, albeit in a much friendlier manner. Now, note that this is several hundred issues after Flash’s introduction to the pages of Spider-Man, during which his father has never been mentioned before in either positive or negative light. The boxing match is just window dressing for the real point of the story, though, which involves Flash encouraging Peter to engage with his parents, Richard and Mary Parker, who had at that point in canon seemingly returned from the dead/the gulag. (“Richard and Mary” were actually robots, but that part doesn’t matter here. I love that I get to write that sentence.) Flash then launches into a recollection of his own father, who he describes as serious, intelligent, uninterested in athletics, and disapproving of Flash’s own interests in sports and his average grades. When Peter asks if Flash made up with his own father, Flash says he died:

Now, we know this is not true -- Harrison Thompson appears in Untold Tales of Spider-Man #19, published in 1997, a good four years after Amazing Spider-Man #372. Untold Tales of Spider-Man is a series from the ‘90s that bulked out the content of Peter’s high school years, considering that he’s only in high school in the original Amazing Spider-Man run for a grand total of 28 issues, and focused on Peter, Betty Brant, and Peter’s high school classmates. It’s a series I mostly find boring, I’ll be entirely honest, although I like some of the Flash, Liz, and Betty content. Untold Tales of Spider-Man #19 is technically the first time Harrison Thompson actually physically appears in a Spider-Man scene, being present in the book instead of in another character’s recollection. 

Harrison Thompson here has been reinvented as a Forest Hills police officer who, in this issue at least, is portrayed as a generally friendly fellow. Literally two months after this was published, Spectacular Spider-Man #-1 was published. Written by J.M. “stories about child abuse” DeMatteis, it begged the following: “how can we add more childhood trauma to the Spider-Man cast?” and “fuck the police.”

This comic, which I believe is the third ever appearance of Harrison Thompson within Marvel comics although I might be missing another Untold Spider-Man bit, keeps Harrison Thompson as a cop, but whereas in Untold Spider-Man he seemed an okay enough guy, Spectacular Spider-Man #-1′s depiction of him is an abusive drunk who emotionally terrorizes his family and beats his son. 

So we’ve got a weird little evolution here from intellectual snob who in his son’s eyes looked down on him for not sharing his more cerebral interests -> seemingly genial neighborhood cop -> violently abusive father. Now the second two don’t actually rule each other out: Harrison Thompson could certainly have put on a good face for the community while abusing his family at home. This is, after all, not uncommon behavior for abusers, who can often keep up a very charming act within their larger communities. (J.M. DeMatteis writes a lot of abusive father stories, and he does it very well.) So it’s really only the first story that’s the problem, continuity-wise. 

The Marvel wiki lists Harrison’s appearance in Amazing Spider-Man #372 as a “false recollection”, which is, I think, an interesting way of putting it. Now I said this was in my opinion half a retcon at best, and I consider it that because of something I noted above: Harrison Thompson never actually physically appears in this issue. Flash talks about him, but the problem with that is a very simple characterization rule: characters lie. Almost every character in a large body of canon, at some point or another, for whatever reason, is going to lie. “False recollection” can mean a lot of things, and “lie to your best friend to encourage him to get close again with his own parents” and “say your dad is dead because you kind of wish he was” are not outside the realm of possibility. I think this would be a very different case if Harrison Thompson had physically appeared as Flash describes him initially on the page, or if the issue had even contained a proper flashback scene instead of Flash speaking over some vague images. But that’s not the case, and when all you have is one character’s words there’s always the chance that their recollections are either untrue or unreliable.

Now, I can make this messier. In Amazing Spider-Man #372, Flash tells Peter his dad died before Flash ever met Peter. This is complicated two ways: first, as established later by Untold Spider-Man #19, Peter had met Flash’s dad, so he would’ve known in ASM #372 that Flash’s dad couldn’t possibly have died before Peter and Flash ever met. (Flash would also have had to be very young, younger than he’s depicted even in ASM #372, for his dad to have died before he and Peter met.) Worse yet, in Webspinners #9, which also takes place when Peter and Flash are still in high school, Peter as Spider-Man witnesses, without Flash’s knowledge, an incident where Flash is being punished and verbally abused by his father. (It’s also implied he witnesses Harrison hitting Flash via sound effect, but that’s not directly on panel.)

Now, I never know what to feel about this Webspinners story, canonicity-wise. For one, I think it’s not the best characterization for Spider-Man to see anyone he knows, whether or not he especially likes them, being abused and to do nothing to halt that abuse, although that would be a much more complicated story that a three-parter about Peter accidentally ending up with three prom dates doesn’t really have room to cover. For another, it gives Peter a very intimate look at Flash’s personal life that would surely recontextualize some things for him, but of course none of that is reflected in the college years because those stories weren’t written with this incident in mind. Peter finding out about Flash’s abusive home life in high school is, for me, the bit that most shoddily fits in here, though we do know that by the time they’re in their late 20s Peter is aware of things:

(Venom (2011) #5)

So if we’re putting it all together, with the assumption that, in order to keep all of the canon here cohesive (a very difficult thing to do with any long-running superhero comic), we’d have to view the ASM #372 story under the light that not only was Flash lying, but he was lying badly, and Peter knew he was lying, and they were just not talking about it. It’s messy, sure, and it’s not perfect, but “one character is lying for an agenda, other character knows and doesn’t confront him over it” isn’t out of the realm of possibility, if I wanted to make that argument.

Ultimately, for me, here’s the thing: Harrison Thompson is present in 13 issues. That’s is such an incredibly small part of a huge body of canon, but 11 of those issues have huge consequences for Flash Thompson. The two issues before DeMatteis introduced Harrison Thompson as a violently abusive man are a recollection that could easily be a lie -- a shoddy one, admittedly, but people tell shoddy lies all the time, so why shouldn’t fictional characters -- and an issue that, while it does not portray him as an abusive father, it doesn’t contradict it, either. Everything after that is relatively consistent in depicting Flash’s father as abusive throughout his childhood. You could consider Spectacular Spider-Man #-1 and subsequent stories are a retcon of Amazing Spider-Man #372, but you could also noodle your way around into making it work within the body of canon as I have done above. It’s really up to how the individual reader here wants to look at it. And even if someone does choose to view it as a retcon, it’s not a big one; it changes almost nothing about the canon that existed beforehand where Flash Thompson isn’t concerned, and there’s nothing in his story up until that point that would explicitly rule out him being an abused child. I will say, between the two stories, “my dad and I never got along because he was too nerdy to understand my athletic passions” is pretty sorry competition for the latter backstory that was created for Flash, which does a lot to inform his past actions as a character, from his high school bully status to his military enlistment which, as the sliding timescale moves the decade the Spidey Fivesome were in college together forward, we can no longer attribute to the draft. It also offers him something in common with many of the other major members of Peter’s supporting cast: like Flash, Mary Jane and Harry were also abused by their fathers. (Who in Marvel comics wasn’t? Peter. Peter Parker was not.) 

All that aside, I doubt that when Spider-Man: Homecoming’s creative team was conceiving their version of Flash Thompson that they chose to omit any mention of his abusive father in homage to Amazing Spider-Man #372′s B story, especially after they reimagined Flash as a nerd himself. “If he were smarter, his father wouldn’t beat him” would become a, uh, troubling implication if anyone involved in the movie were to make that claim. Which they won’t, because I would bet a lot of money that they didn’t think about it that much. This is the film that cut any mention of Uncle Ben’s death because it would be a “downer” -- they weren’t going to introduce an abusive homelife for one of Peter’s classmates. And that’s not even my issue, as much as I appreciate The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)’s oblique reference in the hallway scene where Flash says “it feels better, right?” after Peter slams him against the lockers. Addressing Flash Thompson’s childhood isn’t something that’s going to make or break a Spider-Man adaptation for me, although ideally it’s something I would like to see handled with care and sympathy. My issue is that you have a character who, in the source material, has consistently been depicted as the victim of childhood abuse from 1997 onwards, and instead chose to make that character an affluent nerd and the butt of a joke that, if it had happened to the original Flash Thompson in high school, surely would have had serious consequences for him when Peter steals and wrecks his car. I just found it an uncomfortable, knowing Flash’s comics backstory. (And as someone who’s had their car stolen, I’m not exactly sure how grand theft auto is supposed to be funny.) I’m sure the movie could’ve shoved more sports car time in there some other way. 

[spaceskam]

Moirai (5/7)

Summary: Experiments and a war dad.

[ao3]

(part one - part two - part three - part four - part five)

“How long’s he been like that?”

“Four days.”

Kyle’s scoff echoed through Alex’s already worried mind. The worry had started almost immediately when Michael had cut a bath together short to stare at a stone slab. It only grew when he didn’t come to bed that night or any other night or when he refused to eat more than an orange a day. All he did was sit out on the back porch and stare at the stupid fucking thing. Alex wanted to break it.

“It’s like he thinks he can translate it through sheer power of will,” Alex commented, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee, “And that’s all he’s doing. He’s basically not even here, you can’t even talk to him. It’s that same trance shit like at the prison. I get that thing is important to him, but it’s like I don’t know whether I should be annoyed or worried. He’s not even helping take care of Felicity, he’s just a shell.”

As if on cue, Felicity started wailing. Alex sighed and went to where she was on the couch, picking her up and doing his best to console her. He didn’t mind taking care of her. Over the last few weeks, he’d found he sort of liked playing dad. However, he liked sharing those duties. Michael was mentally MIA and didn’t even react to her crying for him. That’s really what solidified him firmly in the worry category. He’d gone from being overly attentive to nothing at all.

“Jesus, you think it’s whatever’s on that stone, not the prison and not her?” Kyle wondered, concern lacing his tone. Alex shushed the baby in his arms, bouncing her slightly.

“I guess. I just don’t know what to do.” Alex wondered, mindlessly rubbing his eye as he went to the kitchen to fix her a bottle. Kyle followed. “C’mon, Fiz, quiet down.” She didn’t.

“Do you think we should get Max and Isobel over here? See if they can break him out of it?” Kyle suggested, taking over to scoop formula into the bottle. Alex nodded his thanks, trying to cuddle Felicity closer in hopes that his warmth could somehow replicate the comfort she got from Michael’s.

“What if it puts them in the same state he’s in? Then I’ll have three aliens just glued to my porch.” That would be worse than the current situation and it was already pretty bad. He hated this. He was beginning to think the universe didn’t want him and Michael together. It literally went as far as to have a stone tablet with mind control powers take him away.

“Well, look, if we don’t get him out of it soon, he’s gonna get hurt. I don’t know how long an alien can go without food or water, but I’m feeling like four days is a good place to not push past,” Kyle said, handing over the bottle. Alex relaxed the moment she stopped crying. “We need to try to pry him out of it.”

“We need to get him away from that thing is what we need to do.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if that’s gonna work. He’s been dreaming about it for weeks,” Kyle scoffed and brought his mug to his lips as if he hadn’t just given Alex some new information. Alex furrowed his eyebrows at him and then over towards Michael before looking back at Kyle.

“What are you talking about?”

Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. However, as Alex stared with pursed lips, he seemed to understand.

“Shit, he never told you?” Alex let out a slow breath. “I mean, he said he was scared to tell you, but I thought he would at least tell you when we got back.”

“Yeah, no, he said he was having these dreams that were fucking him up about wanting to go back to the prison. He said it was keeping him from sleeping. I don’t know all the details, I just know it was mental,” Kyle explained, rubbing his eyes.

Alex stood still for a moment as he went over everything in his mind. Everything was going to shit. He thought he’d finally got Michael back, but, instead, all this alien bullshit was working against him. Michael was working against him. He wished he’d never brought him to that fucking prison in the first place. He should’ve learned his lesson from Caulfield.

When Alex looked down at the baby in his arms, he couldn’t help but feel bad. She was the tie to everything. Maybe she hadn’t actually done anything, but she’d played a massive role in the last few weeks. Which was insane and he knew it. Alex liked being a father and he liked taking care of a baby with Michael. At the end of the day, though, he found it hard to separate her from the bullshit. He wanted stability from Michael and this wasn’t it.

He was just going to have to make it happen.

