#I fell halfway in love with my mailman | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cawcawpeasants · 6 years

Note

I'm in holidays, yessssssssssssss ! Moreover, i was thinking of my two sweeties and do you think you can do a scenario, if you haven't to much to do, of Fuegoleon who is over jealous for some reasons ? I can see Nozel joking with this, and it's not helping. But, a lion over possesive and jealous, i want to read what you can write with this ! I'm sorry to bother you if it's to much ... ^^

This was fun! huehuehue

Poor Mailman, somebody better stop Nozel and Leon. When they are Jealous they can become so damn unpredictable.

Well, here goes, enjoy ;)

Jealous Leon escalates:

A knock on the door interrupted the two men’s conversation.They were In Nozel’s office in the castle, as it was that time of the year werethe captains had to evaluate the budget needed for the following year, so theythought they could be pretty much undisturbed. They were just discussing whatto have for dinner, when they were startled by the knocking.

‘Lord Silva?’ asked a young voice from the other side of thedoor, ‘May I enter?’

Nozel seemed to recognize the voice, as his posture relaxed.

‘You may, Philippe.’

Leon shot him a weird look.

Since when does Nozelcare for the first names of others? And why does he look so…happy?

He decided to keep a close eye on whoever was coming throughthat door.

A young man, probably in his late teens or early twentiesentered. He was well kempt, nice stature, pretty blond hair and a face thatstill had some baby fat on it, which, in combination with his big green eyes,made him undeniably cute. He was also dressed in the royal post uniform.

‘Good evening Lord Silva, oh, and Lord Vermillion. I hope I didn’tinterrupt you. I have the documents you have ordered yesterday, Lord Silva.’

He smiled kindly, innocence was dripping from his well-manneredwords. Usually Leon would like an upright young fellow like him, but seeing thesmall smile on Nozel’s face, which wasn’t for him but the other male in theroom. He squinted his eyes slightly at the young man.

‘Oh, that was fast Philippe, thank you very much. I didn’t evenexpect that they would come today.’

Nozel grabbed his pen, ready to sign off the confirmation ofreceival which Philippe handed him. These two had a routine already, and Leon hada hunch that the boy had been spending more time with his man in the last weekthan he had.

He also saw the now slightly red ears of the fellow, whichhad turned that way because of Nozel’s small compliment.

‘O-oh, that is because I had some business to do in the areayesterday evening, so I was able to pick them up after work already.’

Nozel looked him in the eyes and smiled again.

‘Is that so? Then thank you very much for doing this for mein your free time.’

‘It’s nothing, Lord Silva. We of the royal post would go toevery length possible for our customers happiness.’ A wide smile, as bright andbeautiful as the sun lit up the room.

Leon felt like punching someone. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation,but he had a feeling this guy was flirting with his lover. And that his Nozelwas even flirting back!

It took years for himto call me by my first name! Let alone to even smile at me.

He was positively pissed and maybe he did glare a bit at theyoung man, because Philippe’s smile seemed to become a bit strained afterlooking at him. The guy excused himself quickly, nearly fleeing the office.

After the door fell close, Nozel sighed while scooting overthe papers he had just received.

‘What did the poor guy do wrong to receive such hostility fromyou, Leon?’

The question was simple, but Nozel’s tone of voice and the particularlook full of mischief told Leon, that he already knew what had riled theredhead so up.

Leon leaned forwards across the desk, bringing his head onone level with Nozel’s and glared back.

‘You know exactly why!’

Nozel out the papers down and answered with a fake-cluelessexpression.

‘Oh, I am afraid not, Vermillion, I was kind of too busy checkingthat cute guys stunning little butt out to pay attention to your jealousy.’

Leon basically sprung out of the chair, now leaning overNozel, who still coolly met his angry stare.

‘What did you say?’

‘I said that Philippe, the nice postman, has a nice butt,and believe me, he is a very cute, nice and disciplined young man. I saw himfor the better part of the last week, so I can promise you, he is very…pleasingcompany’

The tone was teasing, and somewhere in Leon’s tired brain washis usual voice of reason calmly telling him that Nozel was just messing withhim, that the Silva for sure did NOT have an affair with the mailman, but therewas a louder voice, that told him to get rid of the love rival and then throwhis mate over his shoulder. To show the Silva all over again who he belongedto.

He stood up and left the room, the loud bang of the doorclosing behind him drowned out the ‘Leon?’ behind him.

He strutted down the hallway, looking out for the oh soperfect blond hair that apparently was set to seduce his Nozel.

A familiar voice saying its goodbyes in a close office caughthis attention. There he was, leaving and smiling as brightly as before.

Apparently Nozel wasn’t the only one the boy was out to get.

The moment the door closed again, Philippe found himself be draggedby his collar into a smaller adjoining hallway and then pressed up against awall.

Fearful green eyes in a pale face met angry purple.

‘What are your intentions?’

Leon’s tone was deep, nearly a growl, too. Philippe never hadmet a real Lion before, but he had the feeling, he now knew exactly how anantelope felt 5 seconds from being eaten.

He tried to answer, but the Vermillion held him pretty highand by his collar, so no air reached his panicked lungs. He held on to his bagwith the documents and letters he was yet to deliver, while trying to get on histip toes so he could breathe.

The lord grew impatient, so he repeated the question, this timewith more emphasis.

‘What. Are. Your. Damn. Intentions.?’

‘I- I intent to-to deliver the P-Post, sir’ came the choked-outanswer.

Phillipe tried to stay calm, like he learned in that seminarabout how to react when you are being attacked by a client’s dog or otherpossible dangerous pet. He should probably inform his bosses, that they shouldalso offer courses on how to deal with possible dangerous human companions ofclients, too.

Leon was clearly not satisfied with the young mans answer,so he yanked him up even higher. Philippe, now completely dangling in the air, puton his customer service smile in a try to appease the obviously angered man.

‘You know damn well kid, that I don’t care about your letters.I want to know what your intentions are concerning Nozel!’

‘Lo-Lord Silva? Well, I intent to deliver him his letters,too, Sir.’

Poor Philippe was confused. Had he done something wrong? Heloved his job, so probably not he was quite a stickler to the rules. He alwaystried to be punctual and had his whole routine planned out, so his customers wouldalways know when to expect him. Hell, his bosses had refined their protocolbased on his performances.

He winced at the thought of lagging behind in his schedulealready, and also because he heard the doomed sound of bursting seams. He likedhis uniform, always took care of it with pride, as it was what he had alwayswanted since he first saw someone from the royal Post wear it as a kid. EvenLord Silva had complimented him on always looking professional, which had been quitea surprise, as he had heard of the other being quite cold and detached. Theybonded a bit over their mutual work-a-holic attitude with a good helping of perfectionism,so Philippe wanted to help him out a bit by getting him his documents earlier.

Always 110%, was his motto. Applied to both work ethic andpaycheques.

The interrogation had turned into a staring contest, withFuegoleon glaring into the blond one’s soul and Philippe smiling as bright ashe could with a panicked look in his eyes.

As Nozel entered the scene he couldn’t help but raise aneyebrow at this ridiculous display. He went over to the enraged redhead and puta hand on his shoulder, effectively ripping the two out of their match.

‘Leon, let the boy go. Philippe, I am sure you still havework to do, so you better get going.’

Then he turned around and left again.

Disgruntled, Leon did as Nozel told him to and turned to goafter him, but not without sending one last angry stare at Philippe who hastilybrought his uniform in order again. The message was clear.

Stay away from my Man!

Leon caught up with Nozel halfway to the office, and was metwith a cold shoulder and some choice words.

‘What the hell was that, Vermillion? Do you really think Iwas into him? He definitely did not deserve that, and you acted completely out.’

‘Its not my fault that you were basically slobbering all overhis cute butt, Silva. I had to show him that you are off limits before he triessomething.’

‘Excuse me, that was just playing. Honestly, you shouldprobably take a nap when you are so tired that you don’t understand sarcasm andteasing anymore. If you don’t stop making such an ass out of yourself you mightas well find me in the close future not being “off limits” anymore, understood?’

They had walked next to each other while having their spatin hushed tones so as not to inform the whole castle about their fight and hadreached the office door. There Nozel looked at him for the first time duringtheir fight and Leon saw him being pissed at his behaviour, but the redhead couldn’thelp but still be angry. Then he remembered the second part of his originalplan.

He cornered Nozel against the door, looming over him like apredator.

‘Oh, teasing it was? Well, my dear tease, if it makes youhappy, I am glad to inform you that that just worked alright. And I think Ihave a good idea on how to recompense your words’

Andmake sure you forget all about that Mailman’s ass when I amdone showing you who yours belongs to!

#Caw caw #Braidshroom braidshroom falalala #I fell halfway in love with my mailman #he is just adorable okay?#he just wants to deliver post and one day become the post emperor #the king of mailmans #the postkage #He aint got no time to flirt #I wonder if there is a mail system in Black clover #and how far they deliver #also if they recruit based on the utility of certain magic types #like warp magic? you are so friggin hired #fire magic? uhm no sorry there are no job offerings in your general are #*area #anyways really dont mess with Leon when he is jealous AND tired #Nozel probably had issues sitting down for a while

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moonofthenight · 3 years

Text

Welcome to New York

@spookypotato and I (thank you again <3) wrote a fic for the server event that is going on at the moment and I wanted to share it here too, enjoy!

O'Darwin and O'Knutzy belongs to @lumosinlove

CW mentions of food and beverages

It knocked on Leo’s door at 2pm sharp, which didn’t surprise him at all; Kasey was always so dead on time, it scared him sometimes. The two had planned this day for over two weeks now and since Finn and Logan had their date today, Leo used the free flat to invite the other goalie over. He closed the fridge before he made his way into the hallway to open the door.

“Hello Knutty, long time no see,” laughed Kasey as he pulled the blonde in for a short hug.

“Come in, come in. I got everything prepared in the kitchen.”

“I hope you can still live here after today.”

“Honestly Blizz? No one is as bad as Finn and Logan at cooking, believe me. What they are able to do to food shouldn’t be possible.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

To prevent that from happening, Leo chose a simple meal to start with. When Kasey asked him to teach him how to cook he was a bit surprised at first, but he actually enjoyed the idea of teaching someone.

“Let’s start with chopping the vegetables, that should be easy, non?”, Leo suggested. It was better to know now, if this would be like the times he tried to teach Logan and Finn.

Surprisingly, the following minutes weren’t a complete disaster like he had expected, Kasey was actually quite decent at cooking and followed Leo’s instructions without trouble. It was fun to spend time together and their cheeks were still a bit red from all the laughter when they went over to the kitchen table.

Just as Leo was about to sit down his phone rang, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

It was a text from Finn.

Alex will be home over the weekend too, just wanted to let you know.

He was halfway through typing out an answer when he got an idea.

Don’t tell him Lo and I will be there

What? Why?

Let's bring Nat and Kase as a surprise. It won't be as obvious if he thinks we all can't come

I love you

Knew you'd like it, lyt

***

They had lost Kasey and Natalie in the airport, when Finn decided to buy Leo and Logan each an 'I heart NY-boys' shirt. A quick call told them that the couple was already outside.

It was colder in New York, the sky was grey but Finn felt warm when he stepped out of the airport. New York was home to him, it would always somehow be, and bringing Leo and Logan with him, especially Leo, since he hadn't been able to bring him as often yet, felt amazing. A warm body snuggled under his arm and he smiled.

“It’s cold,” Logan pouted and hid his face in Finn’s chest.

“I thought you were used to it. I'm pretty sure you even quoted Elsa on that once, baby."

When Logan just continued to pout, he gently leaned down to kiss his messy airplane curls, "If you let me go you can have my jacket.”

Logan was quiet for a minute, “No, you’re warmer.”

Leo chuckled and grabbed their suitcases, “Kase and Nat are over there. I think they spotted the taxi, let’s go.”

Logan peeled himself off of Finn, still pouting a bit but the thought of a warm car seemed to do the deal. Finn and Leo followed quickly, helping Kasey to put all their bags into the back of the car before getting in themselves. Finn leaned forward to tell the driver their destination.

It was quiet for a while after that, everybody was quite exhausted from the flight, Logan was already dosing off on Leo’s shoulder; he carefully moved his fingers through the brown curls, a loving look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” said Nat suddenly, looking at Leo.

“What did I do?”

“For coming up with the idea,” Kasey added, “We haven’t seen Alex for three months now, so, thank you for thinking of us.”

Leo smiled at them, “It’s unfair that you can't see him regularly and I thought it might be a nice surprise for him.”

“I hope he will like it,” Nat said sleepily, resting her head on Kasey’s shoulder.

“I’m glad my brother found you two, I really am. I mean, the distance sucks but he’s so happy with you. He deserves that more than anything,” said Finn and bumped his shoulder lightly with Kasey’s, careful not to wake Nat.

“I’m sorry.” Kasey said and Finn wasn't sure if it was to himself or someone else.

“What?”

“Well, I knew I loved your brother since Tampa and I didn’t have the guts to do something about it. It probably would have saved us some time.”

“Nah, who knows if everything would have worked out like it did now. Sure, maybe you could have saved some time and pain but I’m just glad you found your way now.”

“Thank-” Kasey started but got interrupted by the driver, “We are here, sir.”

Finn reached for his wallet but Kasey was faster, “Take it as some kind of thank you.”

Finn smiled at him. “Will we do it as planned?”

"Yep, we will wait around the corner, you go in."

Natalie and Kasey walked as quietly as possible but the loud noise of the three other suitcases was enough to drown out the rest anyway. The moment Finn knocked on the door, it flew open, as if the older O'Hara had been behind it for some time.

"Bubbles!"

"Alex!", Finn screamed with equal enthusiasm, laughing at the silly nickname. He threw his arms around his older brother and just held him tight. Finn missed him too, it's not easy if you grow up in a close relationship with your brother and suddenly you are miles and miles away.

Finn didn't want to let him go just yet and decided to continue their hug. It had been too long, really.

Alex just laughed and squeezed him tightly. "Come in, Mum and Dad already made tea and coffee and they bought your favourite- Leo? Logan? What are you doing here?"

At that Finn stepped back, looking at his brother sheepishly, but determined.

Alex's confused face made Logan chuckle, "Hello to you too, Red. How are you doing? I'm good, thank you. I missed you too." Alex rolled his eyes but gave them both a welcoming smile. "Finn can't go a day without us, so he asked us to come with us."

"I did not say that!"

"Mhh, whatever makes you sleep at night, sweetheart," Leo leaned down to kiss their pouting lover. Finn rolled his eyes at him.

Alex still seemed to be trying to piece everything together, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Guess I just forgot," Finn shrugged and moved past his brother to greet his parents, pulling Leo with him. The taller boy had of course met the O'Hara's but he was still nervous. They had barely made it into the room before both got tackled by hugs.

"It's great to see you Haley," Leo said when he let go and received a loving pat on the cheek as a thank you. They switched places and her arms were replaced by a firm grip around Leo's shoulders.

"Where is my other boy?" Finn's mother asked, going up to her toes and looking around the room.

"Here," Logan said, who came into the living room right that instant, Alex close behind him. "There you are! Oh, come here I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Why do you get so excited to see Logan? You weren't that excited with me. Betrayed by my own mother, I can't believe it!" Alex complained, holding his hand over his heart.

His mother snorted at Alex's dramatic reaction. "Stop whining and make yourself useful, get some tea for Leo. You still prefer tea, right?"

"Yeah I do, thank you," Leo said with a smile and then blew Alex a kiss, who just subtly flipped him off in return.

The six settled down shortly after and Leo sent out a quick text to Kasey; not a minute later the doorbell rang again.

"Alex, would you be so kind?"

Alex gave his mother a quick nod, before making his way over to the door. He was expecting the mailman but the people in front of him were most definitely not a package. Alex just froze in place and he was pretty sure his mouth fell open too.

