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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 3 years

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BTS DRABBLE-Yoongi

@libtastic Thank you for inspiring this idea and for sharing all your knowledge. Story Time Yoongi belongs to you. Love you, boo. 💜

Yoongi has never thought he was the sort of dad to go to the library-of his own free will-and sit through a preschool story time. However, he’ll do anything to make his daughter happy, and if that means going every week to said story time, he’ll be there. And honestly, getting to interact with the cute children’s librarian-who he may or may not be developing a crush on-is not such a bad bonus. Whatever makes his daughter happy, right?

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS x you, BTS x reader, BTS Drabble, Librarian AU, Librarian!Reader, SingleDad!Yoongi, Dad Au, Dad Yoongi, Min Yoongi, Yoongi x you, Yoongi x reader, Dad!Bangtan, Fluff, Min Yoongi x you, Min Yoongi x reader

Genre: Fluff

Title: Story Time

Yoongi doesn’t quite know what brings him to the library that day. Maybe it’s the fact that Hyejin is whiny and bored-stuck inside because of the cold, dreary weather-or because the song he’s currently producing is going nowhere and starting to give him a headache.

Or maybe it’s because of the iron like grip that Seokjin has on the sleeve of his coat-dragging him through the stacks of books-and the guilt inducing sentiments and pleading words his friend had thrown his way that morning on the phone.

Whatever the reason, Yoongi is here now-Hyejin clinging tightly to his mitten covered hand-and he’s already regretting it.

The library’s children section is decorated in brightly colored colored cut outs-pasted loudly across all the walls-and posters that boast pictures of smiling kids and adults, holding books in their hands accompanied by slogans that loudly scream, Read! It’s the smart thing to do! and Reading makes the world go ‘round!

Every single person on those posters looks way too happy to be here in Yoongi’s opinion, and it’s only heightening his headache, pounding behind his ears and into his temples.

“You’re gonna love Miss (Y/N), Hyejin.” Jin says, slightly out of breath, pulling Yoongi back from his annoyed thoughts, as the older man slows down to fall into step beside father and daughter, adjusting the baby on his hip as he graces Hyejin with a beaming smile. “She’s the best. So fun, and very pretty.”

Yoongi’s head jerks up, and he shoots his friend a glare, as Jin grins wider in his direction, and sends him a, exaggerated, knowing wink.

Damn it, Yoongi knew Seokjin’s intentions weren’t pure. They never were.

Yoongi doesn’t have time to subtly flip Jin off or curse him out before the story time corner comes into view.

A group of bustling, giggling toddlers sits in a circle of rainbow, plastic chairs, a feeling of anticipation in the air, as their mothers shush the overly excited kids, and remind them to use whisper voices-and Yoongi notes, slightly sourly-that there seem to be no other dads present.

His eyes drift over the small crowd, and he notices you then, setting up a table at the front of the group, and adjusting some pillows on the large, overly worn arm chair that sits in the center of said brightly colored chairs, surrounded and seeming completely at home among all the squirming, loud toddlers.

He does have to admit, as he trudges behind Seokjin-Hyejin eagerly pulling at his fingers as they look for seats-that you are really pretty.

Seokjin leads Yoongi and the kids to a corner, where he settles down into the hard plastic of one of the children’s seats, patting the one beside him as he raises a brow in Yoongi’s direction, where he’s still standing, feeling slightly out of place.

“Come on, sit down.” Jin encourages teasingly, as he shuffles his infant daughter around on his hip once more, reaching for her binkie where it has fallen to the floor, while simultaneously hushing his son, who is speaking a little too loudly and animatedly to the little girl next to him.

“Daddy, sit by me!” Hyejin pipes up, her clear voice floating above the others, as she tugs at Yoongi’s hand and looks up at him with wide, dark eyes, her black pigtails sticking out at odd angles from beneath her beanie. She flashes him a grin, so much like his own, all white teeth and pink gums. “Sit down, daddy!”

Yoongi sighs, and stifling his urge to roll his eyes, slides into the too small chair beside his daughter, managing to give her a smile, as he nods and says softly, “Okay, Okay Hyejin. Daddy’s sitting.”

“Mr. Kim!”

Yoongi’s head startles upwards at your voice, and suddenly, he’s caught off guard, as he comes face to face with you, standing in front of their group, a large smile on your lips, as you adjust the glasses on the bridge of your nose.

You’re looking at Jin, and his kids, not even in his direction, but Yoongi suddenly feels flushed, as if it’s a little too hot in the room. He reaches up to unwind his scarf, as Hyejin kicks her legs against the chair beside him happily.

“Ms. (Y/N)!” Jin replies warmly, sticking out his hand for you to take, as you shake it eagerly, eyes darting between him and the children at his feet. “It’s good to see you again!”

You laugh, and Yoongi think it’s the prettiest sound he’s heard in awhile-light and sparkling like the fresh snow that is falling outside the large library windows.

“You too.” You nod, and grin once more, before you crouch down to the childrens’ height, and reach out to pinch the Kim boy’s cheeks. “Hey, Jisung, how are you?”

“Good.” The little boy nods, and his eyes light up when you pay attention to what he’s saying and give a fond ruffle to his hair. “What’s story time about today?”

You smile, and give him a conspiratorial wink. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

And then, you glance over in Yoongi’s direction-finally-and he’ll never admit it, but when your gaze meets his own, his heart stutters to a stop in his chest for a brief moment.

Jin must catch your curious gaze in Yoongi’s direction, because he’s hurriedly leaning forward, and almost too excitedly, exclaiming to you, “This is my friend, Yoongi. And his daughter Hyejin.”

“Hi.” You give a little wave in his direction, and it takes everything in Yoongi to form some sort of greeting to you in return.

That and the fact that Jin kicks him sharply-unseen-beneath the chair legs of the plastic seats.

“Shi-” Yoongi starts to swear, shooting him a glare, before he remembers that he is literally surrounded by children. Swallowing, he manages to pull the corners of his lips back into a tight smile in your direction. “Pleasure.”

“Hi!” Hyejin interrupts, practically bouncing in her seat, and Yoongi doesn’t miss the way that your face instantly softens and relaxes when you turn to address his daughter.

Maybe you’re a little bit like him, in the fact that he’s much more comfortable around children than he ever has been adults.

Something about overwhelming, pure honesty, and the fact that deception hasn’t been ingrained anywhere in their personalities yet.

“Hello.” You get down on your knees, carefully taking Hyejin’s small hand into your own. “You must be Hyejin.” You glance down her small, slim frame quickly, and your eyes alight when you smile broadly. “Wow. I love your cat sticker.”

Hyejin grins and proudly holds out the lapel of her winter coat, which is currently the home of a very large, very bright cartoon sticker of a cat, plastered with the words, Good Job!, across the bottom in bright pink letters.

“Thank you.” Her smile widens, as she glances up at Yoongi, and suddenly, he feels like he knows where this is going, and his cheeks are starting to warm. “I love kitties. Daddy looks like a kitty.”

Yoongi feels his cheeks flame brighter, as you glance over Hyejin’s head toward him, and a slightly amused look comes across your eyes, as you stifle back a laugh, and then tilt your head slightly, scrunching your nose in a cute way as you study him that has Yoongi’s heart once again faltering. “He kind of does, huh?”

Hyejin laughs, and you laugh with her, and Yoongi is startled-for the second time-at how clear and bright and pleasant the sound is.

“Well.” You pat Hyejin on the head and stand from your spot on the floor, glancing at the clock. “I need to get story time started. Do you think you can help me today, Hyejin?” You shoot her a look that clearly says you have a very important job for her.

The little girl nods, chest puffing out with importance and pride at your trust. “Yes.”

“Good.” You nod, and offering Yoongi a slight smile-as if the two of you are in on some sort of secret together-you make your way to the center of the circle, and clap your hands. “Okay, everyone! Welcome to story time! Let’s get started!”

******

You are slightly surprised to see Yoongi back again at story time the next week.

Sure, Hyejin had seemed to enjoy herself, and Yoongi hadn’t seemed to have had the worst time either, his eyes alight as he grinned softly and watched Hyejin participate in the songs, and books, and activities you had planned.

But Yoongi just didn’t come off as someone you expected to spend time in a library when he didn’t have to. Especially the children’s section.

But here he is-catching you off guard-as you glance over your shoulder from setting up to see Hyejin leading her father to their same seats from the week before, her brightly colored mittens clenched in his long fingers, her woolen hat low over her ears and eyes.

You straighten, and adjusting the last of the books on the table-Oh! by Kevin Henkes-you turn to glance at Hyejin, giving her a sneaky little wave, as she settles herself in her chair.

She giggles, and returns the wave, somewhat shyly, as she burrows into her father’s side.

Speaking of her father-

You let your gaze slip to Yoongi-a direct contrast to the bright feel of the children’s section-dressed in a long, black peacoat today, a knit cream sweater, and dark, ripped jeans, and you feel your breath catch in your throat slightly.

So dumb.

But the way his dark hair is falling over his forehead as he looks down at Hyejin-caramel eyes bright and attentive behind his black rimmed glasses-makes you feel some sort of way.

He’s a good dad.

And it doesn’t hurt that he’s also hot as hell.

Clearing your throat, you drag your gaze away from the duo, glad that he hadn’t caught you staring, and cheeks slightly flushed, you clap your hands to gain the attention of the preschoolers filling up the circle.

“Okay!” You grin, as the kids all turn their attention to you. “Let’s start! You glance behind you to the books set up on the table, and the various activities out on display. “Can anyone guess what our theme is for today?”

One of the little boys raises his hand immediately, and you point toward him. “Han? Yes?”

“Snow!” Han bounces excitedly in his chair, and his mom puts a hand on his shoulder with a smile, leaning over to whisper something to him, which makes him calm down, if only slightly.

“Yes! Good!” You clap again, and you can feel Yoongi staring at you, but you don’t lose focus.

Maybe he thinks you’re overenthusiastic or annoying or even a little crazy.

And you wouldn’t blame him.

But honestly, you just love this job.

You move on to read the first picture book, careful to take your time and show off all the brightly colored illustrations around the circle, doing silly voices and faces that make the kids giggle, and when you’re done, you sit back in your chair, closing the book, before you ask, “So. That was a good story huh?”

“Yes!” Hyejin’s voice rings clear above the others, and you glance in her direction, offering her a slight smile that you can’t hold back at her enthusiasm.

Without thinking, your eyes meet Yoongi’s, sitting next to his daughter, and your mouth goes slightly dry as he gives you the hint of a smile, his lips curling upward, as he cocks his head in your direction, a gesture that is oddly feline in nature.

You remember Hyejin’s cat sticker from the very first day, and hold back another, wider grin, as you turn back to the waiting group of toddlers.

“Now.” You reach behind your chair, and pull out a box, filled with soft, fabric white balls. “Who wants to have a snowball fight?”

********

Yoongi finds himself at story time the next week, and the week after that.

And before long, it is part of he and Hyejin’s regular schedule on Tuesday mornings. A natural hour that slides into the rest of their comfortable routine quite easily, which surprises him.

This week at story time, after you have read the last story and sung the farewell song with the children, waving them all goodbye until next week, Yoongi finds himself hesitating, not wanting to leave quite yet.

Hyejin tugs at the edge of his sweater, and when Yoongi glances down at his daughter, she’s watching him with eyes that clearly say she understands what’s happening. “Go talk to her, daddy.”

Damn her perception. She was too smart for Yoongi’s own good.

“I really don’t think-” Yoongi starts to make the excuse that you seem busy, putting away the materials, or that he has to take a call, or get back home to start work again, but before he can, you’re turning to them, a smile lighting up your face at the sight of them both.

“Did you guys need something?” You question curiously, and Yoongi feels his heart leap into his throat, as his eyes meet yours.

“Daddy wants to say something to you.” Hyejin states innocently, and Yoongi squeezes her small fingers within her own, as if to tell her to stop talking. She doesn’t spare him a single glance, as she scuffs her heavy winter boots on the floor and pushes forward. “He thinks you’re pretty.”

Yoongi chokes on his own spit. “Hyejin!”

He feels his cheeks flush hot, and he can tell you’re fighting back a smile, as you clear your throat, and kindly ignoring his startled coughing fit, crouch down before Hyejin, eyes soft and slightly curious, filled with amusement.

“Is that so?” You ask, but you don’t look up at him yet, and Yoongi is grateful for that, his whole face red and flushed, as he tugs mindlessly at Hyejin’s mittened hand, as if he can physically pull her away from spilling anymore of his secrets.

“Yup.” Hyejin nods, dark pigtails dancing across the slick material of the back of her bright pink coat. “He thinks you’re really pretty.”

“Hmmm.” You hum out, putting your finger against your lips-and Yoongi fights himself not to stare at your mouth with the movement-as you regard Hyejin seriously. “That’s interesting.”

You let a smile slip from between your fingers, and Yoongi feels his heart skip a beat. You lean toward Hyejin, as if you’re fellow conspirators sharing a highly guarded secret. “I think your daddy’s pretty cute, too, Hyejin.”

“You do?” Yoongi watches as his daughter’s eyes go wide at your declaration, and her mouth forms a perfect “o” of surprise and delight. She looks up at him then, tugging excitedly at his hand.��“Did you hear that daddy? Did you?”

Yoongi swallows hard, and he nods. “I did, Hyejin.”

You stand up then, and your eyes meet his, and he swears, the smile that graces your lips, is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“So.” You start, reaching up to adjust your glasses. “Story time next week then?”

Yoongi nods again, this time more sure and confident, and he can’t help the smile that slips across his own lips at your words. “Story time next week.”

*****

It is several story times later when Yoongi surprises you once more.

You are ending the session, playing your classic closing tune “Skinamarink” happily and without care on your ukulele, missing some notes, but not even missing a beat, as you laugh and sing and lead the circle of dancing children around the corner of the library.

And today, when your eyes meet Yoongi’s briefly, over the heads of the wiggling preschoolers, you notice something. Something fond and affectionate in his expression, something in his dark, almond shaped eyes-as he watches you prance around and make a fool of yourself-that sends your heart skipping within the walls of your chest.

“Okay, okay!” You call out breathlessly, and not entirely from the singing and dancing. You clap your hands. “That’s goodbye for today, friends! See you next week!”

The story time nook is filled with bustling as the parents round up their children and coats and belongings, and you try to calm your still overly excited heart among the chaos by focusing on putting away your supplies.

But something tells you that Yoongi is still there, watching you with the same expression from earlier, and that makes your silly, stupid heart do dizzying circles once more, even as you bite your lip and try to focus elsewhere.

You are just finishing cleaning up the craft supplies, when you feel a tug on the edge of your dress, and glancing down, you see Hyejin, fingers curled around your skirt, looking up at you with wide, dark eyes and that gummy smile on her face that melts your heart.

The same gummy smile her father sports when he’s happy-an expression you have only seen in its full glory a few times over the last month-but an expression, that none the less, stops you in your tracks with its brilliance every time.

“Ms. (Y/N)!” Hyejin exclaims with excitement clear in her tone, as she shoves a carefully wrapped package into your hands. “I have a Christmas present for you!”

“What? No!” You gasp out with delight, sinking down onto the floor beside her, as you carefully inspect the gift that now rests in your lap. You note-with a flare of happiness in your chest-that there are carefully placed cat stickers covering the christmas wrapping paper. Obviously Hyejin’s touch. “Thank you, Hyejin!”

“Open it, open it!” Hyejin is bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement beside you, and you hide away a grin as you do what you’re told, tearing into the wrapping paper, careful not to separate any of the stickers with your progress.

“Oh my gosh! Hyejin!” You exclaim as the paper comes away to reveal a copy of a children’s book entitled My Cat Looks Like My Dad by Thao Lam. Your mouth is slightly open, as you smooth your fingers over the crisp, new cover, and inspect the brightly, colored illustrated pages of the book. You can’t resist the urge to lift the new tome to your nose and take a whiff of that new book smell that you love so much.

You are touched, and suddenly, you feel as if it’s a little bit more difficult to swallow, as tears threaten to thicken your throat.

“I love it. Thank you, Hyejin.” You manage to say, your tone softened, as without thinking, you pull the little girl to you in a big hug. “Thank you, thank you.”

“You know why I got you that book?” Hyejin asks as she pulls back from you, and you find your fingers once more smoothing over the cover in your lap. You shake your head-though you have a good idea-and she grins happily, pointing to the title. “My dad looks like a cat too.”

You laugh then-you can’t help it-and it’s the first time you’ve looked at Yoongi since you caught him watching you during the ending song.

He looks so effortlessly beautiful-standing slightly behind Hyejin-hands deep in the pockets of his coat, watching the two of you with amber eyes, dark hair falling easily over his forehead and onto the rim of his wire glasses.