“Can you hold her for a minute?” Alex asked, not waiting for an answer as he passed Felicity to Kyle. She immediately started whining, but Alex just turned and headed for Michael. One more try and then he would be taking some drastic measures.

Michael was silent, his skin windburned and his eyes glazed over. His hair was dirty and flat and his hands were shaking as he held onto the stone. It was a really windy morning and Alex knew it was supposed to storm later.

“Michael,” Alex said softly. He didn’t even look towards him. He went up behind him, draping his arms over his shoulders and resting his cheek against Michael’s. It was cold to the touch. “Baby, come inside. Come eat and bathe and sleep.”

Michael didn’t budge, didn’t even blink.

“We can…” Alex started again, his hands sliding over Michael’s chest and placing a few kisses along his jaw, “Do whatever you like. Anything to take your mind off anything.”

Again, nothing. Alex clenched his jaw as he gave Michael a bit of a squeeze. When he again didn’t even seem to be aware, Alex grabbed the stone from his hands and threw it as hard as he could before Michael could even react. It landed somewhere in the woods behind the house and Alex made a mental note to hide it even further.

That woke him up.

“A-Alex?” he whispered, blinking as he slowly woke up, “Alex?”

Michael looked around, seeming to be confused about where he was and what he was doing. Alex touched his cheek again, pulling him to meet his eyes. He relaxed into it as the fatigue visibly settled in him. Alex felt at least a little bit relieved.

“Alex,” Michael breathed.

“Welcome back,” Alex said, “Come inside.”

“Where’s the tablet?” he asked immediately. And there went the relief.

“Forget about it, come inside. Come take a bath and eat and come to bed with me,” Alex urged softly. He wanted so badly to bury that thing and never see it again. But Michael shrugged him off, standing shakily to his feet.

“N-no, I need it. I need it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!”

“I don’t want that shit in my house!”

“That is my one way to find answers! You don’t want me to have answers?!”

“Not if it makes you like this, no!”

Michael narrowed his eyes at Alex, breathing angrily as if he wasn’t shaking and pale and thin. It hurt to look at. He took a risky step forward and placed his hands on Michael’s cheeks.

“Please. You’ve been gone for days. I want my boyfriend back,” Alex pleaded. Michael thankfully softened. “Come inside. Please.”

“I need to know, Alex, I need to know what that is. What it’s for.”

They were silent for a moment, a debate that didn’t need words. Just staring. This wasn’t something Alex could think of a compromise for. He was tired of the mind control, he refused to have it willingly in his house anymore. Or, at least, not around Michael. He wasn’t willing to budge on that.

Alex let go of him.

“Then go,” he said simply even it was not simple to say, “I threw it. Go find it, get your shit, and go somewhere else. I’ll take care of Felicity because you can’t when you have that thing and whenever you find what you wanted, maybe I’ll let you back in. But I’m not going to sit and watch you willingly be mind-controlled.”

Michael’s eyes searched over his face, his eyebrows pulled together as he tried to gauge how serious he was. When he realized that Alex was indeed serious, he shook his head and moved closer.

“You don’t want that.”

“No, I don’t, but I’m not enabling you. So if you want that tablet more than me and Felicity and being in control of yourself, then go for it. I’m not going to stop you,” Alex responded. He could see the turmoil on Michael’s face and that killed him.

“Not to butt in,” Kyle’s voice was heard softly, “But I think I might be able to help.” Alex and Michael turned to face Kyle. Felicity was in his arms, whining and reaching for Michael desperately.

“How?”

“Alex, you remember how we were able to decipher some of the writing my dad did?” Kyle asked, hesitantly checking to see if it was okay to give Felicity to Michael. He seemed okay enough, so Alex gave a small nod. She immediately curled against Michael and he cradled her close like it brought him just as much comfort as it brought her. Alex would find it irresistibly adorable if he wasn’t so fucking angry that Michael chose mind control over them.

“Yeah,” Alex said, tearing his eyes away from the first right thing he’d seen in days, “But I’ve looked at it, there are only four symbols on it. What could we get from translating it?”

“It might be instructions or something,” Kyle suggested, “Let me at least see before you guys have some massive break up. Just… place nice for a couple more days, okay?”

Alex stared at Kyle for a moment. He looked less like a doctor and more like a kid determined not to let his parents break up. He sighed softly and looked towards Michael.

“Would you be okay if Kyle took it?” Alex asked cooly. Michael sat on the table behind him, his hand splayed across the entirety of Felicity’s back. She seemed to make the decision for him.

“If he takes it, can I stay?” Alex nodded without any hesitation. “Then okay, just be careful with it,” Michael said and Alex wondered if he was willfully ignoring the fact that Alex had hurled the fucking thing into the woods.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, just… don’t fucking break up over mind control,” Kyle said as if that was a normal sentence and then started heading towards the trees. Alex sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to relax. He didn’t think he would until this shit was out of his life for good.

“Michael, go inside and in our room so it doesn’t latch onto your mind again if it gets too close,” Alex ordered. They could talk after he ate and slept.

Michael opened his mouth to protest but closed it once he looked back down at the baby on his chest. “Yeah, I can still feel it calling for me,” he murmured, slipping past him and heading inside. Finally.

Alex leaned against the table where Michael had been, feeling more than a little drained. He wanted to sleep, but he knew that wasn’t an option. He had to talk with Michael, watch Felicity, and get something done other than bullshiting around. Maybe he could call Isobel an explain the events of the past few days and see if she had any advice. Although, that sounded like a bad idea when he realized how angry she would be if she found out her brother had been under a mind-controlling alien artifact for days and he hadn’t told her.

Fuck, he just wanted to go back to normal. Not even by himself normal. He was completely happy with the normal he’d gotten used to with his alien boyfriend in his bed and his alien baby in the next room creating a mobile out of Jim Valenti’s trinkets. He didn’t know he could crave something like that but he did and he needed it.

“You know, when you stalked out here, I didn’t really know what you were going to do, but trying to dump him was not even close,” Kyle said when he walked back up to the porch. He was back to looking like an annoyed best friend and Alex would never admit how much he was thankful for it.

“What was I supposed to do? He was happily being controlled by a fucking rock. I don’t want that. I don’t want to watch him wither away because he’s controlled. If he wants to choose that over us, then fine,” Alex said. Kyle tilted his head, his face screaming ‘really, Alex?’.

“He doesn’t want that, you know he doesn’t. If you would’ve just gotten him away from that far enough where it stopped fucking with him, he would’ve told you that. He loves you, dude, he just wants answers. You can’t hate him for wanting answers,” Kyle said softly. Alex’s eyes were stuck on the stupid fucking rock in his hands and he was again overcome with the desire to break it.

“I don’t, I literally just told him I don’t. I want him to have answers, but, fuck, I still want him. I don’t have him when he’s with that thing.” He immediately regretted as he spoke. He hated how vulnerable he was sounding, especially in front of Kyle Valenti of all people. He really just needed to sleep.

“Look, maybe it’ll stop once it gets what it wants from him. Maybe there’s a reason,” Kyle pushed. Alex shrugged halfheartedly. It seemed like Michael would’ve figured out what it wanted by now if it wanted something other than to take over his body. He didn’t see what other reason there could be right now.

“That’s a big fuckin’ maybe.”

“Listen, if we can’t figure it out in two weeks, then we destroy it‒with or without their approval. How does that sound?” Kyle asked. That brought a smile to Alex’s face.

“Perfect.”

-

“Did you eat?”

“Yes.”

“Bathe?”

“Yes.”

“Felicity’s asleep, did you sleep?”

“No, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Alex kept his back to Michael as he rummaged through his drawers to get changed for the night. After Michael had gone inside, Alex took the opportunity of not dealing with a baby to go into his office and work on his actual job. That was five hours ago.

He could see Michael through the mirror. He was bundled up a thick sweater and sweatpants, curled up in bed with a pillow tucked in his arms. He looked small, tired. It reminded him of those times in the last month that had brought them closer, little moments of comfort that they’d shared. Alex weighed if he wanted this to be one of those moments or if he should walk away.

He turned to face him.

“I know you’re mad at me. I don’t want to sit here and say that it wasn’t my fault ‘cause at least a little bit of me wanted to sit and stare at it, I still want to now. But… if I had been in more control, then I wouldn’t have let it do that. You know I want you and Felicity, Alex, don’t you?” Michael said. He sounded so weak. Alex took a slow breath.

“I know. And I’m not… mad, I guess. I’m frustrated. I hate that every time things are going good for us, something has to fuck it up. I mean, we finally get on the same page and get our shit together and, and then a fucking mind-controlling rock tries to rip us apart. It makes it hard to… to…” Alex didn’t know what he wanted to say.

“No, no, the universe only throws us shit we can handle. Us making it through bullshit after bullshit… We’re meant to be, baby,” Michael said, a sleepy little smile on his face. Alex huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m serious though. It’s gonna be alright. We’re gonna be okay. We have to be. We’re Michael and Alex, we’re always okay.”

“You sound so sure,” Alex said softly, pushing off the dresser and making his way towards the bed. Michael shrugged.

“I love you, Alex. Every inch of me wants every inch of you all the fucking time. I have you now and I will do my damnedest to keep you. We’ve been doing good. I’m sorry I almost fucked that up again,” he said, his voice getting softer the closer Alex got. He opened his arms, the pillow easily being replaced with Alex’s body.

“I want you to have answers, Michael,” Alex whispered as he rested his head in the crook of Michael’s neck. He had almost forgotten how comforting it was to be in Michael’s arms and it made it so much easier to understand how Felicity was brought so much comfort by it. “I just don’t want it to be at the cost of you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I almost kicked you out.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry that it got to that point.”

“And I’m sorry Valenti of all people had to be the one to tell me I was being irrational.”

“I’m sorry I left you alone with the baby and work for days, I know how hard that can be.”

“I’m sorry we keep saying sorry.”

Michael let out a soft laugh, “Yeah.”

They fell silent for a moment, just taking each other in and relaxing until both of them began to drift. Alex had to catch himself, gently pulling himself drearily away from Michael so he could change and get out of his prosthetic. Michael protested gently but easily went back to cuddling the pillow on his side of the bed.

After Alex changed into his own sleep shorts, he checked the baby monitor once more. She seemed to be alright so he took off his prosthetic and turned out the lights. Slipping his arms around Michael from behind was natural, even after multiple nights in bed alone. He held him and the pillow he had in his arms tightly, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder before closing his eyes for the night.

It would be okay. They were Michael and Alex. It would always be okay.

-

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“I’m saying we need to get Max and Isobel over here immediately to see if my theory is correct because, if it is…”

“If it is?”

“Then we have might have a bigger problem than we originally thought.”

Alex sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair as he stared at Kyle. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, eyes wide and panicked. Alex didn’t share his panic if only because he knew better. Panic got you nowhere.

“Okay, tell me again.”

Kyle huffed roughly, his hands pressing hard against the table as he leaned forward. He looked around the bunker once more as if he was scared someone was watching him. Alex was beginning to feel more concerned for him.

“Okay. So there’s four symbols on the tablet and I was only able to locate the translation for three of them. The first one I can’t find, but the last three basically say ‘Child of High General Heinar’. Well, I’m pretty sure it actually says son instead of child, but the two symbols are really fucking close and so I’m being careful, so I think the first symbol is a name,” Kyle spewed and Alex nodded slowly, “So, so I went through all the records from Caulfield, specially searching for High General Heinar or, or just the name Heinar because obviously if I was able to find the translation, then they’d written it and hopefully even spoke about it before. Then I found the transcripts.

“Alex, there were only three aliens in all of Caulfield who spoke English. They were presumed to be linguists on their planet and they made transcripts of their torture sessions to see if they could get anything from them. We didn’t really read those the first time we went over them because we obviously weren’t gung-ho for torture porn, but every single one of them mentions him. It’s always ‘do whatever you want to me, General Heinar is coming for us’ or ‘General Heinar will destroy you’ or ‘our Heinar is ruthless when it comes to those who torture innocents, so prepare for total damnation of you and your offspring’, that type of shit. It-It was horrible and I don’t know whether to empathize or to be fuckin’ scared since we’re their offspring that got threatened,” Kyle finally took a breath and Alex had leaned forward. While that didn’t exactly scare him, he was intrigued by the fact that Kyle had actually read the transcripts instead of passing them onto Alex.

