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platypanthewriter · 3 years ago

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Hook Possum 3/4

Art by @monsdasarah for Harringrove Big Bang!

PART ONE | TWO

The next morning, Steve did the First Aid class. “Hook Possum here has offered to help—” he began.

“What?!” Hook Possum hissed, as the kids shoved him forward, laughing, and Steve paced around like a drill sergeant.

He’d always liked teaching first aid. “Attention up here, everybody!” he shouted, grinning. “Who knows when to yell for help? You?” he pointed to a wide-eyed kid who shook his head. “We call ‘em the Big Bs,” Steve told the kids, crossing his arms. “Bleeding, breathing, barf, burns, bones, and bites.”

“Barf,” giggled a little girl.

“If anything is happening like that—bleeding, anything wrong with someone’s breathing, you see barf—” Steve paused, gratified to see Hook Possum miming a gouting wound, gasping for air, and puking his guts up. “—if anybody gets burned—” Hook Possum grasped his hooked paw, frowned at it, and yelled “My paw got burned off!”, and everybody laughed uproariously.

“If anything happens to anyone’s bones—” Steve went on, and got to see Hook Possum clutching at his leg, “—or if anyone or anything’s teeth breath somebody's skin—” he ignored Hook Possum yelling about vampires, trying to keep a straight face. “If any of the Big Bs happen, you need an adult, okay? We’re gonna need to take a look at it, and maybe take that kid to the doctor.”

“Okaaaaay,” the kids chorused, most of them looking faintly rebellious.

“A lot of it we can handle here, though,” Steve told them, and several brightened. “Lemme show you all your way around a first aid kit.”

Steve demonstrated how to bandage a possum, diagnose a possum with heatstroke, splint a possum’s tail, and he pretended to give him a shot with the new epi-pen, in case of bee allergies. At the end, he let all the kids play with the gauze bandages he’d used, and a box of band-aids.

Hook Possum didn’t look any less uncanny with his face covered in Scooby Doo and Sesame Street band-aids. It almost made him worse, somehow, because your eyes caught on the cartoony band-aids first, and then processed the mangy, vacant-eyed, toothy head.

The possum did look hilarious all trussed up in bandages, and one little girl tried so hard to make a sling, she wrapped the bandage around his neck and pulled, and Hook Possum gagged, twitched, and slumped onto the picnic table Steve had been using for demonstrations.

“If you can’t help them, you gotta at least hide the body,” Steve told everyone, his cheeks hurting with how wide he was grinning. “What’s the campsite rule?”

“Leave it cleaner than you found it,” they chorused, watching Hook Possum’s twitching legs in the air.

“We could tie some rocks to him and dump him in the lake,” a very small girl in pink ruffled overalls suggested, and the kids around her edged away.

“Now, hang on,” Steve told them. “Remember a possum is actually unconscious if it’s ‘playing dead’. It makes an awful smell, but if you leave it alone, sometimes they’ll wake up and wander off. We should probably leave Hook Possum alone for a while.”

Around then, Robin called for lunch, and the kids started to wander off.

“Don’t you dare leave me tied up,” Hook Possum hissed, and Steve patted his shoulder, and told him to stay there. While the kids were straggling into the mess tent, Steve ran and got the old camp camera, and took about five pictures of Hook Possum trussed like a turkey. “You utter asshole,” he hissed flatly, but he was laughing, Steve could tell.

After lunch, there was a mud flats exploration party, and the kids all ran off with buckets. Steve got Hook Possum some cool water, and closed his eyes politely as the mask was removed.

“When you gonna let me look?” he asked, laughing. “It’s not like I’m gonna tell anybody. You gonna keep this up for weeks?”

“...I need the bonus,” Hook Possum muttered.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve told him, “—but you’ve got the mask off already, what difference does it make if I see you? There’s nobody else around!”

“Leave it alone, Harrington,” Hook Possum growled, and Steve felt the picnic bench shift. When he called out, and then dared open his eyes, several minutes later, Hook Possum was gone.

After that, Steve didn’t ask. He encountered Hook Possum a few times in the showers—late in the Indiana night, when it felt like every breath was clingingly hot, and only the shower stalls were cool.

“Don’t turn the light on,” Hook Possum always hissed, and Steve snorted a laugh, shaking his head.

“I won’t, dude,” he always said, and they’d talk, some, in neighboring stalls, just letting the water wash away the sweaty heat of the night.

Hook Possum was moving to the west coast, he said, and Steve felt a pang at that, the same as he’d seen in Max. “It cools off at night there,” he said dryly, and Steve just bit his lips together, nodding.

“Hard to argue with,” he admitted. “Uh, when...when are you leaving?”

“As soon as I pack after camp,�� Hook Possum said, a little muffled, like he was washing his face. “Why stick around Hawkins.”

“Oh,” Steve said, nodding again. He couldn’t really think of anything to say, so he focused on scrubbing the sap off his toes from the conifer right by their cabin.

Every night, the Hook Possum stories got more in-depth. “One full moon, a girl and her boyfriend drove out to this very campground and parked,” Robin began, as some of the kids said ‘why?’ and others said ‘ew!’. “He was driving,” she said, leaning in, so the light of the campfire lit her face from underneath, “—and even though it was past midnight, and she asked and asked to go home, he wouldn’t start the car.”

Some of the kids looked unimpressed, but some of them were listening avidly.

“He looked at her,” Robin said, “—and he smiled, and he said ‘Nobody knows I brought you here.’”

“He’s gonna sink her in the lake, with rocks,” said the tiny girl in the ruffled pink overalls.

Robin high-fived her, and then leaned in again. “The boyfriend grabbed her arm and twisted it around, and whispered, ‘Nobody knows where you are’, and the girl screamed, because her arm felt like it would break. ‘You know what I want,’ he said.”

Steve knew his cue, and he reached down behind the log he was sitting on to scrape the fire poker along the hatchet they’d used to cut kindling, making a long, metallic scrape. A couple of kids shrieked, looking around.

“Just then!” Robin shouted, standing up, and more kids yelled, “—the two heard a ripping, metallic noise on the roof of the car. The boyfriend was so angry he shook the girl, and then yelled ‘What the hell is that?!’, but she didn’t know.”

Steve scraped the poker on the hatchet again, angling it for a sharper, higher-pitched noise.

“Something scraped along the door, and the girl screamed again, because she was already so afraid. She’d been thinking of opening the door and running into the woods, but as something scraped the door again—”

Steve scraped them together as loud as he could, having practiced with Robin beforehand, and everyone yelped and winced. Even Robin’s eye twitched at the awful noise.

“—the girl begged her boyfriend not to get out of the car.”

“But he did,” whispered one of the kids, eyes wide.

“He did. He left her there. Once he got out, though, the noise didn’t come again, and she sat, listening, and crying. She heard him scream, the way she had, when the bones of her arm creaked in his grip.”

The kids were rapt, and El met her cue with a branch-shuddering wind, making the whole clearing full of campers shriek.

“Did she get out of the car?!” Pink Overalls asked, urgently, and Robin shook her head.

“She heard branches break, and then, crashing through the underbrush. It might have been more screams, or it might have been the wind. The girl curled in her coat, staring at the blackness through the windows, and when she felt another thud against the car, and—” Steve scraped the hatchet with the poker again, long and grating, and a kid moaned. Robin lowered her voice, and the kids leaned closer to hear. “Heard another noise, like something scratching to get in, the girl locked the doors.”

Robin waited several beats, her face darker and more red as the fire burned down to coals. “In the morning, the girl woke to find her boyfriend pinned to the driver’s side door with a massive hook through his hand. He was whimpering, staring into the forest, and he didn’t respond to her voice. His hair was white.”

“Hook Possum,” gasped Pink Overalls, and everyone turned to stare.

“Hey, he got what was coming,” Hook Possum said.

That night, predictably, a bunch of kids came looking for Hook Possum. “There are floating lights,” one squeaked, pointing, and Steve bit back a laugh, remembering seeing the marsh gas and fireflies as a kid. “It’s Hook Possum,” he whispered, but the kid shook his head, pointing.

“No, he’s right here.”

Steve considered. “It’s weird telling stories about you when you’re around,” he told the furry bulk at his elbow, glaring.

“Well, sorry,” Hook Possum shot back. “There aren’t a lot of jobs a possum can get, Harrington.”

“We always said the lights were Hook Possum,” Steve said, shrugging. “Searching for the one who wronged him. The reason he can’t move on. He never sleeps.”

“Euuugh,” said one of the kids, shuddering. “He does sleep, though! I’ve seen his bunk.”

“Yeah, we know he’s really a...person,” said a small voice in the dark, shakily. “In-in a costume.”

“Mostly a person,” said another little voice.

“Yeah, we know you’re mostly a person,” said another one. “E-except at night.”

“Hang on, now,” Hook Possum hissed, but Steve elbowed him.

“Hook Possum won’t let anything happen to you,” he told them.

One evening when the sunset was particularly fine, and Steve was for once off dish duty, Hook Possum was down sitting on the dock, his legs splashing in the lake. The back of the costume was untied—except for the neck, since it hadn’t fallen off—and through the long slit in the back, Steve could see skin. In the golden light of sunset, Hook Possum didn’t even look too terrifying, from the back, his plastic fur shining

Steve pressed down a nearly-overwhelming urge to slide his fingers between the folds of polyester fur and let his fingertips brush over Hook Possum’s shoulder blades.

“You’re getting all wet,” Steve said, dropping to sit on his hands, and Hook Possum snorted.

“Possums dry,” he said, kicking his feet in the water, and Steve realized, seeing a pale flash, that he didn’t have shoes on, and stared down, his heart thumping at every flash of ankle.

“...hey,” Steve said, like a genius, leaning to thump their shoulders together, and Hook Possum laughed. Off in the woods, there was another grinding noise, a mechanical roar, and a horrible high-pitched whinny that made Steve’s teeth clench.

“...sounds like somebody needs a new fan belt,” Hook Possum said, leaning against his side, and Steve stretched, yawning, and reached an arm around his shoulders, feeling Hook Possum laugh. “...what’s over that way?” Hook Possum asked, letting himself slump a little into Steve’s side.