He shrugs slightly and offers you the start of a smile, and when he speaks, his voice is warm and deep and comforting, and you feel your heart speed up once again. “She picked it out herself.”

You let your gaze linger on him for another brief moment, and then shaking your head slightly, you glance back to Hyejin, flashing her a smile as you say, “I got you a present too, Hyejin!”

“Really?” Hyejin asks with surprise, her eyes going wide and round, as she watches you reach behind you and pull out a neatly wrapped pink and purple package, complete with shiny bow and a large cat sticker.

“Here.” You hand it to her, and watch with a smile on your features, as she rips open the paper, not sparing a second glance as it falls to the floor at her feet to reveal the children’s book you had picked out for her.

“It’s so pretty.” Hyejin says softly, and you appreciate the way she instantly runs her fingers carefully over the art on the cover of the book, tiny fingertips gently tracing the spine of the worn, older looking tome.

“It was mine when I was a kid.” You say simply, feeling emotional again,a s you watch the little girl in front of you admire the book the same way you always had as a child. “It’s called There’s Something in my Attic. I read it over and over. And I want you to have it.”

Hyejin spends another moment admiring the book, and then she throws her arms around your neck without warning, nearly knocking you off balance.

You glance once more at Yoongi over the top of his daughter’s head, and that same expression is back on his face, the expression that makes you feel safe, yet slightly nervous at the same time.

Jittery almost, as if he’s making you anxious, but in a pleasant, waiting for Christmas morning, kind of way.

When Hyejin releases you and sits down on one of the empty colorful chairs to carefully flip through her new book, you brush off your knees and stand, not really sure what to say next, as you and Yoongi stand staring at one another.

You clear your throat, but Yoongi beats you to the punch, stepping toward you and closing the distance between the two of you, before he holds out his palm in your direction, fingers unfurling to reveal a small, ribbon wrapped box in the middle of his hand.

“What’s this?” You ask, slightly suspicious, and you don’t miss the way his lips quirk upward in amusement at your question.

“Just open it.” He says, and his tone is slightly shy, as he glances away from you, biting on his bottom lip. “Hyejin got to give you her present. Now it’s my turn.”

You take the package from his palm-trying to ignore the way your heart starts to pound as your fingers brush against his own-and carefully undo the red ribbon that adorns the box, before slipping the lid off, breath held as you crane your neck to peer inside.

And when you see what’s inside the box-nestled among the folds of tissue paper and velvet cushion-you laugh, the sound surprised and genuine.

“What-” You start to say, as you slip your fingers beneath the cat sticker, carefully positioned on the pillow, and hold it up for Yoongi to see. “What is this?”

“Well.” Yoongi shrugs, his cheeks going slightly red, as he offers you a shy smile, and reaches out to take the sticker from between your extended fingertips. “I was hoping you’d wear this.” He must see the way your brows inch up, because he hurries to finish explaining, glancing down at the sticker within his hand. “And that I could take it as a sign that you’d agree to go on a date with me?” He ends the sentence in a question, his cheeks growing darker.

You bite back a grin at his rushed words, spilling from his lips as if he’s worried you’ll say no before he can finish. Because damn it all, this is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Yoongi is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Hmmm.” You step toward him, pretending to think over his offer, glancing down at your feet, toe to toe with his dress shoes, which he always seems to wear, regardless of the weather. And then you tilt your head to meet his gaze, and offer him the brightest grin you can muster. “I think I can agree to that.”

Yoongi’s features-held tight with stress-instantly relax, and suddenly, he’s grinning back at you, and you’re blinded by the sight of the rare, full gummy smile, that leaves you reeling and feeling like butterflies have invaded your stomach.

He leans toward you, and carefully placing the sticker onto the collar of your dress, smooths it down with steady, gentle movements of his long fingers, his warm, amber eyes-holding that look once again-locked with your own.

The corners of his lips have not dropped down from the smile he gave you earlier, and his fingers stop their movements on your collar, simply sitting on the fabric there, as he intones softly, “So, story time next week.”

And this time, it is not a question.

You nod, feeling so happy you’re lightheaded, and reach up to intertwine your fingers with his own where they still rest against your dress. “Story time next week.”

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angstidote · 2 years

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Misophonia and Morality

So today I was reading this medical paper/article on misophonia because the sound of my dog snoring completely mentally and emotionally derailed me from writing, and what I learned was really interesting.

Scientists don't know for sure what causes it yet, but studies show that when a person with misophonia is triggered their heartbeat increases, along with feelings of anger, disgust, and sadness/despair. These feelings are not invoked by other negative stimuli (control stimuli), just by the particular trigger sound, which I’m sure many people with misophonia can confirm.

But what's interesting is that some of the main areas triggered in the brain are those associated with facial recognition and enduring personal harassment. We also respond with the part of their brains related to morality, meaning we find the sound to be (either consciously or unconsciously) *morally* objectionable which is why it's interpreted by the brain the same way bullying or other harassment is. The response is also linked to conditioning.

This makes me (personal conjecture, not from the study) think that it's probably a result of early childhood conditioning that linked the trigger sounds with trauma. However! The study found there was no direct link to the fight or flight response, as you find with most trauma stimuli. Fear was anticipated when they set up the study, so they were surprised to find misophonia doesn't invoke it, aside from mild anxiety which was speculated to be related to anticipated exposure (and which I speculate to be related, at least in part, to self-monitoring mechanisms--as in, I know I’m over-reacting and so I become concerned that I will behave in a disproportionately vengeful manner).

Because of this, misophonia seems to be linked not with physical or emotional danger, but with bullying.

Even though the stimuli will invoke an immediate emotional and physical response that’s similar to a trauma reaction, it’s not directly trauma related, though it might be a byproduct. It's more likely a side effect of having been in situations where the individual felt they had no control, and were forced to endure the unpleasant sound unnecessarily and intentionally. This is why there's moral implications.

This is really interesting to me because my primary trigger is snoring, and I'll bet cash money that it's a result of having been forced to take naps as a kid.

Now, in most cases naps are totally healthy for children, providing them with much needed rest and structure. However, in my case ((and I will note here a trigger warning for my personal experiences with CSA)) my first non-familial babysitter would put his children and I down for “naptime” but always with me in a separate place, where he would sexually assault me.

As a result, I became terrified of sleeping in the presence of anyone other than my parents. Yet, all through preschool, kindergarten, and until my subsequent babysitters stopped forcing me to “nap,” I would simply have to lay there for at least an hour every day, listening to other kids snore while ruminating on how morally repugnant adults were. As such, I assume the sound of snoring became linked with my feelings of rage and despair at having my trauma-related feelings dismissed yet again (no one ever addressed the situation with the babysitter). This is just speculation, but given that one of the most common trigger sounds for misophonia is chewing noises, I'll bet a lot of kids were forced to sit at the table during silent, emotionally tense dinners, or were forced to eat stuff they didn't want to, and developed (were conditioned into having) a moral hatred for the sound of chewing.

I’d be curious to know if anyone else can link their misophonia triggers to morally objectionable moments in their childhoods.

#misophonia #sensory processing disorders

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cherriesfineline · 3 years

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MEET HALFWAY OUR NEEDS - one shot

a/n: hi! this is my first time ever posting one of my writings online (I'm about to shit myself but oh well). I literally wrote this so fast I'm impressed, but anyways I (kind of) proof read this -not really- just quickly read through it after I finished it. English isn't my first language (I'm so self conscious I'm probably gonna say that every time I post something) but besides that, I really hope you enjoy this <3 feedback is truly appreciated, it helps me improve!

-Joey

Pairing: Harry x Y/N

Warnings: detailed sexual content

Word count: 9.2k (of mostly smut??? sorry)

the one where Harry wants to get married but Y/N doesn't.

As you grow older, you start realizing life isn't as easy as it seemed when you were a kid. Not everyone gets lucky enough to have a job they're passionate about. Not everyone can satisfy all their necessities. In fact, you realize it's most people instead of "not everyone". Friendships and relationships won't last you a lifetime (those promises of being there for each other forever now seem like genuine naiveness) if you don't put enough effort in them. When you are young you believe that being able to play for hours straight without getting bored is what true friendship is about. And maybe it is, during those years. Adult relationships require a lot of time, and effort. And sometimes, sacrifice. Conversations have a different weight, and being able to trust someone with your most uneasy thoughts and experiences is hard. To find and to keep. When it comes to love, you start realizing that the thrill and intensity of teen romance isn't what true love is about. It's not about getting into fights, hardcore jealousy and toxicity behaviors. It's about being able to just be there, with that someone. Being able to coexist in each other's worlds, share what you're passionate about without any fear or remorse, being able to communicate. To ask for help when needed. Now, that doesn't mean things can't get complicated. For the past two months, Y/N and Harry's relationship has been balancing on a very, extremely, thin line. After six years of being together, and three of those living together, being the happiest they've ever been, everything started to look different for Harry. He was ready to take a step Y/N wasn't. Harry always knew he wanted to get married, have kids, move to a pretty house outside New York (it's been his favorite city ever since he visited when he was 12, then moving all the way across the globe from Manchester to attend Columbia University). And when he met Y/N, he knew she was the one he wanted all that with. But Y/N... she wasn't so sure that was the life she wanted. Having kids was a no at least until she was in her 30's. And even then, she knew she'd have to re consider if that's what she really wanted. She loves kids, she has a couple nieces a nephew's (coming from a big family has it's perks) and she's a preschool teacher. She's good with kids, but she wasn't so sure she'd be a great mother. Not for a specific reason, but she really feels like that's the case. Taking care of someone else's kids versus your own is extremely different. Now... it gets even more complicated when it comes to marriage. She doesn't believe that a piece of paper kept in a legal's office will make any changes in their relationship. It will all stay the same, married or not, so she just doesn't think it's important, nor worth the money. Harry, on the other hand, thinks marrying her will change everything in his life. For the better. He loves her more than he'll ever be able to put into words. And because he can't put it into words, he feels like it's the actions, small and big, that help him communicate his love a bit better. He still remembers the moment he mentioned marriage to her (not for the first time, but definitely the first time he actually thought 'ok i really want to marry her right now') like it happened yesterday. He remembers exactly what it felt like to physically feel his heart shatter inside his chest, and the way he silently cried himself to sleep that night with Y/N in his arms. "Would you ever, uh... consider g-getting married? like, I don't know, if we ever have, like, an actual conversation about it, would you consider it?" He asked her in the middle of their Lord of the Rings marathon. Harry could feel her intense staring at the side of his face. She was quiet for so long, it killed him. He truly wanted the cushions of their pink couch to just suck him inside the furniture piece. He wouldn't dare to turn his face. He couldn't look at her, no. Not to face the rejection of his lifetime. "Uh, I don't think so." She said, and Harry only nodded, thinking the conversation was over

once he felt her move her head to face the television again. "You know how I feel about you and how I feel about marriage. I honestly think it's useless. You don't need a signed paper to know how much I love you, Harry." Her tone was soft, but the words that left her mouth felt like a million knives inside his chest. That conversation sent him spiraling over a thousand thoughts, overthinking their entire relationship and how he now felt like they were getting nowhere with it. He respected her decision, though. That's why he didn't bring it up again. Y/N sensed his mood change that same night. She kept her mouth shut, because she truly didn't know what to say. She didn't understand where he was coming from, or why it was so important to him. At first, she didn't think his mood was affected because of her not wanting to get married, maybe he had something else going on and was struggling to talk about it, but after many sessions with her therapist going over and over their conversations and trying to decipher why everything was so weird between them, she came to the conclusion it might have to do with them not getting married. She just didn't want it. And she didn't know how to make him understand. But she couldn't lose him either. He was her everything. It took her months to be able to sit next to him like she did the night he was watching The Little Mermaid in the living room of their small New York apartment. It's been months since they last shared a movie night, or a date. They've been eating dinner while having awkward small talk about their jobs and friends, going straight to bed after cleaning everything up, each to their side. They haven't touched each other except the occasional greeting peck ever since that night. And it was killing both of them, but neither knew how to approach the other. As she sat down to his right, she saw him tense immediately. It broke her, to see him so on guard around her. Y/N couldn't look away from him, with her body facing him and her head rested on the back of the couch, she wanted to grab his hand so badly, but she didn't know if he'd reject her. The doorbell rang, and he looked at her for the first time that night. His eyebrows had the cutest frown and she wanted to kiss his forehead to make him relax, but of course, she didn't. She sent him a shy smile and stood up, going straight to the door and picking up the cash she left prepared on the little table next to it. She could feel his stare burning holes in her back, which sent chills down her spine. "Thank you so much." Harry heard Y/N say, immediately hearing the door shut. From where he was sitting he didn't have a clear view on who was on the other side of the door. Y/N made her way to their kitchen (to do God knows what, Harry thought) only to appear seconds after with two tubes of ice cream (from his favorite place) and two big spoons. She sat back down next to him with her legs under her, a little closer than moments ago but still out of Harry's reach. She handed him one of the tubes, and Harry immediately noticed it was chocolate chip mint, his favorite, he might add. He looked up at her, who gave him a small shrug of her shoulders and a side smile, and he couldn't help but smile widely at her, his deep dimples on full display. God, I missed those dimples so bad. Y/N thought. But what she didn't know is that Harry was thinking about how much he missed her. Entirely. He hated himself for overthinking every small detail, and for thinking so lowly of their future. But he couldn't help it. "Thanks." He shyly took the ice cream and started eating right away. Not five minutes later, he grabbed her by her thigh and dragged her next to him, only to have her close to his body. And because he missed her. And her body heat. And her addictive smell of clean soap and vanilla. And a lot of other things which would take a lifetime to enumerate. She looked at him from her new spot, and due to the proximity, she had to shift her head slightly up to look at his face. She slid her right arm around his left,

carefully looking at him to see any kind of reaction that might show discomfort, and when she noticed his smirk slowly and barely making an appearance, she relaxed next to him, fitting half of her body under his arm, with his elbow resting on her stomach and her head on his upper arm. Half way through the movie, with their ice cream tubes forgotten on their coffee table, Y/N looked back up to him, and even though she's been doing it every two minutes, Harry knew she wanted to say something this time. He doesn't look at her, though, thinking it might shy her away, but right when he was trying to concentrate back on the film, he heard her say something. It was barely audible, almost like she didn't want him to hear it. Did he imagine it? Maybe he's so deprived from her and her touch and her words that he's finally going insane. Harry looked at her this time, and looking straight at her grey eyes so closely for the first time in two months felt like a thousand fireworks exploding violently on his stomach. "Did you say something?" He looked at her confused, and the look on her eyes is so hard to decipher he thinks she definitely said something she's scared to repeat. "I miss you." Y/N repeated herself, barely louder. But then he knew for sure he didn't imagine it. His Y/N missed him. For so long Harry thought he was losing her, that after distancing himself from her she finally realized she not only didn't want marriage, but a relationship with him at all. But she missed him. And he missed her. "You miss me?" He asked, almost like he didn't believe her, his tone was low and his voice sounded deeper that ever. Y/N nodded, but she felt pathetic. She felt like he didn't miss her like she missed him, maybe he didn't miss her at all. For two months she's been feeling like he wanted out, that this relationship felt like an obligation to him. Harry felt her slowly sliding away from his arms, and that's when he realized he's been so stuck in his head he still hadn't replied. "Don't," he quickly grabbed her by her thigh with his hand closest to her body "please, don't go." She stayed still in her place, looking at him with soft but sad eyes. "I miss you so much, Y/N." Harry turned on his spot so he's facing her, and softly cupped her jaw with his free hand, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "You have no idea." He whispered, slowly getting her face close to his while closing his eyes. He kissed her forehead so lovingly she literally burst into tears. Y/N's soft sobs alarmed Harry, lifting her head up by his hold on her jaw. "Please, don't cry baby. It breaks me when you cry." Y/N shifted on her place so she was with her body facing the back of the couch, her knees pressed against it, but she tilted her body to the side so she could hug Harry. She slowly draped her arms around his torso, resting her head on his chest. A sigh of relief left Harry's lips, resting his chin on top of her head while he hugged her back. One of his arms was resting low on her back, while the other one rested on her shoulder, his giant hand cupping her head to softly caress her hair. They stayed in that position for a long time. Y/N could feel Harry's heartbeat, and how it slowly picked up speed when she pressed her lips to his chest. And even though he was wearing a shirt, Harry could feel the heat of her lips through it. He pressed his own lips on top of her head, leaving them there for a while, almost like a very long, still kiss, until he felt her head shift underneath his lips. He pulled away just barely to allow her to look up at him, and when she noticed him quickly looking down to her lips, she stretched her neck up to press their lips together. It was a short, very sweet kiss. With fear as an undertaste and nervousness written all over her. She was just scared he was going to leave. When she pulled away from him, she didn't have time to open her eyes as she felt Harry press their lips together again. This second kiss was almost the same as the first one, insecure. It's funny, if you think about it. How similar their