“Okay,” Alex said, “That’s the second time you’ve said that and maybe I’m dense or maybe you’ve just watched too many of those sci-fi movies I suggested, but I’m not following with what your theory is.”

Kyle gulped and took a steadying breath, combing his fingers through his hair as he tried to order his thoughts. Alex waited as patiently as he could even though he was very eager to hear what Kyle thought was happening.

“So, how did a mind-controlling tablet that seems to be either for or dedicated to that ruthless General’s child end up in a secret tunnel not far from a secret pod in a completely different prison?” he said and Alex nodded slowly.

“So you think Felicity is his child and the sons of the people who tortured their people happen to be harboring her?” Kyle shook his head.

“At first that’s what I thought. I thought that the tablet must be, like, a warning or something and that’s why it latched onto Guerin because he’s the one taking care of her. But then I realized that you are too, you both are doing an equal job at it, so why wouldn’t it be controlling you too? So then I thought, well, maybe it’s just aliens that it affects. But it doesn’t do anything to Felicity, nothing at all. So it’s something about Michael,” Kyle pointed out. Alex suddenly started to feel the dread as he began to piece together what Kyle was trying to say.

“Are you saying Michael is the long lost son of a terrifyingly loyal and protective alien general?” Alex said slowly. Kyle nodded.

“Not only that, but my theory is that it’s connected. That, that maybe him finding the tablet alerted their planet that he was still alive. That maybe him being in a trance that whole time wasn’t because it was trying to communicate, but because it’s like a GPS tracking device. What if they can find his exact place when he’s holding it and they’re coming back for him?” Kyle rambled. Alex’s eyebrows came together and he stared at the table. The idea was scary enough. What would happen if he was right? Would they come to take him back? Would Michael go willingly?

Would they kill Alex in the process?

“Wait, wait, it’s been over 70 years since the crash, General Heinar is probably extremely old if not dead,” Alex pointed out. Kyle shrugged.

“Or maybe they put him in a pod to freeze him in time until they found the whereabouts of his son so he could come back just as strong,” Kyle said.

Oh. Well. Fuck.

“Which is why I need to get Isobel and Max to touch it. If they get sucked in, then maybe my theory is wrong and we can address it a different way. All I know is that was the first thing that came to my mind and now I’m freaking out,” Kyle breathed out. Alex nodded in understanding.

Alex racked his brain for a moment for literally any other option. Obviously, there were a ton. It could be something else entirely. This just happened to be the scariest option. The thought that they basically were the cause for an upcoming alien invasion led by an angry, vengeful general who was looking for his son whom Alex happened to be with was… A lot.

So they should probably figure that out as soon as possible.

“Right. I’ll call Isobel and Max.”

-

“You think my dad is coming for me? You think I have a dad?”

Alex gave Michael the most comforting smile he could manage as he pulled him to the couch.

“I don’t know yet. We’re gonna experiment before we try to rationalize anymore,” Alex explained. He had gotten the crew over before he had let Michael in on the ordeal because he didn’t want to give him too much time to get used to the idea if they were wrong. Yeah, Michael might have a dad that loves him so much he’d put himself in a pod to wait and then destroy a whole planet to find him. But maybe not.

“But, wait, wait, what are we doing? How are we experimenting?” Michael asked. Isobel and Max were already on the couch, looking extremely alert for whatever was about to be thrown at them. Liz was standing behind the couch and Kyle was standing on the other side of the room, the tablet wrapped up in a sheet and held close to his chest. Maria had thankfully agreed to babysit for the day.

“The only way we can move in the right direction in figuring out what that thing is for is seeing if Max and Isobel are affected by it as well. If they aren’t, then we know it’s specially for you, Michael, and that narrows down our reasons. Kind of,” Alex said. He was more than a little eager to see what would happen.

Hopefully, nothing would and he could, in good conscience, destroy it and never think about it again.

“First things first, can you feel it now?” Kyle asked. Max and Isobel turned towards him.

“I mean, I can feel another presence if that’s what you’re asking,” Isobel said, nodding towards the bundle in his arms.

“Yeah, it’s like just making itself known,” Max said. They looked at Michael who has pretty much not torn his eyes from Kyle since they entered the same room.

“It’s calling me. I can feel it in my bones, under my skin, in my head. Like… Like the way I feel Felicity and Max and Isobel, just… stronger. Like when you guys call to me. It’s like that. It’s like that. It’s like that,” Michael said, that same spacey tone of voice coming back when he let himself focus on it. Alex clenched his jaw. Both of Michael’s siblings were staring at him like he’d fucking lost it.

“Okay, that’s not a good sign, Alex,” Kyle practically hissed. Alex shook him off.

“Next step is we need you to hold it, see if it gets stronger,” Alex said. Kyle looked at him hesitantly before unraveling it and handing it to Max first. He flipped the tablet around in his hands before looking to Liz and then back to Alex.

“It got stronger ‘cause it got closer, but that’s it,” he answered honestly. Then he passed it to Isobel. She flipped it around for a moment as well before she smirked with a silent idea.

They watched as she got settled in her position and closed his eyes, splaying her hand across it as she slowly began to focus. It was about a solid minute of silence before her face filled with something akin to fear and she threw it onto the table to get away. Michael quickly went to reach for it, but both Alex and Kyle dove to keep it away. They weren’t going through that bullshit again.

“What happened?” Alex asked sternly at the same time that Max and Liz asked it much softer. Isobel just looked more concerned than ever as she looked at Michael.

“It’s definitely calling him. It’s loud, it-it’s living. It has something in it, like… like information maybe,” Isobel tried. Alex looked down to it before looking up to her.

“Information?”

“Yeah, like… It felt like it was trying to tell me a million different things all at once in a language I can’t understand. Like it’s full of something, all happening at once and repeating itself, just holding a bunch of shit,” she tried to explain. Liz lit up as she looked up at Alex.

“A harddrive,” Alex said just as Liz said, “A biological USB.”

“Okay, cool. How do we get it off?” Kyle asked. The room grew silent, waiting for anyone to get an idea.

It took way longer than Alex wanted.

“What if I used my handprint? You said Michael’s mom did it to transfer information before, what if that’s how it works?” Max suggested and Alex could’ve kissed him. They should’ve thought of that. Michael should’ve thought of that.

They passed the tablet back to Max and he did his weird alien handprint thing, only to come up with nothing. Isobel tried after him and, again, couldn’t seem to access anything, so she gave it back to Alex. The room sent hesitant eyes towards Michael as they debated if they should actually let him try or not. Yes, it was their last option, but what if it sucked him in and never gave him back? It had already gotten too close to that.

“My turn,” Michael said after a moment.

“Wait, let’s just‒”

“My turn.”

Within a second, it was telekinetically ripped from Alex’s grasp and into Michael’s. He tried to move forward to take it back so they wouldn’t risk it, but he couldn’t get close to him. Literally. A visible barrier formed around him as his hand lit up.

“Wait, no, we- we need to talk about this first!” Alex argued, trying to push against the barrier. Something felt wrong, very wrong. This felt like he wasn’t going to come back. “Michael! Stop!”

It didn’t seem to matter how desperate he begged, Michael pressed his hand to the tablet. And his eyes rolled back into his head. And his jaw dropped. And he was gasping for air. And Alex couldn’t even get close.

“Michael! No, no, no, just… just let me get him out! Help me get him out! Michael!” he yelled, panic overwhelming him as he watched helplessly. This was bad. This was so, so bad. “Michael, please.”

“Alex,” Kyle said softly, “Just give it a minute.”

“Just give it a minute?” Alex snapped, his body feeling like it was on fire, “He’s fucking suffocating or something! He needs me! I’m not losing him like this, I’m not!”

“Alex,” Isobel interjected, firmer than Kyle had been, “Just wait.”

Alex looked around the room and, while they all looked concerned, they all seemed to be perfectly content in doing nothing. He had never felt so fucking helpless. He could feel his bottom lip quivering.

“So you won’t help?” he asked. They shook their heads because of course they did because they didn’t get it. But what could he do?

So he stayed against the barrier, quietly petting it and trying to assure Michael that he was still here. Maybe if he knew that he was there, he would be okay. This would be okay. This wasn’t the end. This couldn’t be the end. This was bullshit. Stupid, alien bullshit.

They were Michael and Alex.

They were going to be okay.

[rawresparza]

Secret Santa fic for @wellhellolazlo! You were looking for Barisi banter, NYC as a feature, and dinner dates so I hope this checks those boxes well enough, lovely. Have a beautiful holiday and I hope you enjoy it!

--

Ten minutes after checking in for their reservation at Max Brenner, Rafael starts to get impatient.

No, that’s not quite right. He just gives up on pretending he’s not impatient.

It’s exceptionally busy tonight, which is honestly to be expected considering it’s Christmas Eve, but Rafael still wrinkles his nose at the guy who shoulder checks him just to reach for one of the free chocolate malt balls being handed out as a disguised apology for the wait.

“Remember when having a reservation used to mean something?” Rafael mutters, crossing his arms over his chest, scowling when Sonny looks over to smirk at him.

“Not really. I didn’t start making reservations anywhere until I started dating you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome.”

“Okay, hey, come over here.” Sonny leads him to the one empty corner of the waiting area, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the hosts aren’t calling his name before returning his full attention to his boyfriend. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been complaining about everything since we left your office.”

“That’s not true,” Rafael argues, even though it’s definitely true.

“Yes, it is. You were mad the Uber took six minutes instead of four.”

“If the app says four minutes, it should only take four minutes.”

Sonny anchors his hands over Rafael’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “Come on. It’s Christmas Eve, what’s with the Grinchy attitude?”

Rafael lowers his gaze to the ground between them, focusing on the tips of his shoes as he shifts on his feet. It’s not that he’s upset about the accusation; he’s upset Sonny is right. His cheeks flush red and hot even as Sonny runs soothing hands down his arms. Willing the knots in his stomach to fade away, Rafael finally lifts his eyes to meet Sonny’s. “I’m sorry. It’s our first Christmas together.”

They’d spent Thanksgiving Day apart so Sonny could be with his family and Rafael could be with his mother. It’d been at Sonny’s insistence that they spend this particular holiday together, their first real holiday as a couple, and even after just over six months together, Rafael still finds himself wondering when all of this will come to a screeching halt. He’s never worried so much in a relationship before; but then again, his last “relationship” hadn’t lasted longer than a few weeks and there had been absolutely no love lost there.

With Sonny, he risks losing more than he’d ever expected to gain.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Sonny asks. “I thought it would be a good thing.”

“It is,” Rafael answers, albeit weakly. His chest tightens as he watches Sonny try not to let his disappointment show through the slight downturn of his smile. “I just didn’t think we’d get this far.”

The words don’t come out the way he’d wanted and as soon as he says them, Rafael wishes he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Oh.” Sonny’s hands fall to his sides then into his pockets and he takes a slight step back, looking mildly embarrassed.

Rafael groans, shaking his head. “No, Sonny, that’s not what I--”

“--party of two! Sonny, party of two!”

“Do you still want to do dinner?” Sonny can barely meet his eyes. Rafael hates himself for it.

“Of course I do.” Rafael reaches for Sonny’s hand. “Listen, please--”

Turning on his heels, Sonny steps just out of Rafael’s reach, nodding toward the host stand. “Then we better go before we lose our spot.”

For a moment, Rafael can’t remember how to move, his hand still held out, grasping at nothing as he stares at the back of his boyfriend’s head as Sonny makes his way through the crowd to claim their table. He should have known he’d find a way to screw this up, to self-sabotage, he’s basically become an expert at that over the years. It isn’t until Sonny beckons at him to follow that Rafael takes a step forward, patting at his pocket to make sure the gift he’d brought along is still there, in spite of the fact he’s not sure he’ll be given the chance to hand it over anymore.

It’s just a misunderstanding, that’s what the voice of reason in the back of his mind whispers to him. All he needs to do is take half a minute to explain and Sonny will understand. Sonny always understands.