“What?” Steve breathed, thinking about the little line of Hook Possum’s back showing through the back, and how it would feel to slide his thumb in there, up and down, feeling the bumps along Hook Possum’s spine.

Hook Possum laughed. He sounded a little breathless. “Uh, I just—what—what’s over there, where the um, where the engine noises? Are coming from?”

“Oh,” Steve said, blinking. “Uh, nothing.” He frowned, thinking about it. “Nothing’s supposed to be that direction, there’s no road. It’s prairie, y’know, park lands.”

“How come I keep hearing shit from over there, then,” Hook Possum mumbled, without lifting his masked head from Steve’s shoulder.

“...dunno,” Steve sighed, giving in to temptation, and sliding his thumb inside the gap at the back of the Hook Possum costume. Hook Possum shivered, tensing, and Steve just rubbed a slow circle with his thumb until Hook Possum relaxed with a sigh. They sat, splashing their feet, until Steve sighed. “...I should probably go check it out, huh.”

“...mmmn,” Hook Possum said. “...probably. Since you kinda...own the damn park.” He pulled away, sitting up straight, and Steve let his arm fall away. “Keep forgetting your dad owns the damn place,” Hook Possum muttered.

“I mean, it doesn’t really matter,” Steve told him, hoping it didn’t.

“Yeah, like you couldn’t talk to him and get us all fired,” Hook Possum laughed, touching his mask, and Steve grimaced.

“I wouldn’t get you fired,” he groaned. “Why in the hell would I get you fired?”

“How the hell should I know,” Hook Possum growled, clambering back up onto the dock.

The next day, Steve led friendship bracelet making. He always did, because he’d been going to camp so long he was really, really good at friendship bracelets.

“What color you want yours?” he called over to Hook Possum, as a matter of course, and Hook Possum stared at him, smoke swirling from his eyeholes. “...you’re gonna set yourself on fire,” Steve told him, laying out the embroidery thread. “Pick out some colors.”

“...you’re making me a friendship bracelet?” Hook Possum asked, warily.

“Well, yeah,” Steve told him, shrugging. “What colors you want?”

“...uh,” Hook Possum said. “Possum colors?”

“The hell are those,” Steve asked, snorting a laugh. “I’m not stomping it in the dirt.”

Hook Possum swung a leg over the bench opposite Steve, and leaned his horrible mask in his hands to pore over the color selection. “...how many should I pick?” he muttered, his voice deeper than his usual fake squeaky hiss, and Steve bit back a smile.

“Probably, uh, three to like...five,” he said, shrugging. He’d started a pink, green, and orange candy-striped one for Pink Overalls, and he pinned it to the knee of his jeans to work on while Hook Possum considered.

Finally, he reached his plastic-clawed paw and pushed a grayish blue forward towards Steve, and then a darker blue, and then hesitated between the other colors, and pulled back.

“...white?” Steve suggested. “It’d still be a blue bracelet, but it’d show up.”

“White,” Hook Possum said, nodding. “Possum colors,” he announced.

Steve found himself grinning, again, the way he always was lately. His cheeks were tired and it was only eleven in the morning.

He got distracted helping the kids with theirs—Pink Overalls wanted to make one for Bell Witch Mirror kid, and so on—so it wasn’t until after dinner, when he snuck back to their cabin with a tray of spaghetti, that he managed to work on it. He slid the tray onto Hook Possum’s bunk, hitching up the flag curtain so the guy wouldn’t sit on it by accident, and then dropped into his bunk. He looped the cut embroidery thread around his toe, frowning up intently at the ceiling of his bunk as he wove the strands.

Hook Possum wandered in shortly after. “Where’d you go?” he asked, leaning in. “You okay?” He stared for a long second, and then asked, “...is that my bracelet?”

“Yep,” Steve told him, his fingers dextrous after the long day of reminding himself of the patterns.

“...it’s almost dark in here,” Hook Possum said, nearly a whisper, and Steve laughed.

“I been making these so long I could do it in the dark,” he said. “You better eat, if you’re gonna go sit around the fire.”

“I think I can miss a night of Hook Possum stories,” Hook Possum said. “I’m gonna grab a shower first.”

Steve nodded, only half paying attention, because it was getting dark, and he had to keep up the rhythm or turn on the light to find it again.

When Hook Possum returned, Steve was half done, carefully not looking over as the human who wore the possum suit sat just out of sight, leaning against Steve’s bunk, and ate the spaghetti Steve had brought him. The dim battery lantern Steve had set behind his bunk lit them both yellowy from the back, so even if he’d looked over, he couldn’t have seen much of Hook Possum’s face.

“How are you even doing that,” Hook Possum asked, and the bunk creaked as he sat next to Steve, warm and damp from the shower, smelling of soap and the pine trail back to the cabin. His curls—he had curls, Steve thought dazedly—tickled Steve’s shoulder, as he reached up to run his fingers over the dimly-lit, smooth-woven thread in Steve’s fingers.

“...practice,” Steve said, his throat weirdly tight.

The head against his nodded, and Steve could feel stubble against his cheek. Hook Possum’s body was heavy against his, his hairy legs a little itchy, and Steve wanted to roll over and explore, slide his fingers all over Hook Possum’s body.

“What do I do with it,” Hook Possum said, and Steve’s fingers paused. “I just mean, uh,” the guy said quickly, “—there are rules, right? Like I’m not supposed to...take it off?”

“...what, you’ve never had a friendship bracelet?” Steve asked, laughing, and felt the head against his shake.

“Nah,” he said, dryly. “Never been to a summer camp before, either. I was the kinda kid that’d get in trouble.”

“There��s always one every year and you think ‘I’m gonna have to pull that kid out of a toilet or something’,” Steve told him, sighing. “We figure it out. Haven’t lost a camper yet.”

“I wear it until it falls off?” Hook Possum asked, his voice rumbling against Steve’s shoulder. Steve could barely move his right arm, but he didn’t ask Hook Possum to move.

“Yeah. It’ll just wash with you in the shower,” Steve told him, grinning. “Some kids take theirs off to make them last longer, though.”

“What about when it does fall off?” Hook Possum breathed in his ear. “You gonna make me another one?”

Steve felt his face heat, because Hook Possum was being weird and intense about a friendship bracelet, of all things. “...you saying I make a faulty product?”

“I’m asking if you’ll...work here next year,” Hook Possum muttered, sighing into Steve’s shoulder. “If it falls off.”

“The hell do you care,” Steve laughed, his stomach twisting. “You’re moving to Oregon or somewhere.”

“...California,” Hook Possum sighed.

“You saying you’ll give me your address?” Steve asked, nearly forgetting himself and sitting up to look over. He shut his eyes tightly, his heart pounding. “So—so I can mail you a friendship bracelet?” Hook Possum was quiet, his fingers tight on Steve’s wrist. “...you saying you’d...come back to see me?” Steve ventured, and Hook Possum snorted a laugh, so Steve tried to backtrack. “Yeah, no, not for a friendship bracelet,” Steve laughed. It felt forced. “That’d be pretty dumb.”

Hook Possum’s hand ran slowly up Steve’s arm to his face, and Steve waited, his blood thudding through his veins, his eyes clenched so tight shut he saw lights, feeling Hook Possum’s fingers touch his cheek.

Hook Possum’s thumb stroked over his jaw, and Steve trembled with the effort of holding still. He wanted to yank Hook Possum closer, or—or roll on top of him, or something, and the gentle sensation of Hook Possum’s hesitant breath on his lips made him want to scream.

After endless seconds, Hook Possum shoved away, thudding to the floor of the cabin and stomping over to prop the little shuttered window open and lean out. He gasped for air, taking ragged breaths, and Steve felt just the same, like he’d been running.

He opened his eyes and stared up at his foot on the roof of the bunk, and the inches of bracelet dangling between his toes. “You can tell Max when it falls to pieces,” he said, with a weird rasp in his voice. “If you want another one. I can—I can get you another one.”

“You’re gonna keep making me friendship bracelets,” Hook Possum said, half a groan, and Steve could just see the dark shapes of him leaning his head into his arms.

“Well, you seemed worried about it,” Steve told him, grinning. “Don’t want my possum getting lonely.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Hook Possum muttered.

Hook Possum actually tried not to smoke too much around the kids, but every night, he’d wander out and have a cigarette on the steps of the cabin when the air inside was hot and close. Steve awakened vaguely to the sound of his voice talking to one of the kids, and then fell back asleep.

When the pounding at the door started, he jerked awake with the other counselors, mumbling and smacking their heads on the wooden bunk frames. The cabin door opened, and Steve recognized the voice of Pink Overalls. “Hook Possum went off in the woods to see what the lights were,” she sobbed. “He hasn’t come back. It’s been four hours!”

She thrust a glow-in-the-dark watch face into Steve’s face, and he blinked blearily at it. It was a quarter after five in the morning.

“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his face.

“He could be in the lake,” she sobbed. “With rocks.”

“I’ll go get him,” Steve told her, stumbling out of bed.

“We’ll all go get him,” Robin said, clicking something in the dark, then smacking it. Her flashlight lit up the cabin. “Wake up the other counselors, tell them they’re on breakfast duty.”

“Oh-okay,” Pink Overalls sniffled, and slammed out.

Steve found another flashlight, and he and the other counselors tromped through the grasslands, squinting through the occasional tree cover until Steve was pretty sure they were in the right area. His foot caught on a low patch of smooth mud and then grass, and he frowned down at what looked like tire tracks.

“Holy fuck,” Robin whispered, grabbing him, and waving her flashlight around. “Jesus.”

“Wait,” Steve said, holding his own flashlight still on the plants they’d been tromping through. “Is—is that—”

“Marijuana,” Robin snickered. “Somebody’s got a good crop back here. I need to find some really big trash bags, stat.”

“Hook Possum first,” Steve reminded her, shuddering at the thought that he’d stumbled into drug dealers out here. The thought of their faces as Hook Possum lurched out of the darkness was hilarious, but they could have hit him with anything, Steve thought, walking along the tire tracks, and then jogging. They might have had guns, even.