feelings were and how scared they were of messing everything up with a single wrong move. Once Harry pulled away from the kiss he initiated, they locked eyes, yet again. But this time, it was written all over their faces how badly they missed each other, and how much they dreaded to feel the effects each had on one another after so long. The third kiss they shared, it's initiated from both sides, almost as they were able to read each other's minds. Their lips moved in sync, and as Harry softly captured Y/N's bottom lip between his own to slightly suck on it, she put more pressure into it. The kiss slowly started to gain force, passion and need. But she was scared to take the next step. She wanted him to take the full lead, as opposed to what they were used to, just because she didn't want him to feel like he owed her anything. And then, he did take that step. The hand he had holding her jaw moved under her hair to grab her by the neck, while slowly tracing her bottom lip with his tongue, asking for access to her mouth. And once she allowed their tongues to meet, his hold on her lower back got stronger, draping his arm completely around her waist to pull her closer. That action made Y/N's body lift up from how strong he was holding her, and she took this as a sign to move. She straddled him on the couch, sinking (almost on slow motion) to sit on top of his thighs. Harry groaned in frustration. She's too far away, he thought. "Closer." He said in a pleading tone, and Y/N complied immediately. She slid her body up his thighs, and he forced her chest to collide with his. The hand that was holding her neck slowly traced her entire spine, to join his other one on her lower back. Her tongue felt so warm and soft, so inviting. He had always loved the way she kissed him, with so much passion but with a gentleness that was so her. She managed to fully relax in his hold once her hands found their way to his hair, right behind his ears, and he couldn't help but whimper at the feeling of their groins pressing together. This sparked a burning fire inside both of them. A fire that burned so good they'd rather die caught on it, than to never feel it again. Harry slowly slid his hands up and down her sides, all the way from her outer thighs to her side boobs. And when he did it for the second time, on his way up he slid his hands under her shirt instead of continuing their path over it. When his hands stopped at the higher part of their path, he caressed her side boobs with his thumbs, doing the same afterwards right below them, and when she finally grinded down on him, letting a deep groan leave her lips, he cupped her breasts with his hands. But when she pulled away, he dropped his hands automatically.He started eating his brains out thinking he really messed up, he was taking things down a road she didn't want to take yet, which was okay, it's not like he only wanted her body back, but he was scared he made her uncomfortable. Only then, his dick grew incredibly hard when she grabbed the hem of her oversized t-shirt to pull it up and off her body. Her perfectly perky boobs bounced slightly when Y/N dropped her shirt on the floor, resting her arms on her sides. He looked up from the lovely sight of her boobs thinking about how badly he wanted to devour them, only to find her with an uncertain look on her face. And he hated it. He hated the thought of her doubting herself so much. Harry ran his hands up and down her soft stomach, and then slid them up, softly but barely touching her boobs. His destination was somewhere else (for now), and he grabbed Y/N by her neck to pull her close. Their lips met again in the softest kiss they shared that night so far, and Y/N melted in Harry's arms like the forgotten ice cream behind her. He kissed the corner of her lips as he pulled her hair slightly so he could start kissing her jawline, down to her neck, leaving pepper kisses all over her skin. When he reached her collarbone he started sucking and biting (she loved when he bit her) knowing he couldn't do it to her neck

due to her job. She let a moan leave her lips, and when Harry slid one of his hands to grab her by her hip, she grinded down on him again, with more confidence this time. Harry lowered his face a bit more so he could finally reach one of his favorite features of his Y/N, her boobs. He took her left breast in his mouth, sucking on Y/N's nipple, making her whimper and jerk forward, tightening her hold on his brown locks to pull him even closer. He slid the hand that was holding Y/N's hair down so he could pay attention to both nipples at the same time, while using his hand on her hip to keep a steady peace to her grinding. Once she caught up with the slow but rough peace he wanted, he let go of Y/N's hip to grab the nipple he had in his mouth with in his hand, and he pinched both of them at the same time, rolling the hard buds on his fingers, then moving his mouth to the other one. He spent a lot of time paying attention to Y/N's nipples, nibbling, sucking, groping, knowing damn well they were extremely sensitive (she could orgasm just by nipple stimulation if done correctly, but she really wanted him right now). Y/N pulled from his hair enough to let him know she wanted something else, and when he let her nipple fall from his mouth, he looked straight into her eyes. Harry's cheeks were tinted a pretty shade of pink, and Y/N couldn't help but admire the beautiful man under her. He looked at her with such pure eyes, but lustful at the same time. She didn't understand how he could look so innocent but so fucking hot at the same time, it was unfair how angelic he was. She grabbed a handful of his shirt, to let him know she wanted it off. Once Harry complied, throwing his shirt somewhere near Y/N's, he immediately reached for her cream silk shorts, tugging the elastic band down as a silent plea for her to get out of them for him. She stood up from the couch, knowing Harry loved when she undressed herself for him, and still in between his legs holding eye contact, she slowly slid her shorts down her thighs along with her underwear. Harry couldn't keep eye contact for long, though. His eyes were glued to her glistening core that was slowly making an appearance, and he was getting frustrated at how slow she was being. He sat straighter on the couch so he could reach for her, and slid his hands down the front of her thighs, and on their way up he slowly slid them to their insides, getting close to where she wanted him. He slid one of his hands down again, but this time he grabbed her right leg from behind her knee, to pull it up. He made her rest her feet outside his thigh, which was now in between her legs. In this new position he got a clear view of her pretty pussy, all on display for him. "So wet, baby." He whispered, and she couldn't help but return her hold on his hair to pull him closer to her. "All for me?" Harry asked her, looking up to stare at her right in the eyes. When she nodded, he hummed in response. "Let me take care of you, it's been so long. You probably need it so much, don't you?" His voice was so fucking deep and raspy she nodded desperately in response. Y/N couldn't handle much teasing, and she let Harry know by tightening her grip yet again, and forcing his face to be so close she could feel his breathing on her. "Please, Harry." She pleaded. Harry loved teasing her, but he knew it's been a long time, he didn't want to frustrate her much. He finally licked very slowly up her folds, all the way from her opening to her clit, humming when he reached her sensitive bundle of nerves. Y/N let out a long sigh of pleasure, her eyelids fluttering shut. She felt like she could literally come just by that, and when he closed his lips around her clit, she grind her hips against his lips. He started switching between sucking and pressing his tongue on her clit until he started to move it, creating undefined figures with the tip of his tongue. They missed each other so much, so so much. And they both knew sex wouldn't magically fix everything. They knew they needed to work things out. But

sometimes conversation needs a little push, something to remind them why they need to fix things. The magnetic pull they felt towards each other was unbearably strong. They needed each other, in every imaginable way, but at that moment, they needed each other's bodies and emotion, no words needed. Just feel each other close. Harry gave her clit a sweet kiss, and looked up at her while his fingers traveled up and down her folds, until they found their home in her opening. He searched her eyes for approval, and when she whispered a soft 'please' he slowly sank his ring and middle finger, knuckle deep. She whimpered loud at the sudden pressure, and he groaned at the tightness of her hole. He rested his forehead on her navel for a second to let her adjust, and when he felt her grind on his fingers, he held her gaze while lining his mouth with her clit yet again. Harry started to work his fingers in and out of her, sucking on her clit. But what turned him on the most was her slow grinding on his face and fingers, like she was fucking his fingers nstead of his fingers fucking her. Harry used his free arm to slide it under her leg that was up on the couch, and grabbed her ass with a tight grip to pull her even closer. The pleasure was beginning to feel overwhelming, the pressure deep down on her belly begging for release was making her desperate. Y/N's moans and breathy sighs were becoming louder and consistent and the way he could feel her legs slightly shaking gave away how close she was to her release. Harry wanted her to make a mess on his face, so badly. He lowered his head and replaced his fingers with his tongue, not before he moved his fingers one last time to massage her spongy spot at the front of her insides. He fucked her with his tongue as he used his soaked fingers to stimulate her clit, circling in the fast and rough peace he knew she enjoyed so much. Her insides felt like a rocket about to launch, between his moans sending vibrations through her entire body and his fingers stimulating her clit the way she exactly needed, she became a moaning mess. Y/N couldn't comprehend how she was still standing up, even though Harry's arm under her thigh was holding most of her weight up, her knees were about to give up soon. "H-Harry, I'm so close," Y/N spoke as clearly as possible, knowing her panting was messing with her words, "please don't stop." He admired the way her jaw tightened and relaxed, her mouth opening shortly after, making a perfect 'o' with her eyes pressed shut. With one specific movement of Harry's tongue, she finally let go. With her eyes rolling back she let a couple of continuous 'fuck's quickly leave her mouth. Her entire body jolted forwards, bending a bit over him while his mouth was still attached to her core, helping her ride her orgasm, making it last for as long as possible. Y/N pulled Harry away from her with her grip on his hair once it became too much, and looked down at him. Without a second thought she bent down to lock her lips on his, with so much force it threw him back into his original seated position on the couch. "Take your pants off, now." She demanded, but adding an almost inaudible 'please', mostly for her. He happily obliged, taking his boxers down with them, imitating her previous actions. His cock sprung free, and he hissed at the feeling of freedom. Harry was so focused on her he didn't realize how painfully hard he was. He could feel his own heartbeat thundering in his chest with so much force it was almost alarming. He needed her so, so badly. Once his pants and boxers were thrown and forgotten on the floor, she straddled him. Giving him a quick but soft kiss on the lips, she began making her way down his neck, reaching back up again to (what she knew) was his most sensitive spot behind his ear. Y/N sucked a small bruise, and he whimpered. God, Y/N loved those small noises he made. She kissed her favorite beauty mark on the right side where his neck meets his shoulder, and that small action alone made his heart feel like someone was squeezing and

twisting it. He missed those small loving details from her. Y/N kept making her way down his chest, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses all over him, not forgetting to suck and nibble at his nipples. She loved taking care of him. All of him. And the way he enjoyed her playing with his nipples was something he was always scared of admitting, but he knew he didn't have to ask her to do it, because she just knew. She sunk down to her knees, still sucking and licking the skin all over his stomach while caressing his thighs (Oh, those thighs). Y/N finally grabbed his dick and slowly stroked him all the way from his base to the tip, collecting some of the precum leaking from his deep pink, swollen head. He groaned loudly, lifting his hips to fuck her fist once. She took that as a sign to lower her head even more, his cock now in front of her face. "Want my mouth, baby?" She tapped her plump lips with his tip, and when he looked down at her, she moved her closed lips around him, almost like she was using his precum as lipgloss, her hand still slowly moving up and down his length. She got him hypnotized. "Hmm?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "Y-yes, please." He heavily sighed. His begging made her drip down her thighs, he knew how much she loved it, and she knew he loved begging too, maybe even more than her. She always took such good care of him. She swirled her tongue around his tip once, then proceeded to lick up his shaft a couple of times like his dick was an ice lolly. Once she finally wrapped her lips around his tip, he sighed in relief, and relaxed his shoulders. Harry's hands grabbed her neck to pull her head down, and she surprised him when she suddenly deep throated him before even working her way there. "Fucking hell, Y/N." He moaned when he felt her humming around him. Harry grabbed her hair making a shift ponytail, to help her get her hair out of the way, and using his grip on it to lift her head, her mouth left his dick, and he smirked at the small pout on her lips. "You are so perfect." She ignored him and tried to lean forward again, which made him smile at how desperate she was. He let her get what she wanted, allowing her lips to wrap around his tip again. She licked up his slit and swirled her tongue around him, and hollowed her cheeks to suck on his tip. She took more of him in her mouth, using her right hand to work on his base and her left to gently cup his balls and play with them. Harry knew he wouldn't last long. It's been a while since they've done anything remotely sexual, and his hand... his hand wasn't her. So even though he could get himself off, nothing in the world would compare to how it felt when it was his Y/N pleasing him. His breathing became irregular as she bobbed her head up and down his length in a steady rhythm, and when she tugged on his balls he knew he had to pull her away right that second, or he would come. And he really wanted to, but not like this. "Baby, please," he tried to pull her head away with a tug on her ponytail, but she didn't oblige. Instead, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, still bobbing her head up and down on him, and that sight alone could make him come in a heartbeat. But he kept it together. "I wanna come inside you, p-please." And that made Y/N pull away, her mouth making a 'pop' sound when she let his dick fall from her lips. She then straddled him, her hands finding their home right behind his ears, grabbing him by his hair, while his made their way around her body, hugging her close. His dick fit perfectly between her lips, and Y/N grinded on him to feel his wet cock slide through her folds, creating the most delicious friction. Harry kissed her passionately, trying to pour everything he felt in the kiss. And Y/N did feel it, because she was trying to do the same. They repeated the action a couple of times until she reached in between them to grab a hold of him, positioning him on her opening. And when she finally sank down on him, they locked gazes. They sat still, connected. They were so close. They felt so close. Harry

nudged her nose with his, softly brushing their lips together. He then noticed a single tear run down her cheek, and reached for her face quickly. Right before it got in her mouth he caught it with his thumb, and she leaned in his touch. They didn't say a word. Just sat still. With Harry caressing her cheek, and Y/N looking straight into his eyes. Y/N leaned forward to capture his top lip between hers, leaving the sweetest kiss, repeating the action with his bottom lip. After, she went for the right corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jawline, his pulse point, behind his ear. And repeated the exact same trail on the left side of his face, finishing with his top and bottom lips, one last time before starting to slowly grind and circle her hips on him. Harry just couldn't stop staring at her. The amount of love and adoration he held in his heart for that woman was beyond words, and actions. And he then understood. He understood that he could live a life without marriage if it meant living it with her. He could handle it. He would get over it. He involuntarily dropped his head back and shut his eyes with so much force, while hissing through gritted teeth when she finally lifted her weight on her knees, sliding up on his dick until he was almost entirely out, only to sink back down roughly, going so deep it made both of them moan loudly at how tight she was. She slid one of her hands around his neck to grab him by his chin, forcing him to look at her. Y/N kissed him again, and this time their kiss was messy and desperate, between crashing teeth and loud moans due to her fucking him with all she got. She let go of Harry's mouth to sit straighter, using his shoulders as support to move faster. This position gave Harry a view he wouldn't trade for anything in the world. He could see his cock, so drenched of her arousal, and her pussy taking him so well. The wet sounds leaving their connected centers were magical, so erotic, accompanied with the small whimpers and moans coming out of her perfect lips. Harry thought she looked like a fucking goddess, with her round and perky tits bouncing up and down every time her tight pussy took him entirely. "You're being so good, baby. Letting me fuck you just how I like it." She whispered to him, staring at his heart shaped, swollen lips. The lips she was so addicted to. "You take such good care of me, angel. Always." He replied, looking into her eyes which were still glued to his lips. She licked her own, and moved forward to crash them against his on another messy kiss. They both were so close. Harry couldn't understand how he managed to hold his release for so long, but he was proud of himself. Y/N separated their lips for a moment to make him suck her point and middle finger, which he complied immediately, knowing exactly what she was doing. He then watched her lower her hand between their bodies again, but this time to reach for her clit, where she started to gently rub circles, stimulating herself. Harry started thrusting up with force, to meet her halfway, tightening his grip around her middle. Y/N bit down his shoulder to stifle a loud moan, which only made Harry thrust faster. "Please come for me, Y/N, I wanna feel you come all- all around my cock." He managed to plead between breathy whimpers. And it only took a few more thrusts from him to make her insides explode in the most blissful sensation, like electricity running all the way from her belly to her toes. She stiffens in his hold, her inside walls tightening and clenching so hard it almost sends him out of her, making his balls tighten right before he lets go. She could feel him emptying inside her, his spurts of cum filling her up, leaving both of them exhausted, satisfied and utterly fucked. None of them moved for a while. Y/N's breathing calmed him, almost like a lullaby, and the way Harry was gently stroking her back made goosebumps erupt all over her body. Without any warning, Harry stood up, making Y/N wrap her legs around him, she hissed through the feeling of his dick moving while still