"Hi, baby," said Kasey with a soft exhale, his smile as bright as ever.

"Wha- I- What?" Alex still hadn't moved.

"Surprise!" said Natalie who threw herself at Alex, jumping up to wrap her legs around the boy's hips. He caught her easily and after another minute of shock, tears formed in his eyes and he pulled the blonde impossibly closer to his body. Alex put a hand on her cheek, kissing her softly. He blinked rapidly and looked up when they parted and Natalie jumped down to the ground again.

"That bad to see us, eh?", said Kasey softly, who still stood in the doorway and watched the whole interaction with a warm, fuzzy feeling around his heart.

"God, just- come here."

Alex didn't care about anything at all when he finally locked his lips with Kasey. His hands immediately went into the soft long hair of his boyfriend, craving as much closeness as possible. After another moment, Alex pressed their foreheads together, catching his breath.

The rustling behind them, broke through their shared breaths, "We'll give you a moment to catch up," Haley told them, a knowing smile on her lips as she ushered the other men into another room.

Somehow his mother always knew what was going on. He turned back to his partners, still unable to grasp that they were actually here, in New York City, with him.

"Missed us?" Nat asked as she stepped up close to Alex again, slotting herself underneath the already held out arm of her oldest boyfriend.

Resting his head on hers, he gestured for Kasey to join their group hug. "More than I could ever put into words."

"Love you, Alex." Kasey breathed out as he felt his boyfriend's arm wrap around his waist, snuggling his face into Alex's neck and placing a few soft kisses there.

Another arm was placed around Kasey's waist as Natalie gathered her boyfriends closer to her, breathing in the familiar smell of Mango Shampoo and of the sanitizer Kasey always uses after flights. It mixed with Alex's aftershave, that she still couldn't assign anything else than home, love and safety. It was Alex.

"Love you." she murmured, not willing to move her head further away that was necessary to get the words out.

Alex smiled at them. Oh, how he had missed this. How he had missed them.

"Love you both."

#lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #o'darwin #joined fic #server anniversary #fluff #cw: food and beverages #rating: g

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optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 4 years

Text

Long, Long Time - Short

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None Summary: Steve’s known you through his young adulthood. Losing you after being the man out of time. He finally had the chance to come back to you. It was one of the best decisions he ever made.

Let’s have this go in for 30 Days of Chris @jtargaryen18

This is one of my favorites for Steve Rogers. And I hope it is one of yours, too.

Reblog, comment and like!

If my stories are on a secondary party app or site, it’s there without my consent.

~~~

“Agent L/N, you might want to take a look at this.” The woman turns around and sees the frail man walk up with papers, “We may need to ask-”

“Mr. Davidson, I would appreciate it if we discuss this some other time. I’m afraid I have other things to do.” The man nods quicker than she thought, “Yes, ma’am.” The woman continues out and walks into her office. Going through the amount of papers laid out over her desk, some needing to be signed.

Someone then knocks on her door. “Come in,” She said. The man walks in, his cap in hand as he enters her office, “Good afternoon, Agent Y/N.” The woman looks up and pauses on the spot to see them walk in.

“Colonel Phillip...” She breathes out.

The man sadly grins at her. Straightening her posture, she softly inhaled, “Anything?” She asked.

Phillip lowers his head and sighed, “We tried searching the whole Arctic. Surely the ice had already covered the plane. He gave us no coordinates before he crashed it. We just have to...” Phillip didn’t finish his sentence after that. She knew what he would’ve said.

Just let him go.

All Y/N did was nod and Phillip gives her his goodbyes and left her office. After months and months of searching for him. She could find a way to move on. Find someone. Start a new life. This is what it had to be. It was his choice.

A few weeks had passed and you slipped on a nice red dress. This was your third date with a man named James Alton. A 34 year old who was in the military. One of the men that the love of your life saved in the war.

James tried not to mention too much of the war because he knew your relationship with the Captain. You knew he met him in person. You believed he was one of Gilmore Hodges friends. Ones who bullied Steve from the beginning of the project.

James seemed like a nice guy, maybe apologized about what he had said and what Hodge may have done to be such a complete jerk.

James was charming, offered to take you out on walks and took you to nice places to eat. But you couldn’t bear to think you were doing something right. This all felt wrong for you. Going out dancing with men when you had one at 8:00 sharp.

“Y/N?” James spoke softly, breaking your thoughts. You look up to him and saw his gently smile appear on his face. “What’re you thinking?” He asked. Forcing a grin on your face, you reached for his hand to reassure him. “Just the date,” You softly laugh, “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

James shrugged at you and blushes at the slightest, “I’ll do anything for you, doll.” Your smile slowly faded to the name, he considered you two as a couple already after 4 dates.

The more you did, the more he got to know you. But what he didn’t know is that you still loved Steve. He did not know that you were only doing this to get him out of your head, but he still comes back. In your mind. In your dreams.

James couldn’t see it.

You watched as he looks out to the dance floor and sees people come in to the slow song. It’s Been A Long, Long Time by Harry James. A song you wished to dance to.

“Wanna go dance?”

But not with him.

Your eyes dart to him already standing up and holding his hand out to you. You couldn’t deny a dance to someone you felt bad for. As if you were disguising yourself as someone else to find answers for your job. And you feel like you’ve already found those answers.

Silently, you took his hand and he takes down down those steps. Passing by the couples you knew wouldn’t be you and James. Their faces showing nothing but glee.

James laced his hand with yours and gently reached for your waist, making sure you gave him the permission with a reassuring grin. Your hand goes to his shoulder and you two both rocked.

You knew he wanted to hold you to his chest. Arms around to not let go, as if this was your last dance. But something came over you. You didn’t realize your face had been drained in thought. Your grin had faded, eyes already gazing off somewhere else and James knew.

You felt wrong. Something didn’t feel right and you gently released his hand. “Is something wrong?” James asked, his hand coming to your arm. Your eyes look up to him again, the frantic look on your face.

Your mouth was open to say something but you seemed to struggle to. “I...I’m sorry. I need to go,” You managed to say in a soft whisper before rushing up to your table, taking your handbag and rushing out of the place.

Leaving James on the dance floor.

You didn’t even make it halfway through the song. You rushed down the sidewalk, even more scared to be cat-called by men. It was dark. Your home was a little ways away. Queens to Brooklyn was gonna be harsh. You got here by a vehicle from James. You knew the walk could be 3 to 4 hours.

You shivered in the cold and saw the cars pass by. You felt water hit your forehead and you cursed to yourself.

You left your jacket on the chair. Too much in a hurry, you didn’t want James to catch up and apologize to you if he did something wrong. But no. It was you. Hoping that men would not stop to pick you up, you saw a cab and quickly rushed over. The rain started to pour on your clothes.

“Excuse me?” You called through the window. The man leaned over to look at you, “What can I do for you, miss?” He asked. You licked your lips and looked down the road.

“How much is it to Brooklyn?” You asked.

The man looks down for a second to think, “Maybe about 15. But you standing out here, it don’t matter to me.” You sighed in relief and grinned, “Thank you so much, sir.”

You hopped in the back and slid down the seat belt. The driver rolls up his windows, “I’ll turn on the heat for ya, miss.”

“Thank you,” You muttered, holding your arms. He looks down the road and began to pull out, “Must not be the right gentleman, I guess?” He asks. You peer up at him in the rear view.

“I’m sorry?”

He glances in the same mirror, “You. Usually I see couples come over but you’re alone, running away from someone. He must’ve not been the one, huh?” He softly grins, trying to make it sound like a joke. You nodded softly, he couldn’t see it.

“Just wasn’t right, I guess,” You replied.

The ride was quiet for a little bit and the nice man let you off on your own without paying. Stepping up to your home, the warmth of it welcomed you back. Quiet and calm.

Heading into your living room, you kicked off your heels and reached for the blanket that was laid on the back of the couch to wrap it around your cold and soaked frame. Your hair was separated and dripping. Your dress was stuck to your skin and so what your hair.

You didn’t bother to turn on your TV. You just sat there on your couch, coping. Staring at the black screen of your TV, you could see yourself. Knowing how messed up everything made you. You shivered under your blanket as you continued to keep your eyes on the mess in front of you.

Last night, you managed to get cleaned up and fell asleep on the couch. Waking up in the afternoon, you got up to make yourself a coffee. Your radio was on playing the usual news. You leaned on your counter and pulled your mug up to your lips.

Trying to forget last night’s date with James. You walked out like an idiot. What could you tell him now?

Then you heard the door knock. You wished you planned this out sooner. You turned down the radio and listened to the door. Your curtains were partially open and they were lace so you could see out.

The sun was so bright, no one could tell you were home. You figured it was the mailman dropping off your mail but the knock comes again. It didn’t sound like they were rushing.

Not even a voice.

James would’ve been knocking more and talking. He would’ve called you. You placed your mug down and walked over to the door. You slowly inhaled to tell James everything that happened last night.

Ready to tell him the truth about what you truly felt. You unlocked it and opened the door, seeing his slacks first, “James, I’m so sorry what happened last night, I-” Your face drops at the sight.

The man in front of her gently grins, “You must’ve forgotten, I had to rain check on that dance.”

“Steve... You’re...” You looked at his attire, seeing him look taller than you last remembered. His hair was combed back, his face was more masculine. Shoulders still broad and barely held under his buttoned up.

“How are you...?” He didn’t let you finish as he takes your hands and held them in his. “You don’t need to worry about that, now. Right now, I owe my girl a dance.” You smiled at him and reached up to caress the back of his neck.

He leans down and placed a kiss on your cheek, then your forehead. He held you close. He was at your doorstep as if he was a ghost and needed to see you before he disappears.

But he was there. Holding you. You didn’t realize the radio began to play a song. The same song that you heard on the date. You seemed to smile at that, knowing you felt right in the arms of someone you loved.

He gently rocked you both in your living room. His head on top of yours, you held him like you were never gonna let him go. And he did as well. Holding you to his chest, he continued to rock you.

You knew you should’ve been in tears. You knew he was gonna explain whatever happened. But what all that matter was him finally dancing with you. You feel his head lift off yours to look down at you.

Lifting yours up to him, you both looked into each others eyes and he leaned in. You closed your eyes and felt his lips collide with yours softly. Finishing off the song with the man you dreamed to come back.

It’s been a long, long time.

~~~

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

Rules For Falling In Love: #1

summary: In which George wants to get married. But... you're not dating. Why should you say yes?

a/n: Here it is I'm obsessed with this concept my dear friend thought up, so much so that I was inspired to write this multichapter fic about it all. Please let me know if I forgot to tag anyone, or if you'd like to be added to the list! And as always... feedback of any and all kinds are greatly appreciated!

w/c: 2k

Part 2 >

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"Don't be a third wheel, come on now!" Dean's publicist shooed him away from where you stood next to George, counting down the seconds till the red carpet came to an end. You gave the guy a quick, twisted frown, as George's publicist pulled him further down the carpet, his hand holding on to yours, silently bringing you along.

This was just another normal Friday evening.

When the time came to flood into the award ceremony, you sighed in relief and reached for a drink from the tray of a despondent boy meant to stand right where he was for most the night.

"Don't you have any place better to be?" Dean laughed your way, thanking the waiter for the drink he swiped.

"We were going to go bowling." You shot George a look. You'd only made the plans as a joke, wondering how much shit either of you would get for ditching this stupid ceremony to go have a bit of real fun. But you'd made a promise to George long ago, to attend all these silly little Hollywood shindigs with him.

"And we will go bowling if we make it out of here alive" George declared with a nod, leading you toward the row of seats with your names on them. He hated these events almost more than you did. He insisted your presence aided to quell his anxieties these circumstances stirred up. And you couldn't tell George no, very often.

"If one of you ever did one thing without each other, I think hell would freeze over." Dean chuckled as you all settled into your seats. You looked to George again, and he looked to you and you both laughed, but Dean was probably right.

After the awards had been given out between long, sometimes painful speeches, the boy's publicists insisted they linger around the after-party for as long as they could manage. You kept your usual pace in between them, cackling over stupid old jokes and offering forced toothy grins to celebrities who asked if they could steal George away for photos and chats about the magic of acting- or whatever.

"You know, no one has even ever asked about us." You pointed out to Dean, sharing a piece of cake in the quietest corner of the party. "Showbiz people I mean. They just assumed right away. Even the times we've insisted we're only friends, they insist we're joking." You huffed a laugh.

"That's Hollywood for you, I suppose. But you've gotta admit... you and George-"

"Are just friends." You finished. Dean halted, smiling in agreeance to drop the subject, but clearly held back from stating his other points, whether they were valid or not.

After one too many sweets and drinks, George found you and informed his sister was on her way to give the two of you a lift home. You traded a few hugs with Dean, making rough plans to meet up again very soon, without all the cameras and microphones in the way.

///

"How was your date, then?" George's sister wondered as you clamored into the back of her car. George followed behind with an answer.

"It wasn't a date, it was work thinly veiled as fun."

"But you went together, which makes it a date."

"Nice try," You rose a finger, buckling in as the girl sped off toward the city streets. She'd always found sly ways to get you and George to admit there was something deeper to your connection. She'd introduce you to her friends as her brother's girlfriend. She'd address Christmas presents to the both of you, handing them out with a wink.

"I don't understand you two." She dramatically croaked now, as if your denial was her personal defeat. "You're catfishing the world!"

"We're not pretending to date." George reminded his sister, "And we're also not pretending we don't live together."

"Yeah so why aren't you dating? You do everything else together."

"We live to torment you. It's all to drive you mad" George falsely confessed.

"I wouldn't put it past you." His sibling let out a whine.

You and George shared a roll of your eyes, dulling snickers and exhausting explanations that weren't worth wading through. The midnight ride to your flat fell silent then. The night had been long, but it was a seemingly usual evening, these days.

By the time you and George shuffled up the drive, waved his sister goodnight, you were ready to forgo your usual routine and drop face-first into bed.

"I think my sister has a point," George mumbled, shutting and locking the front door.

"Hmm?" You encouraged George to go on, halfway in tune to listen, more so gearing up to head to bed after such a long evening out. George remained silent as you kicked your shoes off, and didn't speak again until he had your undivided attention.

"Let's get married," George said.

You tossed your head back in a laugh as you floated further into your shared home.

"I'm serious, y/n." George hurried along, moving to stop you from walking away, boring his sleepy eyes into yours.

"What?" You chuckled again, shaking your head, trying to keep up.

"We already live here. We've been talking about sharing a bank account. And it'll be so much easier to introduce as my wife than as 'my best friend who I live with but am not dating but go everywhere with.'"

"But that's the truth!"

"Marriage could be true! Think of how much easier life would be."

"George, how much have you had to drink?" You cackled as you pushed past him, into the kitchen for a glass of water. You clattered about the cupboards as he followed you, rambling still.

"I'm serious! We've planned out our lives together already. Future vacations, birthday parties, career deadlines, all accounted for with each other in mind. We should just get married."

"George! I will not let you lie at the altar. A wedding is for two people who want to commit every bit of their lives together for the rest of the foreseeable future."

"My plans for the weekend are always to ask you what you want to do the next. I'm your only emergency contact." George listed off these points as if they were dead giveaways.

"Okay, let's say we get married." You entertained, standing in front of George as he noshed on some deserts he'd brought home from the after-party. He raised a pretty brow, waiting for you to go on.

"Sure nothing changes at first, not really. You're already my ride to work, and I already promised to go to all those silly Hollywood parties with you. But what happens in five years when I want to move to France and you want to stay here? What happens in six months if some super hot mailman comes and sweeps me off my feet? What happens when you fall in love with some leading lady, George?"

"People get divorced all the time." He shrugged.

"That's a lot of money to blow. And for what? For a lousy label and some ugly rings?"

