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insomniac-dot-ink · 3 years

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Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

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Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me.

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it.

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost.

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl?

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own.

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren’t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

-----------

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crowdedimagines · 4 years

Text

Leaked (Finale) Harry Styles

“You guys got to see a very raw and real side of us. It’s a bummer that it wasn’t our choice, we didn’t choose to reveal such a personal thing that happened, not to mention what else has been leaked.” I sigh, finally breaking eye contact with the camera sitting on a tripod in front of us. The fans will be getting a glimpse into Harry’s home for this video.

“I know what I signed up for when I got into this business, very little privacy, but I never expected it to come to this extreme. M’very private with my relationships, and I never want to see anyone-'' He pauses to focus himself again, I place a hand on his thigh and attempt to carry on. Against the better judgement of both Jeff and Jordan we both decided against a script, we had highlighted points we wanted to address, but didn’t want it to seem disingenuous.

“Harry and I lost a child last July.” I pick my head up letting the tears openly fall without letting myself choke over them, “And the song you guys have all heard came from that, a place of hurt and exhaustion. We never expected the world to hear it, and we never thought those pictures would be out in the world either. But that’s life isn’t it?” I laugh humorlessly.

The song was leaked a few hours ago now, my name having never left the top trending on twitter, but now Harry’s and several conspiracies have joined it. People cutting parts from it with raw and loud sobs coming from each of us, open for discussion among the whole world.

“We love you all, but please understand our choice to step back from the public for the time being.” Harry chimes in. We both look at each other and nod, feeling we addressed what we need to.

“Treat people with kindness, yeah?” I ask as we both get up from our spot on Harry’s couch.

“Yeah.” He pulls me in for a hug, as Jeff gets up to cut the camera. Our teams were both getting the footage and posting it to our accounts. Harry and I have both agreed to a break from phones for a bit.

“Okay, so this will be posted across all platforms, on both of your accounts shortly. I don’t think we’ll need to edit much.”

I walk over to the other side of the living room where Jordan is standing reading through her phone, she glances up as soon as she sees me coming. She puts on a smile, and pulls me in for a tight hug. She knows just how long the past few days have been.

“Alright, Paula and I booked flights, we’re heading out this afternoon to go home.”

“What about me?” I question.

“We both know that you need to stay here for a while.” She smiles, “Take some time to heal, just remember you two never fell out of love. Call me if you need anything.”

I glance back at Harry whose now joined by his sister and mother. I don’t want to leave, to be completely honest. The last thing I want is to have to go home to my empty house in L.A. Harry and I ran away from each other last year, maybe this is the opportunity for us to finally stop running.

Harry’s POV

“Don’t you think that you need to heal together this time? You can’t let her leave again.” My mum explains, trying to make her point, as quietly as possible. I watch as she glances over my shoulder to where Y/n must be somewhere.

“Mum, I can’t make her stay.” I shake my head. I couldn’t make her stay before, now we’ve spent so much time apart. All I want is to pull her into my arms, but I don’t know if that’s what she wants after all this time. Hell, after this week she might not ever want anything to do with me.

“No, but you can ask her.” Gemma nods her head in Y/n’s direction as she walks over to join us.

“Harry, can I talk to you?” Her voice is soft and calm. My shoulders visibly drop as I relax and follow her to the back porch. We sit in the same spot on the couch as we did yesterday.

“What’s going on, love?” I ask once we’ve both taken a seat.

“Well, Jordan and Paula are flying out this afternoon.” She says, she pulls her legs up close to her chest.

“And you?”

Please god tell me you’re staying.

“I think I might stay.” She picks up her head, “If that's alright with you.”

I can’t fight off the smile at this point. I just give her a simple nod, pulling her close to lean on my shoulder. I should’ve known that we were on the exact same page, we always have been.

“I don’t think I could go back to an empty house, to be honest.” She sighs.

“I don’t think I could let you walk out of that door again, to be honest.”

Y/n’s POV

“Do you mean that?” I ask, picking up my head, “Truly?”

He simply nods and bites at his bottom lip.

“What are we supposed to do, Harry? I don’t think we can just pick up where we left off?”

“No, but isn’t that the beauty of it? We can try again, try for a different outcome. Build on how much we already love each other.”

“Hmm, how much we already love each other?” I smirk, my tone taking on a teasing edge.

“Mhm.” Harry hums, his cheeks taking on a pink hue.

“Alright Styles, lets give this a shot.”

T W O Y E A R S L A T E R

“Hello? Is anybody home?” Anne’s voice rings out loudly as she lets herself in the front door.

I make my way downstairs, I’m sure that she’s found Harry who's in the kitchen getting dinner prepared. Gemma got here about ten minutes ago. I put on a record and go to stand in the doorway and watch the encounter. Anne gives her son a big hug, stealing a carrot from his cutting board as they make small chat to catch up.

“Hello.” I walk in, making my presence known.

“Look out you!” Anne squeals, “You’re glowing!” She immediately walks over to pull me in for a hug, her hands resting on my belly once I pull away.

“I feel like a bit of a whale, but thank you.” I smile.

“Oh hush it.” Harry scolds.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m having a baby in four weeks.”

“Yeah, and she’s still going on runs!” Harry says with a proud grin, “Every morning she gets up with me and we run a few miles.”

“It’s pretty much a fast walk for Harry though.” I smile.

“Yeah, but he isn’t forming a pancreas while he does it!” Gemma cuts in making us all laugh. “We’re more impressed with you.”

“Exactly.” Harry presses a kiss to my temple.

I join Gemma at the counter while Anne helps Harry finish cooking everything. I would help, but my ankles are too swollen by the end of the day, and I know everyone in the room would kick me out before I could even start.

“So, things have been going well with everything? You guys feeling ready to be parents?” Anne grins.

“Is anyone ready before they are?” I ask, “I’m just trying to take it one day at a time, and read as much as I can.”

“You guys will be wonderful parents.”

It means the world to hear this from Anne. It’s been weird to be in London for most of the pregnancy and away from my own mother, but it’s been a blessing to have Anne. She’s an amazing mom herself, and she hasn’t complained once over my odd and annoying questions.

“And if not they’ll have the best Aunt ever to make up for it.”

I roll my eyes and take Gemma’s hand in mine and set it on the front of my belly. Moving and adjusting to the exact spot that the little bean is kicking in.

“That’s mad.” She sighs, “I don’t think I would ever be able to get over that.”

“Harry can be like a leech sometimes! Can’t get him off.” I laugh.

“You feel it all, I’m going to steal as much time as I possibly can.”

We all sit down to eat, and catch up on everything that we’ve missed in life over the past few weeks. Ever since the pregnancy both Anne and Gemma have made an effort to come to our house as often as they can for meals, or even just a visit.

I think we were all a bit shocked to find out I was once again pregnant. Harry and I couldn’t believe it at first, I don’t think we wanted to. Didn’t want to risk getting our hopes up. It had been a year and a few months since we got back together when we found out. Four tests sitting on the counter, two thins lines on each of them.

We waited a long time before telling anyone, too afraid that it could be a repeat of what happened those years ago. Once we did finally tell our families they couldn’t be more excited. The fans were too, surprisingly. I debated pulling a Kylie Jenner and just disappearing from the world for months, but I knew I would get too stir crazy. So as soon as the bump was visible, Harry and I both confirmed it on social media.

The fans were happy for us, most of them were so disappointed and saddened about what happened, they felt bad that we were made to share things neither of us were ready too. This time we were trending for positive reasons, and I’ve never felt more supported by everyone in my life.

F O U R W E E K S L A T E R

“Love, are you sure I’m good to go to the studio?” Harry asks for the millionth time, not wanting to leave me home alone so close to my due date.

“Yes!” I laugh, pushing him closer to the door, “You actually have the time while the bean is inside me, I’ll need you here once they’re out.”

“Alright.” He says with hesitancy, “Please call me for anything. The studio isn’t even far from here, so please don’t hesitate with anything.”

“Ok, babe, just go so you can come back!”

“Promise you’ll call?”

“Yes, I promise.” I laugh, he’s always been protective, but now he’s to a whole nother level since the pregnancy.

“Alright, I’ll bring home food too, I really shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“That’s perfect, babe! Maybe we can get - ow!”

He instantly turns around and pulls his hand from the door when I cry out in pain.

“Darling? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m fine.” I hold out my hand, “It was just this really sharp-ow!”

I cry out again, clutching my belly. Before I know it, a warm liquid is spreading down my legs.

“Love, your water just broke!” He cheers, his eyes saying nervous but he has a smile on his face. “I guess I’m not going to the studio.”

“Oh god!” I groan, I start waddling towards the door, “Okay, you grab the go-bag, I’m gonna start walking to the car.”

I know it might take me awhile to get there. I know it’s not true, but I feel like I need to keep my knees shut from keeping the little bean from falling out.

“Right, go bag.” He mutters to himself, slowly becoming more flustered, “Should we call an ambulance?”

“No.” I laugh, taking deep breaths.

“Love, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just grab the bag so we can go to the hospital.”

“Yeah-”

“Harry!” I yell, “In the coming hours I am going to force a human being out of my vagina. Now I personally would like to do that at a hospital, will you go grab the bag, or do you need me to do it?”

He swallows and runs upstairs to grab the bag and I make my way to the car. It doesn’t take him long at all, now he’s finally had some sense smacked into him.

“We’re really doing this?” He asks, smiling as he pulls out of the driveway.

“We’re really doing this.” I grin, taking his hand in mine.

O N E Y E A R L A T E R

“Happy birthday to you dear, Anderson, happy birthday to you!” We all sing to the little one year old boy I hold tight to my chest.

“Let’s blow out the candles, baby.” I lean forward and blow out the singular candle for the one year old. We made a true event of it, calling everyone we knew practically to celebrate in our backyard, complete with so many games for other children, even though our son was still too young to play most of them. Harry and I couldn’t be more proud of our little boy.

Everyone cheers, I smile looking at Harry who’s got a similar grin. A year in the making to get to this day, lot’s of late nights, but more laughter than anything else. It’s been a wonderful afternoon, everyone loving the little boy who looks practically identical to his father. Cheering as he smashes his little cake all over his face, the table, and his clothes.

“Alright, let’s have Grandma get you all cleaned up!” Anne says as she steals Anderson from me. I smile watching her take the giggly little boy inside to get the cake he’s managed to smear everywhere cleaned off.

Most everyone has left at this point, it has been a packed house to celebrate the one year old, but as it gets later things slow down. It’s finally just down to immediate family and Harry and I can put our feet up for a few minutes.

“Can you believe it? A whole year we’ve been parents.” I lean back into Harry’s side. We’re sat on the outdoor couch, a spot that has grown to contain a lot of heart to hearts over the years.

“No, he’s getting too big too fast.” Harry presses a kiss to the top of my head, “He’s going to be needing another sibling soon.”

I let out a soft chuckle.

“Hmm, is that so?”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t want another kid like that?” We both look over our shoulders to peek in to see Gemma and Anne playing with blocks on the floor in the living room.

“Are you gonna push the next one out?” I tease, I get up and grab the only unopened present that’s remained on the table all day.

“It’s funny that you should say that.” I smirk, turning my attention back on the man I love. I hand him the box, neatly wrapped in polka-dot paper.

“What’s this?”

“Just open it.” I sit down again.

He tears the paper from the box and flips the lid open. His jaw dropping as soon as he sees the contents. Pulling out an olive green tee shirt for Anderson. Simply written across it is “Big Brother”

“You’re teasing me?” His eyes look hopeful though, like he’s praying I wouldn’t tease him like that.

“You can check the four tests in my drawer in the bathroom if you don’t believe me.” I smirk, “Or the fact that I have an appointment at the clinic this Monday.”

“Shut up.” His grin only getting wider.

“Baby Styles number two, coming soon.”

He tackles me down to the couch, a big warm hug.

“Oh my god.” He sighs into my neck. “I can’t wait to do this all again.”

“Me neither.” I grin, rubbing my hands up and down his back. He finally pulls back to get a good look at me, holding my face in his hands.

“God, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

kinda cheese, but a fun way to end it! this was cute lol

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #Harry Styles

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catrasredemption-moved · 3 years

Note

okay for the modern au thing what abt catradora in a storm (i’m aware of how unspecific i’m being, sorry lmao) could be fluffy or angsty or anything i guess do whatever you want!

Nothing good came from loud noises.

Catra hated fireworks. She hated yelling (even when - especially when - she was the one doing it).She hated slammed doors, stomping feet. She hated when their neighbor’s car never failed to fucking backfire.

Overstimulation, her therapist had called it.

Attention seeking, her foster mother had called it.

Thunder storms were the worst.

She’d hidden under her bed when she was little, face shoved in a pillow to muffle her crying. She had snapped at anyone who dared to call her out on her fear when she was a teenager.

Now, as a mostly well adjusted and somewhat stable adult, she hid in the bathroom, the only room in the house without a wall exposed to the outside world, curled in on herself in the bathtub, and went through every single breathing technique she knew to keep from breaking down.

It was three in the morning. Adora worked the overnight desk at a hotel, and wouldn’t be home for another five hours. The storm would be over by then, a distant memory.

Boom.

Still distant, Catra thought, staring at the wall in front of her, breathing raggedly. Twenty minutes, maybe, until it was right over head. That would be the worst of it. She’d thought about calling someone, but the only person she knew for sure would be awake was Adora, and she was working. Catra couldn’t distract her over some stupid, childish fear.

It’s not stupid. Weaver lied.

Another boom. Catra hid her face in her knees. Mara, maybe. Her unofficial mother-in-law (”and you two can feel free to change that at any time,” she kept reminding them) kept weird hours and would probably be awake as well. And she had never belittled Catra for her fears. Actually, it was a little weird she wasn’t calling now...

Because you left your phone in the bedroom you fucking idiot.

Probably for the best. Mara had never judged Catra, but it wasn’t her job to take care of her, either. She wasn’t twelve anymore. She didn’t need her best friend’s (and now girlfriend’s) mother to run in and wrap her up in a blanket and assure her that everything would be okay.

Count the time between the booms.

It was getting closer in small intervals. From thirty seconds to twenty-seven, to twenty-three, to fourteen, to nine, to-

Catra shrieked as the loudest burst cracked right over head, shaking the house. There was no time to recover before it happened again. She hugged herself tight, trying not to sob openly. She was an adult, she could handle this, she could-

This time, she thought she heard knocking over the thunder. She covered her ears, wishing it all away.

“Catra?”

That wasn’t imagined. Catra looked up, surprised. “Adora?” Her voice cracked as she spoke. The door gently pushed in, Adora stepping in. “Wh-What’re you - you’re supposed to be at work.”

“Scorpia came in. I told her it was an emergency.”

Scorpia. The only other person who knew how deep Catra’s fears went, only because of an ill-fated overnight field trip when the three of them shared a hotel room.

“I didn’t n-need you to-”

“Catra?” Adora quietly cut her off. “Shut up and move.”

Catra unwillingly budged forward, letting Adora climb into the tub behind her. She pulled Catra back against her chest, caging her in with her legs and holding her tight. Catra pressed her ear against Adora’s chest, finding the comforting sound of her heartbeat.

“Mom called. She was worried about you.”

Catra shivered as another boom echoed overhead. “Forgot my phone.”

Adora kissed the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” she murmured, taking a deep breath and focusing on the steady thump thump of Adora’s heart. A sound that lasted even as the storm slowly faded away.

#catradora #catradora fic #askbox fic #Mystery Person #Sam Answers

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demxters · 4 years

Text

When There Was Me and You-Part 1

jj maybank x reader

summary: When the reader finally awakens from a coma, JJ Maybank’s world gets turned upside down.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: swearing, mentions of a car accident (?), descriptions of a panic attack

series masterlist

my masterlist

a/n: i’m so excited to share this with you all! i worked on this all night so i hope you guys enjoy! i’m not sure how long this series will be yet, but i hope to get the next part out soon!

(not my gif)

***

Beep. Beep. Beep.

JJ felt like he was in purgatory. The constant beeping of the heart monitor was currently the only thing giving him hope. It’s been three weeks, 504 hours, 30,240 minutes, and 1,814,400 seconds (he may or may not have begged Pope to do the math) since he’s last heard your voice. His sweaty hand was firmly grasping yours, afraid that if he let go you would slip away. JJ didn’t dare go further than the hospital cafeteria while you were there. The Pogues and your parents had to practically drag him out of there every other day to get him to shower, get a change of clothes, and eat some food. And every time he left, he made sure that whoever was watching you promised to call him for even the slightest change in your state. Because the hospital only allowed one overnight patient to stay with you, your parents were kind enough to give that privilege to JJ.

“JJ, it’s my turn to take over,” Kie’s voice breaks the unbearable silence.

He lets out a shaky breath. He goes through this routine every time he has to leave your room, even if it was just to use the restroom. He squeezed your hand, and silently counted to 10 in his head.

10…

He places a kiss to your palm.

9…

Then one on your wrist.

8…

Another in your hair,

7…

On your forehead,

6…

The apples of your cheeks,

5…

Your chin,

4…

The spot behind your ear that you loved so much,

3…

And finally your lips.

2…

1…

JJ’s lips leave yours, his tears falling onto your cheeks. He wipes them away and leans his forehead against yours. “I’ll be back before you know it, my love,” he whispers. “I love you.” He turns to face Kiara who’s patiently waiting by the door. “If anything changes, anything at all-”

“I know, I know. Call you right away,” Kie says.

JJ nods, walking past Kiara and giving her a hug. He buries his head into her neck and mumbles, “Thank you for being here.”

At this Kiara feels her eyes begin to water, her heart aching for her two best friends. “Of course,” she whispers to him.

JJ lets Kiara go and gives you one last look before walking out of the room and into the dimly lit hallway. On his way down the hall, he sees your parents sitting a little ways outside your hospital room with their heads pressed together as they spoke in hushed whispers.

Your mom notices JJ walking their way and nudges your father who looks up from the catalog in his lap. “JJ,” your mom says, with a small smile.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, Mr. Y/L/N,” he greets back with a small nod, shoving his hands into the pocket of his shorts, stopping in front of them.

Your dad stands up and shows the catalog that was in his lap to JJ. “We’re thinking of ordering Y/N a bouquet. Which one do you think she’ll like best? Y/M/N thinks that she’ll like the lilies, but I completely disagree. I think she’ll like roses.”

JJ doesn’t even have to look down at the catalog to know which flowers to get you.“Sunflowers,” he states. “You should get her sunflowers.”

“That’s an excellent choice JJ,” your mom says. “Are you heading out?”