There was a loud crash and yelling ahead, and he ran.

“He’s in the shed!” yelled one of the other counselors, brandishing her heavy flashlight at an unfamiliar guy in a t-shirt who looked stoned as hell, and Steve ran by, looking for a shed. His flashlight slid over it, and he stumbled to a stop, trying to remember the place. An old fire season ranger hut, he thought, yanking on the locked door, and then pressing his face to the glass.

“Hook Possum!” he yelled, and got back an “I’m fine, jesus.” Steve threw his shoulder against the door and it gave instantly, dropping him on his hands and knees inside.

“My hero,” Hook Possum said, as Steve scrambled to his feet, swinging the flashlight around until it caught on the furry shape. His hands and feet were tied, then handcuffed to a rolling office chair.

Steve yanked at the cuffs, tugging at the ropes around Hook Possum’s ankles, and being generally ineffective, when Robin stormed in. “There’s a phone,” she panted. “I’m calling the police. Get him out of here, they’re trying to fight us, or something. I had to brain one with my flashlight.”

The sound of a sputtering engine came up the road, and Robin yelled “Fuck, more of them?!” before running to the phone.

Steve gave up on the cuffs and ropes, and rolled Billy out of the shed and along the muddy tire tracks in the office chair. They trundled quickly away from the noise, and then the chair nearly overbalanced, and Steve nearly tripped over Hook Possum’s tail and took them both down, so he slowed. His heart was pounding. “Are you okay,” he panted.

“I’m fine,” Hook Possum grunted, squirming in the cuffs.

“Lemme get your mask off,” Steve said, stopping. “Did they hit you?”

“I’m okay!” Hook Possum yelped, nearly overbalancing as he tried to duck away. “Leave it on!”

“Look, if you need money that much, I can give you some, lemme check your head—” Steve offered, checking the mask for cracks. “Did they—”

“They threw a goddamn tarp over me and I couldn’t find my way out in this thing,” Hook Possum said bitterly. “I’m fine.”

“O-okay,” Steve said. “...okay, okay, okay…” He took a slow, shuddery breath, squeezing Hook Possum’s shoulders as he pushed him along in the chair. It rattled across the uneven ground. “What were you even doing?! Wandering off alone in that thing?!”

“Had to see who was trespassing on your grounds, lord and master.”

“Fuck you,” Steve hissed.

“This might be the most undignified thing I’ve ever done,” Hook Possum growled. “Trussed up in a rolling office chair.”

“It’s handy,” Steve told him, catching the guy’s weight again as the ground tilted the chair.

“We’re never talking about this again,” Hook Possum said. “Ever.”

“I’m rescuing you,” Steve told him, grinning, as his heart rate started to slow. “Like a princess.”

“Shut up,” Hook Possum growled.

“Princess Possum,” Steve sighed happily.

“So you’re my Prince Charming?” Hook Possum snarled. “You gonna kiss me and uncurse me, or what?!”

Steve opened his mouth, and then closed it. “...uh,” he said.

“A real Prince Charming doesn’t just grab random possums,” said Hook Possum, his voice entertainingly uneven from the bouncing of the chair. “Help! Help! I’m being oppressed!”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed, giggly with relief that his...his Hook Possum wasn’t bleeding out from a head wound, or tied to rocks, sinking in the lake. “Just a little longer. I’ll get you back safe.”

Pink Overalls threw her arms around Hook Possum when Steve pushed him back into camp, muddier even than usual. She sobbed about ropes and murder victims, and Steve sawed at the ropes with the bread knife, until they frayed, and cut, and Hook Possum was free to stand—one paw still handcuffed to the office chair.

When Robin got back, exhausted but elated, and carrying three mysterious trash bags, she got the hatchet. Steve held the chair across from Hook Possum’s wrist over the wood chopping stump, and Robin smashed the chain between the two cuffs until one came loose, and the chair fell away. “The police will have to talk to you,” Steve told him, sliding his finger inside the cuff, and along Hook Possum’s human wrist. “They can take it off.”

“...yeah,” Hook Possum whispered, holding very still.

“I knew he’d save you,” said Pink Overalls, crying with relief.

PART ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

#harringrove big bang #harringrove #monsdasarah #Is amazing every time I see her art #YAY YAY YAY #A joy to work with!

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jbbarnesnnoble · 5 years ago

Text

You’re Beautiful

Summary: You’ve struggled with PCOS and the resulting hirsutism since puberty. It’s one of your biggest insecurities. After being taunted in the gym, Bucky shows you just how beautiful he thinks you are.

Features: Reader with PCOS and hirusuitism; Pure smut; some bullying toward Reader

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

Notes: Reader has hair long enough to hide her face behind (so at least shoulder length) and a medical condition. This came about after a discussion in the TCC discord re: PCOS. This one is for all y’all out there with PCOS, especially those who struggle with hirsutism (basically means you grow hair where cisgender women typically don’t)

Word Count: 1546

Your alarm started blaring at 6, a full two hours before you had to report for training. Bucky heard it every morning. You’d take a shower, which confused him. If you were going to get sweaty, why shower beforehand? He knew how long you took in the shower, the wall of your bathroom shared with his. 25 minutes, unless you were washing your hair. It always baffled him how you could take so long in the shower when you only needed to wash up. He didn’t question you on it though. He had a feeling that would end with a punch to the face.

You never wore your hair up. If you did, strands of it framed your face, almost as if you were hiding behind it. He couldn’t understand why you would want to hide. You were beautiful. He could spend hours just looking at you. He cringed at how creepy that thought sounded. You also wore makeup, every day. There was nothing wrong with it, but some days he’d hear you complaining to Natasha about how much of a chore it was. He wondered why you wore it if it was such a bother.

You had your hair pulled back in the gym for once that morning. You were partnered with him, something that wasn’t an unusual occurrence. If he didn’t know any better, he’d stay Steve did it intentionally, knowing that he had feelings for you. You had a way of making him feel normal. Other agents looked at him with fear or apprehension, but not you. It was while you were grabbing water that he heard it.

“You’d think with Stark’s money supporting her she’d get laser,” one of the women said, laughing.

“I bet Barnes works out with her out of pity. No way a man like him would be with her, not with that beard she has,” another said, glancing at you. Your shoulders sagged. He frowned.

“I wouldn’t date her. I’m not into women with facial hair. No thanks. If I wanted that, I’d date a guy,” a third said. Bucky clenched and unclenched his fist, looking away from them and toward you. You took a shaky breath and excused yourself, saying something about cramps. Bucky frowned as you fled the gym. He shook his head at the group of women.

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped.

“What?” the blonde asked.

“Saying that about her. I’d be lucky if she said yes to a date with me. Do you get some sort of twisted enjoyment out of tormenting people?” he asked. Natasha walked over from where she had been training with Wanda. Wanda, who had figured out what was happening rather quickly.

“Ladies, looks like you’re training with Wanda and me today,” Natasha said, ending whatever was about to start. Bucky shot her a look, but the gleam in her eye told him they weren’t going to be happy by the end.

“Oh my gosh. Agent Romanoff, you’re serious?” the shorter of the women asked, excited at the prospect of training with Black Widow.

“Yes. Sergeant Barnes, I think you have a meeting,” Natasha said. Bucky nodded.

“Thank you, Ta--Agent Romanoff,�� Bucky said before heading out of the gym and straight for your room. He could hear the music thumping faintly from your room. Stark had paid for thick walls, but they weren’t soundproof. He didn’t have to knock. You’d given him access long ago. You were huddled under your covers, body shaking with sobs. He sat down, pulling you toward him.

“Leave me alone, Barnes,” you said.

“Nope. Not happening, Doll. Do you let me sit and wallow on bad days?” he asked.

“Of course not,” you scoffed.

“Then why would I let you? Those women...they’re jealous,” he said. You snorted.

“Jealous of the sideshow freak? Come see the bearded lady. I would’ve fit right in with a circus,” you said.

“Doll, am I a freak?” he asked. You looked at him.

“Of course not. Jesus, Buck, you’re one of the most attractive men I’ve ever…,” you trailed off, your cheeks heating with embarrassment. He chuckled.

“Even with my metal arm? My scars? My past?” he asked, as he ran a hand through your hair.

“Even then. What does that have to do with me, Buck?” you questioned.

“Because, doll. I don’t care if you can grow a beard. You could go three months without shaving and I’d still think you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And you know why? Because you’re kind. You see people for who they are, not what they look like, not what they’ve done. Don’t get me wrong, you’re physically stunning too, but, that’s not what matters to me,” he said.

“Right. Me. Attractive. The one with PCOS. The one who’s body doesn’t work right. Who can grow a goddamn beard because her hormones are out of whack,” you said. He let out a frustrated growl.

“You have no idea. Your eyes, your adorable nose, your incredible smile, your body. Doll, I’d worship at the altar that is you every day if you’d let me,” he said. You couldn’t help the surge of arousal that shot through you.

“Buck,” you said before he cut you off, capturing your lips with his. You were always self-conscious when it came to kissing. Afraid of the stubble, of five o’clock shadow. But thoughts of that flew out the window as he kissed you. He tugged on the hem of your shirt, pulling away from you only to pull it off along with the sports bra you had worn.

You felt a wave of self-consciousness roll over you, questioning if you’d removed all the unsightly hairs that morning in the shower, before Bucky distracted you by kissed down your neck, finding a sensitive spot that caused you to let out a quiet moan as he sucked. You knew there would be a hickey there by the time he was done. He moved down your chest, finding your breasts. One hand came up to cup your right breast while his mouth kissed around your left. You arched into his touch as his tongue swirled around your nipple. You had never been one for having your breasts teased and played with. No, you had always insisted on getting down to it, lights off. But Bucky refused to let your insecurities win out, wanting to prove what he’d said.

As he made his way down, his hand continued to play with your breast, pinching your nipple now and then before massaging you. As he reached your mound, he brought his hand down, light pushing your legs apart. You obliged. He kissed up one thigh and down the other. He was so close to where you wanted him, where you needed him.

“Bucky please,” you whined.

“Please what doll?” he asked.