But Sonny doesn’t want to talk about it. Rafael’s second and last attempt to explain himself over dinner is dismissed almost immediately with talk of what the Carisi family has planned for Christmas tomorrow.

“My dad’s kind of pissed I told him I wasn’t coming this year,” Sonny admits, almost pointedly as he watches Rafael over the rim of his chocolate martini. They’d both indulged in the sweet cocktail, neither of them had been able to resist, but every sip sits heavy with Rafael; or maybe that’s just the guilt he can’t shake weighing him down.

“If you’d rather be with them tomorrow…” Rafael trails off, poking at his steak, quietly terrified of what answer he might get.

“Is that what you want?” Sonny sets his fork down, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with his napkin as he sits back in his chair. “You want me to go home for Christmas instead of doing what we planned?”

“It’s your decision, not mine.” Rafael tries not to wince when Sonny scoffs at that. He could make it so much easier on himself, it would take hardly any effort at all, but Rafael is used to putting up a fight. It’s what he’s always done, and he’s gotten better at it since being with Sonny but tonight, he can’t seem to stop putting his foot in his mouth.

“You know what, forget it. Did I show you the picture Bella sent me of her latest ultrasound yet?”

The rest of dinner is miserable. They both laugh and smile at all the right places but Sonny doesn’t hold his hand over the table like he usually does and doesn’t try to feed him bites of their dessert, which is something Rafael always complains about because it’s embarrassing and yet, he misses it when they both take their last forkfuls of chocolate mud cake.

By the time they’ve paid their bill and are wandering through the Union Square Holiday Market with cups of hot apple cider in hand, Rafael is biting at the inside of his cheek just to distract himself from the tears of sheer frustration welling in his eyes. He could pass it off as a reaction to the cold if Sonny were to ask; but Sonny doesn’t, Sonny barely looks in his direction, instead pretending to be overly fascinated by every booth they pass even though Rafael has never once known him to care about candles or aromatherapy.

It isn’t until Sonny very nearly gets talked into buying an $85 sweater for the dog he doesn’t own that Rafael decides he can’t take it anymore.

“We’re good, thanks,” he says to the vendor, taking Sonny by the arm and pulling him along toward the row of lit trees that’s as clear of people as they’re going to get.

“What’s your problem?” Sonny asks, and it stings when he shrugs out of Rafael’s grip but Rafael squares his shoulders and lifts his chin, puffing out a burst of air as he scrambles to figure out what he wants to say.

“About earlier--”

“You don’t have to explain,” Sonny interrupts, “and I don’t think I want to hear it, anyway.”

“I do have to explain. I really do. Look, this isn’t easy for me.”

Sonny frowns. “What, being with me?”

“Yes! No. God, yes and no, Sonny, please try to understand. I haven’t let someone in like this in years. Decades, even. When I say I didn’t think we’d get this far, it’s because I thought I was done. I thought I was done with the dating thing, done being envious of people who’ve found someone to share their lives with, done with all of that. I was okay with it, I really was. Then you…”

Rafael finds he can’t quite finish his sentence, biting down hard on his bottom lip, blinking up at the bright lights of buildings above them as he waits for the hot tears pooling in the corners of his eyes to settle. Finishing that sentence means confessing what neither of them have said yet but what Rafael is certain, deep within his bones, is true for them both. Maybe that’s the scariest part.

“Me?” Sonny prompts softly, inching a step closer so they’re toe-to-toe, one gloved hand brushing against Rafael’s.

Rafael is quick to grab his hand, grateful for the contact. It gives him a surge of confidence to keep going. Sonny often does have that effect on him. “You changed things for me. You gave me a reason to want more, you even made me believe maybe I deserved it. Deserved you.” He doesn’t, Rafael knows that, he’s quite sure nobody deserves to have a man like Sonny’s love; but he’s the one who’d lucked out somehow. “I’m in love with you, okay? Deeply, deeply in love and it’s terrifying because I don’t know how this is going to end.”

Sonny’s lips part and for a moment, he’s speechless and Rafael is sure his heart has skipped approximately a hundred beats in the fifty years it takes his boyfriend to come up with a response.

“It ends with you and me, Raf,” Sonny says, his eyes wide but bright and his dimples starting to show. “It’s that simple.”

“But it’s not. You say that now. What happens when you get tired of dealing with the Grinchy attitude or realize there are so many other people out there who’d be so much better for you or--”

Sonny silences him with a kiss. Lean arms wrap tightly around Rafael’s waist and Rafael lifts himself up onto his toes, leaning into the warm of the embrace with a contented moan. When their lips part, Sonny holds Rafael in place, letting their foreheads rest against each other.

“It’s that simple,” he says again. “I love you, too. I’ve wanted to say it so many times, Rafael, and I’ll say it as many times a day as you need to hear it. I love you. It doesn’t stop, not for anything, not for anyone. You changed things for me, too. Hey, don’t give me that look, I’m serious.”

Rafael rolls his eyes but a pleased laugh escapes him. “You know I’m going to need to hear all the ways I did that, right? I hope it’s a long list, I’m very needy.”

“You don’t say,” Sonny teases, tugging lightly at Rafael’s scarf so their lips meet again. “We can do that tomorrow, spend the whole day trading all the reasons why we love each other.”

“You’re getting sappy,” Rafael says. His grins betrays his words. “Speaking of tomorrow, I have presents for you to open but I brought something to give you tonight. I wanted you to open it over dinner but I obviously messed that up.”

“Don’t,” Sonny says. “Don’t say that, we’re good. We’re so good.”

“Good,” Rafael echoes, nodding. Taking a deep breath, he reaches into his pocket to retrieve a small, flat box with a red ribbon wrapped around it, holding it out for Sonny with a slightly trembling hand. “Here. I hope you like it.”

Sonny takes the box and lifts a brow. Rafael lets out a long, dramatic sigh as Sonny shakes the box, holds it up to his ear, sniffs it. “What is it, new car?”

“Jesus, just open it, will you?”

So Sonny does, with a smile that only grows wider once he’s lifted the lid of the box to find a key nestled in tissue paper. His head snaps up, excitement flashing in his eyes, and Rafael feels a wave of warmth and affection and above all, a distinct sense of relief wash over him. “Rafael, I-- This is a key to your place?”

“Well, it’s definitely not a key to a new car.”

Sonny ignores that, returning his awed gaze to the key. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you. God, I really do love you, you know that?”

“I do know that,” Rafael says. He means it. He can’t believe he means it. “I love you, too.”

They share another kiss, share in each other’s warmth, and Rafael is certain he’s never been this happy.

“Merry Christmas, Rafael,” Sonny says, whispering the words in Rafael’s ear.

It sends a welcome shiver down his spine and Rafael lets his eyes flutter shut, basking in this moment. He’s loved, so loved, and there are gifts waiting for him at home but they only thing he wants is standing in his arms right now. How could he ever ask for more?

“Merry Christmas, Sonny.”

[lahbarsaglini]

ᏴᎪᏟᏦᏚᎢᎪᏀᎬ

→ CHAPTER ONE

Here it is! It’s recommended to read all "Backstage Masterlist" items available on my profile before or after reading this chapter! Hope you like it!

Warnings: mentions of death and depression. 

July 20, 2011

Orange County, Southern California, USA

She knew that in exactly sixty minutes, a year would be complete. The girl’s brown orbs were almost wide open, fixed on the two flashing red dots that marked the time on her digital clock by the bed. Even turned around, she still could feel her twin sister’s gaze on her back, penetrating her ribs, as a signal that she was also aware of the approaching date in three thousand six hundred seconds. 

If you have been through this, you will surely recognize every following word: denial, anger, negotiation, depression, acceptance. Although death is the only certainty of all mankind, no one is ever prepared to go through emotional grief. The intense pain, the feeling of revolt, the deep emptiness. The whole family was aware of all these emotions.

Exactly a year ago, Naya Valentini and her family had lost two members of their family tree. Under her precise social perception, her favorite uncle and her little cousin. Matteo Valentini was that uncle that, no matter what, made the day better. He was the life of family reunions, and after his divorce, he seemed to be doing better than anyone else in this world. On that afternoon, in July 2010, he had taken his triplets Max, Graham and Sophie to the movies. Everyone was excited, talking about the premiere of Despicable Me. What no one knew was that when they were coming back home, tragedy awaited them. The white van hit the driver’s entire side, including the back part, where Sophie was.

When Naya’s parents arrived at the hospital after being notified, the news that Matteo had died on the spot frightened them at the thought of the possible death of the children. Luckily, the boys would recover quickly, but Sophie had been rushed to the operation room. Naya wasn’t with them, in fact, she and her other siblings had been left behind to take care of the new foster son of the family, who was a newborn. 

At home, everything was in chaos, and she still remembered the whole scene, which her brain insisted on showing in slow motion: her oldest brother Liam trying to stop Autie from shouting that she wanted to go to the hospital to see her cousins, Ethan almost blowing up the microwave while preparing something to eat, while she was trying to finish helping Devyn out in the bath, but hearing the baby crying wasn’t helping much.

With their parents out of the house and the dread of the idea of their cousins and uncle involved in an accident, the four eldest kids Liam, Ethan, Naya and Lexi were able (with a lot of effort) to bring the heavy mattresses downstairs where they had decided to spend the night together, with the strategy of gathering the younger ones on the same space so they could keep a better eye on them. It was dawn when their father arrived, finding all his children on his living room floor, sleeping, except for Lexi, who was giving Joey baby formula. Naya still remembered waking up and how her father had tried to be as gentle as possible telling them that Uncle Matt and Sophie had passed away. 

— I can’t sleep either. — Naya heard her sister’s voice over her shoulder.

And in that simple sentence, it was possible to feel the weight. They both knew how hard it had been for the whole family, especially for their father, who had just lost his favorite brother. The situation was ten times worse when he entered the fourth and most difficult stage of grief: depression. Mornings at the kitchen table, once animated by the children’s conversations, suddenly became quieter and quieter. Dad had just recovered from the last phase, acceptance, and the one-year anniversary had already arrived. 

Another person who was suffering a lot was Moon, Naya and her brothers mom. She had an extremely maternal relationship with the triplets, especially after her brother-in-law’s divorce, where their mother decided to abandon them. Sometimes, it even seemed like she was grieving more than Alexander, her husband and Matteo’s brother. 

— What do you think will happen today? — Lexi asked, but it was the silence that greeted her. — I just hope mom doesn’t freak out. Dad’s fine now, but her…

Naya turned to her twin sister’s side, tugging at the blanket, realizing for the first time that night that they were laying in the same position. 

— She won’t. She is a force of nature. — And there was definitely a very strong degree of intensity and precision in Naya’s response. Her mother really as a very inspiring woman, starting with her life story. 

Kwon Moon never had any contact with her biological father, the only thing she knew was that he was part of the USFK, the American Forces of Korea. After a one night stand, her mother eventually returned to Busan, where Moon was born and they moved to the United States when she was 15 years old, just because of her mother, deluded with life in a foreign country and hopes to marry her daughter’s father. They didn’t find him, and spent a good time in cheap hotel rooms. 

Moon was the one who decided to go to school and learn as much English as she could, teaching her mother in the spare time of her first job. Years later, she went to college and became pregnant, resulting in marriage to her boyfriend. Still studying, even in a distance program, as her children were born, never for a second of her life did she give up the dream of creating her own line of products in Beaufort, deciding to move to Los Angeles to finally open her store and put into practice what she learned with her chemistry degree. 

Nowadays, mom had two stores in Southern California, and she was doing her best every day, always encouraging her children to do the same. Today would also be a day without school. The family would visit Matteo Valentini and his daughter’s grave.

— Do you think about Sophie? — This time it was Naya who broke the moment of reflection. 

— Honestly? — Lexi turned up, staring at the ceiling before moving on. — Not anymore. Of course I miss her. It must be much worse for the boys, I can’t even imagine what would be like to lose you. 

After the accident, Max and Graham were living with the Valentini-Kwon’s family, as their mother didn’t show up and they didn’t have anyone besides Alex and Moon to take care of them. 

— How about you?

— I’m thinking about her now. — Naya confessed. 

— But that’s because it’s the death anniversary. 