“Only for a little while,” JJ says. “Just for a quick shower and a change of clothes. I’ll be back before the nurse’s rounds.”

Your dad sits down, clearing his throat. “JJ, thank you for being here for us, for her.”

At your father’s words JJ feels the need to cry once again. He harshly swallows the lump in his throat. He can only bring himself to nod before walking away to his bike in the parking lot.

As JJ rode home, he couldn’t help but think about the last time he spoke to you. If only he hadn’t let you go. If only he had begged you to stay. But he didn’t. And he has to live with knowing that what happened to you was all his fault.

_____

“JJ, I have to go,” you say with a laugh as the blonde haired boy pulls you back into his chest.

“Noooo,” he whines. “Just stay with me tonight, please.” He places an arm around your waist and uses his other hand to keep you firm against his chest.

“You know how my mom gets,” you say with a sigh. You slightly push back on his hand, his grip loosening a bit, and rest your chin on his chest looking up at him. “I promise, tomorrow it’ll be just you and me out on The Pogue. No John B constantly pestering us to keep the PDA to a minimum, no Kie and Pope bickering, and no Sarah constantly bugging us about reapplying sunscreen. Just us.” You give him a quick peck on his chin then move your lips to his.

JJ immediately reciprocates the action, his lips moving with the familiar rhythm of yours in a kiss that you have both shared a thousand times before. Barely pulling away, JJ mumbles against your lips, “Fine. But promise me you’ll text me when you get home.” He gives you a stern look, one similar to a parent scolding their child.

“Of course I will.” You knew JJ would be on your ass about it if you didn’t. You unwrap your arms from around his neck and quickly give him one last kiss on his lips. You laugh as he leans forward trying to capture your lips with his once more. You walk backwards towards the front door of the Chateau and blow him a kiss, exaggerating the noise when your palm hits your lips. “I love you!” you say with as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

“And I love you, baby!” JJ responds back with a laugh, pretending to catch your kiss and stuffing it in his pocket. He watches you go, with the biggest smile on his face, wondering how the hell he got so lucky to have someone like you to love him in his life.

_____

JJ walks into the Chateau like a man on a mission. The longest he’s ever spent away from the hospital since you were admitted was thirty minutes, and he plans to keep it that way.

“Hey.” JJ hears John B’s voice say the second he pulls the door to the Chateau open. “How is she?”

JJ sighs, running a hand through his hair. “The same.” He harshly tugs at the roots of his hair. “The doctor said the wounds on her ribs are healing fine and that he’s confident she’ll wake up within the next week or so.”

“But you think it’s bullshit,” John B responds before taking a sip from his beer.

“I don’t know what I think anymore man,” JJ says, his voice wavering. “All I know is that I want her to wake up. I just want everything to go back to the way it was.” JJ’s voice breaks towards the end of his sentence, tears openly streaming down his face, unable to keep it all in anymore. He’s been breaking down more and more as each day passed with your absence.

“JJ-” John B starts.

JJ doesn’t give him the opportunity to finish. “I need to go shower.”

_____

JJ fell asleep in the guest room waiting for your text when it happened. The first time his phone rang, he ignored it thinking it was spam. The second time it rang, he declined the call without even opening his eyes. The third time it rang, he forced himself to open his eyes, slightly squinting from the brightness of his screen. The second he read the caller id he knew something was wrong. Your mother never called JJ. The only reason why she had his number was to help him plan your surprise birthday party last year. A sick feeling fills his stomach as he answers the phone.

“Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Oh, thank god,” your mother lets out a sigh of relief. “JJ, it’s Y/N.”

JJ feels his heart rate quicken in fear. “What’s wrong?” he frantically asks. “Is everything alright?”

He hears your mother let out a choked sob before she responds. “She got into an accident on the way home,” she releases a shaky breath before continuing. “Some drunk idiot was on the road and…” She trails off letting out another sob. “And he hit her head on. When the paramedics got to the scene, Y/N was unconscious. She’s in the ER right now but we haven’t had any news about her condition.”

JJ can barely process the words coming from your mother’s mouth. It’s as if his body began moving on autopilot as he tells your mom that he’ll be there as soon as he can. As JJ pulls on his boots, he accidentally knocks into the dresser behind him causing various objects that were sitting on top of it to topple off. “Fuck!” JJ lets out in frustration.

Hearing the ruckus from the other room, John B is awakened from his slumber and stumbles down the hallway and to JJ’s room. “JJ? What the hell is going on? It’s nearly one in the morning,” John B says with a groan, leaning on the doorframe.

“It’s Y/N, man. Sh-She got into an accident and she’s at the hospital and-shit!” He says as his foot got caught in one of his loose articles of clothing that was scattered on the floor.

John B is suddenly wide awake when he hears that you’re in the hospital. He swiftly turns around running back to his room and grabs his car keys off his dresser.

JJ nearly bumps into John B on his way out of his room and questions, “What are you doing?”

“Coming with you, of course. You know you can’t drive in this state right?” John B knew just how reckless JJ could be and with your life at stake he knew JJ wasn’t in the right headspace to drive.

JJ just frantically nods, quickly making his way to John B’s van. Sitting in the passenger’s seat as John B makes his way towards the hospital, JJ couldn’t help but wonder if this was all his fault. If only he had driven you home then maybe you wouldn’t be in the hospital right now. Maybe it would’ve been him who got hit head on instead, and you’d be safe on the passenger’s side. If only he had not taken no for an answer then you’d still be here, safe in his arms where you belonged.

“Dude, she’s going to be ok,” John B says, feeling the anxiety reeking off of JJ in waves. He noticed that JJ hadn’t stopped bobbing his leg up and down ever since he sat down in the car.

JJ doesn’t say anything. He just stares out the window, hoping that everything’s going to be ok.

_____

A series of knocks coming from outside the bathroom snaps JJ out of his thoughts.

“JJ!” he hears John B hollar. “JJ hurry your ass up! She’s awake!”

JJ shuts off the water, standing rigidly still for a moment.

“She’s awake,” John B says, slightly softer. “Y/N’s awake.”

JJ is out of the shower and changed in record time. He steps out of the bathroom with his hair still dripping, droplets of water visible on his dark blue t-shirt. “Damn it!” JJ says, running out of the Chateau, John B hot on his trail. “I said I’d be there. I promised her I’d be there when she woke up!” He slams his hand into the passenger side door of the van.

“Hey!” John B scolds, standing face to face with JJ. “Calm down, man. What matters right now is that she’s awake. Now get in the van.”

JJ practically throws himself into the passenger’s seat, his heart racing at the thought of seeing you conscious again. To finally see your y/e/c eyes staring into his and to just be in your presence once more…

_____

“Where is she?” JJ shouts, walking into the ER. He sees your mom standing by the front desk with her arms tightly wrapped around herself. “Mrs. Y/L/N,” he says with a quieter tone.

Your mom looks up from where she was staring at the floor to meet JJ’s stare. She lets out another sob before walking over to him and engulfing him in a hug, squeezing him tight.

JJ hesitantly reciprocates the hug. When your mother finally pulls away JJ asks again, “Where is she? Is she ok?”

She swallows down another sob. “She’s with the doctors right now. There’s no news on her current state. Why don’t you come with me to the waiting room? Y/D/N is there waiting for word on her condition,” your mother says putting a hand on JJ’s back and leading him to the waiting room.

Your father looks up at the sound of the approaching footsteps and gives JJ a slight nod when he walks into the room.

“Any news?” your mother asks, sitting in the seat next to your father.

“No, not a word.”

JJ settles himself a couple chairs down from your parents. He’s not sure if he leaves the space for them or for himself. The silence is deafening, leaving JJ with nothing but his thoughts to run a mile a minute. You were going to be ok, he tried to convince himself. You had to be. His girl was a fighter and you would get through this. JJ rested his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands as he held in the tears that threatened to spill. He couldn’t lose you. Not when you were the only thing he loved more than anything in this world. You were his rock, his anchor. You kept him from spiraling out of control. Whenever he found himself acting impulsively, you always crossed his mind. He always tried to think about the consequences and how it would affect you. And though there were times he couldn’t help himself, you were always there to take care of him, to keep him safe, to love him. Without you, everything would fall apart. He would fall apart.

The sound of two knocks on the waiting room door catches JJ and your parents attention, causing the three of you to stand up.

“Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N?” the doctor says, stepping into the room.

“That’s us,” your father answers, stepping forward with your mother.

JJ silently stands to the side, listening to the whole ordeal.

“I’m Dr. Kavanaugh,” he introduces himself, giving them a hand to shake. He then turns to JJ, with his hand still extended. “And you are?”

“He’s Y/N’s boyfriend,” your mother answers for him.

“Ah, nice to meet you,” Dr. Kavanaugh replies, still waiting for JJ to shake his hand.

JJ reluctantly takes his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

“So, what’s the news Doc?” your father asks. “Will she be ok?”

Dr. Kavanaugh looks to your father before giving his reply. “The good news is, her condition is stable. Other than the bruises on her ribs and the cuts on her face, her body’s in good shape.”

“Oh, thank god,” your mother says as your father wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“So what’s the bad news then?” JJ abruptly asks. He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, he was just tired of the doctor taking his sweet time to tell them what’s wrong. “You said that was the good news, so what’s the bad?”

Dr. Kavanaugh turns to JJ before letting out a sigh and looking back to your parents. “The bad news is, she’s currently in a comatose state.” He pauses before continuing. “We don’t know how long she’s going to be like that or when she’s going to wake up. The best thing we can do for now is watch over her and look for any signs of complications.”

A coma. The love of his life was in a coma. It felt like the walls were closing in on him as JJ suddenly began hyperventilating. He was lightheaded and unable to comprehend what was going on around him. He pushed his way past your parents and the doctor ignoring their calls for him to come back. He stumbles down the hallway, leaning against the wall for support. The only thing that was running through his head was the thought of you being in a coma. That they didn’t know when you were going to wake up, or if you ever were. JJ feels himself crash into another body and almost falls to the floor, but the person hoists him up by his elbows.

“Woah, JJ, you good?” John B’s voice sounds like it’s miles away.

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” another voice says. Female. JJ identifies. The voice is female.

John B moves JJ to one of the chairs that are lined up in the hallway and steps aside so Kiara can bring JJ back to reality.

Kiara crouches down in front of JJ, holding onto his knees to keep herself steady. “Hey, JJ, can you hear me?”

JJ slightly nods, his mouth too dry for him to respond.

“Good,” Kie’s voice soothes. “Now I need you to breathe with me ok? Can you do that?”

JJ nods again, beginning to follow Kiara’s instructions to breathe in and out.

“That’s it, there you go,” Kiara says. She waits for a moment, letting JJ regain his senses come back to them. “You don’t need to talk now. Just let us know whenever you're ready.”

JJ blinks a couple of times before finally being able to see clearly again. He sees Kiara crouched in front of him with a reassuring smile while Pope, John B, and Sarah stand behind her with looks of concern on their faces. JJ swallows, before telling them the news. He chokes up as he begins to tell them what happened, starting from when you left the Chateau, to the accident, and finishing at where you are now.

Pope takes off his hat, putting his hands behind his head as he tilts his head back trying to stop the tears that are threatening to fall. Kiara lets out a small gasp as she starts to cry. Sarah buries her face into John B’s neck, sobs shaking her form. And John B just stares blankly at the wall, trying to stay strong for the rest of them. But JJ doesn’t miss the small tear that escapes from his right eye.

At the sight of all his friends breaking down in front of him, he begins to break down too, his sobs becoming loud gasps for air. JJ buries his face in his hands and whispers, “It’s all my fault,” over and over again.

Kiara is the first to move, capturing JJ in a tight hug as the others are close to follow. The five friends hold each other, sobbing for their best friend and the uncertainty that’s to come.

_____

John B dropped JJ off in front of the hospital so he could go in first while he looked for a parking spot.

JJ walked through the hospital dodging other patients, visitors, and nurses as best as he could as he made his way to your room. He could see Kiara standing outside of your hospital room with a faint smile on her lips.

The door to your room was open and he could hear your faint voice talking to your parents and the doctor. God, how he missed your voice. JJ makes his way inside the room to see you sitting up and sipping some water out of a straw. “Y/N?” he whispers, his voice slightly shaking at the thought of you being awake again. He takes in your appearance thinking you look as beautiful as someone possible could from coming straight out of a coma. There’s a slight tinge of pink on your cheeks that have been pale for the past few days and your hair looks like it’s been groomed, probably by your mother. He takes another tentative step into the room, unable to help the smile that comes across his face. “Y/N,” he states this time.

“JJ-” your mother starts, but he cuts her off.

JJ’s eyes well up with tears as he makes his way to the foot of your bed. “Thank fuck your ok,” he says with a small laugh getting a look of disapproval from Dr. Kavanaugh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I know I promised I’d be here but I had to run to John B’s to shower.” He pauses and smiles at you again. “God, I missed you.” A look that JJ can’t decipher crosses over your face. He thought you’d be at least a little more excited to see him.

You look to the doctor, then to your mom, as she nods and encourages you to speak. “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you to be here but…” you trail off trying to gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite know who you are.”

Your mother looks down at her lap, while your father puts a hand on JJ’s shoulder whispering to him, “JJ, come on, I need to speak with you outside.”

JJ shrugs your father’s hand off his shoulder and steps away from him. This had to be some kind of sick joke. “Very funny guys,” JJ says with a dry laugh, turning from your parents, to the doctor and then back to you. “Y/N, if this is your way of getting back at me for all the pranks I used to play on you then it worked. You got me good. Now come on, drop the act.” He desperately looks at you as the look of confusion on your face only grows.

“JJ,” your father whispers to him again.

“No,” JJ whispers. “No, this can’t be happening.”

You push a strand of hair that fell in your face behind your ear before looking at JJ once more. “I’m really sorry,” you say softly. “But should I know you?”

JJ felt a sharp pain in his chest at your words. Those five goddamn words that broke his heart.

taglist: @sunflowerbecca @write-from-the-heart @5sos-xmalumx

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moving-blogs-dm-for-new-one · 4 years

Text

T*cc* Toby character and story redesign :D

Toby and his family moved across the states after the accident. They were moving to West Virginia, a more rural town surrounded by forest. He didn't want to be there, but he didn't have much of a choice. Really didn't help his mood when his father basically screamed at his mother for the entire three day trip. He was slumped in the back of the car, ticcing uncontrollably, one hour to go on the drive. He winced when his father yelled at him to shut up, sighing and trying to hold his vocal tics, again. Maybe he could make it until they reached the new house.

They reached the house, and he quietly helped unload the car, gently helping his mom climb out. Sighing, he patched her up quietly later in the bathroom, and let her cry on his shoulder, ticcing quietly.

For the next two and a half weeks of summer, Toby pretty much just laid in bed. He didn't have much energy or will to do anything. He would pull out his computer and play some games, but his father broke hit before their trip even began. He pulled out his old ipod from his 14th birthday, and laid back in bed, staring at the ceiling and looping the same playlist on shuffle endlessly to block out his father. Same old, same old.

When school started, he absolutely did not want to be there. His Tourette's was neigh uncontrollable, and he couldn't help but tic through every day. Of course, the other kids in class were horrible to him about it. He was bullied relentlessly, and was beat up on the first day of school, and many days after that. He went home, his mother patched him up, his father mocked him, and he went to lie in bed again. It went on like this for a few weeks. It was August second when his dad broke his mothers nose. They got into a fight and he slammed her head on the counter. Toby was furious, but he quietly patched her up, ignoring his father egging him on.

That night, he had sleep paralysis again for the first time in a month or two, but it was different this time. His eyes opened, and there was a being standing at the end of his bed. He couldn't tell who or what it is. Could have been his father if it wasn't so tall. They stared at each other for around three hours before Toby fell back asleep. He was afraid, yes. But not much bothered him since Lyra died.

He mourned her every day. He never stopped. His mother mourned in silence, afraid, and his father cursed him to move on, but he didn't. He was never one to pray, but he lit candles for her the way she used to, prayed to a god they'd both loved, Dionysus. He cried for her at night. She never left his mind. He missed his sister more than anything in the world. He had a small alter in the back of his closet so his Father wouldn't find it, candles, pictures of her, foods she loved and special items.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Toby began having hallucinations of the creature he saw. It was everywhere. It was in the reflections of mirrors and windows, across the school yard while he was being kicked, at the end of the street when he pulled down his blinds, and behind his eyelids every night when he tried to sleep. He couldn't understand why it was haunting him.

His mother noticed his extreme paranoia, depression, and unrelenting tics/tic attacks, and scheduled him for a meeting with a local psychiatrist. She talked him up for the whole drive, and he smiled and nodded, not wanting to be there but not wanting to further sadden or worry his mother. Her arm was in a sling today. It was bad enough she was driving him.

He met with the psych, sitting down in the office. She asked him how he'd been. He didn't know how to respond, but suddenly felt bitter.

"Fantastic. Obviously that's why mom brought me here."

"I'm sorry, Tobias. I thought I'd let you give your own input." He felt bad for a moment, before wincing at the usage of his full name, getting more frustrated. He hated this already.

"Don't call me that. It's Toby. I'm Toby." He was fighting his vocal tics as he spoke, but his physical tics were getting worse in response, and he saw her flinch and lean a bit further away in his chair. He felt a pang through his heart, immediately angry. But he wouldn't blow up. He wasn't him.

Then he saw the figure behind her.

He didn't even hear what she was saying. He just stared at it. For some reason for as much as he'd been seeing it, he'd never seen it in such clarity, and it was still fuzzing around the edges, almost as if it wasn't fully there. It towered over the back of her chair, slowly leaning down to him.

"Toby," It spoke, and he could barely comprehend its voice. It was garbled, layered, echoed over itself endlessly and buzzed and burned inside his ears. "I want to help you. Let me help you."

He screamed, grabbing a lamp off the side table next to him and whipping it at the creature. He heard the psych scream and froze, whipping his gaze to where she was holding her arms over her face, ceramic and glass sprawled on the floor behind her at the base of the wall. They made eye contact, and he felt sick. He didn't understand. He wanted to say sorry. He suddenly wanted to explain everything. He wanted to say he wasn't him. He wanted his mother. He wanted Lyra.

He passed out.

Toby awoke later in his room, still feeling sick. The lights were out, his room only illuminated by the moonlight casting in through the blinds and the yellow light seeping in from under his doorway. (tw heavy abuse and murder after this) He could hear his parents screaming downstairs. There was a smash, his mother was crying. He jolted upright, tics coming back harshly as he tried to quietly make his way to the top of the stairs, peering down. His father was screaming about him.