“Touch me, please,” you begged. He looked up at you with a smirk, settling more comfortably between your thighs. A finger trailed from your clit down to your opening, collecting wetness as it went. He was slow to press his finger in, and you moaned when he did. It still wasn’t enough. As he teased your opening, his tongue traced up to your clit, swirling around the sensitive nerves but never touching it. He added a second finger, hooking the two as they moved. Your hips bucked up as he made contact with your g-spot. You’d never had a partner do that before, be so attentive.

“Bucky,” you said, chanting his name over and over like a prayer. He pulled you over the edge, not letting up until your walls ceased spasming around his fingers. You watched as he brought them to his mouth, licking your juices from them, before palming his hard cock. You had been so lost in it all, you missed when he had stripped down. You took in his impressive length. While he wasn’t monstrously huge, he was bigger than anyone you’d ever been with, in both length and width.

“I’ll go slow,” he murmured before capturing your lips in another kiss. It had been so long since you’d been with anyone. He moved slow as he pressed into you. You moaned at the stretch. Once he was fully seated inside you, he withdrew, setting a slow steady pace, hitting just the right angle to make you cry out as he moved. You could swear you were going to cum without him even touching your clit, something you hadn’t even thought was possible for you to do.

“Bucky, please, more,” you cried out. He slammed into you harder, picking up the pace, keeping you close. It wasn’t long before he drove you over the edge for a second time, before following behind you. He rolled over, laying you on top of him after pulling out, both of you breathless.

“That was...incredible,” you said. He kissed you once more.

“I meant it. I know this is out of order but...would you go on a date with me?” he asked. You giggled before nodding.

“I’d like that. But just so you know, Sarge. I don’t put out on the first date,” you teased, sending him into another round of laughter. You couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on that morning, not anymore.

#bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel fanfic #marvel reader insert #winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes/you

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theyrealllegends · 6 years ago

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Careful Chapter 10 (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Careful Masterlist

Warning: People are getting DRUNK again. Also, I only posted this for the lovely person in my ask box but it’s the last chapter I wrote beforehand, so my next uplaod will likely take more time, sorry!!

xoxox

The next weekend would be the last one before the tour which was why you agreed to go out with the boys one last time. Roger would’ve stayed in with you for sure but you wanted to say goodbye to your other friends that didn’t happen to be your roommates, too. The only thing you didn’t calculate were all the drinks apart from the beers and ciders they were ordering.

“I’m sorry, I don’t-“, you tried to explain and Roger just kissed you with a smile before he took the shot from your hand and downed it in split seconds, pulling a face afterwards. “You alright?”

“Of course, my love, don’t worry”, he told you with a reassuring smile, kissing you again.

“Oh, come on, safe that for later, would you?”, Freddie said and Veronica slapped him.

“Usually it’s you and Mary. Also, let them have their fun as long as they still can.”

“Next time I’ll try and join you, too”, you whispered to Roger. “Maybe Roni won’t feel that special anymore, then.” He just snorted and pulled you closer.

“I doubt that, Tiffy, she’s like that no matter what. You wanna go outside for a smoke?” His eyes said something else than his words and it made you giggle.

“I’m gonna let you smoke in here if you stop looking like that!” Roger grinned back before he buried his lips on your neck for a second.

“I’ll safe it for later, then”, he whispered before he shifted to be able to pull out his cigarettes and Freddie let go of Mary’s hand quickly to steal one from him. Roger rolled his eyes but lit it for him nonetheless.

After a few more drinks, the whole pub was on their feet to dance to some old Led Zeppelin songs and the boys’ euphoria made you join them even though you didn’t feel half as comfortable as Mary and Veronica. You looked at them, dancing with their boyfriends and smiled when Roger lazily attempted to spin you around like that, before you got too dizzy and were just giggling in his arms, asking him to stop.

“Sorry, babe”, he mumbled, kissing you again hungrily. His lips tasted like cigarettes and that brown German alcohol Freddie had ordered way too much of.

“It’s fine”, you assured him, trying to get back in the rhythm of the dance. You ended up watching them from a seat at the bar though, in need of a short break to catch a breath. You could tell they were all enjoying themselves but you also saw that Freddie and Roger were clearly competing to be the drunkest of the night, smoking cigarette after cigarette. And if you’d thought things started going downhill then, you were proven wrong five minutes later when they really started to.

“What’s a nice place like you doing in a girl like this?”, someone slurred behind you and then there were hands on your hips, making you jump.

“Excuse me, let go!”, you told the man off as strict as you could master in the shock he’d caused you.

“Come on, doll, just -“

“No!”, you cut him off. “Leave me alone!”

“What’s your fucking prob-“

“Didn’t you hear her, she told you to leave”, a firm voice interrupted the man and another guy in a dark grey jacket stepped in sight, getting between you and that gross guy.

“What do you want-“

“I want you to leave!”, the other one answered, forcing the other guy to move until they were both out of your sight and you breathed in relieve. You eyed for your friends who were still dancing like there was no tomorrow and you were glad they didn’t notice while you also wished it would’ve been Roger to come to your rescue.

“I’m sorry this happened”, your actual rescuer got your attention again a few moments later. “I’m Marco.”

“Tiffany”, you replied silently. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Tiffany. Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’m good, thank you”, you said and tried to give him a smile.

“What brought you here if not the wish to get drunk and to make a fool out of yourself?”, he asked you, grinning to not offend you.

“My friends wished to do exactly so”, you replied, nodding your head into their direction and Marco’s eyebrows rose up a little. He came up with a smooth answer, though, resulting in the two of you getting into a rather interesting conversation about your studies and work, Marco turning out to be close to earning his doctor title in medicine.

“Get your hands off her!”, you heard Roger rage, interrupting you giggle over some story Marco had told you and you pulled your hand away from his, asking yourself how you didn’t notice his touch in the first place.

“Hey, I wasn’t -“, Marco tried to explain himself but Roger didn’t even listen. You could tell he wasn’t seeing or thinking straight anymore, he couldn’t even stand for the love of god but he still managed to almost make Marco fall off his bar-chair.

“Roger, stop! What are you doing?!”, you tried to get between them but if Brian hadn’t grabbed him, Roger would’ve hit Marco with everything he had. He’d only seen another man with you, not really caring if you wanted him to touch you or not but the jealousy really got the best of him, the alcohol in his system only feeding his fury.

“You bloody bastard, touching another man’s girl behind his back?!”, he called the other man out while Brian was trying his best to keep him from breaking free.

“Is that your boyfriend?”, Marco asked you, his eyes rather wide in shock.

“Not technically but you could say we’re dating”, you tried to be diplomatic.

“Every one here knows who’s gonna shag her tonight except you, you absolute dickhead. Leave her alone already!”, Roger rambled and you blushed.

“Sorry”, you said silently and Marco’s brows furrowed.

“No, I’m sorry. Good night”, he said, grabbing his coat and then he left, leaving you alone with a raging Roger and a desperate Brian.

“Can you get him outside, he really needs fresh air”, you asked Brian whose lips were starting to turn white from how hard he pressed them together, trying to activate his last powers to get Roger to the street.

“You bloody dumbass, calm down now!”, he told his blonde friend. “You’re gonna scare her away if you don’t stop acting like an idiot.”

“She’s mine, Bri”, Roger slurred and you rolled your eyes, getting back inside to get yours Roger’s coat.

“Tiff, you alright?”, Mary asked when she saw you.

“We’re leaving. Roger is drunk and causing a gigantic scene.”

“Oh god, should I help you?”

“I don’t think you’re getting Freddie out of here already”, you admitted and she followed your gaze where Freddie was dancing on a table. “You better help your boy and I’m gonna go help mine and I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah”, Mary quickly said, hurrying over to Freddie already. When you met Brian and Roger again they were said on the sidewalk and Roger looked like he’d been hit by a car.

“Let’s get you home, Rockstar”, you said, grabbing one of his arms to get him to his feet but you wouldn’t have been able to put his coat on him without Brian’s help.

“You sure you can walk him home?”

“It’s not that far, thanks, Bri”, you assured him, getting one of Roger’s arms on your shoulders to keep him stable.

“Fuck, Tiff, fuck”, he kept mumbling while he stumbled his way home next to you, the stairs being the biggest problem, really.

“No, no, no, no”, you told him off when he made a beeline for your bedroom.

“You’re not going anywhere except the bathroom.”

“But I wanna -“ He made his intensions quite clear when he took a step towards you, pushing your back against the wall behind you and Roger smiled to himself proudly, moving to kiss your neck.

“Get off me!”, you told him, pushing him away though. “You smell horrible, Roger, I’m not gonna let you come close to me if you don’t wash yourself!”, you told him, getting angry now. You still felt his hot, short-coming breath on your face, a mixture of vodka and other drinks and cigarettes and only the smell made your stomach twist. He was looking at you pretty cross eyed as if he was trying to make out your features before he took a step back and stumbling towards the bathroom. He tried to unbutton his dark-red shirt but he didn’t even manage to do one button, standing on very insecure feet.

“Fuck, Tiff’ny, please, I need help”, he slurred on, getting a terrible hick-up. You sighed and followed him, unbuttoning his shirt quickly, unable to resist to run your fingers over his hot skin. Roger closed his eyes, sighing silently. “‘M sorry, babe, so sorry.”

“Rogie, take a deep breath. Everything’s fine”, you whispered, wiping his hands off your hips to take his shirt off him, his shoes and jeans following quickly after. You helped him get in the shower even though he let himself slide down the wall as soon as he was in there and you sighed, getting a washcloth to help him get clean, washing his hair and his face as well before you dried him off and helped him up.

“God, I feel awful”, he mumbled when you had him lay down in his bed.

“That’s why I got you here, you’re not getting sick in my room. I’m gonna get you some water.” Roger just nodded even though you were sure he didn’t really understand your words. He looked incredible thankful though when you got him a fresh bottle of water and he drank almost half of it before he let his head fall heavy on his pillow.

“Please stay with me. Don’t leave me”, he mumbled and you giggled, sitting down next to him.

“I need to change, babe.”

“Be my girlfriend.”

“What?”