"So we pick out some bloody cool rings and promise to only get divorced if shit hits the fan. Neither of us can stay mad for long. Remember when I spilled wine on your great grandma's old lounge chair? I was fully prepared to be excommunicated. But you just hugged me while you cried." George chuckled, keeping his desserts close.

"Do you really wanna kiss me in front of your mother and the world and pretend that this is normal?" You tried to ask with a serious glare, but it was just too funny. You couldn't help but let out a little giggle of disbelief that this was the conversation you were having on an otherwise normal weekday evening.

"Y/n, we're practically already married."

"George I love you, but this is a stupid idea."

"I don't think it is, but I love you too. I'm taking this box of macaroons to bed, now."

"Okay goodnight you two." You laughed, pulling at the sleeves of your too-tight dress on your trek down the hall.

"Wait!" You called out, a few steps from your room. "Can you unzip this, please?" You took a few backward steps to meet where George had stalled in the hall, macaroon halfway in and out of his mouth, he balanced one hand on your shoulder and used the other to undo the zipper that hugged your spine.

"G'night!" You heard him mumble past his dessert as you gave him a wave of thanks and practically threw yourself into your nice warm bed.

///

You met George when you were kids. You grew up attending the same local festivals and schools. His acquaintance turned more familiar with each passing summer until you'd become rather inseparable. It was that fact that kept his number in your contacts when you moved to the city, and he went away to film more often.

You'd kept up lunch dates when he came back home, and celebrated holidays with his family every time they invited you to come round like they'd been doing for years. You'd even attended a few birthdays and dinner parties with his family when George was out of town, when you hadn't spoken with him in months.

You moved in with George some odd years ago, when the flat you rented threw one too many unfixable issues your way. His home was the closest to your work, and he was one of the only friends you trusted enough to reach out to for help. After occupying his guest room for a few months, George insisted you move your things into the place you'd already practically been living in.

His home was big enough, tucked away just outside of the city. It's high ceilings, warm decor and a manageable rent were easily and comfortably split between the two of you. It made sense. You'd been sharing most of your free time together for years, anyway.

You shuffled through the bright halls, past framed photos of George's family. Of you and George. There was no difference, you'd been close for so many years, your lives were complexly intertwined whether you liked it or not. Luckily, you did.

George was already in the sun-drenched kitchen when you entered, stretching into the new day.

After trading usual morning greetings you could practically hear George's silent, burning thoughts. He poured you each a cup of coffee and shot you a look you knew was meant to say much more than words could.

"Okay, what?" You asked in a warning tone, accepting the drink he placed before you at the table, before sitting in the chair at your side. You knew George had something to say, and he'd say it whether you asked him about it or not.

"My mum thinks we've been dating since Uni. You know we can't talk her out of it. If anything she'd be relieved."

Oh, he was really still hung up on this huh?

"So you wanna do this because of your mother?" You asked, watching the steam curl up from the drink between your hands.

"No. I wanna do this because being together officially would make all our being together anyway, so much easier. Bills, plans, excuses, rainy days."

You looked at George, his start blue eyes, his unkempt hair, that stupid withheld smile he got when he was focused on something. You loved him for longer than you had the patients to do the math for. You planned on loving him for a while, even when he pissed you off, you couldn't imagine struggling alongside anyone else...

"Earth to y/n."

"I'm not responding because you're starting to make sense and I don't like it." You pretended to pout. Then George went silent for a beat, his brilliant eyes searching your face.

"Do you still want to go bowling?" He pipped up as if he'd just remembered you'd said something about it a day earlier.

"Sounds fun, doesn't it?" You asked, hoping he'd join you in wasting a day having childlike fun. George bit back a grin, leaned in close to catch your eye, and said,

"If I win... we'll get married."

You wanted to curse his name through a laugh, but you very rarely could tell the man no. And you hated to admit it even to yourself, but the more you thought about it... the more you liked the idea.

"And if you win?" George mused, egging you on. But you didn't need to place bets to play.

"Let's go bowling, Mackay."

///

As you took turns knocking pins down, George brought up several valid points.

How his family adored you. How he'd drop anything to be there for you when you needed him. How you'd always talked about how scary the future seemed, but agreed it was better to face together, like always.

And you argued for a moment that maybe neither of you knew any better, how you were all each other knew since growing up.

But George pointed out that simply wasn't true. He'd traveled. Met girls, none of whom were around at all anymore. You'd dated and failed to find anyone worth keeping around. It was as if you and George were the survivors of some twisted game of life, having only managed this far because of how you relied on each other.

But you weren't on the same bowling team.

You were scoring strikes left and right a few solid points ahead in the game.

But George was close to beating you, one good turn and he'd wind up the winner.

All the while, George only stalled his passionate speeches to listen and laugh over yours. And as you considered how familiar his presence was, and the way you couldn't imagine living life any further apart, you'd made up your mind.

But every time you thought of voicing your decision, something stopped you. You bit your tongue and decided that you'd wait to see if your feelings changed soon. And after some serious thought, you could either tell George that you'd hate to let him down, but plan a movie night alongside his favorite dinner, to make up for your decline. Or you'd tell him yes, and agree to his stupidly sweet idea to get hitched. Because you couldn't tell him no.

He won the game.

But of course, George wasn't living and dying by the bet he made that coaxed you to play. And you never really agreed to it anyway. The two of you simply went on arguing on the way home, more or less about how you were on the same page, and just what to do next.

And while you made dinner together, your conversation stopped when you sucked in a big breath and spun on your heels across the room. You'd heard enough.

George raised a pale brow, sitting patiently at the table as the oven did its thing. Then he watched as you settled back to the seat across from him, placing a pad of paper and a pen down.

"If...we do this, I'm writing down rules."

George watched on, sipping tea as you scribbled away. Once you felt comfortable with the list of regulations you'd penned, you read from the marked-up note pad, one at a time.

"Okay, listen up..."

MARRIAGE RULES

one. No lying to family and friends. They get to know that this isn't conventional.

two. No lying to each other. We're only doing this to make things easier. We must remain every bit a team.

three. We must celebrate our anniversary because there's no point in not milking the chance to go on holiday.

"Now," You flipped the page to a new set of rules before George could go on smooth-talking.

DIVORCE RULES

"We can only get a divorce under dire circumstances. Which include the following..."

one. If we betray each other's morals or trust in a way that cannot be fixed or forgiven after a year's time.

two. If one of us is dying. Actively dying.

three. If one of us finds and falls in love.

"We've managed to work out all the bad shit together so far and I'm sure we can keep that up. A divorce is too much money to waste over one fight we end up resolving and remain otherwise together."

"So you'll do it?" George grinned, setting his drink to the side.

"Is this you asking me to marry you? It's very unromantic. Negative three out of ten." You laughed, George did too. But you needed to make yourself very clear.

"I'll think about it." You clarified. "You should too."

You’d tell him yes later. Because as much as it scared you... you'd already made up your mind.

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taglist: @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @andux @imaginationandlove @velvetgoldsilver @queen-bunnyears @maria-josefin @dearevansamham @belledamsceno @nilletellsstories @haileymorelikestupid @loulouloueh @visionsofmelodrama

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

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heycallmeladytypewriter · 3 years

Text

A Call of a Siren - Chapter 2

A/N: As you guys have noticed, I tweaked a few things to fit Delia into the story but please let me know if I missed or messed up something on the storyline. Again, looking for a beta reader if anyone is interested. Chapter three should be up soon along with everyone's favorite angry boy. I don't own My Hero Academia. I only own my own characters and the story I create within Horikoshi's masterpiece of a world I'd love to live in.

Chapter One

_____________________________________________________________

“I expect you to all to still work hard on exams even though the end of the school year is in sight!” Her teacher was lecturing them on the importance of tests or something but Cordelia had other things on her mind.

Nine months ago, she saw the world's greatest hero and a scrawny boy her age on the beach. A day she wouldn’t forget as it was a major part of why she was trying her damndest to get into UA in a month.

She went to the beach mostly everyday on a run and also practiced in her room after her family went out or was asleep. She also tried to incorporate some strength training exercises she got off the internet as she was sure you needed more than cardio to make it in.

One thing she found herself doing, albeit shamefully, was sort of spying on All Might and Izuku Midoriya train on the beach and park. She didn’t necessarily go out of her way but it was on her training grounds too. No matter how she reasoned it, she still kept her distance and would hide at first sign of being found. It also didn’t help that she felt she had stumbled on a major invasion of privacy as she witnessed the strong and well, mighty, All Might transform to a tall but skinny weaker man. The first time she saw it she thought her eyeballs were for sure going to pop out her skull and fall to the floor with her jaw. She would never tell out of respect for the hero but still...every time he did it was like a mini heart attack especially when he would cough up blood afterwards. Like Jesus man please go see a doctor!

��Miss Bell I hope that dazed look on your face means you are thinking of your study schedule this weekend?”

Her head turned from the window and faced the teacher, “ Oh, yes of course!”

“Hmm..so anyways class -” Cordelia went right back to gazing out the window.

_______________________________________________________

“ FIND SOMEWHERE ELSE TO DO YOUR STUPID STRETCHES BRAT!” Angry boy yelled at her for the 400th time.

Delia rolled her eyes again but continued her stretches where she was. She was here first anyway. Not that it mattered as she always stretched here because after Angry boy decided it was his workout spot she decided it was hers too.

“Oi, don’t ignore me! Move your fat ass out of here!”

“No thanks I’m good. And who are you calling fat ass, big tits?” She laughed as he bristled immediately at her response. He reminded her of a cat, all puffy and angry, when he got like that which only made her giggle more. She wished to know his name but last time she asked he flipped her off.

Looking at her watch, she realized she was going to be late for dinner. “Oh crap. Gotta go! Bye Big tits!”

His water bottle flew right past her head as she ran off while he screamed expletives at her. “Hey!” She scolded. She slowed down enough to pick it up and chucked it with maximum force back at him, “don’t fucking litter!”

She ran a little quicker when she heard the little pops of his quirk which is when she realized a few months ago that he was getting more pissed. “Goddamn brat!”

________________________________________________________

“Cordelia, you are late! Go wash up.” Her mother scolded her from the kitchen as she walked in the house.

“Lost track of time! Sorry I’ll be quick!” She hopped up the stairs and nearly ran into her father, wearing his uniform, on the way. “Oops sorry Daddy!”

Yes, she still called her father ‘Daddy.’

Her ‘Daddy’ was a 6’4 man with piercing blue eyes that could intimidate anybody which probably helped with his job. Her mother always liked to point out that of course all her children had to inherit his blue eyes and not her brown ones.

“Hey,” His hand shot out to gently grab her wrist before she could keep going, “What is all this training you doing for?”

“Nothing in particular. Can’t I have a hobby?” She lied through her teeth before continuing on upstairs.

“Cordelia…”

“Dad. Teenage girl who wants to be fit - not rocket science!”

Hopping in the hot shower, Delia relaxed finally. She was soooo lying to her family but felt it necessary as they stood on opposite ground concerning her dream of becoming a hero.

She had a dream. She wasn’t going to give up without a fight just because she was alone in it. Deep down she was hoping if she became a good enough hero she could change their minds about the matter.

She even took many preemptive precautions such as designating herself as the mail person of the house. She got it every day without fail and they would get used to just depending on her to get it. She managed to get a third cordless phone for the house she’d hide in her room to check the number in case of any specific calls coming through. She even created a fake parent email and perfected their signatures if needed. She was good at lying but it never felt easier on her to lie regardless of her reasons.

“CORDELIA!”

With a sigh, she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. At least I dry off quickly, she thought amused as she wicked the water off her body and out of her hair.

__________________________________________________________

It was exam day.

Delia’s nerves were all over the place as she sat in the auditorium filled with the other hopefuls. They grouped them by class it seemed though she didn’t recognize those sitting near her. Her fault, she was sure, as she didn’t reach out to others during this past year as she just assumed or more like hoped she’d be transferring after the year was up.

She wondered where Midoriya was as he was the reason she got her butt here in the first place.

The Pro, Present Mic, continued to shout out to the crowd of potential students but Delia figured everyone was too wound up to join in or even focus enough. He was in the process of explaining their physical test when a loud voice rang out. A boy with cut blue hair and glasses stood suddenly and practically demanded answers of a possible inconsistency regarding the robots before the Pro could probably get to it (impatient much?) and then turned behind him to yell at the very boy she was wondering about for muttering too loudly.

She wanted to laugh but her nerves were already fraying. As they were announcing the order of tests and people were slowly being shuffled out of the auditorium, Delia took a long breath before marching outside with the others.

____________________________________________________________

This was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

She went on auto pilot as soon as the doors opened. Everyone rushed forward only to be immediately greeted by a bunch of green robots with glowing red eyes. Without thinking, she looked for the nearest water source...yes, a fire hydrant!...and reached her hand outwards to pull the water. A burst of water came rushing out that she quickly sharpened into her normal water whip and sliced out at the first two robots she saw ahead of her, breaking their heads off.

“Wow that was amazing!” A girl with short brown hair to her left shouted at her before running further down the street. Delia blinked. Holy shit, that was amazing! For a moment, Delia felt she could really do this...until about 10 minutes later.

The robots didn’t give her a minute to think anymore, which considering her extreme anxiety over today was probably a good thing, and she used her whip to maim any robot who came within range. As soon as she was finally racking up a few points, a giant shadow loomed over the street.

It was the zero points robot.

Holy shitballs it was huge, Delia thought, shielding her face, as it stomped its way over causing surrounding small buildings and the street itself to explode with force everywhere.

She was about to run but she heard someone cry out. It was the really nice girl from earlier who was caught under the debris from the zero pointer.

Everyone was running.

Then she ran.

Towards the girl.

There was water running from a broken pipe so she willed it near her as she skidded to the girl and put her hand up and the water formed a water dome around her the girl as they braced themselves for the next step from the robot but it never came.

“SMASH!” Midoriya yelled from above them. Through the water she saw him go flying at the face of the robot and hit it so hard the zero pointer was thrown back with a broken face.

“Oh my god” she whispered. The water fell on them in a whoosh and she snapped back to the girl and pushed the rock up far enough to wiggle her leg out. Looking up, she saw Midoriya start to fall and her heart continued to race as she tried to figure out how to catch him but the girl who was stuck ran, now with a limp, touch a rock and float upwards towards him. She meets him halfway then taps him midair and slowly brings them back to earth. Then promptly throws up off the side of the rock.

The buzzer goes off.

Times up.

Delia felt her shoulder drop in disappointment. She only had 20 points from the smaller robots and barely. That was it. She was stuck at a regular school and wouldn’t be a pro hero.

The finality of things started to weigh on her and followed her as she shuffled her way home, trying not to cry.

____________________________________________________________

The wait was killing her.

It’s been days and she’s checked the mail repeatedly. Damn near scared the mailman a few times when she ran up to him a few houses before hers.

By the time it came, she had all but figured she failed so badly that they weren’t gonna waste time with a letter. Yeah, she was being dramatic but still.

Finally, a small package addressed to her arrived. Delia had to wait until her parents went out to the store with Henry before she could run to her room and play it. After triple checking they left, she set it up on her small desk and internally started to scream.

“Young Bell, it is me All Might! I am here! To give you your results on your exam to UA!”

There goes her ability to breathe.

She started to bite her lip nervously.

“It says here that you scored 24 points on your practical and did well enough in your written test. BUT”

She was now on the verge of gnawing her lip off.

“While your scores were alright enough, what really wowed us was your last few minutes of the practical!”

He started a small screen next to him of the girl who was stuck under a rock talking to someone behind the camera.

“Is it possible to share my points?!” The girl exclaimed to someone behind the camera.

Delia’s hand went to her chest as the girl, who didn’t know her nor should’ve bothered to do this, wanted to make sure her and Midoryia earned enough points and if not, to give them some of hers. Her lip had to have been bruised by now.