— Yes, but I thought the same thing when dad came home that day and told us everything. Sophie was seven years old. She’s gone without knowing what high school is like, or what it’s like to kiss someone, or drive a car. She never had a chance to live, unlike Uncle Matt. — Naya adjusted a lock of her own hair. — Thinking about it makes me depressed. She could have had the world. 

— Yes. — Lexi’s agreement came in a low voice tone. 

— What about us?

— What do you mean? — Without understanding the question, Lexi frowned.

— What I mean is that… — Naya sat on the bed, the blanket falling on her lap, just as her hair fell over her pajamas. — We can have the world. The question is: what are we doing with our lives?

— Okay, Nay. Relax a little and quit all this philosophy of life for now. Me and you… We’re only sixteen. School things are our biggest concern. — Lexi accompanied the twin on the move, getting up and going to sit on her sister’s bed.

— But that’s the point, Lexi. What if we die? I never did anything I wanted. Sophie was seven years old, didn’t have much she could have done except… Bring some message to our family. — Saying that sounded like the right interpretation. — And it hurts me to say this, but I don’t want to end up like her, Lex. I want to live. I want to decide what I am going to do, to challenge myself more. Because as far as I know, I can die tomorrow, or the day after. I want to be like Uncle Matt, he did everything he wanted.

Alexa seemed to understand the meaning of the conversation, the reason for her sister being so reflective.

— So what do you want to do? — Unrelated to, you know, what we have now. Boyfriend, dancing, friends, apart from all this?

The question took her by surprise. What did Naya want to do with her life? Once she graduated from high school, what would happen? The memory of a little girl came to light when her interest in old movies began to emerge after a summer vacation at her grandparent’s farm. After that, she remembered her godfather and the piano classes, and how he said she had a good voice. Her dream of being a musical actress started from there, together with an entire week spent only watching the famous Broadway plays. She had participated in “13” two years ago and she missed that place. 

Still thinking about her and her sister’s godfather, she wondered if she should believe him. After so many refusals, she wouldn’t have the courage to call him for advice.The way was to try to go through every phase of the challenge, just like what her late cousin would never have the opportunity to do. 

With a smile building up just as a year had passed since the accident, Naya looked at her sister before laying on the bed again.

— What? Why are you smiling? Nay?

— I figured out what I want to do.

— And you won’t tell me?

— You will find out, Lex.

The girl glanced once again at the digital clock, following the moment it had just shown 04:01am, just one minute more than when her cousin had been declared lifeless. However, the only thing she could do was smile. She had understood one of the little girl missions on her short passage through Earth, and hoped the rest could understand soon too. With a lighter heart, Naya whispered before closing her eyes.

— Thank you, Sophie. 

[nayakwon]

Chapter I

JULY 20, 2011

Orange County, Southern California, USA

“If you have gone through this already, you will most certainly recognize each following word: denial, anger, negotiation, depression, acceptance. Although death is the only certainty of all mankind, no one is ever prepared to go through emotional mourning”. 

Genre - angst, darkfic, fluff, smut

Warnings - [18+ but y’all know anyone actually respects this shit anymore] none, for the moment. Oh, and english is not my first language. I’m looking for someone to help me to edit the chapters. If u r interested, plz, inbox me. 

Words - 2k

She knew that from exactly sixty minutes on, a year would be complete. The girl's brown orbs were almost wide-eyed, fixed on the flashing red points that marked the hours on her digital clock by the bed. Even facing the opposite side, she could feel the look of her twin sister on her back, penetrating her ribs, giving the signal that she was also aware of the approaching date in three thousand six hundred seconds.

If you have gone through this already, you will most certainly recognize each following word: denial, anger, negotiation, depression, acceptance. Although death is the only certainty of all mankind, no one is ever prepared to go through emotional mourning. The intense pain, the feeling of revolt, the deep emptiness. The whole family was aware of all these emotions.

Just over a year ago, Naya Valentini and her family had lost two members of their family tree. Under her precise social perception, her favorite uncle and her younger sister. Matteo Valentini was that uncle that it didn’t matter the situation, he could make every single day better. He was the life of family reunions, and after getting divorced, it felt like he was doing better in life than anyone else in the world. That afternoon, in July 2010, he had taken the triplets Max, Graham and Sophie to the movies. Everyone was excited, talking about the debut of My Favorite Evil. What nobody knew was that when they returned, tragedy awaited them. The white van hit the driver's entire side, including the back.

When her parents arrived at the hospital after being notified, the news that Matteo had died instantly frightened them with the idea of the possible death of their sons hammering in the head. Fortunately, the boys would recover quickly, but Sophie had been rushed to the OR. Naya was not together during the emergency, in fact, she and her other siblings had lagged behind to take care of the new foster child of the family, a newborn.

At home, everything was in chaos, and she remembered the scene altogether, which her brain insisted on displaying in slow motion: Liam trying to make Autie stop screaming that she wanted to have gone along, Ethan almost blowing up the microwave while preparing something to eat. Naya tried to finish helping Devyn in the shower, but the baby's crying deconcentrated her.

With parents away from home and the dread of the idea of younger brothers and uncle being involved in an accident, the four elders were able - with much effort - to bring the heavy mattresses downstairs, where they had decided to spend the night together, with the strategy of getting a better look at the younger ones. It was dawn when her father arrived, finding all the children on the floor of their living room, sleeping, except for Lexi, who still was giving Joey a baby formula. Naya still remembered being awakened, and how her father had tried to be as gentle as he could be when telling that Uncle Matt and Sophie had died.

            "I can’t sleep either." She heard her sister's voice over her shoulder.

And in that simple sentence, it was possible to feel the weight. They both knew how difficult it had been for the whole family, especially the matriarch, who had lost her ground altogether. The situation was ten times worse when Moon entered the fourth and more difficult stage of mourning: depression. They knew that, like everyone else, she was struggling to move on, however, every time she looked at the newborn, the image of Sophie in her arms for the first time came back in flashes. Her father had suffered two losses at one time - his daughter and his older brother. The mornings in the kitchen, once livened up by the children's conversations, suddenly became quieter. The children's mother had just recovered from the last phase, acceptance, and the one-year anniversary had already arrived.

             "What do you think will happen today?" Lexi asked, but the silence was the only answer. "I just hope mom doesn’t freak out”.

Naya turned to her twin sister's side, pulling the blanket close to her face, realizing for the first time that night that they were both in the same position.

             “She will not. She is a force of nature.”  And there was definitely a very strong degree of precision in Naya's response. Her mother really was a very inspiring woman, beginning with her life story. Moon never had any kind of contact with her biological father, the only thing she knew was that he was part of USFK, the American Forces of Korea. After a one-night stand, her mother returned to Busan, where Moon was born and eventually, they moved to the United States only because her mother was deluded with life in a foreign country and the hope of marrying the father of her daughter. They didn’t find him and both spent some time in a homeless shelter. Moon was the one who decided to go to school and learn as much English as she could, teaching her mother on her free time after her first job. She ended up in college and became pregnant at a young age, resulting on a marriage with her boyfriend. Still studying, even if it was a distance program, as her children were born, she never for a second of her life gave up the dream of creating her own line of cosmetics. She started from the bottom, reselling some products in Beaufort, deciding to move to Los Angeles to finally open her store and put into practice what she had learned with a chemistry degree.

Nowadays, Moon had two stores in Southern California, and she did her best every day, always encouraging her kids to do the same. Today would also be a day without class. The family would visit the grave of Matteo Valentini, followed by the urn where Naya’s sister's ashes were. Moon was the one who insisted on cremation after Sophie's organ donation, because it was part of her Korean culture, and technically, the Valentini-Kwon family was 50% South Korean and 50% Italian.

             "Do you think about Sophie?" This time it was Naya who broke the moment of reflection.

             “Honestly?” Lexi turned up, staring at the ceiling before continuing. “Not anymore. Of course, I miss her. It must be a lot worse for the boys, I can’t even imagine what it would be like to lose you.” She referred to the fact that they shared the mother's womb. "But I believe I've been through it. I guess I’m fine now. How about you?”

             "I'm thinking about her now."

             "But that's because it's the death anniversary."

             "Yes. But I thought the same thing when dad came home that day and told us everything. Sophie was seven. She's gone without knowing what high school is like, or what it's like to kiss someone, or drive a car. She never got a chance to live. Unlike uncle Matt.” Naya adjusted a strand of her own hair. "Thinking about that makes me depressed. She could’ve had the world”.

             “I know.”

             "What about us?"

             “Sorry?” Without understanding the question, Lexi frowned.

             "What I mean is ..." The other one sat on the bed, the blanket dropped into her lap, just as her hair fell on top of her pajamas. "We can have the world, Sophie doesn’t. The question is: what are we doing with our lives?

             “Okay, Nay. Relax a little and get out of this life’s philosophy thing for a moment. You and I ... We're only sixteen. School-type things are our biggest concerns.” Lexi followed the twin, but as she got up, she went to sit on her sister’s bed.

            "But that's the point, Lexi. What if we die? I still have so many things that I want to do and we just… Exist. Sophie, she was seven, there wasn’t much she could have done except .... Bring some message to our family.” To say that seemed the correct interpretation. "And it hurts, but I do not want to end up like her, Lexi. I want to live. I want to decide what I'm going to do, challenge myself more. Because I can die tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow. I want to be like uncle Matt. He did everything he wanted.”

Alexia seemed to understand the meaning of that conversation, the reason of her reflective sister.

            "So, what do you want to do? Unrelated to, you know, with what we have now. Boyfriend, dance, friends, taking all of these things away?

The question took her by surprise, but perhaps her unconscious wanted that to be thrown on the table. What Naya wanted to do with her life? Once she finished her senior year of high school next year, what she would do? A small memory small came to when her interest in old movies began to emerge after a summer vacation at the grandparents' farm. After that, she remembered the godfather playing piano, and how he said she had a good voice. Her dream of being a musical actress began from there, along with an entire week only watching the famous Broadway performances. She actually achieved that.

Still with the thoughts turned to her godfather, she wondered if she should believe him. After so many refusals, she wouldn’t have the audacity of calling him and asking for advice, and not even would step on other people with incredible talent and much better than her because of their connection. The way was to try, go through all the phases of her challenge, as well as what her late sister would never have the opportunity to do.

With a smile sprouting just as a year had passed since the accident, Naya looked at her sister before she laid down again.

            “What? Why are you smiling? Naya?”

            "I've figured out what to do."

            "And you’ll not tell me?"

            “You’ll find out.”

So, the girl looked at the digital clock once again, following the moment when he had just shown 4:01, exactly one minute later after her younger sister was pronounced dead. However, the only thing she could do was smile. She had understood one of her sister’s missions in her short life, and hoped the rest of the family would understand soon enough. With a lighter heart, she whispered before falling asleep.

             "Thank you, Sophie.”

[lymricks]

If you're into it and have the time, I'd love to see the scene in which the kids give Billy his winter coat in a little more detail. Also maybe a Billy/Hopper interaction? Or a Billy/Joyce conversation? I have such a thing for watching Billy interact with the people who love and care about Steve. Your head canons about these relationships work too, if you've got any you want to share!

Hi Anon!!! It’s a gift giving holiday for some people, so here’s a Chicago-verse gift giving fic where the termites give Billy his jacket.

I’m hopping on a plane in a few hours to go on an Exciting Adventure with my best friend. My queue is all loaded up and I’m sure I’ll be around a bit, but feel free to drop prompts in my ask box for me to do when I get back/on planes. I hate flying and I’ll be very bored. See you in the new year, everyone!!!!

the one with the winter coat (now also on ao3, but I cannot for the life of me figure out how to link it on this stupid app), ~1500 words, T

Harrington has been gone for one hour and twenty four minutes. Billy has given up on trying to act like he’s Totally Fine hanging around the Harrington house with Harrington’s ex-girlfriend and six teenagers. He’s bored as shit and they’re all fucking weird as shit and Hawkins makes his skin crawl.

He’s here for Thanksgiving and the turkey better be fucking incredible.