inside her, and she bit down his shoulder again. She didn't question what he was doing, she didn't care. Harry sat her down on a cold surface after turning the lights on, and when she opened her eyes she realized he sat her in their bathroom counter. He put some space between them so he could finally look at her again. The fact that they barely spoke during sex today (when they were usually pretty vocal) made everything so... different. Not in a bad way, though. It made them both enjoy sex as the pure performance of just loving someone. No need of crazy positions, weird kinks or edging each other the way they're used to. Just love. The need to feel connected. The need of physically demonstrating each other's love. How they are each other's entire world. "I'm gonna clean us up, okay?" Harry told her softly, and she only nodded in response. She leaned in to give him a soft kiss, which honestly caught Harry off guard now that the sexual act was over. But made him happy nonetheless. She was scared of him shutting her out again. But he was scared of her getting tired of him. He knew she was a free soul. She wanted so many things, and settling down to start a family like he wanted to wasn't in her near plans, maybe in her plans at all. And he knew that. He understood it, and he respected it. He just thought about how badly he truly wanted that life with her. He was just scared she would let him go. They both looked down and hissed the moment he slid out of her. Harry had the perfect view of their mixed cum dripping down her core, making a mess on the marble counter under her. And Y/N saw his dick twitch at the sight, but decided against commenting on it. Even though it made her slightly smirk. Harry took his time cleaning both of them, and Y/N didn't look away from him. Not even for a second. He lifted her up again and literally sat her down on the toilet so she could pee. They've done this a thousand times, it was normal for them, she wasn't modest about him seeing or listening to her pee. After they brushed their teeth next to each other, stealing curious looks (especially Harry at Y/N's boobs through the mirror), they went to bed together. And for the first time in two months, she rested her head on his chest, with his arms wrapped around her. The only thing she didn't notice was that once Harry knew she was asleep, he couldn't keep it in. He cried himself to sleep that night. But it wasn't any different from what he was used to from the past couple of months. The only difference was that this time, he knew he'd give up his dreams if it meant he could keep her around. & The next morning, Y/N felt something, or someone, shift behind her. She knew it was Harry. His arm was thrown over her waist, resting dangerously close to her boobs (she secretly loved the way Harry seemed obsessed with her boobs) and she could feel his breathing hit the back of her neck. She hugged his arm closer to her body to let him know she was awake, which made Harry shift even closer, cup her left breast and press his pretty pink and warm lips to her neck. "Good morning." She said with a breathy laugh, her morning voice was a sound that drove Harry mad. She sounded way too sexy for her (or his) own good. "Hi." He nuzzled her neck with his nose, "how'd you sleep?" He left another lingering kiss, this time below her ear. "Amazing. Haven't slept this good in a while." She replied honestly, wiggling her body back towards him so their torsos were pressing together. "Mhm, me too." He whispered, tightening his hold around her, his morning wood pressing on her lower back. She could already feel the pool of her arousal in between her legs, and when she arched her back so now his dick was pressing against the curve of her ass, he groaned in her ear. He slowly started to grind himself against her ass, moving down on the bed a bit so he could better his position. And when she grinded back against him, he reached in between them to position himself on her opening. He pushed the tip in, just enough to feel her tight hole around

him. "Can I?" He asked her to make sure they both wanted this. When she sighed deeply in pleasure and murmured a 'yes', he slowly thrusted into her, both moaning a bunch of profanities. They both were huge lovers of morning sex. It increased their moods during their days, helped them relax and carry their days with a carefree feeling. So, he fucked her. Hard. Not even close to how loving they were last night. He woke up with an unbeatable energy, and he wanted to take advantage of it. He fucked her in the position they woke up in. He turned her to her stomach and fucked her while (almost) laying completely on top of her (she loved feeling his weight on her) and he fucked her on all fours, only to end up in their initial position, with her back against his chest on their sides, so he could play with her clit to help her come. That morning they spent it in bed, Y/N made them breakfast, Harry read a book. They both knew they needed to talk, but they wanted to enjoy some time where everything felt normal between them again. So they avoided the topic. But the conversation they owed each other kept being pushed. And for another two months, everything slowly started to feel normal again. Usually, avoiding conversation will lead up to more hurting. But with Y/N and Harry, it ended up becoming a realization point. Harry got in terms with the fact they wanted different things. He decided she was worth anything and everything in the world, because she was his world. But what he didn't know was that Y/N spent those entire two months imagining what a life like the one Harry wanted with her would be like. And after one day, on Harry's 28th birthday, during a small walk they were taking on Central Park, she realized she would do anything in the world to make him the happiest man he could ever be. She kissed him so passionately that day, interrupting their walk. He looked at her with a confused look when she pulled away with the brightest smile on her face. But that smile made him confirm he was willing to give up his dream of getting married. That's why in mid February, Y/N found herself shopping in a very expensive jewelry store. She knew Harry liked that place since his 'H' and 'S' rings were from there. They had an amazing section of handmade rings that she spent a long time going through. She wanted to pick the best one she could find. She found the prettiest, most fine silver ring with a red stone adorning it's top. She knew he would love it. It definitely didn't look like the typical engagement ring, but nothing about Harry was typical. It would match the rest of his rings lovingly, and Y/N knew he would simply love it. Not only because it was a pretty ring, but because it would mean something big for them. Three days later, Y/N came back from work to find Harry sitting on their living room couch watching the forecast. Why? Who the fuck knows. He never watched cable TV. Y/N just stood there for a while, just staring at him. "Hi, love." He greeted her. "Are you alright?" He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. The crease between them made an appearance, even though it was there most of the time. "Hey." She finally moved, dropped her keys on the little bowl sitting on top of the small table in the hallway. "All good, gonna put some comfy clothes on really quick." She lied. She just couldn't wait any longer. Watching him sit there all frustratingly beautiful doing absolutely nothing was fucking annoying, it was so unfair how beautiful he was. She had an entire evening prepared but she just couldn't wait any longer. She wanted to do it now. She dropped her purse on their bed and quickly got rid of her shoes, but didn't change into anything comfier. She just grabbed the small black velvet box from her t-shirt drawer and went back to the living room, sliding it in the back pocket of her jeans so he wouldn't be able to see it. Harry looked at her with a confused look, wondering why she was still in her work clothes walking directly to him when she said she wanted to change. She sunk to her knees in

between his legs, which only made him even more confused. "You sure you're alright?" Harry gently asked her. She just hummed in response and grabbed the remote sitting on the coffee table (moving as little as possible, she didn't want him seeing the small bump on her jeans because she knew he would ask about it), and turned back around. She rested her ass on her ankles, and her arms on top of his thighs. "So..." she started. "So..." Harry repeated, confused. "I love you, so very much." Y/N started and Harry's breath got caught in his throat. He wasn't expecting this at all. "So much, you don't even understand." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. They haven't told they loved each other in so long, scared of the other not saying it back. God only knows why, because it was clear as water they still loved each other with their whole beings. "And I know we both always wanted different things." This is it. Harry thought. She's breaking up with me. "And I know there are some things I believe that you will never understand, and there are some things I- I didn't understand, for a long time." Harry furrowed her eyebrows further at this last part. Now he truly didn't understand what she was trying to say. "For so long I thought I wanted something, you know? Like I was sure I had it all figured out for myself, the life I wanted. But I actually- I was searching for a life that wasn't mine. And I didn't realize that what I already have is everything I could possibly want." Y/N's cheeks were flushed, tears streaming down her face so fast they were drenching his hands that were now pressed against her cheeks, softly caressing them. "I know now, that love is about finding common ground. Meeting each other's needs. And sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zone to do that. And I came to a conclusion." She swallowed the big lump on her throat, and that finally allowed her to let a long breath leave her chest. "I love you more than anything in this world. I hope you know that, and I know I struggle sometimes with letting you know how much I adore and admire all of you. But I promise to do my best today, and for the rest of my life, to make sure you know how loved you are. How much I'm willing to do for you. And this took me a while to understand, but I do now. I understand why you felt like you needed to take that 'next step' with us. And I understand why it'd make you as happy as you always said. So, it'd make me really happy to ask you to," Y/N reached her pocket and heard him gasp when she pulled the box in front of him, revealing a beautiful ring for him, "marry me." Harry was speechless. Truly, ultimately speechless. Not only was the love of his life asking him to marry her, she was saying she truly wanted this. Harry's gaze kept going from the ring back to her eyes. And after a while of no one saying anything, Y/N cleared her throat. "H," she whispered, "Will you marry me?" She asked, the soft tone on her voice and the question he dreamed so many times asking her knocked him back to life. "Yes, yes, Y/N, yes- oh Y/N-" he choked a sob, and the biggest smiles appeared on both their faces. Y/N threw herself to him, wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly. He helped her straddle him so he could wrap his own arms around her. They held each other for a few seconds, both crying the happiest tears they ever let drop, and when she pulled away to put the ring on him, he surprised her by crashing their lips together. They shared their most passionate kiss in the entirety of their relationship, both still crying, smiling, spilling so much love and adoration with each stroke of their tongues. When he pulled away, she finally placed the box in between them again. "Can I put it on you? I know you like to wear your 'H' ring on your ring finger, so we could put it somewhere else, you know? And make it our own thing-" Harry interrupted her giving her a soft peck, "or we could-" another kiss, "I don't know." She finally gave in, pressing her lips harder against him. After another long kiss, he finally told her

where he wanted his ring, and with a last kiss he patted her ass to let her know he needed her to stand up. "Wait here." He pointed at her, and she sat on the couch with a soft 'okay'. He returned moments later with his hand behind his back and a lopsided smirk. He sat in the same position she was for her proposal, in between her legs. Before he said anything, he moved his hands in between them, opening a red velvet box. She gasped like Harry did moments ago when she saw the beautiful ring with a small red stone (yes! Like his own ring) placed on top of a very thin and delicate silver band that was sitting inside the small box. "It was my grandmother's." Harry said in a quiet tone. "She gave it to me before she passed away a couple months after we met, remember?" She slowly nodded, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes. There was so much love written all over his face. "I told her you were it for me. I knew I wanted this with you ever since we met at our university library. She gave it to me in hopes I could... give it to you some time." He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I kept it hidden from you all this time. Didn't want you to find it and make everything weird between us. But I'd really love if you could, um... wear it if you want?" He shyly asked. "It'd be an honor to carry her ring with me, Harry." His face lit up so fast at her response. "Yeah?" He asked, perplexed. "Yeah." Y/N replied with a big smile. "Will you marry me, Y/N?" He asked her this time, and she couldn't help but giggle. "I asked you first." She pecked his lips. "But yes, Harry. I'll marry you." And she kissed him again, and he couldn't help but smile so widely she ended up with her lips against his teeth. After putting his grandmother's ring on her, they shared another night of pure, loving sex. None remember how many times they made each other come, but they did have another important conversation between rounds. "Something else I wanted to tell you..." She said, in between kisses (they loved giving each other soft small pecks all over each other while they were talking). She was straddling him in their bed, his back against the headboard. He didn't want to pull out of her just yet, keeping his cum inside her for as long as possible. "I know you're ready to have kids, like, right now." She said, and he raised his eyebrows playfully at her. "I can tell by your breeding kink, honestly." He let a loud laugh leave his chest, making her smile too. It was honestly hilarious, I mean, look at their position. "I decided I really want to have kids with you." He gasped, "But..." he sunk down in his position, a visible pout on his lips, which she kissed away from him. "Promise me you'll wait for me, until I'm in my 30's" He locked eyes with her. She really wanted this. So much. "Only three more years?!" He asked with so much hope. "Three more years and we can start trying, I promise. I just thought that- that we could get married now, have some time as a married couple, you know? To enjoy ourselves." She shrugged and he couldn't help but smile widely and her, nodding frantically. "That way we are both adapting to each other, you know? Meet halfway our wants." "God, I love you so much." He chose to say, instead of replying straight away. "I'll wait a lifetime to have kids with you if that's what you wanted, just please- decide before you reach menopau-" He couldn't even finish his sentence since she shut him up by putting her hand over his mouth. "Don't even say it. God, I don't wanna be old." She sighed in frustration. "I honestly can't wait to grow old with you." Harry said with such a loving tone, like an enamored teenager, hugging her closer to him. And she couldn't help but smile back at him. Because even though ageing scares her, she's ready to spend the rest of her life with him. "I love you, my angel." Y/N told Harry, before kissing his lips, yet again.

"I love you, my Y/N." Harry whispered to her, keeping her face close to his.

Thank you so much for reading! Have a lovely day <3

-Joey

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry smut #my writing

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 4 years

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Masterlist Henry Cavill's Characters

updated: July 9th 2022

not actively writing for him anymore

Fic Ratings (read warnings in fic for details):

(G) General Audiences

(M) Mature

(E) Explicit: only suitable for adults

Getting away with it (series) (E)

August Walker was dead. At least that’s what people believed for almost 2 years. When the CIA found reason to believe that he was alive they made it their top priority to find him. Including sending one of their best female agents to recruit his twin brother. Walter Marshall.

Sugar Bunny (mini Series, finished) (E)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Meeting August Walker, CEO of one of the most successful real estate agencies in the states in a coffee shop of all places, turned into one of the best things that could have happened to you. You became his sugar bunny and against all your willpower you fell in love with him. Oh if only everything would be so easy, and if only August was really only a CEO of a company…

Play with me 1 2 3 (Mini series, (E), ongoing)

After the events of Santino d’Antonio’s death, John was finally free. Yet he was bored. The normal life he longed for wasn’t exactly like he pictured it. When Winston contacted him with an offer to work for August Walker who had taken over the seat at the high table of the Italians after their death, he said yes to more than just a job.

Never mine (M)

When you got a phone call in the middle of the night, asking you to assist in an interrogation of a high-level target you didn’t really think about it. Until you were there and saw just who you were there for.

Punishment (E)

The MI6 knew who to send to find August Walker. And August Walker knew exactly what buttons he had to push to get what he wanted. At least he thought so until he woke up chained to his own bed. Naked.

Playing with fire (E)

August Walker was the new chief of the fire station in town. He could have every girl in town. Except you. Because you didn’t want to be just another number in his long list of conquests. But just once wouldn’t matter… right?

Lust (E)

When August finds himself in a little town in the UK after his last meeting with Hunt he needed to lay low. And what better way to lay low than “dating” the town’s most favorite preschool teacher. Though with time he grew bored. That was until her Daughter visited them for her summer break...

Loss (E)

Your husband had to learn a lesson. That he would have to sacrifice your marriage by losing a bet to August Walker seemed something he just accepted. That he would lose you to August in that process wasn’t something he expected.

writing prompts:

Redemption (G)

600 years went by since August Walker died on that mountain. You failed as his Guardian Angel, spending years waiting for the next human to be born you could watch over when you found out August was still around. As a Demon.

“You’re nothing but my fuck-doll. Say it.“ (E)

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” (M)

-> a little enemies to lovers drabble (M)

A perfect shity day (E)

When your car broke down in the middle of nowhere you were more than glad when a police car drove by.

An eventful day (G)

Walter is coming home from a long and exhausting workday.

Reckless (E); Dark Fic

Waking home at night after a concert with her best friend she didn’t notice the police car standing on the other side of the street. Or the man following her in the middle of the night on her short way home. She could already see her house when she was pressed with her back against the wall, her hands handcuffed over her head. She should have listened to her husband earlier who wanted to pick her up…

Requests:

Hate to love you (E)

Walter Marshall seemed to hate you since the first time you stepped into the police department. But when you found his daughter sitting on your desk one morning, and began to spend time with her, he seemed to warm up to you.

pastime activities (E)

The mission to spend a week in a luxurious suite with Napoleon Solo, shadowing a polish politician sounded tempting. But when said politician did nothing but spend his time in bed with his young side chick, things got exhausting. Listening to someone else having sex for 8 days straight while being stuck with Napoleon was a challenge you didn’t know your sanity could handle. Or your body...

Crazy for you (G)

Sy invites you over for dinner. Things don’t go as planned.

Long distance (G)

Falling in love with an Army Captain just weeks before he had to leave again, wasn’t something she had planned on. And Sy didn’t even know how much he wanted to have a family until she told him she was pregnant 2 months into his deployment.

In the cloak of the night (E)

A night on which your friend ditched you, turned out to be the most eventful night you maybe had in your life. All thanks to the tall and handsome stranger you met and who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Not even when you were waiting for the bus to take both of you to your place…

Happy (M)

Dancing with Sy at night at a gas station.

Happy Christmas (E)

A snow day in with Sy ends in more than just reading a good book and watching some crappy tv

#Masterpost various #fanfic #fanfiction #henry cavill #august walker #walter marshall #napoleon solo

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yamithediaperdork · 3 years

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It’s a small world after all (Harry potter)

It's a small world after all

Not for the first time since hooking up with potter, Malfoy found himself wondering if the brunette's deep pockets and wonderful vigor under the covers really was worth some of the messed up things he was into. because really, Draco handled the first few kinks with ease. who didn't like a good paddling now and then? and a nice big enema could be fun and do wonders for your bowels! But then it started to get odder and odder and what should of been giant red flags were just ignored when they realllly shouldn't of been. Hence why today Draco found himself shrunk down to the size of a shrimpy 8 year old..and dressed like a 1 year old. He was in black and green light up sneakers, with green socks and then a SHORT pair of black shorts with green trim on the waist and legs,that puffed out from padding Draco was wearing under them, and the shorts had a teddy bear with a green Mohawk on either side. The t-shirt had the same bear on it, but the T-shirt was green with black trim on the waist, neck and sleeves and had the bear saying 'rock on all my little buddies!' as it was apparently a charter from some local baby show called teddy rocks. His blond hair had been grown the cut and fashioned into a mushroom cut and all and all he was less the happy.