“Did you really think a Hero academy judged solely on the ability to hit a robot? We look at everything! And you, Young Bell, embody just the right person we strive to teach! You went ahead without thinking or caring about anything but the girl and acted- acted heroically! We awarded you 30 more points bringing your total to a whopping 54! So, Young Bell, I want to congratulate you on your acceptance to UA! Welcome, future hero!”

Delia’s lip was bleeding now but she didn’t care. Tears were rushing down her face before she could stop them.

She thought it was done.

But really- it was just beginning.

She sent a silent thank you to the boy on the beach and the hero they both looked up to

#The Call of a Siren #bakugou x oc #bakugo fanfic #bakugou katsuki #mha #mha fanfiction #Class 1A #All Might #midoriya izuku #bakugou smut #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfiction

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vanchlo · 3 years

Text

The Partner / Chapter Twelve, "The Resolute"

Word Count: 8.4k / Story Masterlist / Read The Assistant / Read on Wattpad / Song: Hold Me While You Wait by Lewis Capaldi (click to listen) / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics, such as death, grief, and miscarriage

"I never know when I will miss you. I can't ever predict just what will grip my heart with the reminder that you are gone. It could be anything. Anytime. Anywhere. You are everywhere and nowhere all at once. When the days are bright, I am blinded by your presence and even when the world is dark I still manage to find you. In laughter, I hear the echo of losing you. Your presence is overflowing in the tears that fall. Now that your body is gone, everything holds your being. I miss you in the cold depths of winter and I long for you in the thick summer breeze. You are my first rising thought in the morning and my last notion as I sink into the heaviness of the night. I thought we ran out of moments together, but every moment seems to belong to you. How can you be everywhere when you are nowhere to be seen? I used to worry about facing the world because I didn't know what would trigger my heartache. I used to be afraid of every feeling, every memory, every moment because I didn't know which ones held you. Now I know you are everywhere and I think that I know why. You're everywhere because you're somewhere inside of who I am. I am the bearer of your life and your memory. I am the keeper of your existence. Even though you're gone, I never really have to search for you. I never know where I'll find you but you are always there. I never know when I will miss you and it happens all the time"

- Rachel Whalen

I had lost count of how many times I had fallen back asleep since he had left for another day of work, the second time in the last few days. I’d be telling a lie if I said that I didn’t miss him, because like he’d confessed when he thought I was sleeping, I missed him all of the time too. The difference was that I felt it now when he was gone. I wasn’t sure why I’d bitten his head off that night about going back to work. I did but couldn’t think about it after the way he broke down in front of me and I just stood there. I didn’t do a thing. Instead, I shook my head and pushed him away. God, how could I do that to him? I thought he’d moved on . . . That’s how it went. I’d wake up to an empty, cold bed and the guilt would come in crashing waves. The hot tears would follow and eventually, I’d fall back into another fitful sleep. Nightmares were almost always guaranteed, but for the first time in our relationship, I comforted myself back to sleep. Somehow, they didn’t wake him like before, but last night when he woke with a gasp that melted into tears, I think I knew because he was busy with his own.

At first, I thought I’d been imagining it, or maybe that was just my coping mechanism by now. Denial and pretending. No, it really was and it went around like a circle. Denying the denial. But when the knocking on the door turned into the dinging of the doorbell, I knew that it was real. It didn’t stop after a few times, like the mailman would. No, this person was persistent, and I definitely was not. I couldn’t even find the strength to move to look at the alarm clock to see the time. By then, it had stopped. He’d only been gone an hour now and I missed him deeply, finding it hard to not pick up the phone to ask him to come home. I did but in my own way, and not one he’d understand, despite how he knew every page of my book.

I hope work is going well

Only a few minutes passed before a reply came in with a silent vibration.

thanks it is, just meetings again and an interview

Sounds boring. I know how you hate both. New hire?

possibly. i forgot to tell u gwen left. i hope ur getting some rest

No, you hadn’t but that’s ok. I think I only talked to her like 5 times. I’m trying.

ya she was good, just kept 2 herself. want me 2 pick up anything for lunch? anything soundin good? Starbucks? pizza? u can have whatever u want

You can pick

At that, I heard my phone lock before placing it face down onto the bedside table, not able to continue a conversation about food any longer. Another wave of irrational tears came at missing him and wanting normalcy back, but the fitful sleep didn’t follow. I wasn’t sure if I was regretful or not when I peeled back the covers, shocked by the sudden cold.

The chilling silence filling the house hit me in the face when I stepped out into the hallway. It had been choking at times, mostly at night when things were at their worst. During the day, like now, it was never this quiet. Something on the tv was always playing, and I soon found myself in front of it, watching the end of a Marvel movie Harry and I once watched.

Its sequel was nearing the halfway point by the time the doorbell rang again. It was on its fourth time now and the person still hadn’t stopped. The surprise on their face was just as strong as that of mine when I found myself at the door, in front of Harry’s grandmother.

“Hi, Becky,” she said softly, a warm cadence to her words like always. I may have been biased towards grandmas, but Harry’s checked all of the points and more. I couldn’t help the squeeze of my heart at the mere sight of her, a melancholy smile spreading on her lips.

“Claire. Um, hi. Harry isn’t here right now, he had to go into work this morning,” I rush, unsure of why I’m telling her this, except for I know why. I hadn’t spoken to another human being that wasn’t Harry or my doctor since . . since it had happened. Sure, texts to Skye, my dad, and Robbie. It was the only way to placate them from telling them I didn’t want to see them. Can I blame them, though?

“Oh, that’s okay. I was uh, hoping I could come in,” she suggests. I stand there, taken aback by her request. I had come to love this woman like she was my own grandmother, and yet here I am, not opening the door for her. “Maybe we could wait for him together with some brookies.”

Dropping my eyes, I watch as she lifts a saran wrapped plate of chocolatey looking cookies. I didn’t need to look any longer to know what they were. Her famous brownie cookies that Harry had compared any cookie or brownie of mine to over the years, and I eventually had found out why.

“You know I can’t turn those down,” I mumble, feeling the first hints of a smile. She grins for me instead, following me into the house that somehow feels even emptier when we step inside. Awkwardly, I closed the door behind her, pulling my hands back into the oversized King’s College crewneck of Harry’s I’d stolen long ago. “Can I . . Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water? Tea?” I stumble, watching as she takes a seat at the island, setting down one of those cloth bags beside her.

“Coffee would be fine, honey,” she says, and always with a smile. I welcome the distraction, feeling as if I’d forgotten how to talk to another person. No, I know that I have. I hadn’t even been able to carry on a conversation with Harry, nonetheless his grandmother.

At times, I still felt uncomfortable around his parents, especially his dad. If there was one of them that I felt the easiest around, it was Claire. I’m reminded of the bouquet of black eyed susans probably now wilting on the table when she notes the array of flowers taking up space over there. I nod at her words while closing the lid of the instant coffee machine, placing a tall mug underneath the spout. The compassionate words scribbled in her cursive with its accompanying card come back to me, and suddenly, the steaming coffee grows blurry before my eyes. Sometimes, I wondered if she had a feeling about things like me, because as the first tear fell, she speaks an apology.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I had let Harry know I was in town and would stop by today, but he must have forgotten to mention it to you,” she begins in a low volume, a Harry-like molasses shining in her voice. I mumble an ‘it’s okay’ while watching the coffee continue to fill the mug. It’s almost done, but then what will I do to distract myself? “Harry had said your fridge was quite full, but I couldn’t help but make a few of your favorites to bring you both. Times like these, cooking feels like the last thing you want to do.”

“A lot of things do,” I find myself saying, surprising her I’m sure and especially myself. I hadn’t even been able to find it in myself to put that feeling into words and say them to Harry. It was a blessing and a curse how we could read each other so well, but I know I’d closed myself off from him a long time ago. On accident and then, on purpose.

Ripples form across the surface of the liquid as the last few drops plummet into the dark abyss. I wait, staring at the steam rising from the mug, unsure as to why. A silence had embedded itself into these walls so long ago I couldn’t remember, and it sat between us now too. I still didn’t know how to broach it, and there was no nudging the switch that would let me talk about her. I truly didn’t know how to, not even to her father. Sometimes, I wanted to forget her so I’d stop hurting, but that felt like an impossibility and then a crime. Gulping, I wipe at my cheeks and thread my fingers through the ceramic handle.

“Those are a beautiful assortment of flowers,” she comments again when I set the drink down in front of her. A forced ‘thank you’ leaves my lips when I turn around and walk towards the fridge. “You and Harry are so loved, and so was your baby.”

I’d opened this fridge how many times over the years, and now as the handle sits in my palm, I can’t find it in myself to do it. The forgotten coupons, lists, photographs, drawings from Harper and Ollie, and magnets grew hazy before my eyes. The hum of the coffee machine cooling down wasn’t enough to mask the whimper that escaped my lips, no matter how desperately I tried to shove it down. After breathing in and out a few times, it still didn’t help, but I was able to open the door and grab what I’d needed.

Keeping my head down, I set the coffee creamer in front of her, not spending a second more facing her with the damage on my cheeks. As the spoon clinks against the sides of her mug, I distract myself by finding room in the fridge for the filled tupperware containers she’d taken from the bag. Scribbled labels adorn the top of each one, but I look past them as I stack them on a shelf. From the corner of my eye, I saw her stand from her seat to look at the flowers, thumbing at the typed messages. It’s not until the last one is snug against a container of yogurt and strawberries that somebody says something.

“They always say the same things, don’t they?” she murmurs with an out of place scoff, sounding like a hum from her lips. The tears had dried up as I thought about how to fit a container of beef stroganoff amongst tater tot casserole, but when I turned around, her face still falls. “It was the same with Steven too. They all say that they understand, but there’s no way that they can. They hadn’t lost their spouse, or . . their baby.” This roots me to the spot and we spend the next few moments looking at each other as her Soft Rose lipsticked lips fall.

“I didn’t want to come, Becky, because I know that when I lost my loves, I wanted to be alone. But that was where my demons lied in wait, and I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did when I lost my baby,” she continues. I couldn’t tell if it was the light or the way my eyes deceive me with a returning wetness, but a similar glint appears in hers. It holds my attention for a mere moment until my heart starts to pound against my ribs. “Steven and I were a little younger than you and Harry when we lost our baby at four months.”

There could be no saving my throat nor my eyes as I gulp against the dryness, feeling all of the wetness detour down my face. Her words ricochet inside of me, bouncing off walls. For the first time in too long, they sink in and make me feel something. I resist at first, not wanting to let my chest shake or my heart race, but there’s no stopping it. Staring back at her, she quietly sits back down and takes a sip from her coffee. Looking back to me, a corner of her mouth twitches as a gleaming droplet beads at her chin.

“What has it been now? Fifty five years and I still miss them . . my little baby,” the blood pounds in my ears as I stare at her in what, amazement? Horror? Complete and utter surprise? Probably, all of them.

“Gran, I-I never knew,” a voice says from behind me. Turning, another wave of shock courses through me at the sight of Harry with his hand on the door to the garage.

“I never told anybody, except for my immediate family when it had happened . . The thing was, the taboo around miscarriages and infertility hasn’t changed a whole lot since then. It disappoints me really . . Back then, you didn’t talk about it. Now, sometimes you talk about it, but it’s just the same. It’s near to impossible to speak about. Friends and family want to say something, but they don’t know how to without hurting you. So, instead of mentioning the loved one you lost, people don’t when they think of them, and they’re forgotten. That’s always been my worst fear, and I don’t want either of you to go through that- I cried when your mother told me what had happened, Harry. My heart breaks for the both of you, knowing that you’re going through the same nightmare that my Steven and I did.”

A puff leaves his lips and I can almost hear him gulp as sound evades us. Words haven’t been a friend to my lips in what feels like months, and right now isn’t an exception.

“I’m so sorry, Gran.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Harry. I’m so sorry that you lost your baby . . I heard it was a girl, your daughter,” her words are ginger and slow. Somehow, another piece joins the puzzle, but it still leaves me staring at the floor as tidal waves crash inside of me. “It was a long time ago, but I still miss them and wonder who they’d be. I’m sorry to say that never goes away, and that the whole b-s of ‘time heals all wounds’ isn’t entirely true. You just build up scar tissue to it, but some days are worse than others. I miss Steven terribly some days, like the day you announced your engagement, and your pregnancy. When your mother told me over the phone three weeks ago, I wished he could’ve been there too, for you to talk to about fathers losing a child. Men are still pressured to not show emotions but it was just as hard on him to lose our baby, and sometimes fathers are forgotten.”

A mess of emotions roils inside of me, flipping my stomach upside down. My heart too, arguably. The last sound that I make out is a sniffle of his before I’m bringing my hands to my eyes, and sobbing against them. It felt like I stood there for minutes before escaping down the hall, when it was only a few seconds in reality.

I wasn’t certain if they knew what I did. That I could hear them from the bedroom down the hall, the place I’d come to retreat to instead of Harry’s arms. I felt him coming towards me just moments ago, but I couldn’t do it. I think I’d almost forgotten what his touch felt like. If they thought I could hear them, they probably had mistaken me for being asleep or for not listening. I think they tried to keep their voices down, but despite Harry being a closet musician, there wasn’t much for treatment to these walls. He’d joked before about having sex one night his mom stayed here but I pushed him away, chalking it up to thin walls.

Now, the memory wasn’t that funny to me as I heard their conversation. I almost felt guilty, as if I was cheating by hearing them, but this was the only way I could take part in a conversation I know I should be part of. I didn’t think that I could even speak if I had wanted to, because of the hiccuped sobs that filled my chest, making it hard to speak. I know that I made the right decision when my head rests against the door upon hearing about what they say next, about me.

“I can hardly get her to have a conversation with me, Gran. Let alone about . . about the baby.”

“Oh, Harry. You just have to give her time.”

“I know and I have, but it’s becoming all the harder to feel as time passes. She’s getting worse and I’m barely staying put together. It scares me so much, because I don’t want to lose her too. If I did, I’d lose everything I have to live for.”

At last, the sound of my choked sobs drowned out that of their voices. By the time my lungs calmed down and my heart hardened once more, it was quiet. I missed his voice despite how it had almost betrayed me to another, and made me hurt. My rumbling stomach ultimately won the race and it was what led me down the hall, and without knowing, back to her. I blamed it on the appetizing smell wafting from the kitchen.

I’d already seen her and had decided to keep going, but upon passing the island where she sat again, I heard her intake of breath. Harry wasn’t anywhere to be seen, despite the wiped clean plate in the sink with the large fork and an empty can. He was the only one who used them and who drank the sparkling waters that I thought tasted like bug spray.

“I’m so sorry, Becky. The last thing I wanted was to upset you, honey.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Frankly, I’m rather tired of people saying those two words, but thank you,” I return, a steadiness arriving in my voice that I didn’t know I’d missed. “Can I-?”

“Of course, it’s all yours,” she insists with a smile. Nodding, I pick up the serving spoon and a plate, feeling my stomach grow happy at the sight and smell of her famous homemade lasagna. “There’s garlic bread in the oven and salad in the fridge. I’m just going to use the little girl’s room.”

I almost smile, realizing that I’ve missed her and just maybe, I feel okay enough to talk about it. I’d found a seat at the island beside her empty cup of coffee, already digging into the lasagna. An almost embarrassing moan left my lips at the taste of the layers of cheese, pasta, and bolognese sauce.

“Leave it to Claire to find the way to your heart,” somebody comments. Turning, I find Harry walking towards me with a tilt to his lips. He unrolls the hem of a Queen Bohemian Rhapsody shirt, looking more like himself now that he’s out of a suit. Sometimes, I still catch myself thinking that it was always the opposite, seeing how I’d know him to always be in suits for so long.

To my surprise, I don’t flinch or pull back when his hand arrives on my shoulder as I wipe my mouth with a napkin.