Harrington had pressed a kiss to his temple one hour and twenty–five, now–minutes ago before running out to the store with Jonathan. A few quick things, he said. A few quick things Billy’s ass. He should have just gone with them. Except–

“I ran into your dad at the grocery store that one time,” Harrington had murmured. Billy had been sitting on the Harrington’s kitchen island and Harrington was standing between the v of his thighs. The sentence made Billy flinch away and cut his gaze, but Steve’s hands on his thighs had kept him from jumping off. “I’m just saying I don’t think you should come with me for this,” Steve had continued, and he’d run his hands up Billy’s thighs and kissed at Billy’s lower lip. Sometimes when Harrington did that Billy felt like he was drowning and it was maybe the best thing he’d felt probably ever. It made him want to say yes to whatever Harrington was asking of him. “I don’t want your dad to surprise you.” It’s a fair point, Billy has to concede that. He doesn’t want to see his dad, doesn’t want him to appear beside the eggo waffles, doesn’t want to hear the low undertone of his voice, or see his stupid fucking mustache. That’s why–when they’re in Hawkins–he almost never goes anywhere without Harrington as an escort. That’s why–right now–he is wandering aimlessly around Harrington’s house while Nancy pointedly does not stare and all six teenagers track his movements like some sort of birds of prey.

He’s going to have to come back and do this all over again for Christmas, although probably at the Byers’s house. They’re only here because Harrington’s parents are out of town for the holiday and the kids like all the different rooms in the house and Harrington’s bigger tv.

Back for Christmas. Billy doesn’t want to come back here ever. Twice in less than a month is–a lot for him to know is coming.

“I need a smoke,” he mumbles to the room at large, grabbing his brown leather jacket–the same one from high school, he loves it and they’re expensive to replace–and wanders out into the backyard. “Fuck,” he says to the empty air outside, tipping his head back to exhale smoke in a stream at the starless sky. He’d never come here in high school, but he’d been four houses over once. He can still hear the echoes of the sirens he’d run from after climbing out that girl’s window, laughing, with his pants half off.

Billy breathes in cold air and smoke. He should have gone to the store, but in the eight months they’ve been together, Billy’s been back to Hawkins, been staying at the Harrington’s house, been chauffeured around in the passenger seat of a borrowed car that Harrington’s driving a lot of times. He thinks people have probably put two and two together about Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much, but he wonders–all the fucking time–what people in this shitty little town think about the Harrington boy being in some sort of arrangement with that no good Hargrove kid. He doesn’t mind being the no good kid so much as he minds the things it must make people think about Harrington–about–about Steve.

He pats his pocket, but there’s no more cigarettes there and already Billy feels jittery with the knowledge, like he’s drowning and not in the good way. He hopes someone else has a pack, but who’s he going to ask? Dustin? He’s still half-grinning to himself at the thought of asking Dustin for a cigarette when he slides the door open and steps back inside. It’s too cold to stand outside, especially without a cigarette. Even while he’d been smoking, Billy was fighting the biting Indiana chill.

The kids are huddled together just inside the door. Dustin has both hands on his head. Lucas is looking back and forth between Mike and Dustin in disbelief.

“He’s already got a jacket,” Mike is saying, waving his hands around.

“It’s not a winter coat,” Will answers. He’s standing more in the middle of the circle and he cuts his gaze to El, who nods. “It’s not very warm,” he adds.

“We also already bought it!” Lucas rolls his eyes then turns the full force of his glare on Mike. Billy’s impressed by how intense it is. Kid’s been practicing in the mirror, maybe. “So this whole conversation is stupid.”

“We have to do it for Steve,” Dustin explains.

“For him, too. He’s cold,” the weird girl–Hopper’s daughter, El, adds.

“I already said we should do this,” Max says, and she huffs on a big sigh. “He doesn’t–it’s right to.”

“And we already bought it,” Lucas says again.

“I just think it should be the right gift,” Mike snaps and when Billy steps closer Mike’s holding both hands up, looking a lot like surrender even if his mouth is pulled down at the corners. “It’s his first official gift. We got Steve something way better.”

“Shut up,” Max hisses then, and her bright eyes meet Billy’s across the room. shoving Mike’s shoulder. As though they all have one brain, six pairs of teenage eyes turn in unison to look at Billy.

“Right,” Billy says slowly. “I can just–”

“We have something for you,” Dustin shouts it, bursts up from where he’s hunched over at Lucas’s shoulder clutching a lumpy, paper-wrapped square. The paper is just plain and brown, but when it’s thrust into Billy’s hands–the rest of the kids behind Dustin poking their heads over his shoulder like some sort of cartoon–he can see that there’s drawings on it.

“Will did them,” Mike says helpfully when Billy runs a finger over one.

There’s a series of crayon and pencil images. His Camaro, long gone now, and Billy crouched in a leather jacket, staring–moodily, he would definitely call the expression Will Byers drew on his face moody–out a window. There’s the Byers’s house, and a rough sketch of the necklace Billy never takes off, and one of Max that Billy recognizes as a real moment from a few months ago–her with both hands around his wrist, trying to drag him to the ground. She’d been trying to win a particularly aggressive game of basketball. Billy hadn’t called her foul.

It’s the drawing in the top left corner next to Dustin’s messy handwriting–which reads To Billy from Termites–that Billy’s gaze stops on. He sucks in a sharp breath.

The drawing is a scene from their old apartment in Chicago. He knows it by the tiny kitchen window Will’s drawn behind the couch, the one Harrington always left Christmas lights up around. The drawing itself is of Billy and Harrington. They’re sitting on the couch next to each other. Will’s drawn them with their knees bumping, with Harrington’s cheek flopped lazily against Billy’s shoulder, with Billy’s arm stretched out behind him, his fingers just curling over Harrington’s shoulder.

Billy has never felt vulnerable in front of teenagers before, not really. He wonders, looking down at this package, if he’s going to fucking cry.

“There’s actually something else inside it,” Dustin says. When Billy looks up he’s rolling his eyes, but Will’s cheeks are tinged red and Billy lets his mouth curl into something that, under a microscope, under extreme duress, he might admit is a smile.

“Open it,” Dustin says.

Billy does. Slowly and with–with reverence, really–he peels back the corners. Underneath the wrapping, which is in itself the best present he’s ever gotten–is a warm, dark winter coat. There’s no fur lining the hood, like Harrington’s has and which Billy makes fun of endlessly. It’s just simple. It just looks warm. He sets the paper down carefully on the table and sheds his leather jacket, pulling it on.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Holy shit,” Max breathes. “You know how to say thank you?”

It breaks the moment, and Billy’s so grateful to her for it, because he doesn’t know what to do with his face. He chucks his old jacket at her face and then Mike is grabbing El and dragging her back toward the tv because a show he likes is on it, he can hear the music, come on hurry and Lucas tries to help Max fix her hair.

It’s just Dustin and Will, then, looking at Billy in his new winter coat. Billy pushes hair out of his face, doesn’t really know how to say thank you for something like all this.

“Told you it was a good present,” Dustin says, sounding smug and looking at Will.

“I was on your side!” Will exclaims.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “It’s. It’s really good.”

Then the door swings open. Jonathan shouts for the kids to come help carry groceries in, and Billy is left standing alone in the Harrington’s house for a silent two minutes. He can just sort of hear them outside, the rustle of plastic bags, the slamming of car doors.

Harrington is the first through the door. Billy can hear him drop plastic bags in the kitchen, listens to the sound of his footsteps as he comes closer. Harrington appears, suddenly, in front of him. His cheeks are pink from the Hawkins cold and his grin is warm and immediate the second he sees Billy.

Billy feels like he’s drowning. He reaches for Harrington like he’s a life vest. “Nice coat,” Harrington says, sounding a little surprised when Billy tugs him closer and slides his hands into Harrington’s back pockets, but leaning into Billy’s chest all the same. “They’ve been nervous about that for three weeks.”

Billy looks up at Harrington’s big stupid eyes and feels warm in a lot of different ways, all at once.

[edc-creations-blog]

Best Laid Plans by Deatri King-Bey (Love Like It’s Hot Box Set)

Abisola Tersoo, a gracious woman of beauty, kindness, and focus, knows there has always been a plan for her future. Someday she will take over her father’s business and Max Osborne, a man dear to her family’s heart, is to be her husband. Just when Abisola has accepted her life always goes according to plan, Thomas Hoffmann, a fantasy of a man, brings chaos into her life in the best and worst ways. Torn between following the plan with a real man and risking it all for a fantasy, Abisola learns she may not have a choice.

Thomas Hoffmann didn’t realize he was looking for someone special until Abisola walked into his life. A man of the world, he had become a little jaded, but Abisola’s quick wit and creative spirit sparked an interest in him unlike any he had ever experienced. One who lives in the moment, he can see spending the rest of his moments with Abisola, but others’ plans may get in the way.

      Excerpt: Best Laid Plans by Deatri King-Bey

Chapter One

Mind racing, Abisola stood before her boss. In the three years she’d been employed at Osborne and Associates, she’d never been called in like this. An accountant, she found most clients were hush, hush when it came to their money and didn’t blame them. She was just as hush, hush about her own finances. Maybe this was about a new “delicate” project. It was only June, and she’d already been assigned four this year.

“Please…” Sandy motioned to the leather loveseat off to the side of the modest office. Seated, Abisola faced Sandy.

“I apologize.” Sandy glanced at her watch. “I need to leave in a few minutes, so let me cut to the chase.”

Now that Abisola had more time to think, she’d bet this was about the embezzlement case she’d worked on for the District Attorney who’d needed a forensic accounted. Her cousin had convinced them to use Osborne and Associates, and Abisola in particular. Needless to say, she’d done an excellent job. Or so she thought.

Old episodes of Law and Order were the closest Abisola had come to being in a courtroom. Looking back, she probably should have turned down the offer, but couldn’t pass up the opportunity. After her expert testimony, the defendant decided to plead guilty for a lighter sentence, so she couldn’t have done too bad, she told herself.

“My grandson….” Choked up, Sandy looked away.

Worry shifted from herself to Sandy, she hugged her supervisor. “It’s okay.” Sandy’s first grandchild had been born a month ago at only twenty-two weeks gestation and admitted into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. She prayed silently for the baby to someday be a healthy, loving man. “Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you.” Sandy wiped away the tears building in her big blue eyes. “I needed that.” She took a moment to compose herself. “It was so hard leaving him, but I had to come back. It wasn’t fair dumping everything on you.”

“You didn’t dump anything. Your priorities are straight. Family first.” Abisola’s father owned a successful flooring company. Her mother told her that even when they were struggling to get the business up and running, her father always prioritized family time. He said too many used growing their business as an excuse to neglect their family.

“How did I know you’d say that?” Small wrinkles formed around Sandy’s mouth with her smile. “I appreciate the way you stepped up. You helped make a difficult decision much easier. You see… I’m retiring and moving to Boston to help my daughter.”

“What?” Abisola knew she’d heard wrong.

“Leadership’s taking this opportunity to reorganize the company. Nelson’s agreed to buy my and Andre’s shares.”

Outdone, Abisola took a second to process what she’d been told. “So the company will no longer be Osborne and Associates?” Thirty-two employees in total, the firm was small but mighty.

“He’s leaning towards Osborne Financial. We’ve hired a marketing firm to help decide. With the restructure, we believe you’d be the best person to head up the accounting department. If you keep your nose clean until I officially retire, the job is yours.” She laughed lightly. “Since your nose has never been dirty, I think we’re good.”

“I’m… I’m floored. What about Max?” she asked of Nelson’s son who worked in the personal finance arm of the company. With the company being so small, they didn’t have managers, so Abisola assumed Max would buy into a partnership role when one opened.

“Andre’s having a similar conversation to ours with Max. Let’s be honest. The past year, Andre’s been out more than he’s been in. Max pretty much runs things over there.”

“I’m in shock. I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you.”

“You earned it. Even when I’m out, I keep tabs on things. I saw in the first day or so that your co-workers were coming to you for answers they usually come to me for. By the end of the first week, you were running the department and doing an outstanding job. And those daily updates you’d send!” Eyes wide with excitement, Sandy patted her chest. “Be still my heart. You saved me so much time and worry. Yes. You should be a director. You’re a natural.”