"Your a git, you know that right?" Draco asked harry as they walked from the parking lot towards the green grass of the park. "I know I know..but a lovable git who's going to spoil you SO much..as long as your a good boy today." Harry said as now on the green, they headed for the play structures. "oh why wouldn't I be a good boy? I'm only a 24 year old man the size of a 8 year old and dressed like a 2 year old. why would I be in a mood to cause chaos and torment?" Draco huffed and chuckled, having some veryyyy evil plans. step one, find a group of preschooler and tell them the truth about saint nick. step two would be tel- "Right about that. if your a total pain in the ass BRAT, We'll be coming back here tomorrow, with you normal sized and WISHING you had something as mature and cool as that outfit on." Harry said, interrupting Draco's train of thought. '..DAMN IT!' Draco whined mentally. "I was never really gonna do anything." Draco lied out loud and Harry just smirked. "well I suppose it's not a lie if you behave." He said, picking out a picnic table for him to sit at and read, and before taking his book out of the diaper bag he'd brought, he took out a plastic pail and shovel and pointed over to where he wanted Draco to play first: the sandbox. Draco rolled his eyes but his was not to argue in this case, at least till Harry whistled and got the attention of all the other parents and kids around and waved Draco back over. before with everyone all distracted, ignoring him he hadn't worried so much about how much his diaper showed/crinkled, but now with all eyes on him.. Draco was red faced and whining as he got over to Harry. "Now now, none of that. this is what YOU'VE been begging ME for for a month.. no take backies little man. and you almost forgot your paci." Harry said and then clipped a green and black paci to Draco's chest and then popped the nipple in Draco's mouth, kissing red faced boys burning forehead. "Love you little guy." Harry said and then turned Draco around and with a firm pat or too on the tush sent the blond towards the sandbox.

Naturally the other parents wanted to know what was going on, why was Harry's son in diapers and all that jazz. Making use of the fact that there were all muggles and a charm to enhance well..his charms, Harry had them buying every line of the bullshit story he was coming up with on the spot. "So yeah, about month and a half ago I come home and there's my so called big boy who whined to be allowed to stay home without a baby sitter..and he's wearing a homemade diaper made out of towels safety pins and a prayer." Harry was saying. "Little Draco looks up at me and squeaks out 'daddy!' and then the laxatives he'd taken combined with the shock..welll yeah. " the other parents chuckled and nodded. "So getting him all cleaned up, we have a talk and he says he misses being treated like a little guy and wanted the full experience..which included this trip to the park..Among a few other things." Harry said.

Draco glared over at Potter and while he couldn't make out what was being said, he was positive 90 percent of it was bullshit. His own reception at the sandbox had not been as fun, with two 5 year olds that at his current size looked semi fordable, blocked his entrance. "Sorry, ya gotta be potty trained ta get in here." Said the left boy, with dirty blond hair. "mmmfffh mm fffmmm." Draco protested around his paci. he knew from experience that removing it on his own was a bigggg nay nay. "pffft, what are you trying to say diaper boy?" the other kid asked, a brown haired boy who reached and tugged the paci out of Draco's mouth. "Phleg..I said I AM potty trained!" Draco huffed. "Right..mister massive pampers and a dummy is potty trained. Blond said, rolling his eyes. "I-I'm not diapered!" Draco lied. for some reason suddenly it felt super important to get into the sand box. "I-I just have a MASSIVE butt!" the younger boys exchanged a look, but just because they were young that didn't mean they were stupid. "Alright dummy boy, we'll give you a chance to prove your claim. drop your shorts." Brown said. "I..What!?!" Draco yelped, wetting himself a little. "You heard him. if your NOT a diaper wearing baby then you'll be in undies. So drop your shorts and show us!" the Blond said and then moved in. "or we could take'em ourselfs." "N-No! wait It's ok! I don't need to play in th-" Draco yelped and turned away to waddle back to Harry when he felt the waistline on his shorts being grabbed by two sets surprisingly strong hands.One pair went to the left and one pair to the right and the poor shorts that had been struggling to maintain the bulk of Draco's diaper ripped wide open. Now everyone on the playground could see the sesame street print diapers Draco was wearing, and watch as Big bird, cookie monster and others faded from the front. "Bobby Micheal Landrew!" Roared a blond lady. Ike James Jone!" Added in a brunette. the five year olds went from looking happy and high fiving, having been about to torment the diaper baby but then heard their mothers voices. "run?" Bobby asked. "Run." Ike agreed and so they did, though were caught in short order. All of this was a back round blur to Draco as with his nappy on display and the laughs and giggles coming up he could feel his bowels kicking into over drive. 'N-Not here..not now....' Draco thought, seeing people come into focus as he henched over and let out a loud fart. "Is he going to.." Came a girls voice. "Bwhahahaha what a loser!" "gross big baby." "Poor kid, " all this and more filled Draco's head and as a large load started to fill the back of his diapers he threw back his head to bawl for daddy, but harry was already there, hugging him.

"Shhh it's ok." Harry coo'ed. He was still waiting on Draco to finish loading his diaper., be a little more stable before he moved him for for his diaper change. "I'm pooping my diapie." Draco whimpered and whined, hugging Harry and burying his face in Harry's shoulder. "well I didn't think you smelled like this all the time." Harry joked and got a small chuckle out of Draco. "your not funny." Draco said and sniffled and rubbed a eye, looking like any other upset little boy coming around, trying to keep a pouty face but flashing toothy grins instead. "Well Humor is tricky like that. Ready for me to move you little guy?" Harry asked. Draco bit his lip and looked over his shoulder at the massive load he'd made, the diaper was sagging big time, and gulped. "Is it even gonna stay ON till we get back to the car?" Draco asked. "welll good news and bad news on that front." Harry said, having already figured out what was just dawning on Draco. "Bad news, no it won't hold up till the car. Good news: it'll hold up till we get to the picnic table." He went quiet to let that sink in and watched Draco's face. confusion played on it at first, then slowly a dawning, ..there we go he figured it out and then a even worse all face red blush took over and Draco yelled. "YOU ARE -NOT- CHANGING ME IN PUBLIC,ON THAT TABLE! YOUR JUST NOT!" As he yelled and huff, stomping a foot Harry had to bite his touge to keep from laughing. the other adults and kids didn't have to be that polite so the park filled with the sound of laughter again as Draco glare and huffed, stomping his feet as he screamed at everyone to stop laughing at him. harry noticed one of Draco's shoelaces had come undone and went to yell out a warning but it was too late. tripping forward Draco showed a amazing amount of agility to turn it into a roll of sorts and ended up sitting on his squishy butt, mouth open and eye twitching. "I-I shoulda..taken..the blow to the noggin." He whined and conked out from humiliation overload.

Draco woke up and rubbed his eyes, then slowly opened them. "Man, Ron you would not believe the nightmare i-" Was what Draco was trying to say but as he got his eyes opened he realized he was looking up at the sky..at the park. which meant that his horrible humiliating nightmare wasn't a nightmare, it had really happened!!! Looking around he noticed there were a lot of the other parents semi surrounding the table though some of the older kids were there too. 'what are they..' Draco wondered then it dawned on him. 'Of course, they're making a human wall so no one can just walk by and see my junk..' with that grim reminder Draco sat up some to look down, realizing he had his paci in his mouth. "Hey sleep head, we're just about done. I was starting to think you were gonna waste the rest of the day in sleepy town." Harry coo'ed. "mmmffh mmk."Was Draco's witty reply. with Draco all cleaned up and the two boys who had made him basically mess forced to carry the dirty diaper to the furthest away trash can,It was time for Draco's next diaper. His junk had been on display for a little longer then he was comfortable with (and that was a clock that only went at micro seconds) and as a breeze blew over the lunch table Draco's little nub twitched once..twice.. then a spurt of pee came out and Harry BARELY ducked out of the way. "Knew I should of brought the pee guard." Harry chuckled and Draco whined and wiggled. spotting a stuffie not that far away Draco snagged the stuffed bear and put it over his face to hide. "Aww it's ok little guy. happens to big babies like you. at least you didn't hit anyone." Harry coo'ed and rubed Draco's tummy. 'not helping!' Draco thought though that was somewhat of a lie. the tummy rubs felt nice.

With Draco re-diapered and it being somewhat MORE bulky then the las, He was forced to full on toddle like a 1 year old while trying to go anywhere in the park. This meant he'd take all of 7-10 steps, slowly, arms out for balance and ended up plopping on his butt while the crowd watched and chuckled. ALSO super not helping was the fact that harry had decided since everyone had seen Draco's diapers, why bother with the spare shorts to cover them up? when Draco when to polity (Read: Have a fit) over this and demanded cover, Harry had held up a skirt and Draco shut up fast. After falling on his butt for the 20th time Draco just stayed there, sitting on the grass and arms crossed while Harry and the parents laughed..and the other kids didn't exactly hold back either. "Awww what's wrong buddy?" "Done falling on my butt!" Draco huffed and pouted, then pointed to the sand box. "Carry me!" this, while meant to show everyone Draco wasn't a roll over and Harry was his bitch..instead got MORE laughter as Harry signed. "Well I suppose." he teased and lifted Draco up and carried him over. After setting him down in the sandbox and making sure Draco was good, Harry decided to stay with him to make sure that no more bullies came over.

Draco was blushing, fuming and mad, but as he played in the sandbox he felt all of that just drifting away as he lost himself in the fun. Making sand castles and showing them off to harry he really did feel like a little boy more then once. Including when anther boy, a 6 year old who had a pull up sticking out of the top of his shorts asked if he could join in. For the next few hours the pair of not quite potty trained boys took over the sandbox with Harry and the boys dad hitting it off and the only break being for juice boxes and cookies.

The only downside for Harry as Draco made a big baby buddy was while Tyler and his dad were nice, there was a whollle park he had wanted Draco to explore. Still with Draco in a natural little mode Harry couldn't break himself to break it up and there WAS always tomorrow anyhow. "Draco buddy, time to go." Harry called as the sky was turning orange in the evening. Draco naturally, pretended not to hear him and kept playing with the dino's that Tyler had brought to the sandbox. "Draco Malfoy Potter, I'm speaking to you." Harry said again. in the sandbox Tyler was trying to get Draco's attention, apparently it going over the kids head Draco was ignoring him on purpose. Tyler's dad was watching in amusement. "Draco unless you wanna be my little baby girl for the rest of the summer, out of that sand box now." Harry said and fought back a laugh at how Draco froze hearing that and then there was a puff of loose sand going up from a muffled fart. "Uhhh Tyler it was nice meeting you, I think it's time for me and daddy to go home." Draco said quickly and turned to waddle out of the sand box only to plop back on his butt. between the girth of it before, multiple wetting and the sand that had ended up in the diaper, Draco was helpless! "D-Daddy! Help!" Draco whined. '...that's in, I'm never letting him be big again. too damn cute.' Harry thought and came over, picking Draco up hands under his shoulders and eyes flashing. Just like that Draco's face scrunched up and his bowels went into over drive as he was there in Harry's arms. "A-Ah Daddy daddy I'm gonna-" Draco tried to yell out a warning but instead let out a massive loud fart that echoed and then with Tyler and his dad getting a good view, filled his diaper with massive lumps, crying out and gasping as they made their way out. "You're gonna what?" Harry asked, laughing and pulling the smelly boy in. Draco glared and went to answer but his paci was popped back into his mouth. "I know what your doing silly. too bad I got to bring any changes with me beyond that first one." Harry lied. "You'll just have to ride home stinky..of do you wanna stop for a happy meal on the way home?" Harry was asking now, heading for the car and bouncing Draco on his hip now. "...Want nuggets n fries." Draco mewed. "Good boy~"

The end

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softths · 4 years

Note

can you do something with #39 ?? love ur writing

Prompt #39 : ‘Harry, I said I don’t want a fucking drink!’

word count: 1,622

a/n : angst, sorry in advance :( & a bit of swearing!!

Harry was a special man in your life, and because of that, he was the only man in your life. You and H had been friends since preschool when he threatened to tell on the kid who took your crayon and the rest was pretty much history.

When you turned 10, Harry slaved over a cake, explaining how being double digits was a huge milestone.

When you turned 13, Harry congratulated you on getting your first job as a paper round. And he was also the one to bring you your favourite pizza when you left your first job as a paper round.

When you turned 15, Harry insisted on trying your first alcoholic drink with you after he had snuck away some of his dad’s whiskey that he kept in the cupboard. He was also there to hold your hair back as you gagged and threw up at the taste.

But when you turned 17, Harry was no longer about.

Harry had auditioned for the X Factor as both you and Anne had pushed him to, and when he got through you were buzzing. You sat and watched the live shows with his family and facetimed him every week while he was down in London, winning the hearts of the country. Until it all just stopped.

He became busier, the facetimes turned into calls, and the calls turned into texts. When he came third, you were heartbroken for him. But it didn’t last long. His career took off and he seemingly never looked back.

You kept up with him as much as you could, keeping up to date with the boy’s most recent releases and always congratulating him on his success. He replied to begin with but soon enough, your number became one that he forgot about. You wish you could say you grew angrier with him as time went on but you didn’t, you just became more proud.

Anne insisted Harry still remembered you when you visited her and promised to bring you up in conversation next time he was home, but it came as no surprise when he didn’t call or text. You stayed in Holmes Chapel, running your own business, fairly successfully but your love life was a different question entirely. Having the infamous Harry Styles as your ex-best friend was a tough expectation for any man to meet. Nobody was ever going to be as considerate as Harry was. Nobody was going to care for you the way Harry did. No man was Harry, except Harry.

Even after the band split and he began his solo career, he still managed to hold a grip on you, a grip that you couldn’t shift as easily as he had. So when you picked up your mail after returning from the office one evening and finding a handwritten letter in his handwriting, you couldn’t quite believe it. You tore it open without a second thought, quickly scanning over the note.

“Y/N,

I’m sorry it’s taken me, what, eight years to reach out to you again. Part of me wished I had a good reason for my absence in your life, but the truth is I don’t. I was going to come and speak to you myself but you know firsthand just how much of a pussy I am when it comes to this kind of thing.

I’m having a small get together with all my closest friends and family, before the release of my second album and I would really love to see you there. I know we have a lot to talk about, and it’s not for another six weeks yet, but I remember how anxious you get about things like this, and not knowing all the details.

I was hoping we could potentially meet before, in the next few days, I’m sure we have a lot to catch up on. It would be amazing to be able to see you again but I completely understand if you don’t want to meet or attend the party.

It would just be great to see you again, and explain. I also hope your address hasn’t changed since you last told my mum but please, call me.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Still yours forever,

H x”

You couldn’t help but let out a sigh, when you finished reading it but you didn’t know whether you were sad, angry or simply overwhelmed by it all. Without giving yourself a chance to overthink it, you messaged Harry telling him to meet you at your local bar tomorrow evening after work, knowing there was no way in hell you were going to get through that without a drink.

—

When you walked into the bar, it was fairly empty and you automatically looked for Harry. He had told you he would be there and he was looking forward to seeing you but you didn’t give him the benefit of replying. You were so anxious, you could feel your pulse quicken as you tried your best not throw up the minute your eyes landed on him. He was sitting in the corner, away from the main tables, sipping on what looked like a simple pint. His hair was shorter and a lot less curly than you remember but it wasn’t too much of a shock as you couldn’t escape the pictures that were spread of him everywhere.

You ordered yourself a drink as he spotted you standing at the bar. He didn’t know what to do and hesitated before standing up and walking over to you. You offer a tenner to the woman but Harry quickly tells her to add it to the tab. His voice was deep, and it shocked you. You didn’t want his money, not now, “Sorry can you just cancel that actually. I’m good for now.” You say with a quick smile to the barmaid before walking away, Harry following quickly behind.

“Let me get you a drink.” He said as you sat down, still not having the courage to meet his eyes with your own. You shake your head, as he continues, ‘Please just let me get you a drink, it’s the least I could do.’ You snap your head up to look at him as you reply, ‘Harry, I said I don’t want a fucking drink!’ He was taken back by your sudden outburst and simply nodded before sitting down.

‘It’s nice to see you.’ He smiles at you and you feel yourself immediately lose it. ‘It’s nice to see me? You have to be shitting me Harry seriously? You haven’t reached out to me in over eight years, until one day out of the blue you decide you want me back in your life, that you can come pick up where we left as if nothing had happened and tell me it’s nice to see me? ‘It’s nice to see you’ is what people say when they haven’t seen a friend for a few weeks, not when you abandoned your best friend without a word eight years ago.’