“I said”, he mumbled, his voice still muffled by his pillow until he forced himself to sit up and tried to focus his eyes on you. “That I’d like you to be my girlfriend. I know I don’t deserve it but I don’t want to leave you without being sure that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“You, Roger Taylor want to be mine?”, you replied, blinking in confusion.

“And I want you, Tiffany Abberforth, to be mine, if you’ll have me, yes”, Roger answered nodding. The length of his sentences was draining him but your smile made it all worth it.

“I’d love to”, you told him, hugging him in excitement.

“Not that tight, please, love”, he said, struggling to breath yet smiling. “Thank you. That’s fucking great.” You kissed him and felt Roger smile into your lips before his hands moved into your hair and he moaned because you got fully onto his lap. “I was right in the end”, he said with a grin. “I’m the one who ends up shagging you.”

“You deserve to rot in hell”, you told him, only being able to keep a serious face for three seconds. Roger joined you in relieve, when you started laughing though, pulling you into his arms. “It was completely unnecessary but jealous you is rather sexy”, you told him when you caught your breath again.

“You’re sexy all the time, my love”, he murmured into your skin, leaving some open mouthed kisses on your neck, making your eyes fall close and your body sink into his, glad to be close to him again. You felt desire rising in your lower stomach again, your thighs started to ache for his touch and Roger grinned because he could tell by how your hips found his, grinding yourself into him slowly, making his member go hard in an instant.

“How can you even do that, you were so piss drunk!”, you told him in surprise and Roger chuckled.

“I just said it, you’re sexy and that’s all it takes.”

***

Roger was still deeply asleep when you woke up the next morning, from his snorting, actually but you smiled to yourself, getting up slowly to get yourself a tea without waking him up. Freddie was in the kitchen with Mary, basically inhaling the scrambled eggs she’d made for him.

“Hey there”, you greeted them, putting new water on the stove for your tea.

“Hi”, Mary said with a smile. “You want some eggs? If Freddie is kind enough to leave some for other people.”

“Sorry, love”, he said after he’d eaten another huge fork full. “Where’s blondie?”

“Still asleep, he’s alright though.”

“He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up”, Freddie forecasted, reaching for his cup.

“Why?”

“Because nothing cures a hangover like a blowjob”, he replied bluntly and you let your face sink into one hand.

“Why did I even ask?”

“I was thinking just that”, Mary admitted with a giggle.

“Hang on”, your head shot up again and you looked at them a little scared. “Do you think he’ll remember what happened last night?”

“‘d be better if he didn’t, right?”, Freddie said confused.

“No, no, I mean, I’m.” He raised an eyebrow when you blushed and you got up again to get a teabag. “Eventually, he asked me to be his girlfriend”, you said slowly and Freddie’s face softened.

“I was wondering when he’d finally cut the bullshit and do it.”

“But I couldn’t remind him if he didn’t know anymore, could I?”

“Honestly if he forgot that, he wouldn’t deserve to have you as his girlfriend. But I don’t think he forgot, darling.”

“Hope you’re right, Fred”, you thanked him with a smile.

Roger found you in the living room a couple of hours later, unable to sit on your desk and study that day.

“Hey there, not being a busy bee today?”, he asked you softly when he got next to you on the couch, cuddling into you tighter than ever before you felt like.

“Couldn’t really be bothered if I’m honest”, you admitted, snuggling your head into his neck.

“You deserve a day off”, he mumbled, burying his fingers in your hair. “Again, I’m sorry for last night."

“Don’t be, it’s alright”, you whispered softly and he leant down to kiss you.

“I didn’t dream it, did I?”

“I don’t know”, you teased him, fighting down your smile. “What do you think happened?”

“You know what happened”, he teased you back, grinning after his face had shown his worry for a second. “You sold your soul to the devil, you know that?”

“I’m your girlfriend now, not Freddie’s”, you said, making you both laugh before Roger’s lips found yours in a hungry kiss.

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fic #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fluff #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fic #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fluff #queen #queen fanfic #bohemian rhapsody #borhap

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croatian-magician · 6 years ago

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Coming Home

Pairing: Rakessi

Summary: Ivan feels bad when he comes back to Barcelona after the world cup. Leo helps.

Word count: 2120

Coming back to the Camp Nou felt strangely odd, but that didn’t surprise Ivan that much. Since the end of the world cup, everything felt off to him. There was always some kind of bitterness stuck in his throat, keeping him from enjoying the little things in life. The celebration in Croatia chased that feeling away for a while, or rather, the alcohol did. But now, he was back in Barcelona, sober and forced to face reality.

The beginning of the new season meant going to training, and training meant spending time with people who played in the world cup. All his teammates congratulated Umtiti for his world cup title and at the sight, Ivan felt bile rise up in his throat. It wasn’t against his friend. Sam was a great guy and Ivan appreciated him, but it brought back too many bad memories for him to ignore it.

He tried his best to focus on training and on his moves, only doing the minimum required talking with the rest of the team. Tomorrow he would find the strength to joke with them and to put the past behind, but no today. Today, all he wished for was to rush home once this was over so he could be alone, and maybe cry his heart out. He hoped he wouldn’t, but the occurrence had become too common these last few days for him to ignore that possibility.

He was relieved when the end of the training finally arrived and he ran to the locker room, making sure he wouldn’t have to make any more small talk. Ivan undressed in a hurry before locking himself up in a shower stall. He chose to wash himself with hot, too hot water. It was burning his shoulder blades, but Ivan forced himself to stay right underneath it, gritting his teeth. The pain helped to make his mind a bit clearer, to disperse the fog that muffled his feelings all day long.

He quickly heard his teammates voices filling the locker room and Ivan closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore them and to stay in his bubble. The training had already been too much, now he needed some time alone before being able to talk to them again. In the end, he decided to sit on the floor, the water slowly reducing in heat. The position wasn’t the most comfortable, but Ivan still deemed it better than having to interact with the rest of the team.

The midfielder waited a long time, until he stopped hearing voices and footsteps. Then he slowly got out of the shower, like a scared animal afraid to be caught by a bigger predator. His steps were light and he let out a sigh of relief when he finally got to his own locker. He put his clothes on quickly, starting with his boxers and socks. He was only missing a shirt when suddenly, a firm but gentle hand fell on his shoulder.

Ivan jumped out in surprise and his first reaction was to panic. However, he calmed down a little when he met Leo’s tender eyes. Despite how bad he felt, it wasn’t enough to erase the trust and love he put in his boyfriend, even it they hadn’t been able to see each other since the world cup. A part of him, the most scarred by the final against France, stayed on its guard though.

Leo opened his mouth, hesitant to say something, but then he decided against it and pulled Ivan into a tight hug. The taller man let out a huff of surprise at the familiar sensation of Leo’s beard scratching against his neck. He wasn’t surprised by all the strength held in his small arms though. He had learned a long time ago how strong his lover was, despite his frail appearance.

Ivan didn’t know what to do of the feelings this warm, reassuring embrace awakened in his heart. The hurt and the pain were still there, nestled in his chest, but Leo’s presence soothed it a little. The Croatian hid his face in Leo’s dark hair, inhaling his lover familiar scent. It smelled like safety, like home and Ivan started wondering why he just didn’t rush to his captain’s place the moment he arrived in Barcelona.

“I know you’re feeling bad, Ivan. It’s because of the world cup, right?”

His lover’s insight impressed and terrified Ivan’s at the same time. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t feel ready for it, but Leo took a step back, staring into his eyes as his hand caressed Ivan’s cheek, leaving him nowhere to run to. He couldn’t get away from that loving, worried stare and he hated it.

“Leo… It’s… It’s so hard, I don’t think I can talk about it right now… You wouldn’t understand anyway… No one would…”

“Querido, do you only realize who you’re talking to?”

Ivan almost replied without thinking. There were lots of obvious answers to that question: Leo, his lover, Barcelona’s captain, the best football player in the world… However, the one that mattered appeared to him clearly before any words could get past his lips.

Apart from all that, Leo was also the man who had lost the world cup final in 2014. Of course, Ivan remembered it all too well. He remembered how his friend had come back to Barcelona looking like a ghost and avoiding everyone at first. Just like he reminded driving to his friend’s house almost everyday, each time with a new excuse, just to make sure that Leo was alright.

He could still see Leo on the brink of tears, muttering excuses about how he was sorry for being a bother to him and the team. It had been a long process, to comfort him back to confidence, to see a spark of joy blossom in his eyes again. A path that had ended with Leo crashing his lips against Ivan’s and pushing him into his bed while the Croatian gladly let him do so.

But now, their roles were reversed by a cruel twist of fate. Ivan was the one one step away from breaking while Leo was studying him with worried eyes.

“How did you do it? How did you manage to go back to your life after the world cup, how could you be strong enough not to have your mind clouded with regret every single second of the day?”

“I wasn’t at first. I thought it would swallow me whole and spit me back feeling empty and worthless.” Leo recognized. “But I had you, Ivan. You were always there when I needed someone to comfort me. So please, let me be there for you now. Don’t run away. We can work this through together.”

Ivan couldn’t take it anymore. He lowered his head and started sobbing against Leo’s shoulder, holding tight onto him. His lover caressed his back gently, not saying a word, simply allowing him to let it all out.

“I’m… I’m sorry… I’m ruining your clothes…” Ivan cried, but his captain refused to let him go.

“Do you really think that matters to me? I can buy a thousand more shirts if needed, but you, Ivan, you are unique and I don’t want to lose you. Not when you mean so much to me. I know you won’t stop feeling bad all of a sudden, but remember you’re not alone in this. You’ll never be.”

“Fuck, you must think I’m acting like a spoiled child. I mean, during your world cup, you had all that pressure on your shoulders, all those expectations put on you and you had to deal with your country disappointment afterward. I had none of that, I was even praised and acclaimed when I came back home, and I’m still complaining… I’m sorry, Leo, I’ll do my best to stop bothering you…”

“No, you won’t do that. Of course, I was hurt by everything you just mentioned, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to feel hurt too. I want you to talk to me, Ivan. Don’t force yourself to keep it all inside. I tried that already, and trusts me, it doesn’t work.”