“You don’t know how happy it makes me to see you eating, and enjoying it . . I’m surprised you haven’t broken into that plate of brookies yet,” he comments. Something happy buds on my lips when his lips sponge a kiss to my temple.

“So am I,” I reply, cutting myself another bite of the food. To my happiness, his arm comes around my shoulder and stays there. I welcome it and feel a warmth grow in my gut upon finding the courage to meet his eyes. They hold something that I learn to be mischief when he plucks one of the cookies off the plate. “Hey, save some for me.”

“Don’t worry, they’re all yours. Well, except a few for me. Maybe we could split them down the middle. Half for me and half for you,” he suggests with a cocky shrug to his broad shoulders. It surprises us both when my lips spill a few second giggle. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed that sound.”

“I’ve missed you,” it’s but a squeak and still, I know he hears it by the sad curl of his lips. “I’m going to try.”

“Thank you, my lovebug. That’s all I can ask for,” he smiles, stealing a quick peck from my lips. It catches me off guard and I find myself staring at him while he manages to take a bite that’s half of the cookie. He winks at me and I turn away, shoveling a large bite of cheesy pasta past my lips.

Another bite had donned my fork by the time Claire found her seat beside us. I’d made a dent in my garlic bread by now as Harry worked on his second cookie.

Swallowing, I loaded my fork with a scrap of melted cheese and bolognese sauce. “Claire. How . . How did you do it? Be okay again after losing your baby? It . . It feels impossible,” the words seem to come from nowhere at first.

After a few moments, I know where they stem from, and just how much importance they hold. It looks back at me in Harry’s eyes when I peer up at him, smiling back when he thumbs away a tear below my eye. As her response hits our ears, I reach my arm out and across his back, holding tightly onto his side. I didn’t let go once as we cried together with his grandma about our lost babies, and neither did he.

I went to bed with a hope in my heart, thinking that tomorrow would be different. Alas, I woke up to an empty bed and it wasn’t. I wasn’t surprised but sure, I was let down. I knew that somebody else would be much more disappointed than I was, if that were possible.

It wasn’t long after my waking realization that there was a knock on the door anda creak, “Hey, buggie. I’m making french toast. How many pieces do you want?” The rest of the night had been uneventful, for once. His grandma stayed for another hour or two as we ate cookies and I finally talked about it. Her. Now, lying with my back to Harry, I didn’t know how to do that again. To talk. “Wakey wakey, it’s nearly noon.”

His voice was closer now as his hands settled on my shoulders from behind. The feeling of his thumbs kneading the tissue made me want to let him drive away the intrusive thoughts. To let him win, but I didn’t know how. Yesterday had seemed like a fluke, as I looked back on it. Even if he was her father, how could I explain to him the hollowness that had filled me when I remembered that my child had died inside of me? No, that wasn’t something he could understand, nor could he hear how much I wished he had been there that morning. That the fact he wasn’t there had changed everything. I couldn’t tell him that and I never wanted to, but I’d gotten close. At the times his nagging and hovering drove me up the wall, my tongue itched to deal the worst blows just to get him off my back. I knew it was wrong, so much of it was but I didn’t know how to stop. All I knew how to do was to drown myself in my regret afterwards. Sometimes, I was mad that we couldn’t keep alcohol around, but at others, I was glad for it.

His molasses voice murmurs my name once more, another time that I ignore, until I can’t. “No thanks.”

“I can bring it in here for you. There’s bacon and strawberries too. Orange juice, as well.”

Shaking my head, I bury my face deeper into the pillow, finding that it has his smell. At one time, he had been my safety blanket, but now it was his smell that could calm me down. I wanted to feel guilty about it but I didn’t have the energy to feel guilt because of anything else as it was all focused on one thing.

“I’ll have a little bit,” I surrender, listening to his hopeful response before leaving. For once, he let me eat alone in the bedroom. But he still inspected my plate, and I could tell that he was biting back a remark as he read the paper at the island.

“Can we talk?”

“What about?” I replied, bending over to place my dishes in the dishwasher. Standing back up, I fail at readying myself for his next onslaught of questions. The ones that I can’t answer.

“You know . . About Phoebe,” he answers. I hear it, the way he has to shove the words past his lips in order to get them out. I only know because I’ve done it a thousand times, and often with him. You do it when it’s too hard to say, but you know that it has to be done regardless.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Becks,” he sighs, annoyance clear in his voice. “I thought you said that you were going to try. Last night went so well and you did great, I-.”

“I just can’t do it today. Okay, Harry?” I retort tearfully, catching the sagging of his features when I lock eyes with him. Sighing, I forget the cookie I’d picked up, placing the saran wrap back over it.

“So what, we need to schedule a fricken time to talk about it?”

I’d begun my retreat, but I wasn’t far enough yet. No, if I was in earshot of Harry, it wasn’t over yet. It had always been that way, ever since the beginning.

“Harry, please,” my words start, decorated with tears that drag my words underwater.

“We got pregnant and we . . we had a miscarriage, Becks. It’s nearly been a month now, but what comes next? When do we get back to normal?”

I hadn’t even been facing him and the words felt like a slap in the face. The look on mine must have felt similar to him, because when I turn around to look at him through blurry eyes, he melts into a puddle of regret.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Becks. Not-.”

“Not what way, Harry? That we should just forget about it and move on with our lives? God, you’re sounding like the doctor the other day who said that we can start trying again whenever we want. But I don’t want to try again yet, Harry, because I’m too scared that we’d lose another one- I mean, what if I can’t have kids? And- I don’t want to forget her or replace her,” but he didn’t hear the last part and I hadn’t decided if I’d wanted him to.

“You don’t know that, Becks, and that’s not what I meant at all. I promise,” he interrupts. The legs of his oversized sweatpants sag down to his ankles when he stands. “I didn’t say we had to get pregnant again right away. I’m fucking scared too. I just mean that I want us to get better. Collectively and on our own. I hate seeing you so upset all of the time, and just want you to be happy. We’re supposed to get married sometime this year and I still don’t know when that’s going to happen. The house is going to be ready in a few months, and I wanted to bring you there one day to look at the progress.”

I had begun to shake my head long before he’d stopped talking. It brought an edge to his words and an annoyance that I didn’t like, despite inciting it. A loud puff passes his lips and he returns to the chair, raking a hand through his hair. That either meant annoyance or boredom, or both. Like I tend to do, I take it personally and figure he’s both annoyed and bored of me, not that it was anything new lately.

“I can’t do that, Harry. I-I can’t,” fumbling with my words, my hand gets caught in my hair as I avoid his eyes. It doesn’t stop him from retorting an inquisitive ‘why not?’ “How am I supposed to go and see the house we’re building that has five extra bedrooms, Harry? How do you expect me to look at the rooms we planned out for o-our kids, and one for . . for Phoebe’s nursery when she’s not coming anymore?”

“Becks,” the nickname leaves his lips like that one breath that’s knocked out of you when you fall. The wrinkles that are rarely there above his eyes return as his eyebrows fall deeply. “I didn’t . . I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry.”

“And so am I, but . . I just can’t do that right now, o-or talk about her. I’m sorry,” I say with haste to my words and in my actions. The sad sound from his lips follows me to the couch where I perch, pretending to watch the tv. He doesn’t join me and after a while of pretending, my eyes start to droop.

The image of Shrek and Fiona making animal balloons falls away until a sound wakes me. Time had passed because now Fiona stands in front of Lord Farquad and Shrek is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m going to run an errand. Is there um, anything you need, bug?” he murmurs, the jangling of keys adorning his words.

“No thanks.”

“Okay, I won’t be long- Becks?” he speaks up, clearing his throat at last. I call back a question and wait as he idles. “I really am sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean anything insensitively or to upset you. I’d never want to do that.”

“I know, Harry. It’s okay,” are the last words that pass between us before he bids me a goodbye. I welcome the lack of silence but curl into the couch more, pulling the blanket around me as the movie continues.

My head throbbed when I stood up, but it had been happening a lot lately. I knew it was because I hadn’t been eating much, and as I think about that, my feet lead me to the fridge.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt full after eating, and still wanting a cookie afterwards. Like I do now. Licking the crumbs from my fingers after the last bite, the wooden floor is cold against my bare feet. For a reason I don’t know, I soon am staring up the staircase, and in that direction. It pulls at me to climb the stairs, but something deep down throbs in denial.

Instead, my attention is stolen when my ringtone blares from the couch. I lose my phone half of the time these days and so calls went unanswered. Assuming it was Harry with a grocery question, I picked it up without looking at who it was.

“Hi, Boops.”

“Dad,” I almost sigh, but I was unsure as to why. Was it the bombardment of talking to my dad on the phone for the first time in almost a month? Most likely. Or was it the homesickness that grew in my gut at the sound of his voice. “Daddy.”

“Hi, honey. I was hoping you’d answer. I’ve missed your voice.”

Sinking onto the couch, my bottom lip quivers as I try to breathe in slowly, but my heart won’t listen. It hasn’t for a while now.

“I’ve missed yours, Daddy.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he says in an exhale. Already, I know that he hears what my voice is dipped in, but I don’t hide it. It was too late for that. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“I’m getting really sick of that word, but thanks, Dad.”

His classical chuckle begins its opening but it falters there, and so did any chance at mine. Silence had rarely been uncomfortable with my Dad. That was only when I’d gotten into trouble or when I was trying to tell him about something that had happened with my Mom, which usually went hand in hand. Over the years, I could hardly count the times silence had grown awkward between us, until it did now.

“What are you doing?” he decides to say, lifting my eyes to the tv screen where it appears Fiona and Farquaad will get their Happily Ever After. I knew without needing to think what would happen next. They wouldn’t, because it never really happens that way. No, it’s not that easy or immediate.

“Watching Shrek on the couch.”

“Is Harry there?” he murmurs a question.

“No, he went to do something not long ago. I don’t know what,” I answer, wrapping the tassels of the blanket around my finger until it hurts. “I think he’s mad at me. I can’t tell anymore, it seems like he always is.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, honey.”

Shaking my head for nobody to see, I taste blood when pressing my lips together to hold back the whimpering. Sniffling, I breathe in raggedly before speaking, “I think it is . . I can’t blame him, because I’ve been so horrible to him, Dad. H-He was supposed to be a Daddy and I’ve forgotten that he’s g-going through all of this too. I’ve been in my own little world being sad a-about the baby, and I forgot about him, Dad. I’m supposed to marry him soon, and I don’t even wear my ring anymore, and I can’t go upstairs, and-,” he doesn’t cut me off. I leave that honor for myself as I watch the color drain from my finger when I unwrap the tassel. I’d slowly come to hate the color red, even refusing to eat strawberries at first. It’d become the color I’d hated most after . . after that morning.

“I’m sure that he understands, Ree, or he’s at least trying to. I’ve spoken to him a few times now, and he’s not mad at you. He’s just frustrated and overwhelmed. Harry hates to see you unhappy, it’s always been that way with you too, and vice versa. He wants to fix everything, but I told him that’s not always possible. You can’t fix another person . . . and neither can you, Boops. You’re doing your best and so is he, and after a while-.”

“But I’m not, Dad. I’m hardly trying, only when I feel like it. I . . I don’t know how to do any of this and I don’t want to. I don’t want her to be gone. I was supposed to be a Mom. Her Mom,” I weep, pressing the handful of blanket against my eyes, catching my tears.

“I wish I could make it all better for you too, honey. Ever since you were little, I wanted to kiss the owies better and tell off the kids who were mean to you, but . . . you have to do it yourself and when you can, Becky. You can’t rush this. Grief, it doesn’t have a timetable or a road map- and, honey, you are a Mom. You’re Phoebe’s Mom. Nothing will ever change that,” somehow, I cry harder at his last words, melting into the couch.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I cry into the phone, wishing it was his shoulder, instead. It’s a few moments filled with the sound of my tears and his own sniffles, before I speak again. “But how do I . . how do I let Harry back in? I pushed him away without meaning to and now we’re so far apart, Dad.”

“I think that you need to remember that he’s grieving the loss of a child too. Your child together, Ree, and that he’s feeling the exact same feelings that you are. He’s devastated at not getting to be a father to Phoebe, to meet her, watch her grow up into a person, and do all of the things that you’re grieving the loss of too. You’re a team, honey, and you need to give each other some grace too. There aren’t any rules to this and maybe I shouldn’t talk because I’m divorced, but the first reason you’re there with each other is because you love each other. You have to remember that too, honey. Hey, I’m sorry, I think I’m burning my dinner in the oven. Can I call you back later, sweetie?”

“Yeah, Dad. Of course. Um, thank you. That really helped me,” I reply, swiping at my tears with the dry side of the blanket.

“I’m glad to hear it. I love you, Boops.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” and he’s gone. All I hear is the silence of the dead call and Shrek’s voice on the tv as he yells at Lord Farquaad. It’s what fills my ears and distracts my mind when I lay my head on the pillow, resting my hand on my belly without thinking. But unlike every other time I’d found myself doing it since . . since I was actually holding my baby, I let it stay there, wildly wishing she could be here watching Shrek with me.

I heard him come in when the credits of the movie are switching to the opening of its sequel. It was arguably the best, in my opinion, but it was something Harry and I had always disagreed upon. The memory sparks an invitation for him on my tongue, but upon raising my head, I watch him disappear down the hallway.

My ears aren’t sure what to focus on, the sound of his parting footsteps, the racing of my heart, or guitar strings soon being plucked from down the hall. It wasn’t much of a choice, because my feet were already leading me towards his study. A place where he had been spending a lot of time recently. I find myself gravitating towards the sound and wanting to hear more, but I stop outside the door nervously. My heart pulls me forward, despite the way it gallops, making me feel sick to my stomach. Standing there, I wonder why this is something I’m nervous about, but nothing is the same anymore. I hadn’t felt this way for what had it been now, years? There hadn’t been a time since the beginning that I was nervous to talk to Harry, and yet, here I stood doing just that.

His playing stopped and I perked up, making out the scribbling of pen on paper. Was he writing a song, I wondered quietly and wished I could ask. I didn’t know how to, and that was something I’d thought too many times lately. How to get out of bed. To eat a whole plate of food. Talk to my family and friends. I hardly even knew how to talk to Harry anymore. That’s what was holding me back, wasn’t it? Sure, if you wanted to sum it up.

“I know you’re standing outside the door . . Did you need something?” Harry murmurs, an edge to his voice. It was one that had appeared out of the blue and refused to leave. I only knew because I’d felt my voice change like that too.

There’s the creaking of the floor before I press the ajar door open enough for me to fit through. I find him sitting back down on his office chair, but he faces away from me, a guitar propped on his lap.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, still awkwardly standing in the doorway. His eyes flit to mine and I’m unsure of why I look away, except that I can’t face him. No, not when mine are still wet and I’m sure they aren't going to dry up anytime soon. Not after what I’m about to say.

“You forget how long I’ve known you,” he mumbles, peering down at the moleskin journal he scribbles in. “Four years, give or take. You learn their cues and the sounds they make when you come to know somebody for that long. That’s how I heard you at the door, it was your footsteps.”

“Oh,” I respond flatly, feeling dumb. His tone doesn’t imply it and nor do his words, but the embarrassment has run rampant already.

Watching him write and escape to his own little world had always been one of my favorite things to observe. Even his handwriting was something that brought me . . comfort. I blamed it on the familiarity, but as it pours from his pen, it makes my heart slow down a few ticks.

“My Dad called and we talked for a little bit.”

Harry hums a reply, crossing something out on the piece of paper. Scratching his head, he sighs whilst staring at the writing. I can’t make it out from here, but once again, the silence finds its old spot. Remembering his initial question when he heard me at the door, I worry that I’m bothering him. Gulping past the nervousness and doubt, I pedal forward.

“Was that yours?” I ask warily, noting his head rising so he can meet my eyes for a split second. They hold a question in them, perhaps dozens. “The song. It . . It was really pretty.”