"We have to get rid of him, Evelyn," He screamed, furious. "He's a disaster. He's dangerous and annoying and he's a fucking nuisance anyways!! And now I owe that stupid fucking psychiatrist so much goddamn money!! What is wrong with you!!" His mother cowered away from him, shaking, but angry as well.

"We are NOT getting rid of our SON, Greg! He's just scared and sick!" Toby winced at the phrasing of "sick", but continued watching, listening. He felt static pulling at the edges of his vision, but ignored it, honing his eyes in on his father.

"He goes. Tonight, or tomorrow, your choice, Evelyn, but he's fucking going. He's young enough to get thrown at the orphanage." He took a large swig of beer, stumbling slightly, and Toby twitched, hands tightening so much on the railing bars he thought he might splinter them.

"No. He is not." His mother shook, standing up to him, fists clenched. He stopped, and both Toby and his mother held their breath.

"Excuse me?"

"He's not going. No."

The next few minutes were a blur. His mother was hurt, and hurt bad. She was crying, and his father was screaming at her. The living room was trashed. Toby ran down the stairs and his father heard, spinning around and screaming after him as he darted into the garage, heart thumping almost as loud as Greg's thundering footsteps. He found his fathers old hatchets in the back of the garage, his blood pumping in his ears. Everything was hazy and the static crept further into his vision.

"Let me help you."

He spun around, hatchets gripped tight in his hands as he shook and ticced. His father tore into the room, drunk and furious. He saw Toby bearing the hatchets and laughed deliriously.

"Now what are you gonna do with those, boy?" Toby almost blacked out at the name, screaming and sprinting forwards. A mass fight ensued, the two of them struggling against each other to gain headway, Toby's mother screaming in the background. Toby pinned him down. He spat curses and slurs and all kinds of horrible things about him, his mother, his sister, Lyra. He raised the hatchet, and brought it down on his skull. Blood sprayed and his mother distantly screamed in horror, but he didn't stop. Another swing, another, another, another, another. Tears poured down his face, but he didn't feel it, notice, or care. His arms stopped swinging. He looked up. His mother was holding his arms gently, but securely, the creature standing behind her, looming over the both of them. He was towering.

"Toby," She whispered. "That's enough. He's dead, love." He looked down, sniffling and ticcing, and he was.

She helped him up quietly, and he whimpered.

"Are you gonna turn me in?" She stared at him, then shook her head.

"You're my son. I'm not getting rid of you."

She cleaned him up quietly in the bathroom, and held him close as he cried, openly, for the first time in months. He clung to her, whimpering and ticcing and sobbing, and told her everything. She listened quietly, gently soothing him and brushing his hair. Eventually, she shushed him gently, making him look at her.

"We have to go, love. Quickly. You can tell me more once we're gone, okay?" He nodded, sniffling and taking her hand. They gathered their things, climbed into their car. She paused. Got back out. They lit the house together, and watched it burn for a moment. He felt the presence behind him, and saw his mother take his hand.

"Come on honey," She whispered. "Lets go."

They never looked back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toby: (notes)

- 6'3", 17 years old, tall and broad. Always been heavier set and naturally slightly chubby, and decently strong.

- Has a nerve issue from birth where he can't feel a good 70% of his body, mostly the upper half and patches of the lower.

- Nonbinary (He/they/it), and pansexual. Gender dysphoric. Occasionally tucks and wears bras and other things sometimes.

- Has Tourette's, OCD, BPD, PTSD, Manic, ADHD, depression, s/icidal tendencies, struggles with compulsive sh, and has mild paranoid schizophrenia.

- Sees the Slenderman more than his mother, but she can see it on occasion. It doesn't hurt them. Guides them more or less. Helps Toby target similar individuals to his father.

- Stims a lot by cracking his knuckles, flapping his hands, tapping his foot and cracking his neck. (I also have a list of his tics!!)

- Loves his mother and Lyra so goddamn much

Evelyn: (notes)

- 43 years old, 5'2", small but definitely not frail. Will fuck you up if needed. Doesn't take shit anymore after leaving her husband. Also bisexual queen

- Huge soft spot for kids, and Toby. Loves Toby so much and lets him basically get away with everything (not that he uses this for any harm to her or those who don't deserve it)

- Knows Toby is a serial killer, assists him with some cleanup/travel/medical care/etc. Reminds him to take care of himself/cooks for him/helps drive him around/etc

- Takes up cooking and martial arts as hobbies

- Loves her son so so so much he's so stupid and crazy but she adores him and would do anything for him

- Do NOT fuck with power duo Evelyn and Tobias Rodgers they WILL destroy you

#creepypasta #cp ticci toby #ticci toby #toby rogers #tobias rogers #evelyn rodgers #cp toby #my writing #my universe #cloud talks #tw blood #tw abuse #tw abuse ment #tw murder

27 notes · View notes

rosemakh · 3 years

Text

The Bad Game

[Blurb: An innocent game of mini-golf takes a sinister turn when a family friend demands that Naomi make good on her bet. This deep betrayal leads to an impossible choice.]

[Author’s note: I wrote this in 2020. It’s loosely based on true events, as recounted by a friend of mine. This story is a tragic family drama. It deals with emotional abuse, manipulation, substance abuse, and other things that might trigger some readers (like most of my stories!)]

The driving lesson was over, so Naomi parked the old van and turned off the ignition.

"That was good, sweetie," Pastor Rob congratulated her from the passenger's seat, "You'll be able to get your license soon, for sure!"

Naomi shook her head and smiled sheepishly, "Maybe in a month."

They climbed out of the vehicle to stretch their legs and switch seats. Naomi hopped in and fastened her seat belt while Rob slid the driver's seat back. She giggled at some birds squabbling in the grass as he lowered his weighty girth into the van.

"How about some mini-golf?" He said, rather suddenly.

Naomi liked the game but she was tired. She'd been driving all morning and still had a pile of chores to do at home. She was also tired of being under the pastor's leering gaze. Spending the rest of the day with him -- followed by a Sunday of volunteering at his tiny church -- wasn't her idea of fun but he'd been kind enough to give her driving lessons when nobody else would. She was grateful to him, so she agreed to go.

On the way to the mini-golf park, Rob said, "How about a bet, this time?"

They'd played before but never with a wager. It seemed a little strange to Naomi, so she asked, "Like what?"

Rob kept his eyes on the road, "We'll play one round. If you win, I'll do any one thing you want and if I win, you'll do any one thing I want."

Coming from any other man, this kind of proposal would have alarmed her. But this man was like a grandfather to her. They'd known each other for years. He helped her family. He was goofy, humble, and generous. She trusted him.

She looked at him and nodded, "Yeah, okay! You'll probably just force me to go to lunch with you again or somethin', right?"

They both laughed.

They drove the rest of the way in silence with Elvis Presley crooning on the radio.

***

Naomi was usually pretty good at mini-golf but that day, she missed every shot. She almost felt as if an unseen force was affecting her game. Rob, on the other hand, was on a roll, banking his bright blue golf ball around plastic gnomes as if by magic and landing holes-in-one at both the lighthouse and crocodile lake. In dozens of games, she'd never seen him play so well and she'd never played so poorly.

As the game progressed, it became clear that she would lose the bet. A faint foreboding bloomed within her. She pushed it down and continued playing but by the end of the game, she'd lost by a huge margin. While they turned in their rented putters and balls, then made their way back to the van, Rob's face grew progressively pinched and dark.

Naomi sat in the front passenger's seat and fastened her seat belt. The edge seemed unusually sharp, digging into her neck as if trying to cut her. The earlier sense of foreboding bloomed again.

Rob yanked his door open, squeezed behind the wheel, mopped his sweaty forehead with one of his tree-trunk arms, and backed out of the parking space. A few feet ahead, a small gaggle of giggling women were crossing the lane. Rob, mouth gaping and eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, moved his head to openly gawk at them in their tiny shorts and tank tops. Naomi was used to him doing that but, for some reason, she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the car door. She watched his lecherous behavior out of the corner of her eye. He didn't detach his eyes from the ladies' bodies until they'd all piled into their car.

***

Rob pulled out onto the highway and stopped at a red traffic light. He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead for a moment. A dangerous mood emanated from him.

Without looking at her, he grunted, "If I was the Mafia, you'd be in a lot of trouble right now."

Over the years, she'd seen him behave erratically. Sometimes his sermons would devolve into tales of bloody warfare, domestic abuse, and sexual assault. She knew the man had demons to fight but now it seemed he was about to use one on her. To prevent upsetting him, she didn't speak, but merely pressed herself hard against the door and looked away as the van accelerated.

He took a deep breath as if preparing to make an important announcement.

"Naomi," he said, "God showed me something last night. I was riding my bicycle like I do every night, and I looked up and saw you in the moon."

He sounded awestruck as if he'd witnessed a miracle.

"You were floating in the big full moon, wearing the most beautiful silver dress and slippers. Your hair was blowing all around you. You looked like an angel, just for me. I watched you and you smiled so sweetly, with so much love. And you reached your hands out to me and your dress blew and you were so beautiful. You stayed with me like that until I got back home."

Naomi couldn't think of anything to say. She continued looking out the window and prayed to God for safety.

When Rob parked in his driveway, Naomi had to will herself to move. She peeled herself from the door and opened it carefully. She wanted to run next door and call the police but slowly followed him into the big house, instead.

"Is your wife home?" She managed to ask as he swung the front door open.

"She's at Dorothy's piano recital at the college. They'll be gone for hours."

He led her through the cozy living room, past wholesome family pictures and walls filled with Christian crosses. Finely-crafted angel figurines looked on from shelves and tabletops as they passed. A desk in the corner housed a huge Bible, its pages edged with gold.

Rob positioned one dining chair so that it faced toward the backyard garden, then motioned for her to enter the tiny dining room and sit. She could see his wife's award-winning roses through the sliding glass door. Their yard was carpeted with soft, well-manicured grass. A set of cute lawn furniture sat on one side of the deck, overlooking a small swimming pool.

The dining chair didn't have arms, so Naomi awkwardly placed her hands in her lap. Rob suddenly stood in front of her, looming over her and blocking out the sun like a massive obelisk. To avoid his eyes, she stared at her hands.

His voice sounded above her, "I know you're a woman of God, so you'll honor your vow."

Barely a few inches in front of her, he knelt and pulled a ring box from his pants pocket. She stared at the box, praying it wasn't what she suspected. But it was. With bloated, hairy fingers, he flipped the top open to reveal a simple wedding ring. The gold-colored ring was etched with a diamond pattern to make it look like a normal ring but Naomi understood. Feeling as if she was in imminent danger, Naomi clenched her knees together tightly and thanked God she'd decided to wear jeans instead of a skirt.

He fixed his veiny bug eyes on her, "My sweetie, I've wanted to marry you since we first met when you were 14. These four years have been the happiest of my life. I know you feel the same way. God has shown me that you do."

Naomi tried rationalizing with him, "But you're already married. How will that work?"

He leaned toward her and his big belly pressed against her shins. He looked into her face like a lying boy that desperately wanted to be believed, "I've told you about that. It's basically an arranged marriage. I was 35 and our families put us together. We never loved each other."

"But it's a sin to violate your marriage vows. Besides, I don't feel that way about you, Pastor."

"But I know you do, sweetie," he nodded his head repeatedly, "God told me."

She shook her head furiously, "No!"

"It's okay, sweetie. Don't be afraid."

His fat belly pressed harder against her shins. The fleshy sensation made her feel sick, "You're old enough to be my father. Your daughter's older than me! It wouldn't work, I'm tellin' you!"

He continued, searching for ways to convince her, "And--and I know you don't want children so I got a vasectomy so you don't have to worry about that."

"Oh, God!" Naomi couldn't hold herself together anymore. Terrified, all she could do was tuck her head into her shoulder and sob.

"Sweetie--" He briefly touched her hand.

As if she'd been burned, Naomi drew her hands up to her chest.

He craned his blubbery neck to look into her face, "What's the matter, sweetie? Everything's okay. Haven't I proved that I care about you?"

He put one massive hand on her knee. Instinctively, she gasped and clenched her knees together tighter. She looked at the ceiling, gulping back sobs and biting her lip.

He placed the other hand on her lap, still holding the ring box, "Haven't I helped your family for the past four years. With your mom not working, what would you guys have done without me?"

She managed to choke out, "I appreciate everything you've done for us--" between sobs but couldn't continue.

"Oh, sweetie," His voice was tender as if speaking to a lover, "Don't cry. I know it's a big change," He waited a few moments for her to calm down but she was far too upset, "You're overwhelmed, my love. I'm sorry. I'll take you home now. Let's talk about this tomorrow after church."

Relieved to have a way out of the situation, she nodded shakily, "Tomorrow."

***

She'd managed to pull herself together and look somewhat normal by the time he pulled into her family's driveway. She scrambled out as soon as the van stopped.

Before she closed the door, he said, "I'll pick you up for church tomorrow, sweetie," and blew her a kiss.

She shut the door and willed her shaky legs to carry her up the cracked concrete walkway and into her family's shabby home.

She stepped into the living room in its usual state: Toys and dirty clothes littered the floor; Bowls of half-eaten cereal sat in small collections upon the tables; A sticky spill had congealed under the coffee table, next to the overturned cup that once held it.

She called to her young sisters, "Nancy, Nellie! Come clean up after yourselves, please!"

Nancy, 12, and Nellie, 5, stalked out of their room with mock annoyance. They glared at Naomi, stuck out their tongues, then collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Cut it out, silly girls," Naomi said as she walked to the kitchen.

Their mother staggered out of the master bedroom and down the hall. She walked past Naomi without a word, opened the cabinet above the sink, and retrieved a large bottle of sleeping pills.

"Hi, Mom," Naomi said gently.

Her mother merely glanced at her, then opened the bottle. She moved almost robotically as if the effort of moving required all of her concentration and energy. She dropped three pills into her hand and swallowed them with a cold cup of coffee that was sitting on the counter.

"Are you okay, mom?" Naomi asked.

Naomi's mother turned to face her, "Never," and looked her up and down, "Look at you. You're so lucky. You don't have three mouths to feed."

Naomi stayed stone-faced and silent. Her mother said this often. The first time it happened, Naomi had made the mistake of talking back. She refused to make that mistake again.

With a surprising amount of force, her mother threw the open pill bottle against the sink's backsplash. Cloud-blue pills erupted from the bottle and fell haphazardly into the dirty dishes in the sink. A few landed in water and fizzed, creating bubbling islands of blue foam.

"I'm goin' to bed," her mother grunted.

Nellie, the youngest, peeked her head around the kitchen wall and held her toy bunny to her chin, "But Momma, you were in bed all day."

Their mother bent down and stroked Nellie's chubby face with a tenderness Naomi had not received from her in years, "Momma's tired, baby. Mommies get tired."

She stood up and snapped at Naomi, "Clean this place up!" then disappeared down the hall.

After their mother closed her door, Nancy strutted in and put a small pile of dirty cereal bowls on the kitchen table, "Where have you been all day, by the way? We've been stuck here with Mom and you've been out havin' fun!"

Naomi placed the bowls in the sink, "Believe me, nobody in this family is havin' fun."

Nancy took hold of her younger sister's hand, "Come on, Nellie, let's watch a movie while we wait for Naomi's crappy dinner."

"I like her crappy dinners," Nellie replied as they climbed onto the sofa.

"Oh, shut up, Nellie."

Overhearing the exchange from the kitchen, Naomi chuckled.

While preparing dinner, Naomi prayed for guidance. The thought of seeing Rob again made her feel sick, so she leaned over the sink for a few moments until the nausea subsided. Her mind raced with possibilities and none of them were good. If they stopped attending his church, she'd have to get a job. But she was just about to enter her last year of high school. If she quit school to work full-time, they'd probably never get out of poverty. On the other hand, if she stayed in high school and worked part-time, her sisters wouldn't have anyone to take care of them. Their mother was in no state to look after anybody and the girls were too young to take care of themselves all the time. She watched the pasta boiling on the stove. It roiled and raged like the thoughts in her head.

By the time dinner was ready, she had decided to turn him down and leave his church. She had no plan beyond that but she continued to pray and search for a solution.

***

Rob pulled into the driveway bright and early on Sunday morning. It was the sisters' responsibility to set up the church room in Rob's rundown beachside inn, so they had to get there before everyone else.

"Howdy-ho, kidderoos!" Rob greeted the girls as they headed towards the van.

Naomi checked to make sure the top button of her high-collar dress was done up and raised her hem slightly to keep it from dragging through the dew-covered grass. She picked up Nellie and strapped her into the front passenger's seat, then climbed into the farthest row of seats in the back.

Rob was watching in the rearview mirror, "You can sit up here with me, Naomi!"

"Nuh-uh! She said I can, Mr. Rob!" Nellie protested.

Beaming, Nancy spread her drawing books and art supplies across the middle row of seats and said proudly, "Oh, Yeah! So roomy! This must be what it's like not havin' any sisters! We should sit this way all the time."

"Well, that settles that," Naomi said as she pulled the van's sliding door shut.

He drove through the neighborhood slowly, glancing at the rearview mirror every few seconds, "Are you sure you don't want to sit up front, Naomi? Sitting next to the driver is great driving practice."

Naomi didn't take her eyes off her book, "No thank you. I promised Nellie she could sit there."

"What if you drive, instead, and I sit next to you?"

Nancy piped up, "No way. I don't wanna die today!"

All four of them burst into laughter.

Rob dropped the subject but repeatedly flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror during the 30-minute trip. Eventually, Naomi placed her backpack in her lap in an attempt to hide her chest from his searing glances.

***

The ramshackle inn was a place of refuge where vagabonds and penny-pinching tourists could enjoy a room on the beach for next-to-nothing. Rob did all the repairs himself but, unlike Jesus, he wasn't much of a carpenter. The floors were lumpy, sagging, and did nothing to muffle the sounds of footsteps. The paint was flaking in various places both inside and outside the building, and the bare, wooden staircases wobbled and creaked. It was a humble place for humble people.

Naomi and her sisters ascended the stairs into the common room and got to work converting the tiny space into a functioning chapel.

***

That Sunday's service was no different from any other. Pastor Rob led with a spirited, yet incoherent, opening message, which seemed to be nothing more than a collection of random Bible quotes from a desktop calendar. After the opening, he jumped straight into an equally spirited sermon about men and women and all the sex passages in the Bible. Although he didn't look at her, Naomi knew who he'd written that sermon for.