“It’s just… We were so close, Leo, so fucking close! It was the first time we managed to get that far and I know it won’t happen again, not for me. I’m too old, I’m pretty sure I’ll never get such a chance again. Victory was almost there, I only had to reach for it, but I failed, I failed my teammates, I failed our coach, I failed my whole country…”

“Oh Ivan, don’t blame yourself like that. I know you gave everything you had during this world cup. Don’t you remember calling me before your game against England, when your voice was so hoarse because of sickness that I barely understood you? Because I do, I remember being worried sick when I watched you play knowing about your health issues. I was expecting you to faint at any moment, but you didn’t, you even played through half time and I was so, so proud of you Ivan. I know how your whole team had to take painkillers to go on. I saw you fight your way to that final Ivan. You can still be proud of yourself. I promise.”

Ivan already knew all that deep down, but having these words pronounced by the best player in the world, by his captain, by Leo, suddenly made it all the more real. Another sobbed ran through him, but it was filled with relief. He needed to hear these words, even though he didn’t know that beforehand.

“Still, I wish… I wish this didn’t have to end in defeat…”

“I know, Ivan, I know.”

The Croatian took a deep breath, sighing as Leo ran a gentle hand through his blonde hair. This was what he needed right now and nothing else. Just Leo, holding him close, letting him be sad, letting him mourn his defeat, not saying that he should just be happy he got that far, not blaming him for wanting more.

“Thank you, Leo, thank you for being here.”

“I wish I could offer you so much more, Ivan. I wish I could turn back time to offer you that damn cup. I would surrender all I have just to give you that happiness, but it’s beyond my reach.”

“You don’t have to explain that to me, Leo. That was exactly how I felt four years ago. I would have given everything to bring a smile back on your lips.”

“And you did just that.” Leo whispered, leaving a butterfly kiss on his cheek. “I won’t promise you everything will be alright tomorrow. It will take time and the scar will never really leave. But it gets better, you’ll realize that soon.”

“You’re wrong.” Ivan replied, a calm smile on his lips. “I’m already better. Sure, I’ve been happier, but being with you, having you say those words to me… You already helped more than you can imagine, Leo.”

Before his captain could say anything, Ivan captured his lips with his, putting all his love and passion in it. His lover smiled against his lips and pulled him closer, his hands moving to Ivan cheeks to wipe away the trails left by his tears.

“Can you take me home? Please?” Ivan whispered once their lips parted.

“Of course, but let’s get you a shirt first.”

Ivan blinked, slowly realizing that he was still naked from the waist up. He gave Leo an apologetic smile when his lover handed him the clothes he needed.

“Sorry, I’m still a bit out of it.”

“I noticed, that’s why I’m here to take care of you, cariño. I baked some strawberry cake before leaving for training, I’m sure you’ll like that.”

“You did that for me, didn’t you? You knew I would feel bad so you made my favorite dessert for me?”

“Well, can you blame me for wanting to spoil my boyfriend?” Leo murmured, his eyes full of love.

In that moment, Ivan felt like the luckiest man in the world for having him, his worries tamed by Leo’s presence alone.

“I’ll make it up to you once I feel better, don’t worry.” Ivan whispered back.

“You don’t have to. For now, just take care of yourself.”

“I will, don’t worry. Now let’s just go home, love.”

He gently joined their foreheads together then put his lips on Leo’s one last time before taking his hand, eager to get alone with his lover in his house and to cuddle with him for the rest of the day.

Just being pressed against Leo already felt like home, though

Taglist: @puolendollarinonni @arduango @smolmandzo @synne-sol @kettie09@pachua @tinymodric @winters-chiid @ante-ray-bitch @fussballstuff @lukita-chan

#rakessi #Lionel Messi #Ivan Rakitic #FC Barcelona #fic #my writing

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mafiabosstsuna · 7 years ago

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Prompt 12: Instead of confronting you, he confronts Yamamoto. Both men confess feelings about you, which lead to a battle of the death. (Not really but close) You don’t know what to do.

You had arrived home finally, after that terrible car ride. You were reminded how much of an annoyance Gokudera was when he talked, even though you knew that was not true. It was nice to hear him speak to you after so long, but the subject was not the ideal. You were not ready to talk about what happened, especially to Gokudera.

You had taken a shower, hot steam seeping throughout the bathroom. The thin white sheet of condensation was wiped away and you stared at the reflection that greeted you. Dark eye circles and makeup that had not been fully washed off from the night before. Cringing, you started to wipe it off, thinking that you needed to start remembering to take it off beforehand.

Once you were done, you got changed into some pajamas which consisted of a large t-shirt and some penguin pajama pants. You took the brush from the bathroom counter and went to the living room, and brushed your hair.

The wine and snacks were still on the coffee table, and you let out a groan, wondering why the heck you didn’t put them away before. You set the brush down, and started to put away the snacks and wine, not wanting to keep the mess there.

It was when you were throwing away the popcorn did you hear the doorbell suddenly ring. It made you freeze, because there was no one who was supposed to come over today.

At that moment, you wished you had a peephole so you could see who was on the other side of the door.

The bell kept ringing, but you took your time, and maybe if you didn’t answer it fast enough, they would get impatient and leave.

“[Name]...it’s me, please open up...” Yamamoto’s voice was quiet, barely there, but you heard it loud and clear, echoing in your mind. Why couldn’t you just be left alone? Why did you have to deal with this? Honestly, you would love to just pretend like none of this ever happened, not acknowledging it and letting it just die away. That sounded much better than this.

A long moment passed, and you almost thought that Yamamoto had given up and left, but then another muffled voice came in. Was it one of your neighbors? Did something happen? You crept towards the door, putting your ear up to it.

“...leave Yamamoto, she does not want to talk to you.” You felt your pulse pick up at Gokudera’s voice, wondering why the heck he was here in the first place. Didn’t he leave earlier? Did he follow you too?

“I’m not going to leave until we fix this. I refuse to let her misunderstand like what happened to you.” Yamamoto’s voice was calm, but there was something hidden in it, being held back. You barely even registered it as Yamamoto’s voice because it was so different than the usual happy tone that he took on. With the matter at hand, of course it was not like it usually is.

“And what happened that made her so distant? What, did you push your feelings onto her? Did you kiss her? Or did you...” Gokudera trailed off, but Yamamoto must have made a face or something because suddenly the door rattled, making you fall back onto your butt at the force.

“What did you do?” A chill went down your spine at Gokudera’s voice, an icy edge that left no room for nonsense. He was pissed, more so than usual, as this time it felt more personal and deep than all the times before.

This had to stop. Not only because you had no idea what Gokudera was going to do to Yamamoto, but also because your neighbors for sure weren’t going to appreciate an all-out brawl in the hallway. No way in hell.

Quickly, you pulled yourself up, and flung the door open, right when Gokudera threw a punch at Yamamoto. The attack missed, with Yamamoto falling onto your floor, with Gokudera barely catching himself before he tumbled on top of him. It was silent as the three of you processed the current situation.

“Why are you guys here?” You did not even realize you were talking, but the words had already left your lips before you could stop it. The silence was now broken, and Yamamoto hurriedly pulled himself off the ground, rubbing at his shoulder. Gokudera rolled his eyes at him, going to light a cigarette.

“No smoking in my apartment.” You cut in, and see Gokudera stop, before putting away the lighter and the cancer stick. “Answer the question.”

Yamamoto answers first, because Gokudera was not going to admit that he was here for you.

“I... I just wanted to apologize about what happened. We both weren’t in the right of mind, and it shouldn’t have happened that way at all. I let my own feelings take over...” You feel your insides twist at the guilt that shoots through you. You had your suspicions, and your hopes that you weren’t right, that Yamamoto had feelings for you.

You didn’t say anything, just nodded your head at the confession. There was so much to think about. After that, Yamamoto deflated at your lack of response, but it was obvious that he felt a bit better with aplogizing. Your eyes went from Yamamoto’s form to Gokudera’s.

His eyes didn’t meet yours, but what did you expect?

“I wanted to know what happened between you and Yamamoto.”

“Why? It doesn’t concern you.” Exhausted, you fell onto the couch, head in your hands. Everything was just so confusing. Gokudera does not reply instantly, instead, walking over to you.

“I...” He hand reaches out, brushing back your hair a little, which you move away from.

“Please don’t touch me, you have a fiancee” You whisper. Gokudera’s hand returns to his side, fisted in concealed anger.

“Yes, I do. I have a fiancee.” Gokudera repeats your words. Yamamoto comes over then, obviously not happy with Gokudera being so close to you.

“Which means you shouldn’t be so caught up with [Name]. Why do you continue to torment her when she obviously is trying to get over you? Just leave her alone.” Yamamoto insisted, turning Gokudera towards him. Gokudera let out a growl at Yamamoto, slapping his hand away from him.

“As if your any better. Following her around like a puppy, hoping she’ll give you the time of day. When will you realize that she doesn’t see you as a man?” Gokudera’s words sliced through you, the words firing something up within you. You didn’t like being talked about as if you weren’t here.

“Guys...” You hissed, but they were in their own world.

“At least I didn’t treat her like she didn’t even exist. If I was in your shoes, I wouldn’t have made her suffer so much! If you didn’t love her, you shouldn’t have started anything with her!” Yamamoto yells, and Gokudera grabs at his collar, which Yamamoto mirrors.

“Guys.” You growl, not happy with how this was continuing. You try to seperate them, but you were pushed aside instead.

“Don’t tell me what I was feeling. Of course I loved her, I still do! But, Vongola comes first, Yamamoto. It always has, and always will. No matter what I think, Vongola has to be the priority.” At his words, you finally break apart the fight, and it’s silent once again, apart from the guys’ heavy breathing.

“Just leave, please.” You said, pointing to the door. You have been so up and down these past few months, and you were just sick of it. Gokudera still, supposedly had feelings for you, now Yamamoto’s feelings came to light. These two friends were fighting because of you and you had been lied to so many times it was just so exhausting.

It took one look at you to know that they were done here. Gokudera looked like he wanted to say something, but instead of that, he grabbed Yamamoto by the arm, and dragged him out of the apartment. The door slammed, and you were left with your thoughts.