Harry sits and just stares as you continue. ‘Do you know how long I waited for that phone to ring, or for the knock at the door? We were more than friends Harry, we were family and it really fucking hurt that you felt you could just drop me out of nowhere like that.’ You breathed as you began to slow, no longer feeling the need to yell and scream. Your lap became incredibly interesting as Harry sat, nodding lightly, knowing he deserved that and a hell of a lot more.

‘Do you not think it killed me?’ He asked, finally. ‘What?’ He shook his head as he reached to hold your hand. ‘Do you not think that it killed me, having to push you away like that? Every milestone I wanted to share with you, every number one we got, I wanted to call you but I couldn’t, I couldn’t let you get mucked up in this life. It’s fucked up you know, fame? It’s not all as amazing as it seemed and I knew it was only time, no matter what I did, that it would all just become too much for you.’

‘That wasn’t your call to make for me Harry.’ You look at him and see the sadness in his eyes, matching yours. ‘I wouldn’t have cared about anything as long as I had you by my side.’ You say honestly and he moves closer to hug you as you begin to cry. You give in to him as your body leans on him, and it feels right. You can’t remember the last time he held you like this, you were only kids, and now you were both grown up adults, yet he was there to hold you, like you had always wanted him to be.

‘I love you Y/n, I didn’t mean to cause you so much pain I just thought- I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and I didn’t know what to do.’ You pull up from his chest, to look at him and catch the tear from his eye on your finger. ‘I’m in love with you Y/n, I always have been in love with you and that’s why I had to make sure I was never going to lose you, not like that.’ You shake your head, ‘But you did lose me Harry. You pushed me away to the point where I am no longer yours and you are no longer mine. I love you Harry, I always will and always have but this is goodbye. I’m sorry, you made that decision eight years ago for me. Good luck with everything H.’ You kissed him lightly on the head before walking away, out of the bar and out of his life, forever.

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draconym · 5 years

Text

Summer Camp Culture

It's spring now so that means I've been thinking about my plans for summer camp at the parks where I work. I've been told by a lot of kids and parents that my camps are Better, and while I usually have no idea what to do when someone praises me I've come to take a lot of pride in being Good At Camp. I have many fond memories of summer camp as a kid (most of my good childhood memories, in fact) and the majority are due to what can only be described as "camp culture." Summer camp is a world that operates differently from the ones kids know at school and at home. Some of Camp Culture is the unique rituals and games that each group of kids discovers on their own, but a lot of it is the environment that we as adults make the effort to create.

So here are some of the things I've learned that I do differently from other camp directors, that maybe my fellow camp directors/counselors and youth mentors can learn from!

Let kids pick their own camp names. By this I mean that on the first day, when we introduce ourselves and make name tags, I let kids decide what I and everyone else at camp will call them. About 95% of kids just stick with their name, but sometimes kids choose outlandish nicknames for themselves like Coconut or Kirby or Sharkbait, and that's fun. More importantly, though, there are a lot of kids who don't like their given names (for any reason, really, but special shout-out to everyone who doesn't like their given name for Gender Reasons). These kids absolutely light up when you tell them you'll call them whatever they tell you to call them on the first day of camp.

Bypass the stressful illusion that you're going to maintain orderliness and instead aim for controlled chaos. For example, whether we're hiking or walking to and from different locations, I don't bother trying to get kids to walk in a line. There's no real necessity for it as long as they stay with our group. Instead, we make a "counselor sandwich" where the the adults at the front and the back are the "bread" and the kids are the "sandwich fillings," and as long as they "stay in the sandwich" I'm satisfied. There's also the added entertainment of hearing them proudly declare what sandwich ingredient they are.

Related point: Sometimes you gotta just find an easy and inelegant solution to a problem to streamline activity transitions, etc; since we lack actual cubbies or hooks or anything at all the rec and parks camps, I designate one picnic table at each location as the Stuff Table and everyone's backpacks and coats and water bottles go on it. Once that kind of system is in place you can designate a Stuff Tree or a Stuff Rock or a Stuff Log out on the trail, YMMV.

Under no circumstances should you force a kid to engage in a game or activity. YES they do have to stay with the group, and that might mean they have to keep hiking when they don't want to, but NEVER EVER shame a kid for "I don't wanna." My only responses to I Don't Wanna are "you don't have to," or in the case of a hike, where they can't just sit on the ground nearby, "if you don't feel up to it you can sit in the office on the cot until you feel better" (the parks and rec equivalent of an infirmary). I have had kids with anxiety and the families of kids with anxiety tell me emphatically that not being mandated to do new and intimidating activities was a huge boon to their metal health. I have watched anxious kids blossom over the course of a summer (or two or three) as they gradually gain the skills to join in and try new things. I often invite kids who are uncomfortable in this way to be a referee or to help set up the equipment for a game, and they have all appreciated the (no pressure) invitation, even if they don't always accept the task right away.

Never underestimate the power of shouting RED LIGHT to get a kid to stop doing something inadvisable. Many kids who are completely deaf to their own name when combined with your impassioned pleas to stop running will immediately freeze upon hearing "RED LIGHT." Bonus: other children will often join in with you in shouting it.

Whenever possible, encourage kids to resolve conflicts themselves. When I see an argument brewing, I usually remain on standby until a kid requests that I step in (unless it looks like someone is REALLY going to lose their temper and lash out). Sometimes I'll cut in and ask, "is something wrong?" which kids are usually eager to answer. Which segues into:

Don't force kids to say "I'm sorry." A sulky, forced apology is meaningless and most kids recognize (and resent) this. Instead of demanding "say you're sorry," I usually ask the aggrieved party "what do you want to happen now/next time?" I also ask the other party what they want to happen next time, since it usually reveals what caused them to escalate the situation in the first place. Sometimes the answer IS simply "I want an apology," but often this question leads to more constructive solutions like "I want him to give me a chance to kick the ball" or "I want her to stop calling me a Dunkaroo" or "I just want to be left alone." I also highly recommend "just spend some time away from each other" as a viable conflict resolution for kids, though with a camp group it's not always possible.

I allow kids to engage in conflict-inducing games that other counselors won't by using them as an opportunity to teach my campers about consent. There are few things more adorable than watching large group of preschoolers carefully negotiate how and who they will throw water balloons at because I have told them that they MUST get permission beforehand EVERY SINGLE TIME they want to throw a water balloon at someone or they won't be given any more water balloons. I have witnessed countless iterations of conversations like, "can I throw one at you?" "only if I can throw mine at you" "hmmm nevermind then" "okay"

This goes for most kinds of physical contact. A lot of counselors will declare No Touching Of Any Kind rules and then paradoxically initiate games of tag or sports that require mildly violent physical contact. So not only do I find "don't touch anyone else ever" to be a ridiculously unenforceable, even psychologically unhealthy rule, I've also never seen it consistently implemented. The Touching Rules that I enforce all come down to "ask first even if you are trying to be nice" and "always stop if the other person doesn't like it." And the classic, "no kissin' at camp," because some kids are just a little too affectionate.

If you've got a kid with no respect for bugs, you can prevent wanton insecticide with the rule of "if you kill it you have to eat it." Other children are eager to enforce this rule on bug-killers.

#summer camp #camp culture #park ranger #long post #i wrote this one a phone so sorry if the formatting is weird

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societybabylon · 4 years

Text

Across from her, Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously. He looked tired but wild, like there was something lurking under his skin that only revealed itself in the dark.

It was at that moment that she realized how little she knew him.

“I remember waking up on that day, the day of your birthday,” Harry said, still cast in darkness. “I remember seeing the tattoo for the first time. I was terrified and angry, but I wondered…what if? What if we didn’t deny the bond?”

Lifelong enemies Allie and Harry are devastated when they learn they are soulmates, so they form a pact to never act on their bond. Unfortunately, fate has other plans for them.

[read on ao3 here]

“Do you want to know your fate?”

Allie watched the old man place a crystal ball on the table in front of him. The bauble was unassuming and slightly dirty. Honestly, Allie wouldn’t have been surprised if it were made of plastic. It, like everything else in the cluttered store, looked cheap and fake. But then again, what did she know about the world of psychics? That’s why she was here, after all: she wanted answers about her future.

It was the day before Allie’s thirteenth birthday, and she was at a fortuneteller’s shop. Her friend Becca had insisted they come here to celebrate her impending soulmate reveal. Perhaps, Becca said, they could get a little insight into who she would be paired with.

Allie’s world revolved around soulmates. When two people were ideally matched, an unbreakable soul bond tied the pair together. And two rules applied to all soulmates:

First, the bond was manifested in a tattoo. Everybody had their partner’s name written on their body somewhere. These tattoos didn’t require needles or ink; they showed up on their own, as if by magic.

Second, the tattooed names didn’t appear until the thirteenth birthday of the younger person in each couple. On that day, both soulmates would wake up to find themselves marked with their other half’s name.

Assuming Allie’s soulmate was older than she was, there was only one day left until she learned who she was bonded to.

Allie gazed at the crystal ball. Behind the fortuneteller, a pink neon sign buzzed an electric tune. The lights cast a dim glow throughout the small store.

The psychic seemed over-the-top to her, not that she would ever tell Becca that. The man sitting across from her seemed more like a crackpot than a sage. His greasy hair hung in his face, so long that it nearly obscured his eyes. He reeked of licorice and burnt lavender. But they had already paid the man his fee, so they might as well hear what predictions he could conjure up for them.

“Do you want to know your fate?” he repeated. “Once you learn it, you can’t go back.”

“Yes,” Allie said. “I’m ready.”

The fortuneteller muttered a few unintelligible words and stared deeply into the crystal ball. “Hmm...it’s foggy, but some images are starting to come into focus. Ah, yes. I can see it now.”

To Allie, the crystal ball looked exactly as it did before.

“I see money stained with blood. Tears and white bedsheets. Two bodies, submerged in water. A cellphone is ringing, but no one is picking up.”

“Okay,” Allie tried to figure out how to respond to this prophecy. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but she certainly hadn’t thought he would list such unpleasant images. “But what does that mean?”

“These images foretell rejection and denial. You will learn who your soulmate is tomorrow, but you will be unhappy when you learn who you have been paired with. This bond will confuse you and bring you unhappiness. Yes, I definitely sense rejection and denial.”

Allie was stunned. “Do you see anything else? Like, happiness and love, maybe?”

“I cannot see specifics,” he responded with contempt. “That is not how my gift works.”

Of course the fraud fortuneteller wouldn’t be able to see specifics. She had shelled out good money for him to ruin her day. She protested, “But—”

The man cut her off with a dismissive wave. “Do not disrespect my craft. Just because you demand answers of me doesn’t mean that I’ll give them to you. I only see what the universe shows me.”

Allie glanced back at the crystal ball, which was still maddeningly clear. There were no bloodied dollar bills, no ringing cellphones. The fortuneteller could have invented any story he wanted. He could have reported that he had seen her in a happy relationship and with a successful career. And yet he deliberately chose to give her a bad fortune.

“You must see something good in the crystal ball, right?” Becca murmured. She had been quietly listening in on the conversation between Allie and the psychic for the last fifteen minutes, mostly content to observe. “I mean, it can’t all be bad.”

“Actually, it can,” the man snapped. “I do not control your future. I merely pass on the messages that the universe sends me.”

“So you’re saying that rejection is my fate, and there’s nothing I can do to change that?” Allie said.

The man nodded eagerly, as if glad that she was finally catching on. “Precisely.”

“And why should I believe that?” Allie usually wasn’t so confrontational, especially with adults, but this fortuneteller was an exception. What did he know about her soulmate? Nothing.

The man scrutinized her frowning face. His lips went thin with irritation. “I think we are done here. I’ve told you what I saw. It’s not my problem if you don’t like the truth.”

Allie nearly scoffed. He read tea leaves and tarot cards for a living. He probably got pleasure out of ruining his customers’ days. Staring into a crystal ball and mumbling about dark visions wasn’t the truth, it was a cruel joke.

At least, she hoped it was a joke. There was a part of her (a part she tried to ignore) that worried that his predictions might come to pass. She pictured the images the man had mentioned—blood, tears, bodies in water—and she saw death. She shivered at the thought.

“Thanks for the crystal ball reading,” Becca cut in before Allie could offend the fortuneteller even more. “Well, we should probably go. My mom’s waiting for us outside.”

The fortuneteller wasn’t even listening. His attention had strayed to a stained, crumpled box of cigarettes that sat by his side. He picked one cigarette from the pack and sparked it with a pink lighter from his pocket.

Allie felt anger on her tongue, ready to be sharpened into spiteful words, but she could see that Becca was anxious to leave. She smothered her fury for her friend’s sake. “Yeah, thanks for the fortune.”

She stood up and walked out of the store with Becca. As the wooden door swung shut behind her, she turned around to give the fortuneteller one last glance. Thick smoke swirled around his head. His eyes were closed as if he had already forgotten that they were there.

What did a man like that know about her fate?

The next day, Allie woke up at five in the morning. She was too giddy to go back to sleep. Despite how horribly the visit to the fortuneteller had gone, she was still excited by the potential of finding out who she was bonded to. She’d been waiting her entire life to see her soulmate’s name tattooed on her.

She checked her wrists, a common spot for soulmate marks. They were blank. Her arms and legs, too, were bare. In fact, every visible inch of skin was unmarked.

Don’t worry, she reminded herself. It’s probably just hidden under some clothing.

She lifted the edge of her pajama shirt and walked to her mirror to get a closer look at herself. As she scanned over the planes of her stomach and saw more blank skin, she felt growing disappointment. It seemed that she hadn’t gotten her tattoo after all. Her soulmate was probably younger than she was, which meant she would have to wait until his thirteenth birthday to find out who he was.

But then she spotted a scribble of black near her waist. The writing was scrawled across her left hipbone in messy, boyish letters. She bent down to get a closer look at the words.

Harry Bingham.

She gasped.

Harry Bingham? No, it wasn’t possible. Harry had been her sister’s sworn enemy since preschool, which meant that by default, she and Harry were also enemies. Almost every time they had a conversation (a misfortune she did her best to avoid), he was arrogant and entitled and cruel.

“No, no, no,” Allie said to herself. “This can’t be real.”

She paced her room, trying to rationalize why she was paired with Harry. She and Harry were nothing alike. It should have been impossible for them to be soulmates.

Maybe this was some sort of cosmic joke, or the universe’s revenge for the times she’d been a bad person. Or maybe, while she had been sleeping, her sister decided to write Harry’s name on her as a prank. All those explanations were more logical than the thought that she might actually soulmates with Harry Bingham.

“This can’t be real,” she repeated.

But the ink was underneath her skin. As much as she wished that she could blink and watch the tattoo vanish before her eyes, she knew the mark was permanent. It would stay on her body forever, reminding her of the boy she’d been chained to.

When she took her shower later that morning, Allie tried, in a half-crazed stupor, to wash the name from her body. She scrubbed with her loofa until her skin was raw and red. But Harry’s name was still printed on her hipbone.

After the shower, Allie dressed hastily, as if covering the mark would mean that it no longer existed. She even considered stealing a bottle of concealer from her sister’s room and smearing the makeup over her hip, but she feared that Cassandra would catch her in the act. Her mind was racing for solutions, and yet she was paralyzed by inaction.

She curled up on her covers, her hair still damp. She was too stunned to cry. Instead, she just stared at the walls, trying to decode the mess she had landed in.

By ten, Allie knew she could not hide in her room any longer. She crept downstairs to the kitchen, where her dad was flipping pancakes and humming along to a pop song. Cassandra and her mom were setting the table for breakfast. They had even put out a vase filled with her favorite peonies.

“Morning, birthday girl,” her mom said.

“Morning,” Allie replied, faking a grin. Her lower lip trembled from her anxiety.

“I’m surprised you woke up late,” her dad said. “I remember waking up at the crack of dawn on my thirteenth birthday. I was so anxious I almost got sick. And then it turned out that there wasn’t even a tattoo on me!”

“Sorry, dad, but even my birthday isn’t enough to get me to wake up early.” Lie.

“You ready for breakfast?”

“Of course.” Another lie. Truthfully, she was terrified. She knew her family would use breakfast as an opportunity to spring the dreaded question: do you know who your soulmate is?

Her dad plated the golden pancakes and coated them with pats of butter and gooey, sugary syrup. He brought the food to the table, and they all sat down to eat.

Allie shoved pieces of pancake into her mouth as if she were Joey Chestnut on steroids. She hoped that if her cheeks were stuffed with food, her family would let her eat her breakfast in peace instead of poking her for information.

Across from Allie, Cassandra was only on her second bite of breakfast. She had cut her pancakes into delicate, precise slices and had taken care to ensure the syrup was evenly distributed. Even when taking sips from her orange juice, she was polished.

Perfect Cassandra, Allie thought. She would never be bound to someone as awful as Harry.