He spoke with fire and the attendees responded in kind, yelling "Preach!" and "Amen, brother!" at random intervals.

Two young women came out of an adjoining room and sat together on one side of the small space. They were dressed in tiny jean shorts and string bikini tops. Pastor Rob seemed unable to keep himself from glancing at them every two seconds to ogle their exposed flesh.

After the service, the pastor mingled with the attendees. None of the smiling people shaking Rob's hand were aware of Saturday's events and no one -- maybe not even the man himself -- knew what he was going to do when he got Naomi alone again. The spongy floor shook with each of Rob's massive steps as he traveled through the cheerful crowd. Naomi felt the vibrations in her core, like a war drum signaling impending doom.

***

Just after Noon, he pulled the van up to the girls' house. Nancy and Nellie got out and said their goodbyes.

Naomi made her way to the front passenger seat.

"We're off to do more driving lessons!" Rob explained to the younger girls.

He waited until the sisters were safely inside the house, then drove to a nearby playground. He pulled into an unpaved parking space facing the park, where some families were enjoying the mild weather and fresh air. Naomi was grateful to have other people around.

The pastor turned off the van and gripped the steering wheel so hard his pudgy knuckles turned white. They both stared silently into the park for a while.

Suddenly, without looking at her, he asked, "Are you playing with me?" and continued staring ahead, awaiting her answer.

Naomi gathered her courage and calmly replied, "No."

She looked at him. A sick red color was creeping up his neck. She had to get this over quickly, "I thought about it and I'm sorry but I don't feel that way about you. You're like a grandfather to me."

He growled a reply through clenched teeth, "How could you say that?" And looked at her from the corner of his eye, "You've been flirting with me for years."

Naomi couldn't believe he was the same man who'd been laughing it up on the beach just an hour ago, "What?!"

He unclenched his jaw but the edge in his voice remained, "We've played tag on the beach--"

"Only with my sisters!"

"We kissed in the back seat of this van."

Naomi scoffed, trying to hide her panic, "I got back there with you because you asked. I didn't know you were goin' to kiss me!"

Rob finally looked at her and erupted, "Why else would I ask you to join me in a back seat!"

She had accidentally sent him into a rage, possibly putting herself in physical danger, but she could no longer control her actions. The deep feelings of betrayal, disgust, and fear were too overwhelming.

She yelled in his face, "Why would you think I wanted to kiss you?"

Rob immediately lowered his voice -- a so-called psychological tactic he loved to use when things got heated, "You told me you were saving yourself for marriage."

Naomi yelled again, "I told you that as my pastor!"

He spoke slowly, "You also told me you felt uncomfortable about your strong sexual desires."

"I thought I could confide in you!"

He removed his hands from the steering wheel and turned his body toward her. Looking deep into her eyes, he spoke gently, "I know you're a godly woman. With me, you won't have to worry about anything. I promise I'll never hurt you. You can explore your desires with me safely. No diseases. No pregnancy. And I'll take care of you, your mom, and your sisters."

Naomi couldn't believe what she was hearing, "You're tryin' to bribe me with my family?"

"It'll be a sacred union."

"You're already married, Rob!"

"It's okay," He spoke to her as if talking to an upset child, "We'll keep it a secret. Nobody has to get hurt. God's chosen few have always been misunderstood. We both know nobody will understand our love."

She screamed at the top of her lungs, "We don't have a love! How could you? I trusted you!" She smashed her fist against the dashboard, "You and no one else! And you'd do this to me? Were you doin' this all along?"

Rob maintained a steady, soothing tone, "I didn't do anything. It's God's plan, my love."

"SHUT UP!"

Naomi's hands were shaking so badly, she barely managed to undo her seat belt. She reached for the car door handle.

Rob raised his voice slightly and scolded her, "You promised me! You're not a liar!"

Her anger spent, tears ran down Naomi's cheeks as she looked him straight in his eyes.

Her voice shook as she said, "I think Jesus will forgive me for this one."

She shoved the door open, got out, then slammed it shut with a frustrated roar. Startled people in the park, who'd heard them yelling, stared at her. Avoiding their gazes, she angrily walked away.

She'd traveled several feet before Rob finished hauling his heft out of the vehicle. He called to her, "Did you buy your sisters' school supplies yet?"

She stopped on the spot.

"Or your mom's medicine?"

She lowered her head, tears cascading down her face. Her entire body shook as she clenched and unclenched her fists. A swarm of dark possibilities swirled in her mind.

A child's scream and laughter yanked her back into reality. Instinctively, she looked in the direction of the sound. The squealing toddler was being pushed on a swing by his smiling dad. Mom looked on, laughing loudly.

Naomi stared at the happy family. Memories of carefree days floated up from the depths of her mind. She could feel Rob's eyes on her.

Without looking at him, she walked back to the van, threw herself into the seat, slammed the door, and waited. After a moment, Rob squeezed behind the steering wheel, watching her. Without a glance or a word, she pulled the musty seat belt across her body and fastened it with a heavy click. It pressed against her chest and lap, pinning her to the seat. She folded her hands in her lap in a failed attempt to keep them from shaking.

She stared at the horizon, blinking away hot tears and taking measured breaths. Aware of Rob's gaze, she pressed against the car seat and bit her lip hard. Her body shook with adrenaline and terror.

Rob continued to stare at her as he started the van. He seemed to be savoring the moment as he raked his hungry eyes up and down her body.

***

The pastor sat the last grocery bag on the kitchen table.

He checked to make sure nobody else was around, then pulled Naomi close for a quick kiss on the lips, "See you Saturday, my love."

He headed out the door. She bent over the sink and washed her mouth out with dish soap.

She dried her face as Nancy came around the corner.

"Was that Pastor Rob?"

Naomi nodded.

A mischievous smile crept across Nancy's face, "Gee, I'm sure glad you two didn't die in your drivin' lesson!"

Naomi was too numb to even pretend to laugh but she forced herself to smile as sweetly as she could at her silly little sister, "That was funny, Nancy."

"Duh!"

Naomi pulled an ice cream cake from one of the grocery bags, "Look what I've got."

Nellie appeared in the doorway, curious. Naomi knelt so the kids could get a better look.

Nancy gasped, "Wow! Are we celebratin' somethin'?"

Naomi forced a warm smile for her sisters, "Yes. We're celebratin' how much I love you."

Just out of sight, their mother muttered, "Bring me some o' that to my room, Nancy," then shuffled back down the hall.

"Oh, Momma likes it, too!" Nellie said, "Thanks, Naomi!"

Nancy pulled a plate from the dish rack, "Yeah, I guess you're okay, sometimes."

At that, the three of them stuck their tongues out at each other playfully.

Naomi turned and placed the ice cream cake on the kitchen table. The golden ring on her left middle finger caught Nellie's eye.

Nellie pulled Naomi's hand to her own face so she could get a better look, "That ring's fancy! I like the diamond shapes. Did it cost a lot?"

Naomi briefly flashed a smile, "Yes, it cost me a whole lot."

"I won't tell, but Momma might get mad if she finds out."

Naomi gently pulled her hand free and stroked her precious little sister's hair, "I think you're right, honey. I bet she would."

#short fiction #short story #dark drama #drama story #family drama

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kchuarts · 3 years

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Flowers in Blood

A/N: I probably got Jonathan’s character completely wrong but fuck I imagine him being a softy.

Translations for Russian part -

Katie: Pardon me, my fiance and I need a lift to the Metropol

Driver: Sure thing

Katie: Thank you

Katie: Excuse me, do you speak english?

Driver: Do I look like I fucking speak english? No. Look, I’m not here to make friends, lady. I just wanna make this night go by faster.

Summary: Touch is a fickle thing

Warnings: Brief flashback of mentioned assault

Taglist: @lucywrites02 *(Let me know if you’d like to be added to the list!)*

Chapter 3: Mimosa Pudica

“Shit, I didn’t expect this as some sort of sick welcoming to Russia.” Katie muttered under her breath, wanting to get closer but feeling Jonathan tug on her hand. “Don’t. I know that we are here for it, but we can’t lead onto suspicion in case the members of the gang are around watching.” Pine spoke lowly, eyes peeled for anyone who looked shifty enough to be listening in. Sighing in defeat, Katie agreed and followed Pine’s lead, continuing to hold his hand. The warm feeling of his skin caused the girl to blush slightly and because of how nice his hand felt, she was rather reluctant to let go. “Starting the part now?” Pine flashed a small grin, giving her hand a squeeze. “Th-That’s what you got from it?” Katie stuttered, caught off guard by his sudden point. “You haven’t let go of my hand since we left the station, darling.” He mused to himself, not upset by the fact. “Well, dear, I haven’t had a choice now have I? After all, we could have gotten at least a bit of a head start with that crime scene.” She raised her brows and narrowed her eyes slightly. “And risk ourselves the first night on the job? I admire your enthusiasm, but rookie moves like that are hardly advised.” Pine stopped for a moment, noticing that they had reached a taxi station and released Katie’s hand. The brunette scoffed, folding her arms over her chest and gave him her pout he found adorable. “Unlike you, I was practically thrown into the job from the get go. I had no training.” He looked around, cars passing by but no sign of a taxi yet. Pine pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his coat and pulled a stick out.

“Is this a pissing contest, Steven?” Katie looked at him with disgust.

“Only if you want it to be, Natasha. I didn’t have any intentions of making it one, but be my guest. I’m positive I can win with the shit I’ve seen and been through.” He rolled his eyes, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag before huffing smoke out into the cool night air.

The American woman bit her tongue, not wanting to ruin what they had just started to mend. Finally, after a few more moments standing out in the cold a taxi pulled up. The window lowered and gave Katie her chance to shine, “Простите меня, нам с женихом нужен лифт до гостиницы «Метрополь».” She spoke in a broken accent. The driver looked Katie up and down, sneering a bit at how bad her Russian sounded, “Конечно.” was all he said. Picking up on how unamused the driver appeared, the brunette woman had to hold back her mock sneer, “Спасибо.” She got in as Pine opened the door for her and then followed in short. Before Jonathan could ask what was with the driver’s attitude, Katie held a finger up. “Извините, вы говорите по-английски?” She raised a brow and the driver. A loud and incredibly unnecessary sigh came from the driver, “Нет, я выгляжу так, будто говорю по-английски? Я здесь не для того, чтобы быть вашим другом, леди. Заткнись и сядь, чтобы поездка прошла быстрее.” Katie scoffed at how rude he was. She couldn’t understand half of what he just said but assumed it was not nice. “He’s an asshole.” She looked at Jonathan and scowled at the driver in the mirror. “Oh come now, darling. Leave the poor man alone, I’m sure he has had a busy night.” Jonathan gave a fake smile to the driver and placed his arm around Katie. His action caused her to flinch hard and forced Pine to pull his arm away. Pine’s blue eyes shined in the light from outside in apology for his unannounced gesture. Katie’s expression saddened and she shifted to her side of the window, looking out of the glass.

The short ride remained uneventful with silence not being a comfort at all. Katie was glad to get out of that stuffy taxi once they reached their destination. She wasn't even excited to see the Metropol at this point as her evening had been awkward and uncomfortable. Jonathan looked around before paying the driver and thanking him, only to receive a loud honk and tire rip. "Arsehole." He mumbled, glaring at the cab driver as he took off into the night. The interior of the Metropol was gorgeous to say the least, but it seemed a bit dull with the attitudes that the agents had coming in. Their room seemed to make things more irritable as there was only one bed. "Ugh!! Of course it's only a single bed!!" Katie ran her fingers through her short brown hair and sat at the edge. Pine looked around the room in hope of finding a couch to sleep on so the brunette would be more comfortable, but sadly he was unsuccessful. "Are you worried about our sleeping arrangement?" He asked openly and his gaze softened. "If I'm gonna be honest, y-yes. I haven't shared a bed with anyone s-since… Since.." emotions began to build up into her throat and she shut her green eyes tightly.

-flash-

"GET ON THE FUCKING BED NOW, BITCH!!" Travis screamed at a frightened Katie. "No!! I don't want to have sex tonight, Travis!! I'm so damn sick of you thinking you can scare me into fucking you!! I had a long day at school and work, I just wanna sleep!" She sobbed, her hands falling to her sides. Katie tried to make a beeline for the living room as she would take the couch for the night. At this rate, anything was better than sleeping with her abusive boyfriend. She screeched as she felt him yank on her shoulder length hair. "When I fucking tell you do to something- you do it!" He threw her onto the bed and began to unbuckle his belt, before whipping her with it.

-flash-

"Katie? Hey, you're ok. You're safe." Pine knelt in front of the hysterical girl, his hands holding her own. "No one is going to hurt you, I've got you. Breathe. Slow deep breaths." He gave her hands a comforting squeeze and wondered how on earth she would make it through this mission. Katie let out another sob and allowed Jonathan to hold her hands as she felt a sort of comfort from him. She began to do as Pine said, taking deep breaths while calming down. "That's it. Just breathe alright? I'm not going to let anything happen to you. He isn't here and I'm going to protect you. Can you trust me?" He rubbed his thumbs gently on her smooth skin. Katie nodded and exhaled, "I'm sorry. I'm pathetic." She laughed sadly. "No you're not. You've been through something horrible that's only made you stronger. Would you allow me to hold your hands like this if you were not?" His voice was soft as if he was speaking to a child. Katie shook her head, "No. I'd be terrified to let you even get this close to me if I was still the same person I was a few years back." She felt his hands start to loosen their grip on her own. "Don't." Her eyes became a little wide from how loud she became at her request. Pine smiled softly at her and resumed his hold on her hands. "Would it make you more comfortable if we had a wall between us? I did try to look for a couch, but… No luck." He shrugged. The brunette's heart warmed at his consideration and she shook her head, "I think I'll be ok. I know I've been kind of mean to you, but you are different. I can't say I have ever met a man like yourself." She sniffled, returning the smile. Flattered, Jonathan gave a small chuckle and even felt his cheeks heat up. He had heard many women say this to him but the feeling he got from it never got old.

Having calmed down, Katie was of course first to claim the shower. Pine shook his head at the noises of delight from behind the bathroom door. "They've got a damn jacuzzi in here!!" He heard her shout. The door to the bathroom slid wide open and thankfully, Katie was already showered and dressed. "I didn't even notice it until now!" She chuckled, rubbing her hair with the towel before sitting on the bed. “Your turn.” Katie gave a smile to Pine and swayed her feet on the side of the bed as her feet hardly touched the ground. Noticing this, Jonathan grinned and nodded to her feet “If you need help climbing down in the morning, don’t hesitate to ask.” The towel that Katie had around her neck was promptly tossed at Pine’s direction. He caught the damp fabric in one of his large hands and chuckled at her before entering the luxurious bathroom. Angela set them up well as this was no ordinary hotel bathroom set up… They certainly got the couple suite complete with a romantic setting. For a moment, Jonathan actually pondered the notion of actually being involved with his partner but quickly shook it off. He doubted that she would appreciate such a thought let alone the progress they still had to build. Speaking of, another thought came to mind which had him wondering how in the world they were going to act tomorrow, especially if they had to dance. Katie had been gracefully lenient to be comfortable with him touching her hands, but the small of her back, waist, shoulders, neck, everything really was a different story.

“Ka- Natasha?” Pine quickly corrected himself as he walked out of the bathroom, finished up and dressed for bed. Quickly, Katie snorted from a light slumber and sat up fast “Oh shit- What’s up?” She stretched and rubbed her eyes. Pine’s phone began to ring incessantly as the both of them completely forgot to call Angela. “That’s what’s up first.” He muttered, grabbing his phone and sighing, “Hello?”

“You’re a few hours late calling me, y’know.” Angela’s mom voice was apparent.

“Yeah, sorry about that. We just settled in after a bit of a tussle is all. I wasn’t expecting the job to start so soon with being witness to a crime scene.” Pine rubbed the back of his neck, pacing the room.

“A crime scene!? God save the queen those bastards are insatiable aren’t they? Well, was it them?” She sighed

“Mhm. Wolfsbane flower and everything. One of us wanted to get a closer look and perhaps ask about what went on, but I suggested that it was better to lay low on the first night.” Pine’s blue eyes darted to Katie who rolled her eyes in return.

“Smart move. Anyhow, I doubt you have too much information tonight so I’ll let you get back to whatever. I hope you two are getting along alright- Hey!! I gotta go, little one is restless, I said no cookies-” The phone hung up and Jonathan tossed it to the side. Katie quirked a brow up at Jonathan, “I’m guessing that she was just checking in on us?”

Pine nodded and then took a deep breath in, “So.” He exhaled, looking at the young woman with some nervousness. Katie still held her confused expression and waved her hand as a gesture to continue. “I am going to make an educated guess here and say that we will be expected to dance at some point. To make our disguises more distinguished. I’m gonna need you to trust me with more than just holding your hands.” He said regrettably and nodded. A blush warmed Katie’s cheeks and she shifted a little where she sat. Slowly, she slid off the bed and chewed the inside of her cheek as she padded forth to Pine. Her nerves were very much on alert and caused her body to tremble. For years she had managed to avoid any male contact aside from her hands up until now. She couldn't back out. "Okay." She swallowed, looking up at him and moving closer. Immediately, she flinched as Pine tried to raise his hands. "Wait." She held her arms tightly around herself and took in a deep breath. "We can't dawdle." Jonathan shook his head, moving closer with her stepping back. "I know that! I-I just… Let me guide you." She licked her lips and tip toed forward, pulse racing. It was as though there was an invisible wall between the both of them as Katie hesitated to grab his hands. She had to push forward and trust in him. The only "terrible" thing he had done was kept who he was from her and mock her. Angela could have partnered her up with someone who would not even show an ounce of respect as Pine had. Even from the short amount of time, Katie gathered that yeah Pine can be a royal asshole, but at least he had class.

With shaky hands and a nervous exhale, the brunette grabbed Jonathan’s large hands gently and looked at them. “I’m trying to figure out where I’d be most uncomfortable first.” She glanced up at Pine, who nodded at her. The answer was everywhere, but with Pine she felt different. He absolutely had no malicious intent with placing his hands on her frame. This fact had brought Katie a bit of comfort and she gently placed his right hand on the small of her back and left to the back of her bare neck. Out of instinct, her body jolted away and she cowered into herself, growling in annoyance. “It’s ok, we have plenty of time as it’s only 10 PM. We can take as long as you need.” Jonathan reassured her, biting his lip a little as he thoroughly enjoyed how soft her skin was against his rough hands. The American woman nodded and took a few more deep breaths, focusing on the fact that Pine didn’t sink his fingers into her flesh as Travis would have. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she now missed Pine’s touch and how gentle it was. Her brain was starting to rewire how male touches would make her react and this time she was more confident in letting Jonathan touch her. Creeping forward and straightening her posture, Katie resumed her position in front of her partner and took his hands once more. The feeling of dread began to make its presence known once more, but the green eyed girl shook it off. She would not allow herself to revert back into that weak, spineless shell of a person she once was years ago. Katie placed his hands where she had previously put them and looked into Jonathan’s eyes, counting down from five for when her body reacted. He stared right back at her and did not curl a single finger; only having them rest naturally along her form.