#gokudera #khr scenarios #admin chrome

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eyez-ff-blog · 8 years ago

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○○ eyez | fifty-eight

Jermaine emerged backstage from the show he had just completed—San Antonio had been such a good crowd to him, and he couldn’t help but to be in a good mood as he was given remarks of praise and good will by the arena’s staff and personnel. He headed back towards the dressing room that was reserved for him, and he got himself a hot shower before he got out and dried himself off. After applying loation and deodorant, he slipped on a pair of boxers before putting on his basketball shorts and a tank. He put on his socks and shoes, and he made sure he had all of his items before leaving the dressing room. Two security guards walked with him towards his tour bus, and he was able to slip into the vehicle without much delay. He bid the guards good night, and after the driver made a stop at a local taco joint, the bus was on the road towards Houston. The rest of the crew and workers would be coming sometime within the morning, but J wasn’t looking to wait any longer. He wanted to get home to his family.

The tour had been going so well and it gave Jermaine a lot to think about; this really would be is possible last tour, and it was such a bittersweet feeling. He remembered the first time he ever went on the road, and the excitement and anxiety that came with it. He remembered the late night store runs and the hotel stays. He remembered the sights and landmarks that at one point almost didn’t seem real because he had never been there beforehand. He remembered seeing the crowds of people waiting in lines to see him. Back then it made no sense to him that anyone would want to see some random kid from Fayetteville. Now, he couldn’t help but to savor every moment he spent on the road now. As content as he felt about the decision to walk away after the tour concluded, he couldn’t help but to reminisce and feel the finality of everything. Even though he’d absolutely miss touring and making music, what he was giving it all up for meant so much more.

He remembered having thoughts like this when he was younger and just starting out—he looked up to the likes of Nas and Jay-Z, and saw how they had came from being in the streets to being music moguls in their own right. Then with time, they made themselves omnipresent so that they could be fathers to their children and husbands to their wives. Jermaine wasn’t sure how he felt about that back then; he could assume that then, he didn’t understand the concept of mortality. Now, he knew that every day was not a guarantee and with all that he had endured in 34 years, the idea was now imprinted within his mind. He had done everything he had set out to do and now he wanted to be the father he wished he had fully. As cool as he was with his father now, there were things he still longed for as a child. He never wanted Janiya or his son to ever have that longing.

Within the time it took for him to get back to Houston, he ate, napped, and wrote. He had been writing way more poetry and his mind just seemed to flood with words every time he was alone long enough to allow those words to flourish. He wondered if he’d ever put the words to beats, or if he would leave them for another time and head space. He just had so much to think about, and most of it concerned his son. The boy would come into this world any day now, and he was still terrified of the thought. He just wanted to be good enough for him. Jermaine wasn’t one to give a damn about anyone’s opinion before—critics, journalists, and naysayers were never the groups of people he truly cared to hear from. Even some of his fans only had a sliver of information about him. It was his family that he cared to hear from. How Beija and Janiya perceived him was so important, and how his son would see him would mean even more.

“Mr. Cole?” Jermaine glanced up towards he front of the bus. “I just hit the city limits. I need directions to the house,” Peeling himself off of the couch he was laying on, J made his way towards the front of the bus to direct the driver towards his home.

It was a little after 2 in the morning when Jermaine finally made it home. He grabbed his bags and headed off the bus, hearing it drive away as he headed up the walkway towards the front door. He used his keys to unlock the door, and he stepped inside to hear silence within the space. His first task he needed to get together was to wash his clothes—he was running low on clean ones, and he figured he might as well get himself together for when he had to get back on the road.

He heard Leo enter the laundry room a little while after he did, and he chuckled when he felt the dog’s small nose against his leg. “Hey, boy. You missed me?” Jermaine leaned down and petted Leo’s head before watching the dog roll over onto his back. “Spoiled ass,” He rubbed Leo’s stomach before he patted it gently. “Go back to bed,” He pointed out of the laundry room, and before long he was left alone to do his laundry. While the clothes washed, he went through his phone to text who he needed to, letting it be known that he made it home safely. Once the clothes were washed, he put them in the dryer to dry before he headed upstairs.

He checked in Janiya’s room first, seeing that the girl was sleeping. Her body was sprawled out across her bed, and he laughed to himself before he slowly entered the room. He fixed her up a bit before tucking her back in, kissing the side of her head before he left the room and shut the door. He continued down the hallway to the master bedroom, and he could hear the television on a low volume. Opening the door, he glanced over to see whatever infomercial was on TV. Beija laid in the bed sleeping, and he shook his head as he slipped off his sneakers.

Once he was comfortable enough to get into bed, he climbed in next to her before turning off the television and sitting the remote on the bedside table. He placed his phone on ‘do not disturb,’ and he wrapped an arm around his wife before he closed his eyes. He wouldn’t have long to sleep, but that was alright—he’d get a better night’s sleep tomorrow.

By the time he woke up, the sun had long shown itself—it was a little after 11 in the morning, and even though Jermaine was slightly exhausted, he knew he had to get up and help out downstairs. He could hear the bumping of music along with the whirring of a vacuum; more than likely his brothers-in-law were already here and Beija was probably working them to death. He slowly got out of bed and prepared another shower for himself. After going through his usual hygiene routines, he put on the white polo shirt and jeans that Beija laid out for him. He decided on a pair of blue and white sneakers to compliment the look before he headed downstairs.

The familiar tunes from Awaken, My Love! filled his ears as he saw Beija sitting on the couch, snapping her fingers as Kieran was cleaning around her. He chuckled to himself before he walked over to her, leaning down and kissing her forehead. “You better not be overworking these poor people,” He laughed a bit.

“Never,” She leaned up and kissed his lips before she rubbed her hand against his cheek. “How’d you sleep?”

“I slept okay. Anything left for me to do?” He asked.

“Go check on Marquis outside—he should be almost done with the meat, but if he needs any help go ahead and attend to that,” She instructed.

“Where’s Janiya?” He asked.

“She’s out there with him,” J nodded before he headed through the kitchen and headed towards the door that led to the back yard. He opened the door and he saw Marquis at the grill. The scent of food filled his nose and he groaned as he placed a hand to his stomach, seeing Janiya sitting in a closed off play area, playing with her toys.

“What’s up, big bro?” Marquis greeted, and the two of them dapped up before he attended back to the grill. Jermaine glanced over the hamburgers that were grilling.

“Not a thing, man—just got up. What all did you get done?” J asked.

“I got the ribs, sausage, boudin, and brisket done. Hamburgers and hot dogs are going on right now, then I’m doing steak and kebobs last,” Quis glanced over at the playpen to make sure Janiya wasn’t doing anything she wasn’t supposed to. “Niy, your daddy here,” He announced.

“Daddy!” Jermaine chuckled softly before he walked over to the playpen, picking her up out of the pen beore hugging her tightly. He smiled as she kissed his cheek, and he raised his eyebrows at he noticed the twists in her head.

“Oh, you got your hair like me. I see you mama,” He joked before he gently patted her back. “You being good for Uncle Quis?”

“Mhm,” She said, and he chuckled before kissing her forehead.

“Quis, I’ll go ahead inside and see if they need me to help with sides. If you need me just holler,” He said.

“Got you J,” Quis called over his shoulder, and Jermaine headed inside with Janiya in his arms. He headed into the kitchen to see Alonzo working at the stove.

“Hey Zo. You need any help?” He asked, and Alonzo nodded quickly as he glanced over at him.

“Yes, please. I didn’t realize how much food we had to cook. I’m never agreeing to do this again,” He said, and J laughed as he put Janiya down on the ground. “I’m working on the hot sides, so if you can get the cucumber salad together that would be great,” He said.

“Alright,” Jermaine headed for the fridge before taking out the cucumbers and the other needed vegetables, sitting them on the cutting board before grabbing a knife. He washed his hands thoroughly and then washed off the vegetables before he began to chop them up, nodding his head to the music as a means to keep him rhythm with his chops.

Jermaine couldn’t stay entirely too long at home—he was there long enough for the family to visit Rashaad’s grave as they did every year, release balloons for him, and get a plate of food before he was due at the Toyota Center for rehearsals. The rest of the day felt like a constant marathon. After rehearsals there was the usual sound check with the VIP recipients. After that, he took a moment to rest in his dressing room. He yawned slightly before he sunk into the couch that was in the room, and he closed his eyes slowly. If he could get in a small nap, he’d be okay.

A sharp knock at the door made his eyes fling open, and he huffed softly as he sat up. “Yeah?” He couldn’t hide his slight annoyance—he didn’t mean to sound so short with whoever was on the other side, but he was a lot more tired than he could have imagined at first.

The door opened, and it was one of the technical crew—the man looked urgent. “Hey, Cody told me to tell you that Beija called him; she’s in labor.”

Jermaine’s stomach flipped at the news, and he sat up quickly. “What? Fuck—where is she at? Is she okay?” He asked.

“She said she’s going to Texas Children’s; it’s right down the road from here. Her brothers took her down there,” The tech explained.

“Tell Cody to call her and say I’ll be there right after the show,” Jermaine said, and the tech nodded before he shut the door. Whatever sleep he wanted no longer seemed to be a factor; now, he was just worried about whether he’d make it to see his son being born. He was sure that she’d be in labor for quite a while, but he was anxious anyway—every moment passed felt longer than usual.

He used his anxiety as adrenaline and had put on an electrifying show for Houston; this place was like his second hometown now, and he could feel the love from the crowd. Every song was performed stronger, every moment felt intense, and the finale was beyond Jermaine’s expectation. As soon as he left stage though, his movements grew more antsy and with urgency. He hopped in the shower in his dressing room and he got dressed in comfortable clothes. As soon as he stepped out of the dressing room with his bag, he hurried to the tour bus to throw his bag onto the bus.

“Dame said that he, Bas, and Cody are waiting for you,” The driver announced.

“Thanks,” Jermaine grabbed his camera, phone, and other small items before he hurried off the bus and headed towards the SUV that most likely held his friends. Hopping into the backseat of the car, the SUV hurried off towards the hospital.