“I remember my thirteenth birthday,” Allie’s mom said in between bites of pancake, seemingly clueless to the turmoil tearing her daughter apart. “I woke up and saw your dad’s name on the inside of my arm. But I had no clue who he was! Your generation is lucky to have the internet. You can Google your soulmate’s name and immediately find out who they are. We were in the dark about our soulmates until we met them in person.”

“Unless you knew your soulmate before you turned thirteen,” Cassandra pointed out. “Like, if you were paired up with someone that went to elementary school with you. Then you wouldn’t need the internet to help find them.”

Allie almost choked on her juice. That comment was uncomfortably close to her reality.

“I suppose that’s true,” her mom said. “That’s very rare, though. Your dad and I met when we were twenty-two, and we met earlier than most.”

“Well, I think it’s better not to use the internet to find your soulmate,” Cassandra declared. She said this frequently, especially when she was asked why she didn’t have social media. “I think you should meet your soulmate naturally, as you were supposed to.”

“So, Allie,” her mom turned to look at her. “Do you have any news for us yet?”

Allie went red. This conversation felt intensely wrong. Worse than the “sex talk” her parents had given her when she was eight. Although she had never considered it before, she wondered why her family felt like they were entitled to this information about her body and her future. Their society had bought into the idea that everyone should wear their soulmate tattoos like a badge of honor—but shouldn’t people be allowed to keep this information private?

Allie was ashamed of her mark. She didn’t want to admit that she had been paired with West Ham’s most obnoxious idiot.

“I don’t have a tattoo yet,” Allie lied, desperately hoping that her family would buy her act. “Guess he must be younger than me.”

“Oh,” her mom said, clearly a little surprised. Her mom and her dad shared a look. “Well, that’s okay, honey. I’m sure you’ll find out who he is soon enough. Your thirteenth birthday doesn’t have to be all about finding your soulmate. You’re so young! You can worry about that later. Today’s still going to be a great day. ”

Allie almost laughed. Her parents thought she would be upset because she hadn’t gotten her tattoo. If they knew the truth...

“Yeah,” Allie said, grateful that her family didn’t prod further. And then she told her greatest lie of the morning. “I don’t really care about soulmates, anyway.”

After breakfast, while her parents washed the dishes, Allie went back to hiding in her bedroom. She buried her head in the covers of her bed and let her emotions swallow her.

Harry Bingham, she thought again. How on Earth could I have been paired with Harry Bingham? We’re nothing alike.

She startled at the sound of her door swinging open. It was her sister. Cassandra wore a small, close-lipped smile that set Allie’s nerves on fire. Allie realized immediately that despite escaping the breakfast interrogation, she hadn’t escaped her sister.

Cassandra sat down on the bed.

“You know you can knock, right?” Allie asked sharply.

“Sorry,” Cassandra said, entirely unapologetic. “So, who is it?”

It was unlike Cassandra to be so upfront. Usually, she was the more reserved one, always telling Allie to calm down or be more patient.

“It’s nobody. I told you, I didn’t find a tattoo on my body.”

“I know you’re lying,” Cassandra said. “I can hear it in your voice. You can fool mom and dad, but you can’t fool me.”

Anxiety shot through Allie. She thought that her performance at breakfast was Oscar-worthy, but as always, Cassandra saw through her lies. “I don’t want to tell you, okay? It’s none of your business.”

“I told you the second I found out who mine was.” Cassandra emphasized her point by sticking her wrist, which was encircled with blank ink, in Allie’s face.

Allie could feel her panic growing. Her sister had a point, but Allie couldn’t possibly tell her the truth. How could she?

Allie imagined speaking Harry’s name aloud. She pictured her sister’s reaction, her mouth gaping wide and her eyebrows raised in shock. Cassandra would stutter out a kind response. She would try to make her congratulations sound convincing. Yet no matter what was said, they would both know the truth: Cassandra hated Harry, truly hated him. And that would never change.

No, Allie could not tell the truth.

“Just tell me.” Cassandra pushed. “I’m your sister. You can trust me.”

Allie’s eyes filled with stinging tears. “I do trust you, I promise. But I can’t tell you. Please, Cassandra, please just take my word for it. Please.”

Her sister looked bewildered. Allie knew Cassandra had never seen her beg like this before.

“Fine.” Allie could hear the hurt in her sister’s voice. “You have to tell me one day, though. A soulmate’s not the kind of secret you can hide forever.”

Maybe not, Allie thought. But I can try.

When Allie arrived at school the next day, she was determined to corner Harry and confront him about the tattoo.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to search for him. While she was walking down the hallway, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the lockers into a tight nook. It was Harry. Anger blazed in his eyes. He held up a cautious finger to his lips, shushing her. “Don’t say a word.”

Allie nodded. He stared at her suspiciously, as if he was worried that she would start screaming.

“I think you probably know why I wanted to talk. I’m guessing it was your thirteenth birthday yesterday, Pressman. I don’t know what else could explain the tattoo I woke up with. And to think that I thought I would have a soulmate I liked.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “You probably prayed every night that you would end up with someone like me, huh?”

He was infuriating. She couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to think that she would ever be interested in him.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” Allie said. “Harry, you’re pretty much the last person I’d want to be bonded to.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual. You think I want to be part of your shitty family?”

That was one step too far. She was half considering throwing a punch at him. She could do it if she wanted; in this nook, they were hidden from the eyes of their teachers and classmates.

“You’re an asshole,” she spat.

“Bitch.”

Allie wished she could vaporize him on the spot. How could she have been chained to such a callous jerk?

She thought of clever retorts she could say to him, insults that would permanently puncture his inflated pride. Though Cassandra was usually in the spotlight for her intelligence, no one could beat Allie’s wit. She could trade barbs with the best.

Allie considered those rumors that she had overheard about his parents’ loveless marriage. Yes, that would be a fertile site for insults.

She opened her mouth, prepared to escalate the argument. But she stopped herself before she could say anything.

What good would fighting with Harry do? At the end of the day, she would still have his name written on her hip.

Looking at him, she found that he, too, appeared to be at a loss for words. Though he still wore an angry sneer, his eyes were sad. It seemed that they both came to the same realization: they could hurl nasty words at each other for hours, but it wouldn’t fix their situation. If they wanted to overcome their bond, they’d have to work together.

“We’re stuck with each other until we die, aren’t we?” Harry let out a deep sigh. His furious mask cracked, and Allie glimpsed genuine misery and anxiety on his face.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then, a brilliant thought struck Allie. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. “We don’t have to be stuck with each other. There are plenty of soulmates who reject the bond.”

“I guess.” Harry scrutinized her. She could tell he was considering her suggestion. “But how would we make sure that we’ve rejected it permanently? I wouldn’t want you falling in love with me five years from now, Pressman.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “Harry, it’s us. There’s literally no way we’re ever going to be friends, much less…well, you know.”

He nodded. “Okay. So what are you thinking?”

In her mind, a plan started to fall into place. A simple, perfect plan. “We both have to promise that we’ll never speak of this…this bond to anyone else. Ever. We have to keep it a secret until the day we die.”

“Like a pact?” Harry asked.

“Yes, a pact. Except a pact isn’t enough. We have to do more than that. Before we turn twenty, we both have to agree to get our marks covered up.”

Harry seemed much less certain about this suggestion. Covering up soulmate tattoos was technically illegal. Most tattoo artists outright refused to do it, and those who were caught in the act could face up to a year in jail time. Eventually, however, he conceded, “Okay, fine. I can agree to that. But you need to swear on your life that you’re going to get yours covered up, too. This is a two-way street, Pressman. If I’m going to jail, so are you.”

“I swear on my life I’ll...,” Allie paused, considering her words. “You know, I feel like we should have some official pledge or something. For example, I, Allie Pressman, swear on my life that I will never mention that my soulmate is Harry Bingham. I will do everything in my power to keep my tattoo hidden.”

Harry snorted. “Who do you think you are? The queen? Let’s just shake on it and call it a day.”

Allie glared at him. “Just say the damn words, will you?”

“Fine. I, Harry Bingham, swear on my life that I will never mention my soulmate is Allie Pressman. I will do everything I can to keep my tattoo hidden. Yada yada yada, you get the gist. Can I go now?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who pulled me behind these lockers in the first place.”

“Touché.”

Just like that, it was settled. Their soulmate marks were a secret that they alone would keep. And they would never, ever act on their bond.

For two years after that, neither Harry nor Allie spoke about the curse they shared. They didn’t interact in the hallway or the classroom. They both pretended that the other didn’t exist, and they were both happy with this arrangement.

While her classmates celebrated their budding relationships or dreamed of the day they met their other half, Allie fantasized about getting a new, large tattoo to cover up the one on her hip. She was fifteen now; there were only a few more years until she could write Harry off as a memory.

Sometimes, she heard murmurs about him in the hallway. Sometimes, it seemed all of West Ham High School wanted to know his soulmate’s identity. Between his looks and his wealth, Harry was considered an ideal match. But no one was ever able to discover whose name was on his body.

Harry was hardly a factor in her life, much less her soulmate. He was a problem that she had solved, and she was content to let him stay that way.

Mid-October during her sophomore year of high school, Allie planned a trip to Manhattan. Her aunt, who lived in Virginia, was having a weekend getaway to the city, and she had invited both Allie and Cassandra to join for the last day of her vacation.

A week before the trip, Allie reminded Cassandra (who was swamped with homework as always) about their aunt’s visit. “Do you want to come?”

“What day are you going?” her sister replied.

“This Sunday.”

Cassandra frowned. “I can’t. I have to study for a math test that day. My grade is on the edge right now, and if I do poorly on the exam, I’ll get a B+ in the class. I can’t risk it. Trust me, I would go if I could.”

Allie understood. She knew her sister wanted to go to Yale, and she had seen the statistics. The admissions rate was around six percent. Even for the best of students, Yale was a reach. Allie was a bit sad—the city was always more fun with Cassandra by her side—but she wasn’t a child anymore, and she didn’t need her sister to accompany her everywhere.

“It’s no problem,” Allie reassured. “Just let me know if there’s anything that you want me to buy for you while I’m down there.”

Allie went to the city alone, bringing only her black purse and her cell phone with her. She arrived at Penn Station in the early morning. Aunt Carly, decked out in her characteristic prints and bold colors, was waiting for her.

“Allie!” her aunt hollered. Her obnoxiously bright orange-red lip gloss matched the color of her handbag perfectly. “It’s been so long since I last saw you. You look taller—have you grown?”

Allie gave her aunt a tight hug and laughed. “Since August? No, I don’t think so. Same height as always.”

“Any boys?” Her aunt asked with a wink.

Allie’s chest tightened. She hated that question, truly hated it. “Nope, no one yet. But I’m happy being single.”

Luckily, Aunt Carly dropped the subject, and moved on to talking about a list of all the clothes and books and trinkets the two of them would be splurging on throughout the day. There was no budget, it seemed; Aunt Carly acted as though her pockets were bottomless.

They spent the first part of the day shopping on Fifth Avenue and hopping into trendy boutiques. Aunt Carly bought dozens of clothes with dizzyingly high prices. By the time they went to eat lunch, her aunt had seven large shopping bags in her arms. Allie was more frugal; she had bought one bag’s worth of clothes.

After lunch, they spent their time exploring Manhattan. They meandered through the streets, grabbing snacks in between people watching. Allie loved the vibrancy and anonymity of urban life. Here, she shed the labels that followed her in West Ham.

After ending the day with burgers and fries at the Shake Shack in Grand Central Station, her aunt prepared to board her train back to Virginia. Her tiny frame was dwarfed by the assortment of large bags and suitcases she carried with her.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay walking back to Penn Station?” Aunt Carly asked. “I wish we had arranged a train for you from here. The walk is so far.”

“I’ll be fine,” Allie promised. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Actually, you know what?” Aunt Carly pulled her green wallet out of her purse and grabbed a couple of twenty-dollar bills from its folds. “I just don’t feel comfortable with you walking all that way. Take this money and take a cab. Please, do it for my peace of mind. I would feel much safer if you did.”

“Okay, I will,” Allie said, knowing full well that she was lying. “Have a safe trip home!”

Allie watched as her aunt took her bags and boarded the train. As soon as Carly was out of sight, she pocketed the money for herself. That money could be useful for another day. And, she thought, there was something kind of peaceful about a solitary night walk.

She left Grand Central and pulled up the directions to Penn Station on her phone. It was dark outside, but the way was straightforward enough, so she put away the phone and let herself fully absorb the city. She was mesmerized by the myriad of people who surrounded her. It was truly electric.

Allie peered into clubs where the night was only beginning, and where men and women knocked back liquor like it was water. She walked by a row of cramped food trucks, where the heavy scent of spices soaked in through her lungs and warmed her to the core. Compared to West Ham, New York City might as well have been another planet—a wondrous, delightful alien world.

She must have taken a wrong turn, because she realized she had walked halfway down an alleyway she didn’t recognize. The near-omnipresent city crowd had disappeared. The only sounds were the quiet hum of cars on busy streets and the plinking sound of water dripping from a drainpipe onto the street.

Allie suddenly felt very, very small.

She couldn’t have gone too far from a main street. So she told herself that she shouldn’t be worrying, really. All she had to do was walk through to the other end of the alley. Once she was back on a major road, she could pull out her phone again and check for directions.

Allie walked down the narrow street, thinking, for the first time, that maybe she should have taken that cab after all. In polluted Manhattan, there were no stars to light her way. The drainpipe’s dripping water drummed an eerie rhythm—plink, plink, plink.

Behind her, slow footsteps made squishing sounds on the wet pavement. She glanced over her shoulder quickly. It was a man, tall and blonde, strolling nonchalantly toward her. He seemed to have emerged fully formed from shadow. His eyes traced over her with feigned disinterest, only to light up when he set his sights on her purse and shopping bag.

She picked up her pace. The footsteps behind her sped up to match her strides.

That couldn’t be a coincidence. A host of horrible nightmares burst into her head. Assault, murder, robbery...

She needed to walk faster.

Allie started scurrying down the street.

So did he.

When Allie glanced over her shoulder again, she could see the man closing in on her. Terrified, she broke into a sprint. But just as before, he mirrored her actions, and from the sound of it, he was a faster runner than she.

A cold hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back mid-run. Allie tripped and went tumbling to the ground. The palm of her left hand scraped across gritty gravel, tearing her skin open. Blood oozed out from the cut and dribbled onto the street.

Allie stared up at the man with wide, stunned eyes. He whipped out a black glock from the pocket of his oversized jacket. His hands shook as if he had never pointed a killing weapon at another person before. Up close, he looked young, perhaps only one or two years older than her.

Adrenaline jolted through her body, waking her up from her dreamy wandering. The pain of her injury receded as she focused on the weapon in front of her. This could be life or death, she realized. She had taken one wrong turn and ended up against the barrel of a gun.

“Give me your bags,” the man demanded.

“What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” And indeed, though his hands shook, his voice was calm.

The man jerked his gun in the direction of her purse and shopping bag as if his threat hadn’t been clear enough.

“Okay, okay,” Allie said in rushed breaths.

She took off her bags with her wounded hand and held them out to him. She stifled a cry as her purse’s handle bit into her skin. Her blood smeared over the metal, streaking it with red.

In a swift move, he snatched her belongings from her fingers. It amazed her how deftly he could move while still managing to point his gun at her.

He quickly pulled her wallet out of her purse and rifled through paper bills quickly, including the money that her aunt had given her for a taxi. In the dim light of the alley, she could see her blood glistening on his fingertips, marking up every paper bill he touched.

He shut the wallet with a snap. His eyes darted nervously to each side of the alleyway, presumably checking to ensure no one had seen him rob her.

“Now, close your eyes and count to thirty,” he ordered. For added intimidation, he waved his gun at her again. “And count slowly.”

Allie nearly whimpered with fear, but did as he said. She let her vision go dark. Without her sight, she couldn’t help but imagine his finger on the trigger, ready to kill her. She wasn’t putting up a fight. It would be an easy crime.

“One. Two. Three…” she counted.

But the shot never came. She heard the muffled thunk of fabric meeting heavy plastic, and then the squish of his feet as he sprinted down the alleyway. In seconds, she could no longer hear him at all. The city had swallowed him up. She was alone again.

Allie opened her eyes and slowly rose from the ground. She winced as she plucked jagged pieces of gravel from her hands. She could still feel cold fear curling in her chest, although that emotion was quickly being replaced by the panicked realization that she had just lost her money and her ticket back home.

She was lucky about one thing: he hadn’t asked her to empty her pockets. Her phone was still tucked snuggly in the back pocket of her jeans.

Allie dialed Cassandra’s number. It was past midnight, so there was a high likelihood that her sister would already be asleep, especially since she had a test the next day. Her parents, notorious for going to bed early, would certainly already have dozed off.