A sense of calm warmed the young woman’s chest as it had certainly been more than five seconds. Katie broke out into a smile, happy tears in the corners of her eyes as she removed Pine’s hands and placed them on a different area. This time she placed both of his hands on her hips and felt no urge to pull away or flinch. Seeing the brunette smile made Pine break out into one of his own.

“You’re not hurting me.” she laughed softly as for the first time in years, she took in the feeling of a man’s touch.

“I would never hurt you. Would never dream of it.” Jonathan replied, his smile growing bigger at her touched expression.

“Cam brought you to me…” Her smile faded a little as more tears blurred her vision.

Pine tilted his head in confusion, removing his hands from her hips.

“You didn’t kill him. Listen, this is gonna sound crazy because I’m into a lot of the paranormal stuff but I think that Cam trusted you enough to have our paths meet. Wow that sounded really dumb.” Katie sniffled and chuckled at her own words.

While it did sound certainly far-fetched, Jonathan couldn’t help but feel as if there was definitely truth behind her words. He knew that this was a big stepping point in their partnership and perhaps even friendship, but they still had much to learn. “May I also say something incredibly crazy?” Pine gave her a small smile. She nodded at him to continue, wondering what he had to say. “I’m a bit of a skeptic when it comes to things like that, but because you are so truly in belief of that then I would wager that I owe him a favor. He never outright said anything about it, but he always did go on about if anything happened to him then he’d need someone to make sure his “little fox” stays out of trouble. I am inclined to take this favor and say he wants me to protect you.” The smile grew and even he had a slight urge to shed a few tears. Katie’s big smile returned and she gave a soft chuckle. “I think I’d like that a lot. I can’t really see anyone else in your place because they wouldn’t meet the requirements.” She grinned mischievously, making her way on over to the large bed and hopping on it. “Oh? And what would those requirements be?” Pine returned the grin, going to the opposite side of the bed.

“Tall, dashing, a sort of boyish charm, large and gentle hands, wonderful qualities about respect, dark curly blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and being an occasional asshole.” She laughed as her words received a scoff from the man next to her. “You had me up until the last bit.” He teased, opening the sheets and climbing into them. “We can try a bit of dancing in the morning to get you more comfortable before tomorrow night.” He leaned on his elbow, looking at the young woman beside him. Katie smiled and nodded, “I’d like that. Thank you, Steven. You’re not too bad after all. G’night!” She her back to him, snuggling into the fresh, cozy sheets. “Goodnight, Natasha.” Pine reached over to his bedside, turning the light off.

Heels clacked along the lobby floor as a slender woman with deep red hair and piercing amber eyes entered the hotel. She looked around, letting out a sigh as the people she was supposed to meet up with were late. “My Dear sister.” A deep accented males voice spoke, causing the woman to turn. A grin crept across the woman’s face and she seemed to glide effortlessly over to the man claimed to be her brother. He too had deep auburn hair and the same colored eyes. “Daniel. How nice of you to join me!” She placed a kiss to his cheek and frowned, “Where are the rest of them?” Her accented voice became sharp. Daniel placed his hand on his sister’s back and led her over to a cushioned chair by a roaring fire. “Patience, Abbadon. Our honored guests will arrive shortly enough. They have much to offer us with some exquisite pieces of fine art and jewels. I am most certain The Tigress will be most pleased with her surprise shipment of said jewels when we send them. However, you my sister, get first pick on what your heart desires.” He took a seat opposite the gorgeous woman. Abbadon sneered at the mention of The Tigress. “Can she not get her own gems? She sifts through enough of her selection's belongings to buy herself something nice. You know she isn’t one for stealing unlike that creep in Osaka.” She shuddered at the thought. Daniel frowned at her, “Come now, our Yakuza friend has done a great deal for us in the coming times. We just can’t be careless like that oaf Richard Roper.” He stared into the fire, snorting at the name.

“Here I thought you had respect for the man. You did do some business with him after all, brother.” Abbadon sighed, swaying her hair away from her shoulder.

“That’s the point, I did have respect up until his gig was busted. Now we are the ones having to do all the hard work and pick up where he left off. If it wasn’t for that one Andrew Birch fellow, and Roper’s blind trust in him, none of this would be happening right now.” Daniel’s knuckles became white as he clenched the arms of his chair.

Abbadon held her hand up, “Calm yourself, Daniel. Mm, you certainly inherited our mother's temper no doubt about that. In any case, we should cease our conversation about this topic as I can see our “honored guests” approaching.” Her red lips pulled into a smirk as she rose from her seat and pulled a letter from her hand bag, sealed with a wax mark of the Wolfsbane flower.

#the night manager #the night manager canon divergence #fanfic #jonathan pine x ofc #spies in love #my writing #writing #tom hiddleston

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kthstrawberryshortcake · 4 years

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BTS Reaction: Their S/O comforts them when they cry

Request by anon: “ can u do something where a bts member is stressed out and they cry so their s/o comforts them “

Here’s what I came up with! I hope you like it.

These are set up as member x reader.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Namjoon: Namjoon had been really busy in his studio lately. His habit of overworking himself was nothing new, but you still tried to do what you could to take care of him a little when he was preoccupied with work. One night you brought takeout to the studio, knowing he wouldn’t have bothered to eat most of the day. You knew he had been writing a lot today, though you had hardly seen him, since he hand’t even come home to sleep. When you entered, you saw him hunched over his desk, looking down at a piece of paper. Then you noticed his shoulders shaking slightly. “Joonie?” You called to him softly, walking up to him and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. It was then that you saw he was crying. “What’s wrong, love?” You asked, concerned. “Writing a sad song…” He replied, and you leaned over him to see what was written on the page. He had very little written thus far and none of it was very sad. You looked at him in confusion. “How long have you been awake?” You asked, and he looked at the time on his phone. “Almost 51 hours,” he answered, causing you to gasp. “Oh, sweetie, you can’t do this to yourself. We’re getting you to bed right this minute.” You said to him authoritatively. To your surprise, he agreed. The two of you went home and got in bed, and you played with his hair until he finally fell asleep.

Jin: You had been conspiring with the boys about something special to do for Jin’s birthday. You all decided on the idea of making a short film about Jin and what he meant to each of you, with Jungkook’s Golden Closet expertise coming in handy. When filming your part, you got a little emotional, having to wipe tears from your eyes once or twice during your portion of the video. “He makes me smile. He makes me feel safe. He is always caring and kind to those around him. He’s so talented. He’s a good friend. He’s a great cook. His dad jokes make my day. He’s the love of my life.” You hoped he would be able to feel how much he meant to you from the video. When his birthday finally rolled around, you all sat together in front of the TV to watch the short film, anxiously watching Jin’s face for his reactions. The boys’ sweet messages made him teary-eyed, but when he watched your portion, that was when he started full-on crying. He was kind of laughing at himself at the same time, but he was definitely crying. You pulled him into a tight hug, thrilled that you’d all done well with the surprise. “I love you so much,” he laughed, holding you a little bit tighter.

Yoongi: Yoongi had been in one of his moods lately. It was that workaholic, hyper-intense mood where he neglected all things but music and never left his studio. Food? Sleep? Interaction with others? Never heard of them. It had been an especially long bout of this behavior this time, now having been over two weeks. Namjoon pulled him aside one day on a rare venture outside his studio. “We’ve talked about this, you can’t keep this up. It’s not sustainable. Have you seen yourself lately? You look like a zombie, and an excessively skinny one at that. The weight loss, the dark circles, the sickly color of your skin… They’re bad signs. Really bad.” He said, trying to make his friend see sense. Yoongi, of course, resisted. “I’m fine. It’s not that big of a deal.” Namjoon sighed and ran a hand through his hair, stressed out by the situation. “Except that it is. We don’t need you collapsing from not taking care of yourself. And if your own sake isn’t enough, think of Y/N. Ever since you started looking this severely unwell she’s been having panic attacks because she’s so scared for you and your health.” That got Yoongi’s attention. You struggled enough with anxiety and he was just making it worse by failing to look after himself. After speaking to Namjoon, Yoongi went to find you. Tears were running down his cheeks as he silently pulled you into a hug, sniffling a little as he tried to keep the crying under control. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I’ll do better, I promise.” He whispered, thinking to himself how lucky he was to have someone who loved him that much.

Hoseok: You were on tour with the boys when one day, your boyfriend got a phone call from his mom. His family was very close, so that in and of itself was not unusual. It was the shocked expression that appeared on his face as he listened to his mom speak, followed by him hanging up and totally breaking down. You had never seen him cry like this before. “Babe?” You called to him, but he didn’t respond, he just kept sobbing. You stood in front of where he sat on the edge of the bed, holding his face gently in your hands. “Hobi, tell me what’s wrong.” You asked quietly. It took him a few minutes to calm down enough to be able to talk. “__________ died this morning.” he choked out, causing you to gasp. They were a relatively young and healthy family member of his. “How?” You asked, shocked. “Heart attack, out of nowhere.” He replied in a quiet, strained voice. You sighed, hurting at the sight of his pain. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible. I wish there was something I could do, but I think all I can do is be here for you.” You kissed the tip of his nose gently. “And that, jagi, makes all the difference in the world.” he whispered in reply.

Jimin: It was no secret that Jimin could be incredibly hard on himself. He had openly spoken about his struggles with self esteem and body image. When it came to the quality of his performance onstage, he was just as self-critical. It was during tour and he had come down with a bit of a cold, which had caused some coughing and a sore throat. He wasn’t feeling great, of course, but pushed through it like any other concert. During one song, however, Jimin’s voice cracked during a high note and he immediately coughed pretty hard. He kept going after that, finishing the show like the true professional he was, but he exited the stage feeling awful about how he had done. You were watching the whole time, of course, and had witnessed the little unavoidable imperfection in his performance, and because you knew him so well, you anticipated how he was going to react. So when he immediately ran off to somewhere more secluded in an attempt to be alone, you followed him. It wasn’t you he was trying to get away from, anyway. You found him sitting in a dark corner crying, his head in his hands. You sat next to him and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, and he rested his head on your shoulder. You murmured words of encouragement and assured him that no one would blame him for the cough, rubbing his upper arm soothingly. Tears continued to slip from his eyes, but he wasn’t sobbing anymore. “What would I do without you, jagi?” he whispered, which brought a small smile to your face.

Taehyung: Your phone rang one afternoon and you smiled to yourself when you saw that it was your boyfriend calling. “Hi Tae,” you answered, only to hear uncontrollable sobbing on the other end of the call. “It’s Tan, he’s really sick. He’s at the emergency vet, they’re going to take him in for surgery now.” He explained as well as he could in his extremely emotional state. “Okay, okay, take a deep breath, I’m on my way. Text me the address and I’ll get there as soon as I can.” You replied before hanging up the phone and hurrying to your car. Ten minutes later you were sprinting into the emergency vet. You saw Taehyung sitting in the waiting room, still crying but no longer sobbing like he had been. You sat next to him and silently wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. “What’s the news?” You asked softly, a little scared to hear his response. He took a deep breath. “They think he’s going to be fine, but there are always risks with surgery so we won’t know for a little while yet.” You nodded. “He’s going to be okay, love. Tan will be fine.” You whispered, taking hold of one of his hands and intertwining your fingers. He still looked worried, of course, but your presence and assurances were calming him. All he could think was that he was grateful that he wasn’t going through this alone. You had a way of making things better.

Jungkook: If there was one word to describe the way your boyfriend saw himself, it would be invincible. He was the golden maknae, after all. He could do anything, and he would be good at it too. Until one day in dance practice, a freak accident caused him to injure his ankle pretty badly. It was bad enough that he would have to keep off of it for at least two weeks. You had been there when he hurt himself, so as the doctor examined his ankle you held his hand. After hearing the prognosis, you realized he had begun to cry. You wiped his tears away, your heart aching to see him in pain. “Does it hurt that bad, baby?” You asked, worried. He shook his head. “I’m going to let everyone down this way. It’s my fault, I can’t believe I could be so stupid as to get myself hurt this way.” He said, and you shook your head vigorously. “No, this is absolutely not your fault. I watched it happen, it was just one of those freak things. You couldn’t have prevented it. And I know you’re pretty amazing, and all that, but you forget that you’re human. What’s more, you forget that being human isn’t letting the people around you down.” You kissed his forehead, him feeling much less guilty after talking to you.

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There you go children! Hope you all liked this one. PS: don’t worry, in my mind with the Tae one here, Tannie ends up fine :)

Please send in requests to ask or message!

ALSO I LOVE FEEDBACK <3

#bts #bts fanfic #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts reaction request #bts reactions request #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts angst #bts drabbles #bts scenarios

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nooriginalitylove · 4 years

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-And we're not bruised, they're just party tattoos

Thank @sanderssides-incorrectquotes for this wonderful prompt, using Dodie’s “Party Tattoos” as Platonic! DRLAMP

———

This is a collection of things that happened throughout Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan, Remus, and Dimitri’s lives. All of these things happened at different periods in their lives.

Take a look at the clock only so long to go, scrubbing smooth young skin saying I don't know, grab a bag, grab a bottle but leave the "what if?", you'll see it in the morning after your kicks

Roman sat in his classroom, glancing at the clock near the door, desperately wishing the bell would ring and he could leave the brightly colored room with the too-loud noises. His hands were drawn on, too; something his father would have a fit over if he saw.

Finally, the piercing noise signaling the end of the day rang out throughout the building.

He grabbed his water bottle and his bag and scrambled to leave the classroom filled with laughing kids.

Unknowingly, he ended up in the bathrooms, scrubbing at his hands to remove the pen he’d drawn on his hands on roughly.

The door opened, revealing Dimitri in all his glory. The other teen walked over, rolling his eyes fonding when he caught the sigh of swirls in black pen on the other’s tan hands.

“Let me help; you’ll scrub your hands raw.” The paler of the two said scoldingly. Roman laughed, feeling much more relaxed.

All you will need for a rocking good time, is a bunch of people who don't give a damn. There's a yes, in your head, gotta find where it's at, you'll lose it in the morning but ignore that

A group of colorful individuals sat at a picnic table. The sun beamed down on the group lovingly, and Virgil almost needed to cover his eyes.

“C’mon, Virg! Remus is gonna go pet the raccoon!” Patton yelled, laughing at the thought. Even Logan looked interestedly as one of the Realeza twins stalked toward the raccoon.

Virgil laughed, a tiny smile making its way onto his face as he stood up and rushed over just in time to see the raccoon jump kn Remus’ face. Roman screamed with laughter as he tried to get the rapid animal off his brother.

And we're not bruised, they're just party tattoos, and that colourful mess is just colourful regret!

Logan’s breathing had gone ragged as he sat, curled up, in his room. His latest test, in Maths, had gotten a D+, and he was unjustly freaking out.

“Oh my god, oh my god-“ he stuttered, on the point of hyperventilating. His chest felt tight, his legs weak; his knowledge was everything, and now, he had nothing.

A door opened, just as Logan felt all his air leaving him. “Lo?” Was called out, probably not as loud as it felt but it made his head pound all the same.

Patton was in front of him, a familiar worried look on his pretty face. “What’s wrong?” Patton asked, bring Logan close to his chest. “Breathe, Lo.” He whispered.

His breathing was ragged, still, but more even after Patton’s coaxing to breathe in for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. “Thank you,” Patton whispered to him, smiling at him, “You did great.”

The other pulled Logan and himself to Logan’s bed, and grabbed his hands for support. “What’s wrong, Lo?”

Black lipstick will never be a sin, we'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin. Regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin. Regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin

Remus’ lips were colored a dark black, drawing the color straight from the night’s darkest skies. “How do I look?” He asked, fluttering his eyes teasingly. Dimitri smiled at him, deciding to humor the crazy man, “You look great, Ree.”

The man in front of him nodded, “Of course I do. But go tell that to my brother; I know I’m amazing, he’s all worried ‘bout stupid shit.” Remus waved him off, running up to Logan and starting to annoy him.

Dimitri pitied the dude; he really did.

But he walked over to Roman anyway, because a pissy Logan was something he didn’t want to deal with.

“Hey, Ro.” The beanie wearing man said, waving slightly at the other. Roman looked away from Virgil, who he was talking with, and smiled. “Hey, Dee.”

With simple hellos out of the way, Dimitri sat down, “You look great, Ro.” He said, noticing the way Roman seemed to fidget with his outfit self-consciously.

Roman flushed bright red, “Thank you?”

My mummy said to always wear a coat, but it's warm and it's heavy and we're trying to float, don't forget she'll be right when it's three a.m. So shiver, but shiver with a friend

Patton was getting ready to leave, when his mum appeared in the living room, where the front door was. “Patton, dear?” She asked as he touched the handle.

He turned to the woman, smiling though slightly defeated; what did she want now?

“Yeah, mom?” He asked back, leaning against the wall. “Bring a coat with you.” She said simply, walking back into the the kitchen. He paused, glancing outside.

It was getting warm out; reaching almost 80° outside because it was getting to be summer. “What the duck?” He said, grabbing a thin jacket before leaving before his mum could spot him.

And we're not bruised they're just party tattoos, and that colourful mess is just colourful regret!

When Remus entered his house, he’d been trying to stay quiet. Though it didn’t matter that much, anyway, because Roman still turned around in his spinny chair with a stern look on his face.

Roman glared at his brother, hard. He wasn’t angry, truthfully, but he’d been worried. Extremely worried. Remus shot a smile at his brother.

“Hey, Ro-Ro. What are you doing up so late?” He asked weakly, trying to joke. Roman stood up, and uncrossed his arms to envelop Remus in a tight embrace.

He looked at his brother, “I was worried, tu gilipollas!” He shouted.

*tu gilipollas = you asshole in Spanish* sorry if this is wrong, I’m new to learning the language!

Black lipstick will never be a sin, we’ll regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin

Everyone sat in the hospital’s waiting room, sick with worry. Logan had been injured in a hit-and-run, and no one had been able to sleep since the news that morning.