“Yeah . . It’s just something I’ve been playing around with,” his answer comes out in a pillowy tone. It has changed ever since . . since I’d run away from him, and I hear it now as he speaks his reply.

“I really . . really like it,” I comment, looking towards the ceiling when his grandfather’s Gibson acoustic grows hazy in my eyes.

“Thank . . you. Hey, what is it? Did your dad say something that upset you?” it had been so long since I’d heard that steely edge absent from his voice. I don’t know why I mourned it, because it was my fault it had ever arrived in the first place. Wasn’t it? “Becks.”

“Yeah, he said a lot of things th-that made sense, actually,” I confess, dropping my head to stare at my fingers that I wring. I’m unable to ignore the feeling of my lips trembling against each other, despite busying myself with adjusting my rings. They stop when I arrive at the one that speaks volumes, and how deeply I’d ignored it.

Braving the storm, I finally look at him. His greens are patient and soft, something neither of our eyes have been for the other for awhile now. Without breaking eye contact, he settles his guitar onto its stand and discards the pad of paper.

“Harry, c-can I have a hug?” slowly, the overdue question comes.

“Of course,” he responds, a corner of his mouth quirking up. Already, he’s holding his arms out towards me. “You’ve never needed to ask, buggie.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, feeling the air whoosh out of me when my body touches his. Somehow, my chest shakes harder with a new sob. It only worsens when his hands come under my thighs, lifting me up to sit on his lap.

“It’s been so long since we’ve hugged,” I know he doesn’t mean to, but it feels like a chasm through my chest when he says that. The guilt that had arrived at my dad’s words increases by tenfold.

“I’m sorry,” it’s but a whisper against his neck, my favorite place for hide and seek. But it was always him seeking me, it had been for months now, and I hadn’t let him win. Not once.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry for everything, Harry,” I repeat, pulling back to find his greens swarmed by tears. Swiping my thumb under them, I catch the way that they leak with sadness. “For how horribly I’ve treated you this last month, and how . . how I forgot that you- you lost our baby too.”

“Oh, honey. You don’t have to-,” he begins, adamant in his apology. One that I won’t accept.

“No, but I do have to apologize,” I sob, surprised at the way I’m shocked by the rough feeling of his cheeks. It had been so long since I’d touched him like this, despite watching him grow his beard out. “My dad, he . . he put it into perspective for me. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, I hate myself for that, for-.”

“Hey, don’t hate yourself for anything. This last month has been a Hell we never thought we’d have to endure. Something we shouldn’t have to deal with, and one that isn’t our fault,” he insists, thumbing at the place where a dimple would usually fall in my left cheek. I’d forgotten it was there, just like I’d done the same to him.

“But all you’ve been doing is trying to take care of me, and I made that so hard for you,” comes my cry against his palm, feeling the way he holds me together from breaking for the thousandth time. No, that would imply I’d have been put back together, but that wasn’t something I’d done. “You tried to make me eat and I fought you on it until you stopped talking about it. I argued with you and ignored you when you were just trying to keep the world going, but you never stopped, even though I did. You didn’t stop living and loving me when I stopped.”

“Becks, it’s okay,” he repeats, the words sliding into my ears as my hand wanders to his neck. A hoodie with cartoons from our childhoods dons his upper half, tattoos peeking out from the color. I found the charm of his necklace instantaneously, something I could do in the dark.

“But it’s not, Harry. It’s not okay how I treated you. I forgot you and that you’ve been mourning the loss of your child too. Our b-baby,” I whimper, sniffling when I inhale uneasily. My fingers shake before me until he takes hold of my hand, surrounding it with his own before pressing it to his lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you, Becks. I always will,” Harry says, tucking his chin over my head when I melt against him. “I meant it that first night after we came home and you disappeared on me . . We lost our baby, our child, and I can’t . . I can’t lose you too, Rebecca. I have, time and time again, and I can’t do it again. I’ve hardly stayed pieced together lately being so far away from each other like we have . . God, the only thing that kept me going was just thinking, ‘one more day’ for so many days.”

Hiccuping, my hands brace themselves against his taut back, feeling his own drift along my spine. Shaking my head against the crook of his neck, I struggle to breathe, let alone speak, “I’m so sorry, Harry. I can’t believe how awful I was to you. We’re supposed to get married soon, and I can’t even live up to that in sickness and health part of the vows.”

He continued to murmur assurances that everything was okay, and for the first time in a long while, I found myself believing him. Crying against his neck, I heard his own shed tears onto mine as my hands rubbed circles into his shoulders.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you that day for going to work, even though you asked me and I said it was okay . . And-.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that, Becks,” he assures me, pressing a kiss to my head. Again, I believe him, and it feels easier to breathe. Just in the slightest.

“I was such a bitch to you.”

Something sparks inside of my chest at the sound I hear next, one that had been lost along the way. His laugh. His song.

“I’ve been known to be quite the dick on one or two occasions, as well,” I savor the glint that appears in his eyes upon pulling away. It had been one of the first times I was able to lift my head since before all of this had happened, because it had been better just to hide. No, not now.

The quirk to his lips is a full on tilt now, and through them, I’m reminded of what drew me to this man in the first place. It was those eyes and that smile that made me melt upon impact. Well, then there’s the sunshine they share, and how I taste it when his lips meet mine for really the first time in what, a month. Emotion pulls at me from somewhere underneath at the thought, but he makes me forget rather quickly. He’s always been good at that.

His peppermint chapstick sticks to my lips after he’s pulled away several seconds later, trying to catch his breath. The cobwebs have been dusted away in more ways than one, and it feels weird at first, wrong almost, but I laugh. It catches him by surprise too and his eyes focus on me, and only grow brighter.

“I’ve missed kissing you, and laughing with you,” Harry grins, pressing one more to my lips before brushing his nose against mine.

“So have I. I’m s-.”

“I swear, if you say that word one more time,” he tuts, shaking his head with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to figure out something,” he says, sighing for the dramatic effect. I giggle along with him a moment later, remembering the flecks of gold hidden in his eyes. I remember a lot, too much almost, and the gold is gone as my eyes flood once more. “I know it’s hard, Becks. Something has never been this difficult for me . . for you either. But we have to talk, and I’ve been aching for ages now to talk to you . . I don’t want to ignore it, because they shouldn’t be forgotten. Our daughter. We need to talk about them, about her,” I’m nodding before he can finish, feeling his warm lips against my forehead as I focus on my breaths. “In and out, bug. In and out. We can do this. We’ll start slow.”

I haven’t stopped nodding, but once my lungs start to work again, I pull away and find his eyes once more. It comes to me and I can’t hold it back in anymore, knowing I need to say it first. To tell him.

“Okay, let’s talk about o-our daughter,” I begin, cringing at the sound of my voice breaking already. He nods, cupping my face in his palm, the sweetest of looks on his face.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles alternate universe #one direction fanfiction #one direction #fanfic #wattpad #harry styles wattpad #writing #vanchlo writes #heck yes #becky x harry #tempestad #elmundodebecks

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caroline18mars · 5 years

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A Man On Fire - Chapter 47

Up in the air, his mind kept wandering off to that beauty he had left back there in New York, he grabbed his phone to check for the umpteenth time if there was any mail or text from her..but still nothing, wait..what time was it there now? she was probably asleep already. Ok, he would start, so that she would have some news from him the minute she opened her eyes, he switched screens and in doing so, the picture of Val popped back up and he smiled, well at least she was gonna be there to distract him from his loneliness when he landed in Italy, it wasn’t gonna fix anything, but it was something to look forward to. How was it even possible to fall asleep when her sheets still smelled like him? Just close your eyes and fall asleep, it’s not that hard, you’ll see him again soon enough, what is one month without him in the scope of eternity?. This wasn’t gonna work, just thinking about him made her even more restless, ok fine, she grabbed her phone and tapped on her mailbox app, whoopwhoop mailmailmail, yesss, mail from him already.

From: BJLCubbins

To: HCDeRobiano

Subject: Not my first, but definitely my last!

Babe,

I’m sitting here several miles up high here in the sky, and the most rational thing I can come up with is that I miss you, I know how corny that probably sounds to a tough cookie like yourself, but whatever, I just needed to say it! Unfortunately it won’t do anything to keep this blues at bay, but on the other hand, it made me realize that from this moment on, I can start counting down the days, the biggest hurdle => leaving you behind has been taken, from here on it just can’t get any worse, tomorrow when I wake up or go to sleep (see? This jetlag is already getting me all disorientated) it’s gonna be 29 days until I see you again, not 30, because 30 is unbearable, but 29 is not.

Out of the window, I can see this one, amazingly bright star, can you see it too down there? I’ve had a talk with that star and I’ve told her to keep an eye on you, can you see her? It’s the third one from the right and she’s twinkling like crazy, that’s because she’s trying to tell you what I’ve told her about you.

Halfway between America and Europe, that’s what the little screen in front of me is telling me, every mile is a mile more distance between us..and right now that’s hard to live with..

Anyway, I’m gonna try and get some sleep myself, so I won’t be such a jetlagged zombie when I land, and it’ll take my mind off you for a while, although I’m sure you’ll still be there in every single one of my dreams.

I love you x 1000000

Jay

Sweet, beautiful, hunk of a man, my man! She sighed and clutched the phone to her chest, thinking of what she was going to write to him, just not..now..god she was so tired..her eyes slowly fell shut, all the stress and the commotion of the last couple of days, was catching up with her. Touchdown in a rainy Florence, the sound of the screeching breaks and the wheels splashing over the wet tarmac, this was real, life as he had known it for so many years was about to start again, life on the road, with her it had been so much more fun, it had so much more meaning to it. Stop complaining, Jared, do as you told her, count down the days, hidden behind umbrellas he could already see the welcoming committee, he shoved all his belongings into his bag and as soon as the jet had come to a stop, he hopped down the stairs. “Welcome back little brother!” Shannon pulled him in for a bear hug while Stevie bumped fists with him, “did you get my message?” his brother wiggled his eyebrows at him, “yeah, I did, where is she?” he shouted above the noise of the engines, “back at the hotel, she’s expecting you” Shannon said all excited and held open the door for him. “How was NY?” his brother tried to distract him from constantly checking his phone, “haven’t seen much of New York, we spent most of our short time together indoors, we had so much time to sort out and talk about” he breathed absentmindedly, why hadn’t she sent anything back?. “Talking? Is that how they call fucking your girl’s brains out, these days?” Shannon and Stevie burst out into a fit of giggles, “how old are you both? 5?” Jared threw them an annoyed glare, she would have probably laughed about it too if she had been here, but right now their words only bugged him. “Anyway, everything set up for tonight? Is there time to have a couple of hours of sleep before we hit that stage again? I think I’ll skip soundcheck just this once” he quickly changed the subject, couldn’t this car go any faster? He just wanted to be horizontal for a couple of hours.

After half an hour, the car finally stopped in front of the hotel, he jumped out and pulled his hood over his head when he noticed a vast row of fans waiting for them at the side of the entrance, he loved them all dearly but right now, he didn’t exactly want to be disturbed, so he quickly gestured at Shannon to go see them and hurried inside the lobby. His key ready in his hand, he walked out of the elevator and headed for his suite, putting the card in the lock he opened the door, “well hello stranger” her voice startled him, there she was lying on her side, tapping the empty spot next to her. “Val..” he dropped his bag and walked over to the bed, sitting down waiting for her to sit up and give her a hug, “hello stranger” wow, a moist kiss landed under his ear “been way too long” and her hot breath raked across his throat as she pulled him down with him. “Heyheyhey” his hand locked around hers when it ventured down his back to the curve of his butt “I’ve already got someone special to do that” he tried to keep his tone light but her audacity bothered him, ok so they had a thing a while back but that fizzled out because he had lost interest. Yes, she was a model, that type that everyone expected him to fall for and be with but there just wasn’t enough to keep him interested..sometimes he could have sworn he heard the wind blow right through that head of hers, cliché? Maybe but oh so true, intellectually he needed more in a woman than this bubblehead, he couldn’t fill his days talking about make-up, weight loss and whose yacht the vacation should be spent on in order to get maximum exposure in all the right gossip rags. “Someone as special as me? I find that hard to believe” she let go of him with an annoying giggle, “anyway, Shannon reserved a table at one of these cool trattorias for all of us and after that we’re going to party” she grabbed her phone and showed him a picture of what looked like the hottest club in town. “I don’t know, I’ve got a show to play and I’m completely jetlagged” he already knew her answer, “what are you? 105? You’re coming, we’re definitely dancing tonight, a little bit of alcohol will help even more with sleeping off that jetlag”. Purring in anticipation she cupped his chin and pushed a quick, chaste kiss on his lips before she got up, adjusting her hair in front of the mirror, “I’m not making any promises, in the meantime this 105-year old is gonna have a little nap” he so wanted to wipe the taste of her mouth off his lips, “ok, Daddy, or should I call you grandpa now? I’ll let you snooze, I’ll see you at the show” the deviousness lit up in her eyes as she let her thumb seductively caress her lips, throwing him a fat wink as she exited the room. What just happened? He hung his head and shook it, Val happened, that’s what, he had moved on, she clearly hadn’t, he let himself fall back against the cushions, her perfume lingering there, and boy did it smell like trouble.

From: HCDeRobiano

To: BJLCubbins

Subject: Re: Not my first, but definitely my last!

Love of my life,

That’s definitely a first, saying that or writing that down, and boy it’s scary, but I refuse to delete it, so you enjoy that.

I’ve been painting all night and all morning, with a little nap inbetween, and it’s been a blast, don’t take this the wrong way, but in a way I’m glad, for all the obvious reasons, you’re not around, because it’s simply impossible to keep my focus when you strut around my loft oozing pure sex. No, I’m not gonna do this, I’m not even gonna think about having rampant sex with you or I’ll never finish this painting..that being said, I should have made a cast of that amazing dick of yours so I could make a dildo out of it,(hey I’ve had enough sculpting classes to pull it off, no pun intended), and fuck myself silly with it, because I could do with one of your thorough fuckings right now..NO! no dirty talk, no online sex, and definitely not via e-mail, nope not gonna do that, not gonna happen! Do you touch yourself thinking about me at all? Stop it Harper, stop it right now!

Anyway, by the time you’re reading this, you’re probably already on a stage singing, girls fainting in the front row, throwing themselves at your feet..*sigh* it’s hard (I bet it is though! No stop Coco, just stop shooting off that sassy mouth of yours, only filth seems to come out of it today anyway).

I’m gonna take a cold shower and then I’m heading to bed to wake up soaked all over again, I’m sure (I swear I’ll stop)

You know what you are, Jared Leto? A shot of life, that’s what you are, I can feel it more than ever now ‘that shot of life’ has flown away from me. And here I thought I’d prove that romance wasn’t dead and I was planning on writing you a long, handwritten love letter (I used to love writing letters, and receiving them, the waiting, that crazy longing for a mailman to stop by your house, the moment you saw him slide that envelope inside the mailbox..) and all I end up doing is writing some smut on a white screen!

Love you too!

A horny Harper Coco! x

”Jay? You comin?” airhead’s voice startled him, comin? Oh yeah he was gonna come in a minute and on the spot, that was one hot e-mail, suddenly it felt really uncomfortable having an ex-lover stand here in the same room as him, an ex-lover Harper knew nothing about, just don’t get photographed with her, and hope that she soon has some catwalk to grace with her presence. “Jared? Shannon is waiting for us, the end of the show was almost an hour ago, I really want to go out!” she became a little more persistent like a a spoiled brat that was afraid not to get her way, and in the blink of an eye she snatched the phone from his hands “if you want this back, you’re gonna have to come along right now and if you’re a really..” she stepped in front of him and let her finger slide up and down over that part where his shirt met a bare piece of skin of his chest “really, really good boy, I might just give it back to you” she breathed and hopped out of the room into the hallway where Shannon was waiting for them.