Faint knocking at the door drew their attention. Nelson Osborne, senior partner, poked his head in. Disappointment filled his eyes. “Oh no, you already told her, didn’t you?” He entered fully, closing the door behind himself.

Sandy smiled. “Your fault. Who takes meetings this early anyway?”

Ready to leap a tall building in a single bound, Abisola beamed with pride. “Thank you both for believing in me.”

“You earned it.” He looked at Sandy. “I hate to cut this short, but I need you to join this too early meeting for a few minutes before you cut out.” He chuckled. “That was a good one.”

Abisola loved how Nelson laughed at his own jokes.

* * *

Seated at her desk, Abisola exchanged her cell phone for her iPad. She longed to call her parents and tell them the good news, but her mother had the uncanny ability to turn a two-minute conversation into two hours. She scrolled through a few photos on her tablet of her parents laying tile in her condo. She’d gotten an amazing deal on two units in her building that were in major need of renovations. Nelson and his wife, Mesha, even came by a few times to help out. Work done, she missed the extra time they’d spent together updating the units.

She opened the custom-made planner program her parents had gotten her a few years ago. People often teased her about planning every minute of her life. Why anyone would try to make her way through something as complicated and important as life without planning was beyond her comprehension.

Lacey, her best friend, said the level Abisola planned was a manifestation of her controlling tendencies, but Abisola didn’t agree. As a child, Abisola didn’t choose what she ate, clothing, instruments she’d play, sports she’d participate in, languages she’d learn, if she’d be home schooled. Her high-level life plan had been written before she was born, and her parents made adjustments as necessary. They instilled the importance of preparation into Abisola.

She’d also heard the word controlling in relationship to her parents, but her college friends had been wrong. She went to work for her father when she was ten and loved every minute of it. According to the life plan her parents had created, she would have worked for him fulltime after she completed her Masters in Business Administration.

That was not the life Abisola wanted. Had her parents been controlling, they would have given her a hard time. Instead, they told her skipping college was not an option, but she could choose her major. They’d wanted her to stay in Arizona for college. They’d compromised and allowed her to complete undergraduate in Arizona and her graduate studies out of state. Someday her father’s business would be hers, so she continued working for him as part-time as an accountant. Since she loved laying tile, she did small jobs occasionally. Controlling people weren’t good with compromise, and her parents were experts at it.

“Ahbe-so-laaaah,” Lacey sang as she entered the office. “Or should I say, Madam Director?” She closed the door.

“I thought no one was supposed to know about the promotion?” Lacey was the only person outside of her family who used her given name. She preferred being called by her full name, but gave up the fight.

“I’m human resources and the office manager. I’ve wanted to tell you the past week, but was sworn to secrecy.” Huge grin on her face, she rolled a chair from the small conference table over to Abisola’s desk. “I literally thought I’d explode.”

Overflowing with excitement, Abisola could barely sit still. “This is crazy! My parents are going to flip when I tell them.”

“You are so very, very spoiled,” Lacey teased.

“Yes, but not spoiled rotten.” Her parents were in Nigeria visiting family, and she couldn’t wait for their return.

Lacey peeked over at the iPad. “I’ll bet your butt didn’t even hit the seat before you began updating your planner.”

“And?” This wasn’t as simple as just changing dates or she would have changed them months ago when she began accepting Max would play a huge role in her future. The promotion put into motion a life change that terrified the hell out of her, but she wanted. She couldn’t ask for more career wise, but longed to build her own family. Now if she only had a husband to go along with the plan.

Not to worry. Come Fourth of July, she’d be thirty-one and her parents would help find a suitable husband. Ninety-nine percent sure Max would be the man, she could hardly wait, but didn’t let on. At least she tried not to.

“Have you substituted Max for your intended yet? Nelson isn’t fooling anyone. He promoted you and Max so you two would take over the company someday. He wants to keep the business in the family.”

“Max and I are friends.”

Arranged marriages were her family’s way of life as far back as they could trace, but she’d wanted to go a more traditional, American route and find her own mate. Another example of her parents’ ability to compromise was them agreeing to hold off until she turned thirty-one before they began matchmaking to give her a chance to do her own thing. Until recently, she hadn’t considered Max, but he’d be the obvious choice. Both loved their chosen careers and understood the demands of the other’s job. They had the same outlook on life, the same political views and both were Muslim.

“Ummm, that’s a good thing. Plus y’all’s parents are best friends.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“What?”

“Arranged marriages are my normal. This is new to his family. My family’s progressive, but does he understand the courting period? That either of us can say this isn’t working for them and move on? What if…?” True fear stole her words.

“What’s really going on?”

She took a moment to gather her thoughts. As handsome as Max was, they’d have beautiful chocolate babies, but there were no sparks between them. “One day, Mum and I were in the backyard pulling weeds from the flower garden when she heard Dad’s voice. Her whole face lit up as if she’d gotten a pleasant surprise.”

“I thought arranged marriages were crazy until I met them.”

“I want a love like my parents share, and I want the same for Max. Will we ever fall in love?” Without some sort of spark, would she and Max ever fall in love, she worried.

“That you ask makes me believe that yes. You will. You two have had each other’s backs since you started here. If I didn’t know better, I’d of thought you’d known each other your whole lives.”

She drew in and released a large breath. “This is really happening. Nelson expects Max and I to get married.”

“Girl, catch up with the conversation. I said that at least two minutes ago. Stop overthinking.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” Lacey stood. “I need to get back to work.”

“That makes two of us. Thank you.”

Lacey left the door opened on her way out.

Enough fooling around for the day, Abisola got down to work. Every year she took her birth month off to do something special. This year she planned a trip to Alaska. Completing projects early and ensuring her regular clients were set while she was out was her June mission.

Max entered carrying a gift-wrapped shirt box.

“Is that for me?” She couldn’t help but smile. All her plans had fallen into place, and Max came carrying gifts. She’d bet it was from Mesha, who had to know about the promotion. Over the years, Max’s parents had become like a second set of parents to her.

He chuckled. “Would I bring a gift into your office that wasn’t for you?” He handed it to her. “Mom said I’d know when to give this to you. I was so confused until I learned of our promotions.” He sat in the chair beside her desk that Lacey had left.

“Thanks. I’ll call to thank her when I take a break.” She began opening the gift.

“Excellent. She also wants to know what to wear for the birthday-slash-naturalization-party.”

Her parents became naturalized citizens exactly thirty years ago this coming Fourth of July and wanted to celebrate. Proud of her parents, Abisola invited all of the people who participated in the naturalization ceremony with her parents to Sedona to celebrate the Fourth of July with family and friends. Since the Fourth was also Abisola’s birthday, her parents insisted the party be dual-purpose.

“Whatever she’s comfortable in. I have a spa day and some tours planned before the barbeque festivities of the evening.” She loved the way Max humored his mother by playing messenger and deliveryman for her. Each day she’d have him deliver or ask something she could have easily done herself.

She lifted the box top and saw an adorable yellow scarf with tiny daisy print. “Oh my goodness. I love it!” She ran her fingers over the fine material. She usually wore a hijab, but planned to rock her new scarf in the near future.

“Lacey says you’re tripping about what this promotion means for us.”

Eyes and mouth wide, she shook her head. “I was not. You know how she overreacts.”

Doubt filled his dark eyes. “Umm hmm. I don’t mean to disrespect your family’s traditions, but waiting on our parents to arrange our lives isn’t working for me.”

“I understand.” Now that she knew Max was her intended, she was shocked he hadn’t said something sooner.

“Sandy’s retirement completely changed things for us. I’ll call your father and apologize for overstepping, but you and I need to talk.”

“Agreed.” Truth be told, she didn’t know how her parents had done this. Then again, her parents hadn’t known each other very well before they began courting.

“I know Dad. He’s promoting you instead of offering you to buy into a partnership because he wants to keep your options open. I believe you and I will be an amazing power couple, but that doesn’t mean we have to be married. Once we start dating, there’s a small chance we may not click, and that’s okay.”

“What would happen if we didn’t click?”

“You’re still the best accountant around and more importantly, one of my best friends. We have always looked out for each other. If you want a partnership, I’m sure Dad would give you time to buy in. You have options.”

‘Thank you for talking me down from the ledge.” Something about this conversation just didn’t sit right with Abisola. “Since the cat hopped out of the bag, then threw the bag at us. After you talk to my dad, did you want to start the courtship?”

“We should wait until after you come back from your vacation. I want you to be sure this is the road you want to go down.”

“Are you sure this is the road you want to go down?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll admit, when Dad first approached me, I thought he’d lost his mind, but our parents are right. We both want to settle down and should look at the obvious possibilities first. We make sense.” He stood. “I need to get back to work. Since that cat’s out of the bag, I’m freed up to get you what I want to for your birthday.”

“Your family is the most gift giving folks I ever met. We don’t exchange gifts, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tell what it is before you give it.”

“I have to or you’ll cause a scene at the party,” he quipped jokingly.

“Whatever… I have never caused a scene in my life.”

“I’m getting you a car.”

“No.” Not only were cars, insurance, gas, and their maintenance expensive, they were pollution machines.

“Hear me out. First off, it’ll be used and an electric car. I will not have my wife driven around by strangers, and I don’t want my children driven around by a new driver.”

Suddenly, she felt better about this conversation. “Awww, that’s sweet. Thank you for the thoughtful gift.”

“I know how you think. I’ll cover expenses the first year. I’ll look into driving lessons later.”

“How about you teach me to drive, and I’ll teach you how to cook the basics?”

He chuckled. “Many relationships have been ruined over driving lessons. It’s best to leave it to the professionals.”

“Point taken. What about the cooking? It’ll be fun.” Some of her fondest memories were of her and her parents in the kitchen throwing down.

“If I could make it my entire life without cooking an actual meal, I’d die a happy man.”

All she could do was smile. “Get out of my office.”

* * *

Normally, Abisola’s days flew by. She glanced at her watch: 9:45. Not today, she thought. She’d decided to call her parents instead of emailing them with the news, but was waiting until lunch to have more time to speak with them.

“Abby,” Nelson said as he entered her office. “I’d like to introduce you to Thomas Hoffmann.”

Shocked, her heartbeat sped up at the sound of his name. Why hadn’t Lacey warned her Mr. All Too Fine was in their office? Thomas’s law firm moved in two doors down around Thanksgiving last year. Whenever she got the chance, she’d just so happen to be in the front office to see him exit the elevator at approximately 8:55 each morning. She’d hated the double mirror-like walls until Thomas came around. This allowed her to see him without him knowing.

In her mind she’d given Thomas all the attributes she wanted in a man—a fantasy man no real man could measure up to. The person behind Nelson would be a real man, not her fantasy. She stood and rounded her desk.

Nelson moved to the side as he approached. A large man, like Max, he had blocked her view of Thomas. “He’s one of the partners at the law firm down the hall.”

Upon seeing her, Thomas’s whisky eyes momentarily went wide with surprise.

Nelson motioned to Abisola. “Thomas, this is Abisola Tersoo.” He beamed with pride. “Abby here is one of the best forensic accountants in the world.”

“World?” She laughed lightly. “Okay, I’ll take that.” Hand on her chest, she looked to Thomas and bowed her head in greeting. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

Heat rushed through her body. Not from his words, but the way he said them. The way he watched her. It took everything she had to act unaffected, but affected she was. She’d never reacted like this to a man. Now she chastised herself for the fantasies. She’d thought they were harmless fun.

After introductions, Nelson presented a high level overview of the special assignment Thomas needed fulfilled. This sounded like fun, but the way Thomas watched her said she should turn down the project. Then again, this was a great opportunity and in a few months she’d be management and no longer able to take such cases. She’d be crazy to pass this up, she told herself.

Disappointed, she sighed. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be on vacation all next month. I should be able to finish before then, but it’ll be cutting it close, and I know this is time-sensitive. Our other accountants may not be the best in the world…” She offered a smile to Nelson. “But they’re amazing at what they do.”

Nelson nodded in agreement.

Thomas shook his head. “No. I want the best. If it takes longer, then so be it.”

Ready to dig into her new assignment, she smiled. “Then we have a deal. I’ll set up a meeting for this afternoon to discuss what I’ll need to get started.” A part of her looked forward to seeing Thomas in person from time to time. That part scared, yet excited, the mess out of her.