Virgil curled up against Patton, sniffling and wippng his eyes. Patton and Roman were openly sobbing, while Remus had his head in his hands and Dimirti buried his face in a pillow he’d brought.

A doctor came into the room, making Roman and Patton stand up, eager to hear good news. The doctor paused, making Virgil’s stomach drop.

“He’s resting now, and his right leg and left arm are broken, but he should be okay.” The doctor said kindly, smiling at the group. Roman let out another sob, and cried into Remus’ shirt in relief.

We're not bruised they're just party tattoos, and that colourful mess is just colourful regret!

Dimitri sighed, running an hand through his hair. In his hands, a pink slip laid, stating “You’re Fired” in big, bold, black letters.

His head hung in his hands, and he drew in a sharp breath to keep from crying.

He missed the days when his biggest worries were if he got an F on his English tests. Now his number one concern was whether or not he was going to be able to feed himself.

When did things get this bad?

Black lipstick will never be a sin, we'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin, regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin, regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin

His hands were covered in dirt, and his arms littered with scratches, and he was shirtless. Virgil drew in a deep breath, tears involuntarily making their way down his face.

The bathroom’s light flickered, and as he sat in the bathtub, having just woken up in the tub like a drunk.

A razor sat on the sink’s edge, and his fingers twitched to grab it. But tiredness was forcing his body to stay still, and he blinked.

He fell back asleep.

Write a postcard to you at eighty-four, tell them you'd never dream of living behind the door. Life was fun, full of love, full of hopeful smiles, bet you wish you were here, but I'll see you in a while

Remus glared at his brother, anger in his green-red eyes. “What the fuck, dude?” He yelled, cheek practically pulsating from the slap his brother had delivered.

The other glared back, “Don’t insult mom, dude. She doesn’t deserve that.” He snapped back.

Remus laughed, “And we didn’t deserve to be brought up by our monster of a dad, either! She could’ve left!” He said. Remus knew it was insensitive; and regretted it afterward, but right now he didn’t care.

Their mom was heartless bitch who knew she could leave, but didn’t. She ignored the abuse. Ignored the bruises that littered her “babies” like freckles. Ignored the screaming of her sons and husband, both so widely different; two filled with fear, one filled with unjust anger.

Roman stepped back, “It’s not that easy, Re. You know that.” And he did, he knew it, and Roman did too. “You could leave, too, Ro.”

His brother laughed humorlessly, a sadness to it. Remus felt his chest tighten. “No, I can’t.” Roman said, and then he returned home, and was forced to block Remus’ number.

And we're not bruised they're just party tattoos, and that colourful mess is just colourful regret!

Glasses framed his face, and he gasped as he woke up in the middle of the night, glasses tilted and hair messed up and spiked in different directions.

Logan looked around the dark room, and he curled up on his chair, his desk screwn with papers. A longing for something he couldn’t remember filled him, and he longed for someone to bring him a blanket and push him into bed.

Black lipstick will never be a sin, we'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin

Patton smiled at his son, “Bye, kiddo.” He said. Thomas laughed, “I’m 16, dad!” He said, grabbing his jacket before running to Joan’s car to get to school.

When Patton returned to the living room, Virgil was sat on the couch, “He gone?” The anxious man asked. Patton nodded, “Then lets get going! The guys are waiting, Pat.”

And when they all met up at the park like they did when they were young, nobody mentioned the pain in their chest of seeing their old picnic table gone.

We're not bruised they're just party tattoos, and that colourful mess is just colourful regret!

Roman sighed, looking out the window as his grandkids played with toys and watched TV. Oh how he missed being that young.

A sorrowful emotion filled his chest, but he just leaned against the back of his chair tiredly. His daughter, Anatolia, came in, only to see her father not breathing.

She screamed.

Black lipstick will never be a sin, we'll regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin, regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin, regret it when we're old with wrinkled up skin

Six gravestones sat in a line, each one engraved with a different font to spell their owner’s names. Each one had a flower in front of the stone, an assigned color to each.

Roman Pryce Realeza, Remus Dugan Realeza, Dimitri Anwir Delaney, Logan Albert Berry, Patton Moha Morales, Virgil Parker Abadon

Silence reigned over the grave, a certain respect hanging in the air.

———

Names&Meanings:

Anatolia - A name meaning “Princess”

Roman:

Pryce - Close to the word “Prince”

Realeza - “Royalty” in Spanish (again, sorry if this is wrong)

Remus:

Dugan - (Kinda) Close to the word “Duke”

Realeza - “Royalty” in Spanish

Deceit:

Dimitri - A widely accepted human name for Deceit

Anwir - A name meaning “Lies” or something to that extent

Delaney - Searched “Last Names Meaning Lies” and glanced at the first name I saw

Logan:

Albert - A reference to Albert Enstein + the name meaning, to some extent, “Intelligence”

Berry - Crofters

Patton:

Moha - A name meaning “Giving Radiant Light To Everyone”

Morales - This name means “mulberry” but it also is “Son of Moral” (Pretty sure this name is hispanic to some extent, but Moral = Morality)

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deathvalleyqueen · 4 years

Note

OOOOOOOOOOOOOHkay, so. from that very cute hurt/comfort list. for mj and john. uh. “ hold my hand ?? ” or “ i’m not leaving you here . " either/or/or both.

So this turned angstier than I was expecting.... so... enjoy the emotional pain... I guess... thank you for sending these prompts in! <3 the full oneshot will be under the cut. Found

**Also… just because of the time this takes place… possible spoiler about who Grace’s mom really is… but like… yeah…just an FYI**

Everything happened so fast.

One minute I was sitting on the couch with Bobby and we were watching Lily and Rose play, while the baby slept in the nursery down the hall. The next Sean, who I hadn’t seen in months, was pounding on my door in a panic. He was going on about how Colin had tracked John down in Fall’s End and he was going to kill him. I didn’t want to believe that all Colin’s posturing had come to this. “Come inside and explain, Sean.” I said confused, opening the door and gesturing for him to come inside.

“MJ, sweetheart, there is no time… NO TIME.” Sean said the panic raising in his voice causing the girls to look up from their toys. He grabbed a hold of my shoulders and looked me square in the eyes. I knew my brother, Sean was not a man who was easily rattled but whatever was going on had him rattled. Reaching out he took my hand. I froze as I looked up at him. “You need to come with me… maybe… maybe…” The way he stumbled over his words, like he didn’t want to say what needed to be said.

For Sean to be this rattled, Colin was serious with his intent. I glanced back at the girls before turning back to Sean. I looked at him for a tense moment as it dawned on me. “He is really going to kill him…” I muttered my hands going to cover my mouth. I knew that Colin had been out to ‘end Eden’s Gate’ but I didn’t think he would go so hard after John. Things had been escalating for the last three months, John had become more and more frazzled with each slight against him Colin committed. Joseph was furious at John, he felt as if John was failing to take care of what in The Father’s mine, was John’s problem. I turned back to Bobby who knelt down on the floor trying to distract the girls but Lily was smart. She sat on the floor holding her doll, watching as my eyes grew wide as I tried to come up with some manner of plan.. “Bobby…” I called out. He looked up. “Take my car, take the girls to Jacob…”

“Why?’ Bobby asked, confused. Normally in this type of situation, I would have taken the girls to John’s bunker and we would have hid there till things blew over. Yet something told me that this wasn’t going to end well at all. That my children needed to be someplace safe, some place they would be protected. There was only one place that I could think of.

“Because he would never let anything happen to the girls and I need to know they are safe… alright!” I reached over and pulled Lily and Rose’s coats from the coat rack and laid them over the edge of the couch. “With Jacob, is going to be the safest place for them to be.” I said more reminding myself than Bobby. Looking down at my brother I gave him a pained look as I took a deep breath trying to steady myself. “Just do this please…”

“Do you really think this is the best idea, if John finds out..” Bobby began.

“JUST DO IT!” I yelled cutting him off, as I raced to the bookshelf and searched through the titles till I found the one I was looking for. It was a false copy of the ‘The Art of War’ that was hallowed into a box. Inside there was several thousand dollars in cash and pistol. I pulled the pistol out and checked to make sure the safety was one before I tucked into the back of my jeans.

Sean shook his head, I knew that there was part of him that already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. “Why are you taking the gun, MJ, do you really think..”

“Do you really think that Colin is going to get out of this alive if he hurt my husband…” I snapped sharply. I was in no mood to be cautioned against brash actions. Not this time. This was John’s life on the line and even with all of our ups and downs I couldn’t ever picture my life without him. “After everything he and I have been through… that man is still the man I love and so help me if my shit for brains brother is going to let his hero complex take him from me.” I could feel both of my brother’s eyes on me as I heard Rose start to scream in the background scared by all commotion. “Bobby… Girls… to Jacob… NOW.” I reached down and picked up a black leather diaper bag that I had since Lily was born. I thrust it at him as he looked around the room in a mild panic. “There are bottles for Gracie in the fridge, everything else in here. Do not stop, do not slow down till you hit the Whitetails and then you find the first Hunter you can find… better yet radio Mac and tell him to meet you at the border and then you BOTH take my babies straight to Jacob and you tell him that Colin is going after John… John could very well be dead and I could be taken by Colin.. ”

“That’s not going to happen, MJ, this is all getting out of fucking hand…” Sean tried to reassure me but I had a feeling in my bones if I didn’t get there in time to stop it. Everything was going to end very badly.

I turned to Sean and tilted my head to side ever so slightly as my jaw clenched. “It’s just now getting out of hand… when Colin decides to kill John…”

“And Jacob, Joseph… Faith…” There was a long pause before he looked me dead in the eyes. “And You…” I shoved Sean backwards towards the door furious that he could even be still siding with Colin in this situation after learning this. I let out a disgusted scoff as I shook my head trying to find words to express my pure distatin for the idea that my brother thought this this was a solution. Sean took a step back towards me, his hand reaching out and brushing against mine. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, Mary… I swear I just want everyone to calm down about all this and figure out some rational answer to all this…”

“Then let’s go…because if he kills John, that’s never going to happen.” I snapped before turning back to Bobby who was trying to get the girl’s coats on. “Don’t forget the Gracie’s bottles…”

“I won’t…” He muttered.

I looked down at my daughters, Lily was old enough to vaguely understand what was going on. She was 6 and smart. I leaned down motioned for her to come towards me. She did as she shoved her hands through the puffy silver sleeves of her coat. I reached down and cupped her cheek. “Everything is going to be alright, Lily-bug…” I smiled softly but Lily was my daughter, as good as she was at shoving her own emotions down. Fear was written all over her face. I brushed a few stray strands of her black hair off her cheek. “It’s going to be fine, okay… but I need you to promise me you are going to be good for your Uncles and help with your sisters…”

“I promise..” Lily answered as she nodded her head.

I lent down and kissed the top of her head as I whispered. “I love you, protect your sisters...always…” Fearing that this could be the last time I spoke to my eldest daughter. Standing up I looked at Bobby who was holding Rose who was only 16 months. “The girls…”

“To Jacob, don’t stop till all three of them are in his hands…” Bobby finished trying to calm my nerves. “I am going to radio Mac and Jimmy right now. My guess is they will meet us…” I nodded and lent over to kiss Rose’s cheek. “I got the girls… you go stop Colin from doing something he would regret.”

Sean took my hand and began pulling me towards the door. I didn’t want to leave the girl but I couldn’t bare the thought of losing John. Sean drug me out to his truck and helped me in. We spent much of the drive down the long dirt driveway in silence. What were we going to say? What could be said?

It wasn’t until I spotted John’s truck race past us heading towards the house did I speak. “That’s John’s truck!” I shouted, hitting his arm. “He’s heading back to the house…” I thought for a moment. I knew John better than anyone else and he and Colin had been at each other's throats for our entire relationship. If Colin openly threatened him, there was one thing John was going to do. “John’s going to the hanger… John is going after Fall’s End..”

“Colin would guess that, that’s what John does…” Sean pointed out as he pulled the truck off to the side. “He is all buddy buddy with Nick Rye these days… He was with Colin at the church…”

“Go to Nick’s… I can stop Nick… If he doesn’t give..”

“You think that’s going to stop Colin, you would have better luck trying to stop John…” gripping the steering wheel Sean let out a ragged sigh. “What do you want to do Mary Jane?”

I caught a glimpse of my car zooming past with Bobby at the wheel, “John didn’t stop, Bobby…” I whispered. “He is out for blood… John in his right mind wouldn’t have let the girls be taken out into this…” I let out a long scream of frustration before I threw my hands up. “Go back to the Ranch…” Sean whipped his truck around and raced back towards the Ranch but as we neared the end of the driveway I could hear the all too familiar sound of the engine of John’s plane starting.

My hands came crashing down on the dashboard as I screamed “FUCK!” Sean looked over at me before he reached out and took my hand. I pulled away at first. “Don’t fucking start…”

“We can follow them… see what happens…” He suggested and all I could do in response was nod. Throwing the truck in reveres he swung around and rolled down his window. “We should be able to find a good spot to see..” He stopped when he heard my muffled sobs behind my hands. “You don’t gotta watch, Mary Jane… just… I’m sorry…”

I wanted to snap back at him but in that moment I couldn’t bring myself to stop crying long enough to do so. Only a nod as I closed my eyes. I rolled down the window and listened. I could hear the gun fire, the crack of Colin’s voice taunting John over the radio, followed by John coming back at him. They made it more than clear only one man was walking away from this fight. I tried to block out for as long as I could till I felt Sean’s hand on my arm. He handed me the radio and I listened as John through coughs said his plane was going down.

The most ungodly sound came from my mouth as my hands shook around the radio. Sean stopped the truck and I threw the radio on the floor as I tossed my seatbelt off and threw open the door. “Where are you going…” He called out as I walked around the front of the truck and saw the smoke off in tree line from where John’s plane had crashed. My eyes went to the sky and I could just barely make out the silhouette of John’s parachute.

“He got out… He got out…” I exclaimed as I raced across the road towards the clearing where I was expecting John to land. “We have to go help him… Sean… COME ON!” I screamed as I stepped over the railing and Sean threw his hands up.

“Fuck there is Colin..” He pointed to the sky and the second silhouette of the parachute. He reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out a shotgun before racing across the road to join me. As we made our way through the dense forests the sounds of gunshots could be heard in the distance. With each round fired, my feet moved faster. I am not an athlete and I had given birth 10 weeks earlier, but I was moving faster than I ever had before.

By the time we reached the clearing Colin was crouched over John, his fists pummeling down on his face. Both men were covered in blood, though John was far worse for the wear. That same ungodly scream came pouring from my lips as I reached into the waistband of my jeans to pull out the pistol. Without hesitation I fired a shot in Colin’s direction, I had a horrible aim so even though I was aiming for his head, I only managed to hit his shoulder but it was enough to send him tumbling off John. Colin looked up at me from a few dozen yards away with a look of shock.

“You went and got her!? Are you fucking serious Sean!?” He yelled before letting out a groan of pain as he attempted to stand back up.

I raced over to John, my gun still drawn and pointed at Colin as knelt beside my husband. “Baby..” I muttered softly as my free hand went to his face. Through the haze, John’s eyes found mine and I smiled down at him. “It’s gonna be okay baby... I’m gonna get you out of here and you are going to be just fine...I promise…”

“You found me..” He muttered weakly as he tried to reach out for me but only ended up coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

I rested my hand on his chest for a moment and when I lifted it, it was covered in his blood. “Sean… SEAN!” I screamed and though Sean was trying to deal with Colin as soon as I screamed he turned back to me. “We gotta get him out of here… we gotta get him the Bunker.. Please… I can’t..” Colin began to protest but I snapped at him before I could even process what he had said. “You have no rights to fucking speak ever again, you understand that Colin. You are lucky he is fucking hurt as bad as he is, because if he wasn’t… and if I wasn’t desperate to save my husband… I would fucking kill you for the shit that you have caused the last three months…”

“Oh it’s just getting started, Mary Jane… you took our parents from me… YOU KILLED OUR FUCKING MOTHER!” Colin screamed as he lunged at me, his hands only able to grasp my hair as he pulled me down across John and shoved my face into the dirt. As he was about to kick me, Sean brought down the barrel of his gun on the back of Colin’s head. Hard enough to hopefully just knock him out but in that moment I was less concerned if he was okay or not. Colin went tumbling to the ground as Sean scrambled to help me up.

“We gotta go now…” he yelled as he tried to pull me up off John but I wouldn’t budge.

“Not without John…” I wouldn’t leave him, I couldn’t leave him. I knelt next to him, my grey sweatshirt now soaked in his blood as I looked helplessly up at Sean. There was no way that I was going to move John on my own. I needed Sean’s help.

I felt John’s hand move over mine, looking down at him I smiled but John’s face was ashen and serious. “Just go..” John said weakly. “I’m not gonna..”

“I’m not leaving you here,” I whispered as I reached up and ran my hand across his forehead before leaning down and kissing it. “You aren’t going to leave me either, understand that. We have been through too much for you to just die on me like this, understand okay. You aren’t allowed to die..” I turned back to Sean who looked like he was about to cry himself when I looked up at him, tears running down my cheeks, “Sean… please… before Colin comes too…”

Sean nodded and I stood up. It took us a moment to figure out what was going to be the best way to move John and the only way we could think of was to carry him each of us taking an arm. One we got him up it was only a matter of getting him close enough to the road that Sean could bring the truck to us. I tried to keep John conscious, knowing if I kept him talking that in my mind he was going to be okay. “I can’t believe you let Bobby take the girls…” I started as we made our way through the woods.

“He...said...he was… taking them to Jacob…” John coughed hard and we stopped to let him catch his breath. “They would be safe… Gracie is his after all.. That’s what the test said..”

Sean looked at me wide eyed over the top of John’s head and shook my head. “She is our daughter, Jacob even said that… what happened was a mistake and the only good thing that came out of it was Grace… okay..” Sean looked dumbfounded, no one knew that she was Jacob’s daughter besides the three of us. Not even Joseph knew. “This has all been settled, you love her just as much as Lily and Rose…”

John sighed and smiled softly thinking about our children, “I do… I do…” He nodded and Sean just kept looking at me wide eyed in disbelief.

‘You and Jacob… fucked?’ He mouthed, I responded with a shrug. “A shrug is a maybe… that was a yes or no question.” Sean snapped, still very confused over the situation.

“Yes.. we…had… a…” I was trying to find a delicate way to put it but leave it to John, even in the state he was in to find a way to break the tense mood.