#jared leto #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #30 Seconds To Mars #30 seconds to mars fanfic #a man on fire #chapter 47 #harpercoco #Harper and Jared #caroline18mars

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domxcorleone · 7 years

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Dersha Prompt - Number 8: “I’m Not... JEALOUS!”

*Authors Note: Surprise! I know the wait for Chapter 5 of “Better For You” has been a long one, therefore I thought I’d at least write a little something for you all in the meantime. So here’s a new Dersha prompt! The idea of a “Jealous Ahsha” is something we all want to witness at one point. So hopefully writing this story will allow this to become a reality someday, lmao. Chapter 5 will be posted one of these days lol. You can read all of my other fan fics here: My Dersha FANFICS & PROMPTS ♡ . Hope you all enjoy this short story (side note: apologies for any spelling mistakes or typos... mi tiyaaad!). Remember to share your thoughts. Much love, Dom. @betnetworks*

“Ahsha...” Derek calmly called out, following behind his wife as she hastily made her way into the kitchen. “Baby...” He continued, only to receive nothing but silence. “So you’re gonna give me the silent treatment all night?” His eyebrows furrowed whilst Ahsha pretended as if she didn’t hear him.

“Derek, I’m fine.” She lied, slamming the house keys down on the kitchen counter trying her best not to look as pissed as she felt... failing miserably of course. The passive aggressiveness was hella real.

“Clearly you’re not.” The player pressed, standing on the opposite side of the island.

“I said... I’m fine.” She said with enough bite in her tone. Though Derek wouldn’t dare smirk at this current moment, he couldn’t help but take a little joy in seeing his wife so hot and bothered.

It was date night for The Roman’s, and after a night of laughter, flirting and good conversation... things would go left the minute a woman would approach the star athlete. Though Derek would usually shut things down almost immediately... this night he’d actually engage in a conversation with this woman, who mind you... was very easy on the eyes also. At least that’s what Ahsha thought. Finally home and the young wife was about to let her man have it!

“I wasn’t flirting with her, Ahsha.” He simply tried to reassure though the dancer wasn’t trying to hear him.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He raised his brow.

“What? You weren’t flirting with her. I heard you.” Ahsha couldn’t help but feel some type of way. Her husband was hers and hers only, and seeing women wet their panties over him day in and day out simply drove her insane. Though she never appeared or considered herself to be the jealous type before... things immediately changed the minute she fell in love with the player and became dickmatized. And now that they were husband and wife... catching a case was starting to look more than likely.

Both stars knew exactly what came with the package being that they were constantly in the limelight, and often managed to reign in their jealousy when the other would get attention and fawned over... however, this night was different! With Derek being a sex symbol and never failing to be pleasant to his fans, some women with no shame would take advantage of that and go too far.

“I think you’re slightly overreacting...” The player rubbed the back of his head as he could feel the heat in the kitchen begin to increase. Rarely would he see his wife get this worked up over groupies, but him being approached by a halfway decent woman this time... caused Ahsha to see red.

“Oh so now I’m overreacting?” Her eyes narrowed in on his. “Maybe I should go overreact upstairs in bed, whilst you take the couch tonight.”

“Take the what?” The lines in Derek’s forehead deepened. “It ain’t even that serious, Ahsha. You must be tripping if you think I’m sleeping on the couch for no reason.” He scoffed.

“I’m tripping? Derek get out my face.”

“Ahsha, come on...”

“Would you not react the same way if the shoe was on the other foot, Derek?” The dancer folded her arms, waiting on the lie her husband was about to tell.

“Actually, I wouldn’t.” The player simply replied casually walking over to the fridge.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. The mailman was simply doing his job the other day, yet look at how you acted!”

“That was different. You and I both know that he was trying to get at you.” He replied before taking a sip from a water bottle. Her husbands nonchalant attitude was only getting her even more annoyed. “He said “Hope you have a good day, Mrs. Roman.” What was wrong with that?” She rolled her eyes.

“Then he looked you up and down and winked.”

“Um... he winks at everyone, Derek. Clearly he knows we’re married. You were standing right behind me!”

“Well he ain’t never winked at me before.” The player shrugged.

“Stop being a smart-ass. You knew that girl was trying to get at you, and you entertained it!”

“I did not entertain, Natalie.”

“Natalie? You know what...” She placed both hands on her temples, taking a deep breath before attempting to leave the kitchen only to be side stepped by her husband. “Baby, relax. I’m just messing with you...” He chuckled, trying to grab her arm.

“This shit is not funny! You’re not taking me seriously, Derek.”

“Yes I am, Ahsha. But baby... there’s no need to be this mad. I was just being nice.”

“You were speaking to her once I got back from the bathroom and only god knows why and what the hell y’all were talking about.” The dancer snatched her arm away from him.

“It was a harmless conversation, Ahsha.”

“Clearly it was an interesting one too since you had a big ass smile plastered on your face!” Just thinking about the scene made her want to slap somebody, though it really wasn’t that serious. Ahsha knew deep down that her husband had done nothing wrong. But seeing him speak to another woman simply got her blood pressure going.

“She was talking about how much she admired our marriage...”

“Well she needed to mind her damn business. She doesn’t know us like that! You know she was using that as an excuse to talk to you, Derek!”

“Doubt it. She was married.”

“Wow, you just seem to know everything about good ol’Natalie. Does she have kids too? A white picket fence with a Labrador named Bruno? Shit.” The dancer pushed pass her husband and began to pace back and forth. Derek could only watch on in slight shock and amusement. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” He couldn’t help but laugh. His wife was just too cute whenever she got mad... or jealous in this case. “I ever tell you how cute you are when you get jealous?” He slowly approached the heated vixen once again.

“I’m not... jealous!” She raised her voice, glaring up at her husband.

“Mmm, you’re so sexy when you get mad baby.” The player bit his bottom lip as his eyes grew smaller. Getting this close to his wife whenever she got like this probably wasn’t the smartest decision. However, it was a risk he was willing to take. Especially with her working her little black dress.

“Don’t patronize me, Derek!” She placed her hand against his chest. “Fuck it, I’m going to bed.”

“No you’re not... come here.” He pulled her back towards him.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You need to chill...”

“And you need to get the hell off of me!” She tried to move out of his grip but of course it was virtually impossible. “Derek!”

“You see this?” He raised his left hand up to her face making sure she got a good look at his ring finger, still tightly holding her in place. “This right here is my life, Ahsha. It symbolizes my love and commitment to you.” He sternly spoke, looking deep into her eyes... then used his free hand to grab hers and raised it also. “I put this ring on your finger for a reason. You are and will always be the only woman to have my heart. These rings are our forever. So remember that the next time you see me “entertaining” another female... and know that none of them could ever hold a candle to you.” Ending his speech, he kissed her hand before releasing it. Eyes still fixated on hers... the player awaited his wife’s response. Ahsha on the other hand was rendered completely speechless and turned on all at once. Her husband always had a way with words, but this right here hit her to the core. All she could do was stare back at him in awe, to which he continued... “And just one more thing...” He roughly grabbed her face, slowly backing her into one of the kitchen counters. “Only you can get this dick as hard as this.” Swiftly grabbing her left hand once again bringing it down to his thick length, leaving his wife no choice but to cop a feel of his rock hard dick.

Completely mesmerized by her husband’s words, aggressively and what she could feel against her palm, the dancer could only utter the words... “I fucking love you.” Instantly kissing his lips after. Jealously was a bitch, but who could blame her? Derek was simply everything she could ask for and more, and she’d be damned if any other woman would try to snatch him away. Though that wasn’t possible.

“Oh now you love me?” He smirked, taking her bottom lip between his teeth tugging at it.

“Mmm, never stopped.” She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his teeth and tongue. Funny how she could go from wanting to kill him to wanting to feel him, in just a matter of seconds.

“I know that’s right.” The player slowly moved up to her ear. “I love you too.” He whispered, gently biting down on her earlobe afterwards. Ahsha could only groan in response.

“I’m sorry baby...” She cooed as his teasing was staring to sedate her.

“No, but you’re gonna be...” Derek shot back, and just like that the player lifted her onto the counter and spread her thighs further apart. “Imma show you who’s dick this really belongs to.” As if his words alone weren’t enough to drive her crazy, the minute she felt her husbands hand reach underneath her dress... she knew it was game over.

“Derek...” The dancer sighed, feeling her panties more to the side. “This is the only pussy I want to feel...” He spoke, slowly guiding his fingers into her wetness. The dirty talk coming from the player was only getting her hornier.

“Ugh...” Ahsha could only suck air between her teeth at the feel of his long fingers sliding in and out of her. Her hips began to undulate as if it were second nature. “I love when you do that shit...” He groaned, still working her center.

“Give it to me, Derek.” She moaned, any longer and she’d be in tears. From the warm kisses against her jawline and neck, to the feel of his fingers rubbing against throbbing clit... Ahsha was almost on the brink of tears. It was time to feel him in the best way, and fast!

“You sure you ready for this dick?” Who was he fooling. He needed to feel her as bad as she needed to feel him. His thick bulge was ready to rip through his jeans.

“Fuck yes!” She pulled him in closer and attacked his lips with a nasty kiss, whilst he unzipped his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers. With his hardened piece standing to attention... he brought the dancer forward, pulled her panties off and roughly guided himself into her slick folds. “Ugh, shit!” She cried out. As many times as they had fucked... the size of his dick never failed to take her by surprise.

“You wanted all of this right?” He sunk deeper into her warmth, teeth grazing her jawline... “So take it!” He began to pump into his wife with no mercy.

“Oh God...” Ahsha cried out as Derek's grip around her small waist tightened, whilst his thrusts grew harder and faster. The dick was so good she couldn’t help but dig her nails into in either side of his neck. “You’re so big, Derek...” She tilted her head back reveling at the feel of her husband.

“He can’t help you right now, baby.” The player groaned at the feel of her tightness. “You love when I fuck you like this, huh Ahsha?” Derek was ramming his dick into Ahsha so hard that the kitchen utensils were starting to shake from the rack.

“Yes, baby, yes!” She screamed, clinging onto him for dear life whilst sexing him right back. The faster his thrusts grew, the more her hips waved against his. “God you feel so good...” She moaned against his lips before sliding her tongue into his mouth, only encouraging him to go harder. “Derek, I’m close...” The dancer whined, breaking the kiss.

“Daddy got you...” He whispered, lifting her off the counter and keeping her in mid-air. And just like that he began to sex her crazy. Grinding his hips into her wet center whilst raising her hips up and down. He could literally feel her honeyed sex coating every last inch of his thickness.

“Shit... Derek, I’m gonna cum!” She cried, unable to control her loud gut wrenching moans. Feeling her walls begin to tighten around his dick, all she could do was bite down on his neck. “I’ll never get tired of this pussy.” The player groaned, feeling his balls begin to tighten. They amorous couple locked lips one final time as they neared their climax. A few more ragged pumps, followed by some more tongue kissing and hair pulling... and Ahsha was first to go, eventually followed by Derek. “Fuck!” He called out as his hot cum shot straight through his wife’s slick opening. “Ugh...” She moaned. Never growing tired of such a feeling.

“See... you don’t ever need to worry about the Natalie’s, Melissa’s, Brenda’s or Chanelle’s of this world. This dick isn’t for sale.” Derek breathlessly spoke against her lips, still inside of her.

“Oh I know, baby. I just wanted to get into your ass a lil bit...” She stuck her tongue out, her raspy laugh filling the kitchen before pulling the player in for another deep kiss.

“Oh yeah? Well watch me get into that ass upstairs!” He smacked her ass, before lifting her off the counter and heading out of the kitchen.

“Wait, wait...” The player stopped his movements. “So what did you and Natalie talk about then?” Ahsha tilted her head. The dancer just couldn’t help but ask.

“Remember I said that she admired our marriage?”

“Yeah...” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Well, she wanted a threesome.” He simply admitted with a smirk.

“Derek!” Ahsha called out, slapping his shoulder before they both broke out in laughter. “Mmm, I mean...” He teased, biting down on his lip as they continued their journey.

“Nasty ass. I don’t share!”

“You just want this dick all to yourself, don’t you?”

“And don’t you forget it.”

The two lovers continued to banter back and forth with one another, eventually making their way upstairs wasting no time getting started on round two.

Though they’d never agree to having a threesome, the thought did somewhat turn them on.

The end.

*Thank you all for reading. Much appreciated.*

#Hit The Floor #Dersha #Derek and Ahsha #The Roman's #Dershaship #fan fic #fan fiction #prompt #BET #black love #black writers #au #alternate universe #OTP

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swapstories101 · 7 years

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Bus Stories: Are You Writing a Novel?

I left the apartment at 12:30, last-minute considering I needed to lock the door. I brought a jacket because it looks like I have a really painful bruise on my arm, even though it’s old and doesn’t hurt anymore. Two different groups of guys intently watched me walk past while they chatted in the sunshine. A man expressed his confusion about me wearing a jacket in summer weather. I took off the jacket when I left the apartment complex because, yeah, fair.

I crossed the street and then had to start running shortly after, because I could see the bus coming. I barely caught the bus, then was very confused by it doing a loop and decided to check the route on my phone. I realized I didn’t have my phone. I asked the driver if he’d seen me drop it when I got on, mostly so that he wouldn’t think I was too weird for getting off again in a minute. He hadn’t seen me drop my phone, of course. A very kind lady recommended that if I’d lost my phone, I cancel it.

When we got back to my bus stop I thanked the driver and went looking for my phone. It was in the grass by the sidewalk where I’d started running, and miraculously the driver (who’d just pulled away from the bus stop, seeing as I’d walked almost a block away) waited for me when I waved my phone at him and ran back to the stop. I thanked him profusely. The very kind lady congratulated me on finding my phone and, shortly afterward, reminded me to zip up a pocket of my bag so my things wouldn’t fall out. I thanked her.

I checked the time repeatedly, and the map, even though I knew I wouldn’t make it on time. I called the massage place and the very quiet woman on the phone told me she could change the appointment to 2:30 instead of 2:00. It was bizarrely easy.

That was sort of a weight off my shoulders. I thanked the driver again when we got to the depot. He seemed slightly amused.

I took the next bus down to my stop, by the hospital. I got off with a woman in colorful scrubs who seemed even more sure of the area than I was. The crosswalk buttons confused me, but I pushed one anyway. A bug landed on my hand, I think, but when I reflexively slapped at it it just left a drop of moisture. Gross.

I got to my massage place 10 minutes early. The woman at the counter was very neutral about my arrival. Some people came in and spoke loudly, and her face was less neutral about them, but she said nothing. My massage therapist seemed unusually happy to see me, and told me she’d been running late, so was happy to hear that I was, too.

It was a great massage.

I left a $1 tip, because I only had that and twenties, and I’m too broke to tip anybody $20.

Fifteen minutes from the end of the massage I had gotten a call from my grandmother, so I called her back. We spoke fairly fluently in German, despite me not having practiced in months. She lauded my correction of my own grammatical mistake, which is very characteristic. She didn’t know I was in a loud place, despite me hardly being able to hear her over the cars passing by.

I continued to talk to her at the bus stop until I started to worry about the bus. The phone died right after I hung up, so I couldn’t check anything. I checked the Saturday schedule on the paper route, since it’s a holiday, and saw that I had about 35 minutes to wait. I asked the girl sitting at the stop, and she told me many things. She had come to visit the LabCorps building because it said it was open for a few hours today, but it wasn’t open. She was even more confused about the holiday bus schedule than I was (and much more upset, as I assume she had not just gotten a great massage.) She had recently applied for a job at a Burger King on the same street as the school where I did my student teaching. I don’t know where that Burger King is, but I hope they hire her. She has a tattoo of butterflies on her forearm and when she’s having a better day than today, I’m sure she’s very fun to talk to. She told me all the bus drivers she’s had lately have been rude, but that doesn’t seem right.