“Because the information’s so sensitive, you’ll be working the project from my office.”

“No problem,” she said with a calmness she didn’t feel. Envisioning Thomas as a fantasy man from afar was one thing, but working in the same office with him daily was a completely different story. She quickly calmed her mind. They were both professionals, and he was not a fantasy. There was no such thing as a fantasy man. Plus, working in the same office suite didn’t literally mean she’d be in his office. Moment of panic over, she caught a devilish grin tip his lips.

“Excellent. Can you start today?”

She returned to her desk and looked at her schedule for the rest of the month. She’d already begun clearing her calendar as much as possible, so working from the law firm would be no problem. “I can come over around noon.” She hadn’t spoken to her parents yet, so adjusted her time. “Make that closer to one. Then other days I’ll come over around ten until the end of the day. Does that work for you?”

“Perfect. I’ll have Pam keep a look out for you. It was nice meeting you.” He held his hand out.

“You, too.” An unrecognizable charge radiated from their touch as they shook. This wasn’t pain, something she liked or didn’t like, but some sort of energy. The way he looked down at their hands told her he felt it, too. She released, but he continued to hold on. “I’m gonna need that,” she said as she nodded towards her hand.

Did she catch a whiff of vanilla? No it wasn’t vanilla but something lighter, yet similar, with a powdery base. Whatever cologne he wore smelled amazing, she thought.

“Oh, sorry.” The moment he released her, the energy began to fade.

“How about we go back to my office to sign the work agreement?” Nelson said, then looked to Abby. “We can talk later.”

Abisola nodded. “Sounds good.” She could only pray Nelson didn’t notice her reaction to Thomas. She’d hate to give her future father-in-law the impression that she had a wandering eye.

( Continued… )

© 2019 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Deatri King-Bey. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.

  Meet Deatri King-Bey When Deatri was six years old, her mother was told that because of Deatri’s dyslexia, she’d never learn how to read. My have times changed. Deatri started her publishing career as an editor at Third World Press, Inc., one of the oldest independent, African-American owned publishing houses in the world. Fiction is her true love, so a few years later she began focusing her editing skills on fiction. She’s edited novels by such notables as Gloria Naylor, L.A. Banks, Beverly Jenkins, A.C. Arthur and many more.

Along with editing, Deatri also began writing. Thirty-some published titles later, she still hasn’t figured out she wasn’t supposed to learn how to read and has gone on to win six Emma Awards over the years. Currently, she is enjoying life with her family, reading, writing screenplays, and deciding what she’ll get into next. Website: http://romanandjeanette.com

    Deatri King-Bey’s Book List

Nonfiction: Become A Successful Author by Deatri King-Bey

Deatri King-Bey Suspense (with Curtis Alcutt) Roman & Jeanette (Black Widow and the Sandman I) Birth of the Black Widow (Short Story) The Sandman Cometh (Short Story) Hell Hath No Fury (Black Widow and the Sandman II) Dark Geisha (Black Widow and the Sandman III)

Deatri King-Bey Women’s Fiction

Caught Up Jodie’s Choice Operation White Rose Picture Perfect Sweet Thang

Deatri King-Bey Romance Novels

Beauty and the Beast Broken Promises (Interracial) Christmas Angel (Second Chances) Diamond in the Rough (Interracial) Ebony Angel (Interracial) For Keeps Hero (Precious Jewels I) If You Only Knew (Second Chances) Love’s Desire (Short story compilation) Journey’s End (Interracial) Santa’s Helper (Write Brothers II) Silk Scarves and Apples (Second Chances) Someone To Hold Soulmate (Precious Jewels III) Tease (Write Brothers IV) Tell Her How You Feel (Write Brothers I) The Drama The Street and the Seduction (Short Story) The Impossible Possible (Interracial) The Only Option The Other Realm Third Time’s A Charm (Write Brothers III) Trapped In Paradise (Short Story) Warrior (Precious Jewels II) Whisper Something Sweet

#LoveLikeItsHotBox, #SeducingThePen, #UnwrappedLit, #Bookish, #BookBoost, #TwitterBookClub, #AfricanAmericanAuthors, #NewBookAlert, #BlackGirlReading, #Bookstagram, #TBR, #TwitterBookClub, #InstaBooks, #InstaReads, #Bookstagram, #BookNerd

      Intimate Conversation with Deatri King-Bey (Love Like It’s Hot Boxset)

Deatri’s mother was told that because of Deatri’s dyslexia, she’d never learn how to read. My have times changed. Deatri started her publishing career as an editor at Third World Press, Inc., one of the oldest independent, African-American owned publishing houses in the world. Fiction is her true love, so a few years later she began focusing her editing skills on fiction. She’s edited novels by such notables as Gloria Naylor, Beverly Jenkins and many more. Along with editing, Deatri also began writing. Thirty some published titles later, she still hasn’t figured out she wasn’t supposed to learn how to read.

BPM: What inspired you to become a romance writer? How long have you been writing? When I was a child, my mother wasn’t a big fan of television series, but she never missed airings of old romance movies. I grew up in a household where Doris Day and Debbie Reynolds fell in love in the most dramatic ways just about every weekend, and I loved every minute of it. If my mother wasn’t watching old movies, she was reading Harlequin romances. At the time, my mother’s married life was nowhere close to the romances we watched and enjoyed. When I began writing, I had control to give every princess her prince charming.

BPM: How do you think you’ve evolved creatively? I’ve been married over thirty years and have children, grandchildren, in-laws. Lived through deaths, births, divorces, marriages. Been hired and fired from jobs. These fifty-some years, my experiences changed my outlooks on life and given me more depth. As we grow older, we see the world in different ways. This tends to affect one’s creativity. I’m hoping it’s for the best in my case, but we’ll see (smile).

BPM: Do you view writing as a kind of spiritual practice? Not really. I used to tease that writing was my way of putting my psychosis to work, by writing the voices into books. That all changed when my father was diagnosed with two forms of terminal cancer. That’s when the voices stopped. I was writing the forth book of a series that he was the inspiration for. I didn’t finish the series and Best Laid Plans is the first book I’ve written since he passed three years ago.

BPM: How has writing romance novels impacted your life? I let those voices in my head tell their stories. You will see mental illness, abuse, neglect… You know, things that aren’t romantic. You’ll also see compassion, love and triumph. When readers contact me saying how they saw themselves in my characters and appreciate how someone understood how they feel, that you touched their heart—I find it humbling.

BPM: What was one of the most surprising things you learned while creating your body of work? This was early on in my writing career. I’d always read books by all races of people. Back then, it was difficult to find titles by Black authors, plus schools had you read works by non-black authors. I never had an issue relating to characters who weren’t my race because I’ve always had to.

So when I began writing and began hearing whites saying they couldn’t relate to Black characters, I was taken aback. I grew up watching White women fall in love and reading books full of non-Blacks and had no issue “relating” to the characters. Love, hate, anguish, triumph, loss… are universal.

BPM: How do you find or make time to write? Are you a plotter or a pantster? I’m an empty nester, so have time to write. When my children were home, I’d write before they woke or after they went to bed. I’m a cross between a plotter and pantster. Before I start writing, I have about 90% of the book plotted out in my mind. Once I start writing, I go with the flow and it ends up about 70% to what I had in my mind.

BPM: Have you considered writing in another genre? I also write suspense and I have an urban fantasy I want to write.

BPM: What is your story in Love Like It’s Hot about? In Best Laid Plans, Abisola Tersoo, a gracious woman of beauty, kindness, and focus, knows there has always been a plan for her future. Someday she will take over her father’s business and Max Osborne, a man dear to her family’s heart, is to be her husband. Just when Abisola has accepted her life always goes according to plan, Thomas Hoffmann, a fantasy of a man, brings chaos into her life in the best and worst ways. Torn between following the plan with a real man and risking it all for a fantasy, Abisola learns she may not have a choice.

Thomas Hoffmann didn’t realize he was looking for someone special until Abisola walked into his life. A man of the world, he had become a little jaded, but Abisola’s quick wit and creative spirit sparked an interest in him unlike any he had ever experienced. One who lives in the moment, he can see spending the rest of his moments with Abisola, but others’ plans may get in the way.

BPM: Give us some insight into your main characters. What makes each one so special? Romance books follow a formula, so I can’t say my hero and heroine are any more special than any other romance hero and heroine. I will say that what makes this novella special is my take on the 4thof July theme. When I was young, I was told that America is a melting pot. To my family that meant that we lose our culture to assimilate into the dominant culture (Yeah, we were that family, and I’m proud to say I carried that on to my children). Instead, we chose follow the America being a salad with all the differences complementing each other. Best Laid Plans ties into both of these. I look forward to discussions to see what others think of this topic.

BPM: What was your hardest scene to write, the opening or the close? The close. I tend to deal with heavy issues in my romances that take an emotional toll on readers in ways that aren’t conducive to the happily ever after readers expect from a romance. So I have to ensure to wrap things up appropriately and give that happily ever after.

BPM: Is there a specific place/space/state that you find inspiration in? No, not really. I find inspiration in people and what they are going through. Like many authors, I’m a people watcher.

BPM: Do you want each book to stand on its own or do you prefer to write series? I prefer to write stand-alone books, but my readers seem to always want to know about the other characters, so I end up writing series. Even with my series, I try to write so that each book can stand alone.

BPM: Does writing energize you? The writing itself doesn’t energize me. Reading the book a few weeks after it’s completed editing energizes me. It’s kind of like my gym workouts. I enjoy getting my workout on, but it’s still work. Seeing the results of the workout is what energizes me and encourages me to continue going.

BPM: Do you believe in writer’s block? No. When I released titles every few months, there were times when I needed to step away from my current project because I needed distance from it to think clearly again. I’d work on something else, then come back to it sometimes a week or two later.

BPM: Is there a certain type of scene that’s harder for you to write than others? Sex scenes. I was at a conference and learned that many authors also write those last.

BPM: Have you written any other books that are not published? Yes. I have two books that I wrote that are AWFUL. I wrote them when I was early in the writing craft. The head hopping I did should have been illegal. Early on I said I’d rewrite them, but I doubt that will ever happen.

BPM: What projects are you working on at the present? I’m learning the craft of screenwriting. A pilot I wrote called Dangerous Games is getting some attention. I start a six-week class on pilot writing soon and hope to complete my second pilot during that course. I’m currently writing a piece for the Still Standing anthology. I along with four other authors are writing fiction and nonfiction pieces about how cancer affected our lives. This title will be released in October. I’m also completing a romance novel.

BPM: Tell us about your most recent work beyond this collection. Available on Nook and Kindle? My most recent work was Dark Geisha, the third book in the dangerously-sexy suspense series I write with Curtis Alcutt. This is a series that should be read in order. Roman and Jeanette, the two main characters, are my two favorite characters to write. They are flawed, but two of the most loving people in their own crazy way. The series is available on Kindle, Nook and in Print on Amazon. The order is: Roman & Jeanette, Hell Hath No Fury, then Dark Geisha.

BPM: What is your preferred method to have readers get in touch with or follow you? The majority of my readers just want to read my next book, so I suggest signing up for my announcements. I only send them out when I have a new title or if I’ll be at an event. If they want to email me, they can do so through my website. Here is the page to sign up for the special announcements and to email me.

BPM: How can readers discover more about you and your work? The only social media account I actually keep up with is my Facebook one. I ask that you don’t send friend request, but instead, subscribe to my page. Facebook as a limit of friends they allow, so I no longer accept friend request. But you can have unlimited subscribers: https://www.facebook.com/deatri

Books featured in the Boxed Set * Ann Clay – Love for Liberty * Barbara Keaton – Heat at First Sight * Deatri King-Bey – Best Laid Plans * Donna Hill – Summer Sizzle * Nicki Night – Sweet Heat Rising * Xyla Turner – The Fourth

  Best Laid Plans by Deatri King-Bey (Love Like It’s Hot Box Set) Best Laid Plans by Deatri King-Bey (Love Like It's Hot Box Set) Abisola Tersoo, a gracious woman of beauty, kindness, and focus, knows there has always been a plan for her future.