“He knocked her up, so either they fucked or it was immaculate conception and Jacob just happens to be god..” Sean snorted at the comment and could feel my face turn bright red. “How red is her face?” John asked too weak to lift his head at this point.

“Solid Candy Apple...which tells me they definitely fucked…”

“Would you both please…” I sighed as I rested my hand on John’s chest to feel his shallow ragged breaths. “Come on, we need to get him to the truck.” Sean nodded and we quickened our pace. It took another five minutes of walking before we reached a spot clear enough that Sean could get his truck down. We settled John down against a tree and I sat down next to him. He leaned into me, his head resting against my chest.

I chuckled softly as I ran my hand through his hair. “Even now...the boobs..”

“Especially now..” He wanted to laugh but he didn’t have it left in him to do so. He was pale and he had lost a lot of blood. I knew time was starting to really be of the essence. I kissed the top of his head as my eyes searched for the first sign of Sean’s truck. Thankfully he didn’t take long and we got John into the cab and wedged myself in the middle.

Sean got up the hill as quickly as he could but it was much easier getting down than up. Once on the road, he put the pedal to the floor as he raced towards the bunker. It was only a few miles away but John was not doing well. “Would you hold my hand…”I whispered to John trying to keep him on the edge of consciousness. I laid my hand in his and his fingers interlaced with mine. “You stay with me okay… I can’t face this world or the next without you..” Tears were rolling down my cheeks when John wouldn’t respond. He was still breathing but his breaths were shallow as we pulled up in front of the bunker.

As soon as we pulled up, Sean laid on the horn and a group of men came running out of the bunker. Sean stuck his head of the window. “John’s hurt… fucking hurry!” The men came rushing over and pulled John from the truck, I wouldn’t let him take him without me right next to him.

“It’s gonna be okay, John… it’s gonna be okay…” I whispered as we were rushed into the bunker and I turned back to see Sean standing by his truck at the gate. I knew he wasn’t going to follow, I had lost that hope long ago. I was however thankful that my brother did the right thing, he helped me find John. He helped me save him...when he could have let Colin kill us both.

#prompts #mary jane seed #john seed/oc #bring forth the angst #far cry 5 fanfic #john seed #john seed/mary jane

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sahidchettair · 3 years

Text

FATHER

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Dressed in some kind of garb that Phil had only ever laid eyes upon in movies, she went about the room drawing all the eyes.

It didn’t take long for him to find her and get her attention in return, stunning dark eyes acknowledging his presence, fierce beauty and deep grief, but also intense longing. He understood it all, he was drawn to her emotions that she wore so openly and at the same time wished to be in her arms, or her in his.

“Phillip Walters,” he introduced himself, smiling.

“Laji,” she answered.

In her words he found answers, her eyes told the rest.

“I am sorry for your loss.”

Through her grief she smiled.

——

“And this has to be Sahid.”

Laji, dressed in her beautiful ocean blue shiva brought her son of four down the stairs on her arm as she carried the last of her bags. A whole life and a half fitting in three suitcases. He would buy them new things.

He sat down on his heels in front of the skinny boy with the same color skin as his mother, the same deep gaze, and with a distrusting mean look that spoke of anger he did not yet understand.

“Sahid,” he said.

The boy looked up at his mom, who sighed. “Sahid,” she corrected him.

Phil nodded, though he had not liked to be corrected, and would never pronounce the name correctly.

“You are going to live with me from now on, you and your mom,” Phil explained.

The boy started crying without sound and Phil let him.

“I want my Bapa back,” he said.

“He isn’t coming back, Sahid,” Laji countered, also sitting down on her haunches, fabric hitting the dirty streets of Atlanta in front of their one bedroom apartment.

The boy sniffled.

Phil scooped him up in his arms and brought him to the car. “I’ve got you, boy,” he whispered into the boy’s ear, and felt him relax.

——

As Sahid came down, Phil tenses slightly, then offered the boy a smile as he walked into the kitchen. He looked worn, tired, exhausted at such a young age.

“Boy, why don’t you take a sip of my coffee and then follow me outside,” he said with a huge grin.

Raising Laji’s son hadn’t been easy, he had stopped crying for his father roughly a year ago, but now other things seemed to linger in those dark eyes.

Phil had been at the school several times over the last two years. Always leading the conversation with “what has he done?”

He hadn’t done anything. It was just the color of his skin and the deepness of his grief. He never told Laji of this. He remembered his own son and told the headmaster that none of this was his boy’s fault, and she should educate the students better.

Sahid stepped forward to take a sip, his face pulling at the bitterness.

Phil smiled. “When I turned seven my dad let me have my first coffee, do you think you are ready for that?”

Despite the bottomlessness of the boy’s grief, Phil had always liked his spunk. Sahid nodded firmly, and drank a full cup of coffee in four sips, making a face only once, then letting out a huge sigh which he must’ve copied from Phil.

“Good boy, well then, are you ready for your birthday present?”

Sahid’s eyes went wide at the notion.

“Come on then, follow me.” Phil walked to the back porch, stepping out of the way so that Sahid could see the trampoline that stood in the garden. He yelled happily and ran at the thing, needing a few moments to drag himself up onto it. He started jumping right away, laughing. Meanwhile his stepfather watched him from some distance, smiling.

——

“Mister Watler, I have asked you here because of Sahid,” the headmistress said. She was a firm woman, strong, a well-known individual in the church community. She had also gone to school with Phil back in the day, she knew having this conversation with him was going to be difficult.

“What are these issues, Andrea, because we both know Sahid is no trouble to you, nor his fellow students. He’s a great student, always does his homework, hands it in on time.”

“We are concerned about his attitude.”

Phil laughed. “Andrea, we both know Sahid has no attitude. He looks mean, sure, but he doesn’t hurt a fly. Has he been violent? Has he used curse words or been too outspoken in class?” He could see right away that she wouldn’t offer neither of that. So he shook his head and sighed. “If you ever call me here again, for something like this, you know we have a problem. My boy looks different but he’s a good kid, and I won’t have him being treated worse than all the other kids.” And with those words Phill stood, didn’t give her a second look before leaving the office.

——

Phil was brought out of the house by the sound of a scream. He already knew what had happened, or at least could guess at it. He ran down the stairs and bounded onto the porch, naked feet falling into the grass as he made his way to the trampoline.

Sahid lay on it clutching his leg, crying out, sobbing, his foot caught in the metal railing of the trampoline’s springs. His friends, all of whom Phil knew the names of, the names and the names of their parents, the names of their parents and what made them infamous. Except for Jimmy. The kids moved away as Phil got closer, an eleven year old Sahid didn’t even notice him coming closer, his eyes were solely on his foot.

“Stop crying, boy,” Phil said, taking a look at the huge wound where the metal stuck into. It would need stitches, and he was certain neither of them should try to remove it. “Jimmy, go get Mister Drew from across, tell him to come here as soon as possible.” Then he looked back at Sahid. “You crying isn’t going to get you anywhere, boy. The pain won’t get any less, you have to power through that pain, understood.”

“Yes sir,” Sahid said through gritted teeth. There were still tears, but they left his eyes soundlessly.

Phil had to give it to the boy that he adjusted quickly, he didn’t go against anything Phil said, he followed it with conviction. And he was glad for it, because he ran a strict household. He stood to get pliers from the shed, and returned to cut the string that was stuck in Sahid’s foot, telling him to hold tight, because it might snap off and move. Which it did, but the boy gave no kick.

Mister Drew came into view some minutes later, he was a retired doctor, but he didn’t ask any questions, just looked at the wound and scooped up Sahid in his arms to bring him back to his house so he could remove the spring. As Sahid left the garden, carried by Mister Drew, his friends left as well, leaving Phil alone with the now broken trampoline.

He felt a little bad that his plan to sabotage the trampoline had resulted in his own kid in an accident, but it had to be done, he wouldn’t have people talking behind his back about letting those kids come play with his son.

——

Phill sat in church smiling. He knew exactly why he was smiling, and while Laji on his side did not carry the same emotions, he wished she too was smiling, if only on the inside.

There he stood, that skinny scrawny kid who packed a punch and could look so angry that people felt uncomfortable around him, ahead of all the other kids, singing with his angelic voice. He had a handsome face for his age, strong, with dark eyes you could fall into like his mother, and thick hair that was neatly combined, that always shone.

Phil felt proud.

But more importantly, he wished he could show all of this to Marsha. That he could get that woman and put her down next to him, point at that little brown boy that he had been raising, and tell her: see, Brandon would’ve been safe here, I would’ve protected him. I protected Sahid.

And as those thoughts crossed his mind, he also felt sad.

Because as much as Sahid lived in his house, ate his food, laughed at his jokes from time to time, and did exactly as Phil asked of him: he wasn’t blood. Phil didn’t see himself in those features, he saw some of Laji, most of all he started to imagine seeing Sahid’s dead father.

But despite that, he would protect him. He would protect the good Christian boy who lived in his home, ate his food, laughed at his jokes from time to time, and did exactly what he asked of him. And he would be proud, because he saw on the faces of those around him that eyes were turned to his boy - HIS boy - that they didn’t see a little Indian kid, they saw Phil’s son.

——

Laji had called him in rage. At first Phil hadn’t been able to understand her words. Afterwards he wasn’t even sure what he had done. Everything, every movement he made was done out of hate. How dare he?!

HOW DARE HE?!!!

Phil had seen Sahid’s face and knew right away that Laji had been right. This boy who did everything he asked him to do, went behind his back and did the one thing he must’ve known would hurt Phil the most. He had turned his back on God, turned away from the faith that had taken him in, that had offered him a home and a podium, and instead taken to a different practice. A practice of heathens. A false religion.

He didn’t calm down until hours later when Sahid pushed him into the table. He didn't cool down until his mother had told the boy to get out. When the last of the sounds of his truck had gone, Phil had cried. Because this was the boy he had raised. No matter what he did, no matter how much he had given the boy, he had still turned his back on him. Turned his back on family, and for what?

“I am sorry,” Laji said. She too knew what it all meant to him, she had told him right away after they married that of course she would convert to his religion, of course so would Sahid. Hinduism had no place in their household.

——

“You should’ve asked for more money,” Phil told his lawyer. “Now the boy goes free.”

“He’s already in a cage, Phillip, he’ll never be able to get out of this image you’ve created for him.”

“He better not.”

——

“He killed her, Nadia, tell Bandon that. He might not want to believe it from me, but he did it. She was the only thing that made all of that happy. He’s not happy, so he doesn’t want us to be either!”

“Perhaps you are right Phil, but you do know he has an alibi right.”

“He probably paid someone to get her,” Phil said over the phone before hanging up.

——

Phil held Sahid’s hair in his hand, pushing back his head. He was knocked out, closed eyes looking up, shiny dark skin gleaming with sweat. He opened his eyes a little, and even when it wasn’t there, Phil still saw the anger in the boy’s eyes. He fired one bullet next to the kid’s ear, and he screamed before falling back.

“Phil don’t!”

“Don’t do it!”

He heard his friends yell behind him as he lifted the boy off the floor again and fired another bullet, next to the other ear. He was smiling as he did it, the boy’s head falling back, horror in his eyes. Good. He should suffer for all he had done to them. Perhaps now he would finally leave, leave for good and never come back.

“Phil, shit, what have you done?”

Phil shook his head. “Don’t worry, he won’t ever tell. He doesn’t dare to.”

He turned back to his friends, and walked away from the little figure on the floor, the skinny disaster that had been taking away his peace and quiet for the past five years. He had no pity.

——

“Phil, yo- the boy has become deaf.”

“Deaf-deaf.”

Only one friend shook his head, the rest just stared at the glasses of beer in front of them. Nobody had said much about what had happened, nobody had tried to stop him from walking away. They were all in this together now. He could see in their eyes that they didn’t pity the boy, they just worried for his soul.

“That is inconvenient. But perhaps he finally understands that we mean it. He better have Cassie back soon, or disappear completely.” Phil turned away from his friends as he ordered himself another beer. Whenever they weren’t looking, whenever they weren’t trying to give him comfort, he would cry. Cry for Cassie, for his son who he could’ve raised to be stronger in the face of this tragedy, and for the boy who he had wished to be his son, but who had broken his trust.

#selfpara #head injury tw #guns tw #violence tw #blood tw #injury tw #racism tw

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angelicthor · 5 years

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billion dollar man - part 14

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary: after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship, fluff + angst

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist

a/n: i am so sorry for the long wait but i’ve finally moved! i hope you like it, please comment!

You ungracefully collapsed back onto the bed with a breathy laugh, heart still racing and thighs burning as your soft pants filled the otherwise silence of the room, your skin glistening in a light sheen of sweat at the exertion of riding Tony’s cock until you’d both orgasmed, his cum filling you as your cunt milked him dry.

Tony wasted no time in pulling you back to him, cupping the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss which you eagerly returned, giggling as his beard tickled your chin, feeling him smirk before he moved to scatter wet kisses down your throat and across your collarbone. He purposely grazed his stubbly checks across your sensitive skin, revelling in the squeals you emitted as you attempted in vain to push him away, his gleeful laugh filling the air between you and couldn’t contain your grin at the sound.

The two of you remained in your embrace, the outside world melting away as you exchanged sweet nothings intermingled with soft caresses and tender kisses. You lay tangled together, head resting over his heart as you traced patterns on his chest, fingers brushing over his scar as you did. You smiled as you thought about how far he’d come; earlier in your relationship Tony wouldn’t let you touch the marred skin, becoming uncomfortable if he thought you were too focused on it. You knew it had nothing to do with his appearance and more to do with what had caused it but the fact that he was still pliant under your hands as you so openly touched it caused a comfortable warmth to spread throughout you.

“Hey Tony, can I ask you something?” Tony hummed in affirmation before you continued, “When we met on that site, where did you get your username from? I never found out; I mean most guys were using shit like ‘richguy69’, so where did ‘Iron Man’ come from?”

You regretted asking as soon as the words left your lips, the way Tony’s body tensed slightly under yours and his fingers stopped their movements on the smooth skin of your back letting you know that he wasn’t fond of this question and you were heading into unpleasant territory. You tried to backtrack, telling him that it was stupid, that you shouldn’t have asked, and he didn’t have to answer you, but he cut you off.

“No,” He snapped, sighing when he felt you jump at the harsh sound, “No, it’s ok. It’s just – it’s not…” Tony trailed off with an agitated sigh as he attempted to pull his mind together and you remained silent as he did, fingertips ghosting over his stomach to calm him, reminding him that you were still there.

“My dad, he uh, he wasn’t the warmest of people. Especially not to me,” Tony let out a humourless chuckle, eyes locked on the ceiling as he spoke, “We never really got along, hell he was never around to get along with. But – but I remember, I was seven and he had already decided I was a disappointment, shipped me off to boarding school, told me I needed to toughen up. That I was too soft. I tried to make him happy, but I was never good enough.”

You didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? How could you possibly hope to ease those wounds inflicted by the man who was supposed to raise him, to guide him through this world, not tear him down and leave him broken.

“Dad, he – uh – he used to have this pocket watch, pretty sure it was his grandfather’s. It was engraved on the cover, ‘Stark men are made of Iron’, it was kind of a family motto. He was prouder of the damn watch than he ever was of me. The one thing he ever tried to teach me was the value of steel, how to be strong and resilient, how to make the Starks proud.”

He spat the words out, heart hammering in his chest as he thought of the coldness his father had bestowed upon him and you held him tighter to you as you silently reminded him of your presence. “He tried to teach me how to be a man, but all he did was leave me bitter and alone.”

Your lower lip began to tremble as you heard the anguish lacing his voice, eyes stinging as you fought back your tears. Tony needed to get this off his chest, you doubt he had ever told another soul the truth about his father and he was in desperate need to free himself of the burden.

“You know I resented it? He loved the damn thing more than me and I was actually jealous of a fucking pocket watch. They went away for Christmas in my final year of collage – I was supposed to go with them but I couldn’t bare the thought of spending that much time with him, shit, I didn’t know how to – anyway, that damn watch was just sitting on the side in his bedroom and I… I smashed it to pieces, I just saw it and I despised it and I kept hitting and hitting until there was nothing left to save. Felt like a weight had been lifted, you know? They both died three days later. Car crash. They were pronounced dead on site.”

A few stray tears escaped your eyes, the hot drops marring his skin and you swiftly moved to wipe them away. Tony stalled at the sound of your soft sobs, his hand hooking under your chin to gently tilt your head back to look into your eyes, his own sorrow so visible in his features it made your heart clench even further.

“I’m sorry, I – I’m so sorry Tony.”

“Hey, what are you sorry for?” Tony cooed, digit moving to swipe away a lone tear that was trailing down your cheek.

“I just – You didn’t deserve any of that Tony,” You saw he was about to brush of your sentiment, shaking your head as you leant up on your elbow, free hand finding his hair as your carded your fingers to through his tousled hair. “You’re a good man. You’re strong and caring and those two things don’t cancel each other out and – and your dad was a fucking asshole and you deserved better, and I’m just – I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

You littered Tony’s face with kisses, a small sense of pride coming over you when you saw the slight twitch of his lips, the corners turning up in a minute smile before he captured your lips with his own, tongue licking into your mouth as he kissed you with every ounce of admiration he held for you.

“It wasn’t all bad babygirl: I had my mom, she was a good woman, and Jarvis – he was our butler, more of a father to me than my own ever was. Mom, she – ha – she would have loved you.”

“Really?” You asked in disbelief.

Tony let out a deep chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead as he pulled you closer to him, tucking your head under his chin and hitching your thigh over his hip. He told you more about his childhood, focusing more on his mother and Jarvis and you were glad he had some happy memories that his father as unable to taint.

You let Tony talk for as long as he needed, he didn’t mention his father again but you felt as if his childhood was not something he often visited and you could tell by the way he spoke that he was close with his mother and Jarvis but you were still anguished over the truth of Tony’s father, swearing to yourself that you’d find some way to ease the complicated and conflicting emotions concerning his childhood and the lasting impression of his father’s poor parenting.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

#tony stark x reader #tony x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #tony stark angst #angelicthorwrites

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unloveable-unreachable · 5 years

Text

You’re the One My Heart Wants- Chapter 2

Word Count: 2,034

Warnings: I’m just giving out a warning before you read this chapter. There’s a lot of sensitive topics being talked about, especially family problems. If that can be triggering to you then please don’t read this chapter. & Swearing

Author: Me

Y/N POV

“Y/N!” Ali calls from the top of the trail with Logan, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Come on sleepy head. I bet you’re regretting some of those drinks by now,” she laughs, “Catch up, Ash found a spot and has lunch ready.” I will never understand why they enjoy doing this every weekend and on their off days. I’d rather be at the gym working out than being out in nature with the bugs. I have nothing against bugs really, it’s spiders that I have a problem with. Fuck spiders. I hear Ali threaten to send Ash down for me, and if there’s one thing I know better than anything- don’t piss off Ashlyn Harris. I love both of my moms equally, but Ash just scares me when she gets pissed off (so does Ali, but don’t tell her that). I pick up my pace, but if I’m being honest I can’t shake what’s taking up my mind.