Bas handed Jermaine a bottle of water, and the man took it gratefully before uncapping it. Damon drove quickly through the after-concert traffic as Cody sat in the passenger’s seat. “Okay I just texted Ib—he said he taking a red eye down,” Cody announced.

“Shit, he didn’t have to do that,” J said as he relaxed into the seat, or at least as relaxed as he could be.

“We missed Niya being born—we’re not missing this,” Dame chuckled softly before he took a turn at the traffic light. “Is Beija in her room yet, B?”

“Uh…yeah, room 309 in the Maternity Ward,” Bas read over his phone.

“Alright, cool. You got everything you needed, J? Or am I gonna have to go back to the buses?” Dame asked.

“I got everything,” Jermaine ensured.

“Bet,” Dame nodded before he continued to focus on the road again.

Eventually the boys got to the hospital, and Jermaine took the quickest route he could towards the Maternity Ward; he stopped at the waiting room to greet his in-laws, but eventually he did reach Beija’s room.

“Baby?” He spoke once he opened the door, peeking inside as he saw Beija lying n bed. “Hey, it’s me,” He greeted.

“Hey,” Beija breathed slowly before she winced a bit, relaxing against the hospital bed. “How was the show?” She asked.

“It was straight—are you okay? You need anything?” He asked before he came around to sit by the bed.

“I’m good for now. I’m waiting for these drugs to kick in,” She said before she closed her eyes slowly. “I know they said any day now but I didn’t think it’d be this soon…” Beija mumbled, and J chuckled a bit as he reached to grab her hand.

“Lil’ man wants out, now. He’s run out of patience,” He said.

“I can agree with that, because he sure is kicking my ass,” Beija mumbled. “Fuck, what about tomorrow? How are we going to get through that?” She asked.

“Don’t worry about that right now. Worry about having our son—I’ll handle tomorrow when it’s time to,” J nodded, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Try closing your eyes and resting, we already know you’re going to be here a while,” He instructed.

He watched Beija close her eyes, and he squeezed her hand as she slowly let out another breath. “Jermaine?”

“Hm.”

“I’m glad you made it. I was scared you wouldn’t be here for this,” She said, and he smirked before le leaned down to kiss her hand.

“I would have canceled whatever I had to do if it was another day. I wasn’t missing this,” He assured her.

In the course of fourteen hours, Jermaine had slept and had some breakfast from downstairs—most of his in-laws and he and Beija’s mutual friends had come and gone in groups, and he was surprised to see that all of his friends had stayed the entire time; even Ibrahim had arrived as he had promised. Jermaine made some calls so that representatives of the charity would ensure to be there in he and Beija’s place for the rally that was held in the morning for the Freedom Festival. He was certain that he would possibly make it for the concert, but he knew the morning rally was out of the question. By the time he had gotten all of that taken care of, it was a little after 11 in the morning. Now he was sitting in the room with Beija, contemplating what he wanted to have for lunch—

“J, get the doctor!” Beija’s pained tone only spelt out one possible thing; it was time.

Jermaine quickly pressed the help button, and soon enough the nurses had come into the room to prep Beija for birth. The doctor came in soon after and Jermaine stayed by Beija’s side as the doctor prepared the c-section; since Janiya was born that way, that’s how this birth had to be as well. The whole process was about 30 minutes or so—it was 11:35 in the morning when Jermaine cut the umbilical cord, listening to the sounds of his crying son.

He watched as the nurses washed the boy off, and the doctor began to sew Beija back into the proper place. When both she and the baby were all cleaned up, they were allowed to see him. “Congratulations,” The nurse smiled as she passed the baby over to Beija.

Beija sniffed as she looked down at the baby, and Jermaine pulled out his camera, taping the two of them as they held each other close. “Look at him,” Beija whispered, and she whimpered as she leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Hi, handsome. I’m so happy to see you,” She said.

Jermaine couldn’t help but to smile himself, because he knew this meant so much to her. She wasn’t conscious when Janiya was born, and he could remember how hard it was for her to wake up and get the news that her first-born daughter almost ceased to be altogether. But now, she was able to hold her son in her arms, and he seemed to be just fine. The fact finally sat within Jermaine’s mind and he felt his stomach flutter again; he had a son.

“You wanna hold him, J?” His wife’s sweet tone filled his ears, and he nodded before he sat the camera down by her body. Once the baby was passed from her to him, Beija took the camera and did her best to tape the two of them together. “Isn’t he gorgeous, baby?” She asked.

“Absolutely,” J mumbled before he slowly rocked the child in his arms. “It was my turn to name a kid, right?” He asked.

“Yeah. And it’s gotta have my initials since Janiya has yours,” She reminded.

“I remember,” Jermaine smiled a bit as he gazed down at the baby boy. “Braeden Isaiah Cole. What’d you think?” He asked before he looked up at Beija.

“Perfect. Just perfect,” She grinned.

After getting Braeden registered and into the nursery, Jermaine reluctantly headed to where the festival would be—he had an obligation still, but he honestly wished he could spend a little more time with his son. He decided to spend the majority of the day among the people, buying some items from the businesses that were at the festival, and he took photos with fans that he came across. When it was close to time for him to perform, he headed back to his bus and changed into the outfit he’d be putting on, and headed back to the fairgrounds before he hid backstage and waited for his turn.

It was only minutes before he got on stage when he made a realization—he smiled to himself when it came upon him, and it made the show he performed mean so much more to him. He went through a master list of his hits from his mixtape days all the way to the more current favorites. He ended the set with Forever Boy, and he was absolutely amazed by the way the crowd knew every word. It filled his heart with joy because this was the moment he was sure that Beija envisioned since she started the charity. Now her brother’s memory was immortalized in the hearts of so many, and he’d never be forgotten.

“I’d like to thank y’all for coming out tonight, on behalf of me and my wife,” Jermaine began his closing speech—it was supposed to be Beija giving the speech but due to obvious circumstances she couldn’t be there. “This festival was a big thing for her—she wanted all of you to get a chance to have a beautiful night, but to also shed light on the goodness in our community. The media always tries to paint us in the worst light possible, and society thinks of us as nothing more than the slaves we descended from. But I’m here to tell you tonight, and to show you as living proof; we bigger than that. We always have been,” The crowd roared in approval, and he smiled as he looked among the thousands of faces that had attended the festival. “Over the past year of charitable events, we have raised millions of dollars and have been able to aid so many families that have suffered the same fate as my brother-in-law, and that makes me happier than any award, chart listing, or dollar could ever make me. Today is the anniversary of Rashaad Demarco’s tragic death, but me and my family always looked at it as a celebration of life. Now, I can truly say it is. Earlier this morning, my second child was born,” He announced, and the mixture of applause and surprise seemed to sweep over the crowd. “And I’d just like to think that it was no coincidence that the birth of my child happened on a day like this. So Rashaad—we see you, bro. We feel you tonight. Thank you so much. And thank y’all for coming out.”

As soon as he finished his speech, the fireworks show began, and he hurried off the stage as he heard the crowd applaud. He passed the microphone to one of the attendees, and he hurried back towards the tour bus to change his clothes and head back to the hospital. He was due to Austin the next morning to continue the tour, so he wanted to squeeze in a little more time with his wife and children. As he was driven back to the hospital, he could still see fireworks being lit into the sky. He couldn’t help but feel like his brother-in-law’s spirit was not just within his son but all over the city, and it made him feel nothing but joy.

Once Jermaine returned to the hospital, he made his way towards Beija’s room, delightfully surprised to see she and Ibrahim in the room together, laughing and talking as she held Braeden in her arms. “Hey, y’all having a party?” He greeted.

“Yo, what’s good man? I got to stream your set on TIDAL, and it was amazing,” Ib stood up before the two men shared a brief hug. “And congratulations on my nephew! Welcome to the Two Kid Club,” He laughed.

“Thank you, thank you. Good to be a part,” He chuckled before he moved to sit down next to Beija, who was so wrapped up in her child that she didn’t seem to be listening. “Hey baby…did you see the show?” He asked.

“Yes I did. And it was amazing,” Beija lifted her gaze to meet Jermaine’s and she flashed him a soft smile. “I’m proud of you, Jermaine. And I can’t believe I didn’t realize what today was. Not until you said it,” She added.

“I’m telling you…your brother blessed y’all with your son,” Ib was always one to believe in the higher power for as long as Jermaine had known him. It was Ibrahim’s faith that brought some of Dreamville out of some of their darkest times, and even helped J through his own questions of belief. Now, J felt like he was on the same page with Ibrahim this time around. Maybe Rashaad had placed a blessing upon the child.

“Hm, you think so?” Beija chuckled a bit before she glanced back down at Braeden. “What do you think, J?” She asked.

“I believe it. For once, I do believe it. If there is a God, there must be angels. He protected our girl, and he made sure that today stopped being one that reminded you of a bad memory. We can remember his life now…and Braden’s,” J kept his eyes on his son as he spoke, and a smile crossed his face.

As the night rolled on, eventually Beija had went to sleep and everyone else had went home. Jermaine had stayed behind to be with Beija, but he couldn’t sleep just yet. He just stood in front of the nursery window as he watched the babies sleep in their cribs. There were so many within the enclosed space that had been born on the same day or some days before; all of them maybe held a spirit of someone who lived a life before them. Maybe, just maybe, these babies held old souls that pressed the reset button and were either getting another go around on life’s crazy ride or were getting a second chance at life. Either way, Jermaine found himself amazed at the power of it all. He watched Braeden slightly shift in his small crib, and he couldn’t help but to feel complete. Now, two souls would walk this earth with his blood infused within them. They’d be the product of the love he shared with one of the strongest women he knew, and they would grow up to change the world in their own special way. Maybe J would be done having children with Beija or maybe there would be more, but there would be no award or accolade that Jermaine could receive that would ever compare to the legacy he was creating with his wife. He and Beija were building a home worth living in, and it made him feel as if he was the man that he always wanted to be, finally.

He glanced up at the ceiling of the hallway he stood in, and he smiled slightly. “Lesson learned.”

#j cole fanfic #j cole fanfiction #j. cole ff #j. cole fanfic #j. cole fanfiction

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