A mother was irritated that someone was questioning her ability to do her job while being a mother who rides public transportation. I sympathized, having just explained to my grandmother for the thousandth time that, no, I really don’t want a car, but I also would be intimidated by parenting with only public transportation. She said something about getting better. I hope that she’s healthier every day. Her kids seem to like and respect her, even though they’re energetic and she was on the phone the whole time she was at the bus stop. I like and respect her more because they do.

The bus took us to the depot. I was the only one on my second bus before the driver left for a break. I started writing one of my short stories while I waited, so I didn’t have to look at the people waiting outside for the driver to get back. They always look so bitterly jealous from inside the bus.

Halfway along the route I realized I had no idea what was on one side of the road. It’s a screen of trees between the road and an apartment complex. I have the distinct feeling that this has happened to me before.

The Walmart by my apartment has two bus stops. The second contained two or three people. A woman with grocery bags and noticeable breasts limped to the seat across from me. A man about her age (maybe late 50s or early 60s?) followed shortly after and they negotiated a number of grocery bags until he ended up sitting in the seat in front of her, curled around backward to speak with her.

A few minutes into their ride, he got my attention to ask if I’m writing a book with a gesture at my spiral bound notebook, as full as it is of scrambled thoughts. I told him that I’m not, and it probably wouldn’t be worth reading if I did. He told me about his friend who writes books and sells them for $15.95, and he said it’s not particularly lucrative. I asked him if he was in the market to buy a book, and he said yes without hesitation. I told him I’m mostly writing short stories these days, and maybe I would eventually put them into a collection. He pulled out a substantial wad of cash (which appeared to be mostly $20 bills) and offered to buy it. I told him I’d have to get in touch when I had the book put together.

The bus went in a circle so we were back at their original stop. Everyone was confused by this choice. The bus driver said we would wait at that stop for 10 minutes. The man I was talking to went out to smoke a cigarette, and saw me on my phone. When he came back he seemed undecided about something with his phone, then tentatively handed it to me. I put my number in under my first name. (Yes, I gave my real number to a random middle-aged white man on a bus. I know.) Seeing my name on the phone, he introduced himself as Keith. He figured out how to save it and I told him he was making me nostalgic about my old flip phone. He said he’d found that one in the mud and got someone to dry it out. He still seemed impressed that the thing worked after all that.

He told me about his friend who writes books and sells them for $15.95, and he said that she must be living well off the royalties. He and the woman he was with worked together to explain that her books are romance novels with lots of sexual content. I wasn’t really sure what to say to that. Keith asked if I drank, and showed me that his Walmart bag was full of beer. He told me he drank, but he also worked, which I thought was a reasonable balance. He told me something about the place across from the motel where he lives, but I don’t remember what.

He told me about Nicholas Sparks, who wrote The Notebook and several other things. I told him I hadn’t gotten around to reading any of Nicholas Sparks’ books and Keith summarized a story about a Vietnam veteran for me. He said that when he was locked up he read all of Nicholas Sparks’ books that he could; he said he was only missing one. He guaranteed that if I read one, I wouldn’t be able to put it down until the end. When he asked if I was in school, I told him I’d graduated, but I’d wanted to be an English teacher and being an English major was really fun for someone like me, who loved reading and writing. The sentence kind of fell apart at the end. He asked if I taught English now, and I said I was a special education teacher.

We talked about books a little more, then sat for a bit until the bus got to my stop. We both said goodbye. He asked me where I worked, and I said “a school” as I got off. It took me half of the walk home to realize he probably thought I had a second job at one of the shops near my apartment.

An ice cream truck drove by, and I decided I wanted ice cream, but it turned the wrong way.

No one talked to me on the way back. No one was just hanging out; a couple was bringing a trash bag to the dumpster, and someone was getting things out of his truck. I think I saw a mailman.

No one else is home now. Just the cats. I’m almost as tired as they are, but they’re asleep and I have many things to do if I’m going to give myself ice cream today.

#bus stories #mine #so anyway #stories from real life #I accidentally posted this on my processing blog and had to copy/paste it oops

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tokupedia · 7 years

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Kamen Rider 45th Anniversary File: Ghost

2016:

The WORST YEAR IN RECENT RECORDED HUMAN HISTORY- The End

....

Okay, that’s a little unfair to you guys, let’s start over..

2016:

Ultraman Orb aired, concluded and is available on Crunchyroll.

Ultraman turns 50, having begun back in 1966.

Kamen Rider Amazons, a modern reimagining of the 1975 show Kamen Rider Amazon, premieres on Amazon Prime Japan two days before the date of Kamen Rider’s 45th Anniversary on April 1st. It is considered one of the darkest entries of the Kamen Rider franchise and is the first online exclusive Kamen Rider show.

The Magical Girl Genre, of which Sailor Moon, Cutie Honey, Pretty Cure and so many other super heroines are a part of, is now 50 years old thanks to Sally the Witch who was created way back in 1966 by Mitsuteru Yokoyama.

Go! Princess Pretty Cure ends and Mahou Girls PreCure! debuts.

Super Sentai reaches its 40th Season and 2,000th Episode with Doubutsu Sentai Zyuohger! Anthropomorphic Animal Rangers fight to defend the Earth, with the help of a human zoologist. Also, we get a new version of Super Sentai Hero Getter and the Gokaigers make a guest appearance!

Anno, get in the chair! Hideaki Anno of Neon Genesis Evangelion fame takes control of the Godzilla franchise as Toho decides to start making Godzilla movies and media again locally with Shin Godzilla. This creates an interesting cinematic paradox where both Japan and America are making Godzilla simultaneously and both are successful and will have follow ups in the future.

Garo gets animated in 2015 and comes to America for the first time in 2016 on DVD courtesy of Funimation. (Thanks guys!)

Garo also gets an omnibus series in Garo: Makai Retsuden, collecting tales of supporting characters in the Garo franchise rather than focus solely on the Golden Knight (though a few bearers of the armor do appear in a few bits including Kouga!).

Toei declares the anniversaries of Kamen Rider and Super Sentai to be a “Super Hero Year” and dedicates the year doing projects to celebrate the occasion, including bringing back Hiroshi Fujioka as Takeshi Hongo/Kamen Rider 1 in a crossover movie with a brand new look!

On April 3, 2016, a staple of Japanese pop culture turned 45 years old. Then again, 2016 was a red letter date for anniversaries as so many things we loved hit a milestone number.

Given that, Toei decided to set a theme of “History” and the “Wonders of being alive” for the next series. So they chose a dead guy for their next hero...wait what? The overall theme was famous figures from history (and one fictional one) giving their powers to the heroes. So think Kid Eternity meets Danny Phantom.

Ghost did have interesting designs, courtesy of Kamen Rider and Ishinomori super-fan and manga artist Kazuhiko Shimamoto and his studio Big Bang Productions as well as Blend Master (though from what I could gather they got shafted when it came time for Mugen form). The Rider Ghosts all wear hoodie jackets and their method of transformation is a variation on Gaim where the “ghost parka” floats around the user before descending onto the armor.

Yes, but see, Ghost is the first series I kind of...stopped watching. It had promise and a likable hero, but fell flat in the last third as it meandered its plot around. As it turns out, we have our old “pal” Shinichiro Shirakura to thank for that, as he let go of the writers halfway into the show and had them replaced (Ep. 24 is where things started to change). You would think he would learn to leave well enough alone, but because Toei was running two Rider Shows at once, cuts apparently needed to be made.

A noticeable cut was the dropping of motorcycle helmet manufacturer Shoei as a sponsor, as Toei went with its competitor Arai. This was a bit shocking given that Shoei has supported the series since the late Showa Era by providing safety equipment.

Also not helping was that Bandai kinda went nuts on the shilling of merchandise and didn’t give this series much room to breathe, making some of the forms or devices the Riders used feel tacked on or just filler after being seen just once.

Still the show had its good moments, the messages about life, how an individual’s life impacts others and living it are inspiring. I have even heard whispers of some who thought of committing suicide saying that this series inspired them to keep on living and not give up.

One especially touching story of the power of Takeru Tenkuji was written in the Asahi Shimbun about a sick toddler who was afraid to take his medicine. However, seeing Kamen Rider Ghost face danger head on and a special message from Shun Nishime inspired the adorable tyke to take his medicine. It showcases the kind of impact this “silly superhero show” as some deride it as has had on generations of Japanese citizens as a franchise. Being a super hero in acting sometimes rubs off and makes the person playing them aspire to live up to that symbol or be better people.

It should be noted that this series also has a few winks and nods to the Kamen Rider Series. The mailman who delivers packages is named Mr. Onodera (the birth name of Shotaro Ishinomori), a computer in the wall of the basement of Tenkuji Temple is a prop used for Shocker bases, a continuity nod to the preceding series is shown in a flashback and one company in the world of the series is the Sengoku Corporation.

But let’s move on...

LIFE! BURN BRIGHT!

DAI KAIGAN! FILE OMEGA DRIVE!

(The late Mr. Tenkuji, circa 2016)

Real Name: Takeru Tenkuji (I love Marvel Style alliterative names, so amusing.)

As the opening narration every episode informs viewers:

“My Name is Takeru Tenkuji, on my 18th birthday I was killed by a Gamma and I became Kamen Rider Ghost.”

Takeru Tenkuji is the son of a famous Ghost Hunter, Ryu Tenkuji, and during one of his hunts, Ryu is killed by a ghost. This leaves Takeru an orphan and is taken in by a disciple of Ryu’s temple, the monk Onari (who has taken a vow of Ham instead of silence or singing). Takeru also grows up with Akari, his childhood friend, whom grows into more of a scientist with a skeptical view on ghosts.

Takeru is trained by Onari to be a Ghost Hunter and on his 18th birthday receives a strange package from Mr. Onodera, a gift from his late father that contained an eyeball-like orb. He has no time to investigate, as something invisible begins attacking them: The Gamma, evil spirits from another dimension.

Takeru manages to fend off these monsters for a bit to protect Akari and Onari, but the Katana Gamma slices Takeru up and he dies.

But death is not the end of our hero as a mysterious figure and a talkative snarky spook appear and the old man offers the boy a chance to live again. Sennin, as he calls himself, bestows Takeru with a belt like device and says he can return to life for 99 days as a ghost and regain his life permanently by finding the 15 Heroic Eyecons of famous people and can become a Kamen Rider to stop the Ganma from getting their hands on them. If Takeru fails, he dies for good.

He is sent back and defeats the Gammas,using his own soul as a source of power in an Eyecon for the Ghost Driver to become Kamen Rider Ghost. Yurusen tells him the rules of being a ghost and eventually lets Onari and Akari in on what is going on. They help him find the heroic Eyecons, with Onai setting up a paranormal investigation and elimination agency (No, not that one, though we do get Akari acting kinda Egon-ish at times.). Akari creates ghost-busting equipment to defeat the weaker grunts of the Gamma or hold them off until Takeru arrives, though she is still skeptical on the supernatural and believes that Ghosts can be explained scientifically . Together they fight the Gamma, collect the Eyecons, meet new allies and enemies!

During one event, Kamen Rider Drive was in his final battle and had a near death experience. Somehow entering the realm of the dead, Ghost told Shinnosuke not to go into the afterlife (resembling a black void). Drive’s old foes come out of the void and Ghost fends their “ghosts” off (why do androids have ghosts? Meh, Comics.) while Shinnouske goes toward the light, which wakes him up. He later encounters Ghost again during a case and this directly ties into the series as it involves the Newton Eyecon (though canonicity is a bit wobbly).

Despite my “meh” attitude on the series now in its later end, looking back Takeru is the most likable Rider as he goes above and beyond what it means to be a hero, selflessly giving to save others even at the risk of his own soul when he himself has so much he could lose. He perfectly encapsulates what a Kamen Rider is at times.

Powers:

Like any classic ghost of standard media, Takeru can walk through walls, disappear and fly (well, more like floating and super agility until Mugen form). Takeru can also read a person’s soul/mind and see their memories by touching them or their soul if it is removed from the body. He also has a sorta “Rider Sense”, as he can sense some powerful evil spirits. Since he is already dead (*insert Fist of the North Star Joke here*), Takeru cannot be severely harmed in any way and is near invulnerable, but not invincible. Spirit mediumship allows him to talk to ghosts.

Takeru can become solid like a human being if his emotional state is positive and he can create powerful barriers when he is in an emotional state where he does not want to be bothered by anyone.

Eyecon Powers:

Musashi: Skilled Swordsmanship

Edison: Electricity Generation/Absorption and elemental weapon augmentation. Enhanced thinking ability via electrical stimuli

Robin Hood: Expert Marksmanship, barrier shield, Energy Arrows, Cloning ability.

Issac Newton: Gravity manipulation pulses on a very powerful scale, as it can levitate heavy landmasses. Able to attract or repel objects and deliver powerful blows or immobilize targets.

Beethoven: Sound and music manipulation, literally as it creates constructs of music notes made of pure sound. Sonic blasts.

Billy the Kid: Expert Gun marksmanship, More Dakka, sniping abliity.

Benkei: Super strength, weapon mastery, energy constructs, concussive hit, localized seismic generation, Stop, Hammer Time!.

Toucon Boost: Kill it with Fire (generation powers)

Goemon: Super speed.

Ryoma: ???

Himiko: Magic abilities

Ikkyu: Levitating, able to summon stuffed Tigers from paintings to bite Gamma.

Mugen: High defense, flight via rainbow wings and maximum attack power

He can utilize his emotions as weapons in Mugen form, feeling a specific emotion will allow him to execute a certain attack.

Weaknesses:

Ghost still can die if time on his life extension runs out or his Ore Eyecon is destroyed as that contains his soul.

Despite being immune to most damage, Takeru can still feel pain as spirit and the overwhelming sensation of intense pain could cause him to pass out. He also suffered from a bit of self-confidence issues at first but later improves. If the Heroic Spirits refuse to work with him, this could weaken him or render his powers in Grateful form unbalanced at best or to shut down at worst. The Eyecons can be swiped and used by other Ghost Drivers, even making the spirit inside the Eyecon act against their will in some cases.

Ghost is also not immune to electricity in certain forms such as Musashi, as he becomes a walking lightning rod. Though Edison negates this due to its powers. If a mystical barrier is up, Takeru cannot phase though an object.

His ability to talk to the dead is a bit problematic, as nobody but him can see them and as a result he looks beaucoup cuckoo to muggles as it looks like he’s talking to himself. (Though Akari comes up with a way for normal humans to see ghosts and whomever is mortal that holds a Ghost Eyecon can see them as well)

Now that he can use his powers as a living person, he can die again using any of the conventional means.

Gear:

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Ghost_Driver

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Ghost_Eyecons

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Ghost_Gadgets

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Gan_Gun_Saber

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Newton_Damashii_Gloves

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Machine_Ghostriker

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Captain_Ghost

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Iguana_Ghostriker - Don’t ask me what Ghosts have to do with Iguanas, it is what it is.

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Eyecon_Driver_G

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Sunglasseslasher

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Deep_Slasher

Enemy:

The Gamma

http://kamenrider.wikia.com/wiki/Category:Gamma

The Gamma are a race extra-dimensional beings that are like ghosts. They have several objectives, one is to find Eyecons to grant themselves greater power. If they cannot find one, they try to create one by corrupting a human until they go mad and extract their soul to create an Eyecon.

The last one is to turn the human world into another Gamma World so that a “Deathless utopia” can come...by killing the original world’s inhabitants or converting them into Gamma. Gamma are actually humans who wanted to escape death, but their plans didn’t work out.

#kamen rider #45th anniversary #kamen rider ghost #ghosts #eyeballs #historical figures #meh season #bandai #toei

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