“Can I sleep with you?” Alex asks with puppy dog eyes that could sway Thanos himself. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. How could anyone tell this angelic being no?? It seems absolutely impossible for me. “Um, yeah. Of course, no problem,” I manage to get out even though I’m still completely breathless from the sight of her. She smiles brightly at me and steps in my room. I shut the door, take a breath and finally turn to face her.

“Hey Y/N, are you okay?” Ash says before biting into her apple. Ali looks at me with concern, normally I’d joke with her and tell her that her mom was showing but I refrain from that joke just for the moment. “Yeah mom, I’m okay. I just have a lot on my mind right now,” I respond. They take that as a good answer even though I know I’m hiding something from them. But what was I even hiding? I didn’t understand it enough to explain it, or even remember the whole thing fully. “Was that Alex’s car in your driveway when I came to pick you up?” Ali asks while watching Logan chase a squirrel around a tree. Ash looks at both of us a little confused she wasn’t informed beforehand. Ali just gives her a small smile before focusing all of her attention to me. I freeze at the mention of Alex. “Uh, yeah it was. She and Kelley came over last night for drinks and they just stayed the night. Kelley left right before you got there,” I say as Ash passes me a bottle of water. “What about Alex? Where was she when I got there?” Ali asks with confusion clear on her face. “She was still passed out upstairs when I left,” is all I answer.

“Aren’t you gonna get in bed?” Drunk Alex asks. I’m literally so nervous, I still haven’t moved from the spot by my dresser. “Uh, yeah. Hold on,” I answer as I step into my bathroom. I hear Alex call out my name as I splash a shit ton of water over my face. Why am I freaking out? She’s straight. I never considered her before, even though I’m sure as hell doing it now. “It’ll be fine,” I state to myself in the mirror before opening the door. As I step out, all I see is her sitting up, staring at me with her ocean eyes.

After finishing up the hellish hike, that’s just my opinion, I follow Ali back to her car. But not before telling Logan bye and giving Ash a big bear hug, since we’re practically the same size except I’m just slightly taller than her. She pats the top of my head before I jog over to Ali’s car, and we head back to my house. For probably the first time ever me and Ali sit in awkward silence. She breaks the silence first, “So just to be clear, you are gay. Right?” I’m caught by surprise by what she says, not offended just surprised. I look up at her and I can immediately see the concern in her eyes. I sigh. “Yes I am, but not openly with my family,” I say as I look down at my hands. Ali is silent for maybe two minutes before she lets out a long sigh. She pulls the car over in a parking lot I don’t recognize. I’m in a state of confusion, while Ali looks like she’s trying to figure out what exactly to say. “I support your life choices. I know how hard it was for you to leave Portland, mostly because you would call me or Ash every night crying. And that broke our hearts, and we were happy knowing that you would be coming here where we can be there for you no matter what. The team is happy you’re here, especially me and Ash. We’ve loved you since 2015, back when you were still our little rookie,” she stops trying to compose herself. “Can you tell me why your family doesn’t know?” Ali finally finishes with a shaky voice.

As she spoke, I just looked at her, studying her face. She wasn’t just a teammate to me, she’s someone I looked up to when I made my way up to the professional level. This was Ali Krieger for god’s sake, I’ve never seen her get this emotional, ever. She, along with Ash, is someone I look up to in my career and my personal life. She was more of a mom to me than my own mother ever was. She’s been there through everything, my wins and loses and my injuries at the start of my career. She and Ash are the family I never knew I could have, or even deserved. But I’m glad I have them now. So after all of this, why had I waited so long to tell her the truth about my family, and why I never really talked about or to them? Would that change her view of me? I didn’t want pity from anyone when it comes to my family, and I know she wouldn’t give me any. This was the best time to tell her, especially since she’s being so open with me.

I swallow hard before blurting everything out to her. “My family is a difficult one to understand. My grandfather is a football coach and a hateful man. He never supported me when I started playing soccer. My grandmothers are homophobic, and when I say that I mean they are hateful towards them like you’ve never seen. And my mom didn’t hide her view on gay people either. I’m the oldest sister of three girls. Ever since I can remember I’ve been expected to be great, no excuses. They forced me into sports I didn’t like, so when I went into soccer I became the disappointment of the family. I don’t know what they have against the sport, or why me playing it was such a big deal. I thought they would support my choice in playing the sport I loved like they supported my sisters in the things they did. No matter what I do, or how successful I am, it’s never enough for them. I’m the most successful out of my sisters. They’re praised because they have husbands and children, fulfilling their ‘birthright’. And through all of that, I’m left in the background. My family’s view on gay people hasn’t changed since I was young enough to know what they were talking about, and I realized how wrong they were even back then. I figured out I was gay when I was 13, and any sign of that had to be hidden away or I’d be punished. If they ever found out that I’m gay, I wouldn’t just be the disappointment. I would be completely disowned, meaning no contact ever again from anyone. I can’t lose my family,” I say through the tears that started at some point.

Ali was crying, too. Like uncontrollable sobs were coming from both of us. She reached for me, pulling me into a tight hug. This caused me to cry harder into her shoulder, and I could feel her physically shaking from her cries. We both comforted each other until Ali finally spoke up. “I’m so so sorry, Y/N. That should never be something you should have to worry about. If they can’t accept you for who you are, then you don’t deserve them and they definitely don’t deserve you,” she says as she brushes a tear from my cheek. “You have a family. Me, Ash, and Logan are your family. Hell, even Kyle’s your family,” she laughs, “And we aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, I promise.” That last sentence hit my heart so hard it made me cry even more. I pull her into another hug, only this one much tighter. “I love you, Ali,” I say through my soft sobs. “I love you too, kiddo.”

Ali finally gets me back to my house after our heart-to-heart. Our car ride home let me think over all of the shit my family has put me through and how my family, that was Ali and Ash, treated me with more respect than my actual one ever did. I think I’ve come up with my decision about how to handle my family, finally. We pull in the driveway, and Alex’s car is gone. “So about Alex…” Ali starts to say as I go to get out of the car. “Yeah?” I asked confused. “She’s been through a lot, just be careful,” Ali says knowingly. I roll my eyes and say, “Careful Ali, your mom is showing.” She lets out a small laugh but goes back to a semi-serious look. “We’re just friends. Don’t worry so much, mom,” I say with a little smile at the end. I manage to get another laugh from her before we say our goodbyes.

I walked into my now empty house, besides Luna of course, and I keep getting flashbacks from the night before. A lot of them are of me dealing with a very drunk Kelley, a few are of me getting more alcohol, and a very select few have Alex in them. I move throughout the house fighting with the flashbacks while I try to clean up our collective messes from last night. When I make it up to my room, I notice that the bed is made and the room seems cleaner for some reason. I lean against the door, trying to piece together everything that happened and trying to figure out if I did something wrong. I look over at my bed, and suddenly I’m pulled back into a flashback.

“Alex, go to bed,” I whine as Alex keeps moving the bed. “I need to get comfy,” she says, giggling at the last word. I turn towards her and give her a serious look. “What do I need to do to get you ‘comfy’?” I ask as she starts giggling at that damn word again. When she finally stops she asks “Can we cuddle?” I roll my eyes, although she’d never notice because of the darkness and her drunkness, thinking that I could be asleep right now. I open my arms, inviting her in. She lets out a small squeal as she accepts my invitation, which was adorable. Just stating facts. She wraps her arms around my waist and snuggles into my chest. We lay there long enough for me to start drifting off to sleep, just to be woken up by Alex propping herself up on my chest. When I look up at her, even in the darkness, I could tell our faces were inches apart. And I could feel her breath on my lips.

I come out of my thoughts with Luna bringing something to me. “Whatcha got, Luna?” I ask as I lean down to take whatever it was from her mouth. It’s a note with my name on it. I make my way to the bed, sit down and open it. I sit in a frozen state as I read the seven words on the page.

“I can explain, can we please talk?”

To Be Continued

#alex morgan #alex morgan imagines #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine #ali krieger #ashlyn harris #krashlyn #uswnt #uswnt imagines #nwsl #woso #You’re the One My Heart Wants

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ladyautie · 4 years

Text

get to know me more!

@funyasm tagged me and I’m bored after writing my chapter, so here it is!

✨ what do you prefer to be called name wise?

My name’s Sophie. My friends call me Spencou or Spence. We met on a Role-Playing game forum where I played a character named Spencer. We’re used to call each other by our characters’ names and nicknames, most of the time. My brother calls me Sis’.

✨ when is your birthday?

15th november 1993.

✨ where do you live?

Paris, France.

✨ three things you are doing right now?

I’m watching an episode of AT4W on youtube, scrolling on Tumblr and I’m drinking a coffee.

✨ four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now?

Definitely It and especially Eddie Kaspbrak and the ship Reddie. I’m kinda obsessed right now, writing fanfic, reading fanfic, daydreaming about it and all.

I just played the Last of Us 2 and I’m currently watching a let’s play from my favorite youtubers, Mari and Stacy from Geek Remix. I’ll probably read a few fics as well.

The tv show Barry (HBO) is a definite special interest for me. I’m probably going to watch it all once again real soon and I’m planning on writing a fanfic or two in the future. I’m dying for the third season to come.

Finally, I’m probably going to be super into The Umbrella Academy once again, when the second season will be released. I’m just really into Vanya, Klaus and Allison and I can’t wait to see more of them.

✨ how is the pandemic treating you?

None of the people I know have been contaminated, so I’m lucky about that. I’m not quarantined anymore, back to work, and the transition is not easy.

I feel like I’m more openly autistic than I used to be and that I can’t stand the rest of the world for a long period of time. I’ve experienced multiple meltdowns and shutdowns and I have real difficulties to socialize with most people or to focus on my work.

I feel incredibly naked and vulnerable whenever I’m leaving my flat without my mask on, so I think that’s definitely something I’m gonna have to work on in the future.

Leaving Paris and meeting my folks for my mother’s wedding, I found myself surrounded by people who mostly didn’t care about the virus, kissing each other on the cheek in true french fashion to say hello, hugging, not wearing a mask, not respecting any kind of social distance.

I was quickly overwhelmed by all of that, plus the noise, and I had to isolate myself in my parents’ car, sobbing hysterically and willing to suffer in a overheated car if it meant having a bit of peace.

There are definitely going to be long-term consequences. I can only hope that my physical health will remain okay, though.

✨ song you can’t stop listening right now?

Keep On by Sasha Sloan. I just really love the lyrics and the message.

✨ recommend a movie.

Whenever I have to think of a movie to recommend, Frank by Lenny Abrahamson is the first one that comes to my mind. This movie is an obsession for me since the first time I watched it and I often find myself watching it again and again. Despite its heavy subjects, it’s definitely a comfort movie for me.

Too often, movies featuring mentally ill characters will aim for the characters to “get better”, which doesn’t mean for them to find healthy ways to cope with their issues, but usually for them to look more “neurotypical-like”, if you know what I mean. Frank doesn’t go that way at all. On the contrary, it pushes the viewer to empathize with the main characters and to understand their point of view, their way of being.

It’s so incredibly comforting to watch a movie featuring mental illness realistic and not romanticized and to have the movie say “you’re different and you have issues, but you’ll find your tribe someday and be able to find your own happiness, even if it’s unconventional by society’s standards”.

I don’t know, I just have so much feelings about this movie. Plus the music slaps, the humor is hilarious (kudos to the random French guy who can perfectly understand English but refuses to utter a single word if it’s not in French) and the actors are truly on point (I can only salute Domnhall Gleeson, among everyone else who is also worthy of praise, because he definitely managed to make me hate his character in a way I almost never hated a character before).

Watch it!

✨ how old are you?

I’m 26 years old.

✨ school, university, occupation, other?

I used to be a librarian, but I couldn’t find a stable job in this field, so I passed an entrance examination and I’m now working in the tax administration. Yeah, not really glamorous, but it pays the bills and I’m accommodated for my disability, so it helps.

✨ do you prefer hot or cold?

Definitely cold. When I was a kid, I used to swim in mountain lakes, at temperatures close to 13° celsius, and I still take my showers mostly cold. I can’t stand heat, I get headaches very easily when it’s sunny and I’m getting confused easily whenever it’s too hot. I recently had a nosebleed at work so intense that I found myself spitting blood (it went better once I got a fan, making the temperature bearable).

✨ name one fact others may not know about you.

I used to be allergic to my own sweat when I was around 18, until my early twenties. Whenever I was doing a mild physical effort or getting stressed out, I would get hives and itchy skin rash all over my whole freaking body, which was so exhausting that I would fall asleep immediately as soon as the rash was gone.

It disappeared as suddenly as it appeared, without me ever doing something about it. I still don’t know why I experienced that and if I’m going to experience that ever again. I hope not.

✨ are you shy?

My autism makes social interactions complicated, but I’d say I’m mostly impaired by my social anxiety and the various traumas I’m dealing with daily.

Traumas I got after having been bullied pretty badly by kids and teachers during my school years, my stepfather being borderline abusive and different traumatic experiences, including my childhood crush dying from a ski accident when I was 15 or so (and me never being able to tell him that I loved him) and people betraying me so many times that I can’t even recall every little thing.

As a result, I find myself doubting constantly that I’m worthy of love, affection and respect and I often wonder when I’ll do or say the “wrong” thing that will cause me to lose everyone I care about. I also have a hard time knowing who I am and, as a result, allowing everyone to know who I am as well.

I often don’t know what to say and will find myself keeping my mouth shut, even on topics I’m knowledgeable about, because I’m scared of people shutting me down, among other things. My friends make it easier for me to talk about things I like and all, but I’m still heavily doubting myself.

I try to challenge myself regularly. I’ll force myself to take part in events that are taxing or that are forcing me to perform in front of people. That’s how I found myself taking part in the casting part of the french equivalent of “American Idol” (I merely met the pre-judges, but I did manage to sing my whole song in front of them). I needed to prove to myself that I could do it.

✨ do you have any preferred pronouns?

I’m using she/her, but I don’t mind people using they/them to talk about me if they don’t want to be gender-specific.

✨ any pet peeves?

I hate how people can freely and openly be homophobic, racist, ableist, transphobic, sexist and so on, but as soon as I open my mouth to let them know that what they said/did wasn’t appropriate, I’m labelled as one of those “hysterical feminists” or a “party pooper”. s/ Sorry if your antisemitic joke isn’t making me laugh, my “dear” colleague... /s I hate whenever people infantilize me, especially my mom. She’s still keeping an eye on my bank account, despite me telling her that I didn’t want her to do so again and again. I don’t dare to block her out, because I’m scared of her emotional reaction. I hate the ugliest parts of fandom, notably the obsession with “who’s topping / who’s bottoming” whenever there’s a gay pairing or the racism / ableism / transphobia / homophobia I’ve witnessed again and again.

I don’t dare to engage in the Last of Us 2 fandom because of that and the way some people describe the character of Abby (a very muscular woman), focusing on her physical appearance and calling her awful names (being downright transphobic when they thought that she was the transgender character that Naughty Dog announced there would be in their game).

✨ what’s your favorite “dere” type?

I had to google it, because aside from Yandere and Tsundere, I didn’t know a thing about it. I guess you could say I’m a Dandere (someone who is quiet and asocial. They are afraid to talk, fearing that what they say will get them in trouble.).

My favorite type is Kuudere though, when it comes to anime in particular (someone who is calm and collected on the outside, and never panics. They show little emotion, and in extreme cases are completely emotionless, but may be hiding their true emotions. They tend to be leaders who are always in charge of a situation.).

My favorite anime character, Kiyotaka Ayanokōji from the anime Classroom of the elite, is the most extreme case I can think about. He’s completely expressionless for most of the anime, talks with a very dull voice and it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking about at all times or what’s his overall plan. His hidden depth makes him all the more fascinating. He managed to keep me interested in a mostly meh anime.

✨ rate your life 1-10. 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be.

It’s a bit hard, but somewhere around 5 or 6? I went through tons of crap in my life but I’m still here and able to live on my own, even if my quality of life isn’t all that good. I live with nearly daily suicidal thoughts since I was a teenager and have to compose with my meltdowns and anxiety attacks as well. I feel “other” most of the time and I can’t relate to most people I’m meeting and interacting with, which can sometimes feel very lonely.

On the other hand, I have wonderful friends who are willing to put up with my trauma crap and are overall amazing to talk to and be around. I have a cat I love dearly. They’re the reason why I’m still alive to this day, giving me a reason to say fuck off to my suicidal thoughts.

✨ what’s your main blog?

My main blog is Ladyautie and is about autism. I have another blog, reddie-4-more, focusing on the It movies and Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier.

✨ is there anything you think people need to know about you before becoming friends with you?

So, uh, don’t be weirded out by the kind of things I can tell you about my past. Even if it seems a lot, all of it is definitely true.

For example, I was almost kidnapped when I was around 8 or 9 by a random guy, while I was camping with my father.

My father and my paternal grandmother actually kidnapped me and my brother when I was around two and I stayed with him until the social workers determined that my mother had to raise us again because our well-being and overall life were threatened.

Lots of events of my life seem far-fetched or out of a movie / a book or something and I had people telling me that I must be lying or that I’m over-exaggerating, something that always hurts deeply.

I’m terribly awkward and more or less openly autistic, so you’re definitely going to notice something different about me. I can’t change for you and I’m not willing to hide my traits only to make you feel more comfortable about frequenting me, so if you can’t handle my socially anxious and disabled ass, then just leave.

I need people to actually tell me what they think or feel. I’m very “first degree” and I’m pretty bad at guessing what people are thinking about. Don’t be afraid to be frank.

Finally, never, and I mean never, infantilize me. I’m a 26 years old woman. I’m not a kid.I’m fine with my friends offering to help or making sure that I’m okay or so, but never assume that I don’t understand something and don’t force your help on me if I say that I’m okay.

That’s it, those who want to take part in this exercise, don’t hesitate!

#tag game #not entirely autism related #suicide mention

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