The line rang and rang, but Cassandra didn’t pick up. Then: Hi, you’ve reached Cassandra Pressman. Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.

Since her sister’s phone had gone straight to voicemail, she would have to rely on someone else. She went through her contact list one by one, praying that at least one of her friends would pick up. Will, Becca, Gordie, Bean: none of them answered her calls.

The blood on her left hand had started to clot. Her cell was rapidly running out of battery. She needed someone to pick up.

She scrolled through her contacts again, calling people she barely knew. She even called Elle Tomkins, who she had spoken maybe a total of three words to. Over and over, she was met with disappointment when no one picked up.

Allie was quickly running out of options when she came across a person she had tried to push to the corners of her mind. Her finger hovered over his name in her contact list.

Harry Bingham.

It seemed wrong to call him. Wrong, when he was constantly at Cassandra’s throat. Wrong, when they had done everything possible to ignore each other since she turned thirteen.

You know what? Allie thought to herself. Fuck it.

Before she could stop herself, she called him.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Hey. It’s Allie.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s the twenty-first century. I have caller I.D. What do you want?”

Ugh. Though his rudeness was no surprise, it still irked her. But at this point, it seemed like he was her only hope, so she tried to suppress her irritation. “Can I ask you a favor? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have no one else to turn to and I’m scared and I don’t know what else to do.”

“Shit, Allie. Just spit it out.”

“I’m stuck in New York City. A man mugged me and took all my money and my ticket back home. I wouldn’t have called you, except I’ve already tried my family and all my friends. Can you come get me?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. In her head, she pictured him lying in bed, half-asleep and sneering at her. She imagined that he was hovering his finger over the red button on his phone, ready to end the call at any moment. Knowing Harry, he would probably hang up on her and go right back to sleep, and in the morning he’d forget that she’d ever called him.

“Hello?” she said, breaking the silence. “Harry? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” He sighed. “You’re going to owe me for this, Pressman.”

Relief rushed over her. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, I will. Might be a couple of hours before I can get to you, though. I’m going to have to take an Amtrak or something, because my dad will get pissed if I start racking up miles on my car.” The trains from West Ham to Penn Station took an hour and a half minimum, and since fewer trains ran at night, the next train to the city probably wouldn’t be for a while. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay until then?”

“Um, I was just planning on waiting around at the train station.”

“Jesus Christ.” He cursed under his breath. “You so owe me for this. Alright, walk to the Waterwhite Hotel. It’s only two blocks from the station. Tell the person at the front desk that you’re a friend of the Bingham family. They’ll let you wait in the lobby until I show up.”

A cool rush of relief flooded her. “Harry? Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. Like, seriously. Don’t mention this to anyone.”

Harry arrived at the Waterwhite a little over two hours later. His shirt was rumpled and he looked like he desperately needed two shots of espresso. Allie had never seen him look so disheveled. He must have come immediately after she called him.

Allie was waiting for him on a modern, dark blue couch in the hotel lobby. She watched as he walked over to the tall brunette working the reception desk. He smiled and said something to the woman. Her previously bored expression turned happy, and she pointed to where Allie was sitting. Allie could see him thanking her with one of his classic Bingham smiles before walking over to where she was waiting. Even bedraggled, he still somehow managed to charm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. If he noticed her state of distress—her grimy shoes, her still-bloody hand, her tired red eyes—he did not comment on it.

She nodded. “Thank you, again, Harry. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

He didn’t respond. They walked to the train station in near silence. The clacking of her shoes on the pavement was the only sound either of them made on the way there.

When they reached Penn Station, Harry paid for her Amtrak ticket back to West Ham in cash. This, too, was a near-wordless exchange. She thanked him. He merely grunted in response.

After waiting for thirty minutes, their train arrived. Unlike most trains out of the city, this one was near empty, occupied only by sleep-deprived workers commuting to their morning shift and a few odd stragglers.

Allie slid into a seat near the front of a car. Rather than sliding into the seat next to her, Harry spread himself out on the row of seats across from her. He rested his back against the window, stretched his legs across the seats, and let his feet dangle into the aisle.

Allie pulled out her phone to check the time. 3:23 a.m. was etched in glowing lights.

The train rolled to a start. Harry closed his eyes and slouched in his seat as if he hoped to resume the sleep he had been enjoying before she had called. When he stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt rose to expose a sliver of skin by his hip.

She could see the start of her name, inked on him in her penmanship. Allie Pressman. She had never seen it before. It pained her to look at it, although there was an almost beautiful quality to the tattoo. Unlike tattoos done by hand, a soulmate mark would never fade or need touch-ups.

He dropped his arms. The tattoo vanished under a cascade of black fabric.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” He was looking at her with half-shut eyes. So, he’d caught her staring after all.

Maybe it was sheer curiosity, or maybe her tiredness had made her weak, but she wanted to see those words on his skin.

Without responding, Allie lifted the edge of her top and nudged down one side of her jeans so that his name was fully revealed. The tattoo was the same as always, stark black ink against pale skin. It felt strange to have her mark exposed to the world. No one had ever seen it but her.

Harry followed her lead. He lifted the edge of his shirt, showing his tattoo to her once more. This time, she could see the entirety of her signature, like a claiming brand on a boy who despised her.

They sat in silence, examining each other’s inked skin with fascination.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing your name on someone else’s body,” she said.

“Yeah, very weird.” Harry tore his eyes away from her skin. Then, with a wry smirk, he said, “Almost as weird as having to cross state lines at three in the morning to pick up your enemy’s little sister.”

“Why did you help me?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He looked surprised at her question. “Allie, I know what you and your sister think of me, but I’m not a bad person. I wasn’t going to leave you stranded in New York.”

Allie didn’t quite know what to say to that. Harry was right—she and Cassandra thought he was all West Ham’s worst traits distilled into one human being. Could it really be that after years of hating him, he was worth redeeming?

The train swayed hypnotically on the tracks. The cabin was quiet except for a man snoring three rows away from them. She and Harry stared at each other silently, truly seeing each other for the first time.

He seemed different in this setting, she noticed. Away from his callous friends and his detached parents, he seemed lost and sad and beautiful and kind.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” she finally said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? And what exactly do you think of me? I know you don’t like me, so don’t even try to deny it.”

Allie rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know, Harry. I think you’re richer than I’ll ever be. I think you’re smart but overconfident. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think about you much at all.”

Harry smiled at her. Had she ever gotten a genuine smile from him before? She didn’t think so. She was used to his cold glares and bitter frowns, so this unfamiliar expression sent a shock of warmth through her.

“Don’t think about me at all, huh?” he said. “I’m hurt. Here I was, thinking I’d been in your dreams since thirteen.”

“Haunting my nightmares, maybe,” she retorted.

“Ouch.” He turned away from her to look out the window.

Guilt flared up in Allie, although she wasn’t quite sure why. “As if you care what I think of you.”

He turned back to face her. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Why would you think I don’t care?” He sounded surprisingly genuine, completely dropping the teasing tone he’d previously used with her.

Allie suddenly felt anxious. She was trapped on a train with Harry Bingham, and he kept subverting her expectations. Without the judgment of West Ham hanging over her head, she didn’t know how to behave around him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I think that because of a conversation from many years ago, when we both agreed to pretend that there was nothing between us.”

The train’s fluorescent lights flickered out above them. For a moment, they were plunged into the dark. The only light was the blue glow of the city outside, which bounced brilliantly off Allie’s white sneakers.

Across from her, Harry’s eyes glittered dangerously. He looked tired but wild, like there was something lurking under his skin that only revealed itself in the dark.

It was at that moment that she realized how little she knew him.

Allie could feel her whole body tense up with renewed stress. She was grateful that the lights had gone out—hopefully, he couldn’t see her blushing.

Why was he divulging this to her?

Harry laughed. The sound was sharp. When he spoke again, his voice was newly guarded. “I never wanted to be bonded with you. I still don’t. But when I look at the ink on my skin, I think of you. Always. So yes, Pressman, I do care what you think of me.”

The train’s lights startled back on. In the full light, Harry studied her for one more moment. His gaze was so intense it felt like it was burning her. She searched for the words to respond to him, but they kept getting stuck on the way to her tongue.

Before she could come up with anything, he pulled a pair of earbuds from his pocket and shoved them in his ears. He closed his eyes, too, blocking out the sight of her. And just like that, he was back to ignoring her.

They arrived at the West Ham train station at five in the morning. The sun had not yet risen, and the dark sky was speckled with tiny stars. Just a short train ride had separated her from the everlasting citylight of New York. Her shopping spree and mugging almost felt as if they were figments of her imagination, although her scraped hands and the missing weight of her purse were painful reminders that the past twenty-four hours had been real.

“Need a ride home?” Harry asked.

“If you don’t mind.” She felt guilty for asking so much of him. She hadn’t even expected him to answer her call, and he had ended up coming all the way to New York to get her.

“It’s whatever,” he said. He rubbed his tired eyes and took out the keys to his Maserati.

Harry had parked next to the station. They got into the car like phantoms, sucked of all their energy.

Five minutes later, they turned onto Allie’s street. Harry made sure to pull over three houses before hers. That way, her family wouldn’t hear the purr of his engine or see her coming from his car.

“This is just between you and me, right?” Allie asked. “Just like before?”

Harry jerked his chin in response—a drowsy, clumsy attempt at a nod, she assumed. After a beat, he said, “Right. Just like before.”

There was nothing left for her to say to him. So she just said thanks, and then she exited the car.

He zoomed off the second her door shut behind her. As she watched the silhouette of his Maserati drive out of sight, she was struck once more by what a wild night it had been. She had been saved by her worst enemy. She had sat by him on an old train and in a luxury vehicle. She had shown her mark to him. How out of character—perhaps she had been seized by a bout of insanity after she was mugged.

She was thankful for his help. She was also ready to go back to forgetting that Harry even existed. With any luck, their relationship would return to the exact state it had been in before: nonexistent.

#harry bingham #allie pressman #the society #harry x allie #hallie #it took SO LONG (I'm sorry) but part 1 is finally here #soulmate au #hope you guys enjoy :)#fic: hallie #my fic #your name on my skin

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elisaphoenix13 · 4 years

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Before The Dawn (Ch. 1)

Tony was quiet but Cassie understood why. He just lost his entire family and half of his friends, and only Diana had survived the snap the adults were talking about. When Tony saw Cassie, he asked about Scott and Steve had told him that he was missing and her mom and stepdad were either out of reception range or victims. So Tony had her pack her things and took her Diana with him after he recovered from his near month in space.

That was how she found herself in the backseat of his car and on their way to a new house he said he bought, with only the radio to fill the silence and Diana's periodic cooing. Cassie didn't feel it was the right time to strike up conversation and that it was best to leave Tony to his thoughts for now, and she kept herself entertained with either a book or playing with the baby. When Diana started fussing though, Cassie immediately reached into the diaper bag between them and grabbed what she needed to make her a bottle.

A water bottle, formula, and a baby bottle were all fished out and she carefully poured formula and water into the bottle before closing it tightly and shaking it. Just like Stephen showed her. Cassie loved helping him with the baby so she asked him to show her how to do things so she could help when he needed it. She was glad she did because Tony needed it now more than ever. He wouldn't need to make as many stops and maybe they would only need to make one before they got to the house they were going to.

Diana quiets immediately when Cassie offers her the bottle and the baby drinks hungrily as Cassie holds it. She was getting hungry herself and Tony seemed to read her mind because he briefly caught her eye in the rearview before he looked back at the road.

"We'll be there in about half an hour. Think you can hold out?" Tony asks.

"Is there food there already?" Cassie asks.

"No. It will be delivered tomorrow but there's somewhere close to the house we can drive through."

"I can wait." Cassie nods.

Tony answers with a nod and Cassie pulls the bottle away when Dia is finished with it and sticks it back in the diaper bag. She keeps her entertained with some toys and then eventually a teething ring and before Cassie knows it, Tony is pulling into a drive thru and asking her what she wants and then putting the bag of food in the passenger seat before he's driving away again. It was another ten minutes before he was pulling onto a gravel road and the sound of crunching under the tires drew Cassie's attention out the window and the scenery around them.

The first thing she saw was the enormous lake. It was too cold to go swimming but maybe when it warmed up, Tony might distract himself and take her out. She didn't keep her hopes up though. Tony was hurting and depressed and needed time to mourn, just like the rest of the world, and Cassie knew he had to have that time. She did too. Her dad was missing as well as her mom and stepdad...and it was possible they met the same fate as half of the world. For all she knew, she only had Tony and Diana.

Tony parks and turns off the car before he gets out to open the back door and unbuckle Diana to pull her out. "Don't worry about our bags just yet. Can you get the diaper bag and the food?"

"Yeah." Cassie nods and gets out of the car and grabs Diana's diaper bag before she closes her door, and the bag of food from the front seat before following Tony inside. "Where is Dia sleeping?"

"Her own room. Everything should be set up. I'll have one of the baby monitors in my room." Tony responds. "Go ahead and eat. I'll take her up and lay her down after I change her."

Cassie hands him the diaper bag when he reaches for it, and then sits at the table with their food as he disappears up the stairs. As she bit into her chicken nugget, Cassie looked around the cabin and almost frowned when she noticed that it was only furnished with the bare essentials. At the tower, it always felt like a home because it always had something personalized lying somewhere. But here? There wasn't a pile of books in the corner, there wasn't a completed lego structure sitting on an end table, no baby toys strewn about…

She decided she needed to help change that whether Tony liked it or not. Maybe she didn't have anything of Stephen's, Peter's, or Harley's, but she had her things and Diana's. She would help make this a home too even if it wouldn't be the same as the tower.

Tony returns downstairs and sits across from her and then pulls his hamburger out of the bag. "We'll get the other bags when we finish eating. You can go find a room you want." He frowns. "Uhh...you don't need help with taking a shower or anything do you?"

"No. I can do it myself." Cassie says and finishes her last chicken nugget.

Tony visibly sighs with relief. Cassie had a feeling he wasn't comfortable with the possibility of having to help her but she was old enough to take care of herself.

She waits until he finishes his dinner and then they go back outside to grab their bags from the trunk and she carries hers in and upstairs. All of the doors were open except for one and she figured that was Diana's room. So she looked into the nearest one, glad that it wasn't the master bedroom, and went in to put her bag on the bed. She takes her time unpacking and putting her things away, takes a quick shower, and then goes to bed. She didn't fall asleep straight away though. That was when she took the time to cry for her parents. For the family she found in the Avengers. Cassie was lucky Tony was willing to take care of her.

She cried herself to sleep.

When Cassie woke up the next morning, the first thing she heard was Diana crying but figured Tony would be tending to her soon enough and got up to get ready. By the time she had gotten dressed and brushed her hair, Diana was still crying and Cassie frowned as she left her room. She checked the master bedroom and found Tony asleep in bed and after some quiet investigation when she snuck in, she discovered that he had forgotten to turn his end on. Cassie decided he needed the sleep since even she knew he was notorious for staying up for hours or even days, and she snuck back out of the room and closed the door silently behind her.

Cassie then walks into Diana's room and finds the six month old baby sitting up in her crib with tears rolling down her cheeks. When the ten year old steps closer, Dia calms down a little and holds her arms up as Cassie lowers the railing to the crib and hiccups when she picks her up.

"Are you hungry Dia?" Cassie asks and takes her over to the bed in the room to change her.

The changing table was too high for her to use so the bed was her next option. Cassie grabs the plastic keys for Diana to play with while she changes her diaper and gets her dressed, and when she was done, she picks her back up and leaves the room.

"I think your Daddy has some baby food for you. Want to try some apples?" Cassie giggles when Diana babbles in response and takes her down to the kitchen to put her in the high chair.

Once she was certain the baby was secure, Cassie looked through the diaper bag that had been left in the living room and pulled out a little glass container of pureed apples and blueberries. She fed Diana about half of it and then cleaned her up and took her out of the highchair, and then carried her over to her swing in the living room. She didn't see it the night before but she didn't see the high chair either so Tony must have set them up for a brief moment of distraction. Once Diana is buckled into her swing, Cassie goes back over to the diaper bag to make her a bottle and gives it to the baby and turns on the tv to a preschool show to keep her occupied.

Cassie had taken to watching how Tony and Stephen (and even the boys at some points) took care of her and made note of every single thing. But now that the baby was taken care of for now, she had nothing to do but wait until food was delivered so she could have breakfast. Cassie put the jar of baby food in the fridge for later and as quickly as she could, she went up to the room to grab her coloring book and pencils, then ran back down to sit in the living room at the coffee table to color since she knew it wasn't a good idea to leave a baby unattended.

It was another hour when Tony finally woke up and came stumbling down the stairs. Both Cassie and Diana looked over at him and the man glanced between them before sighing in relief.

"How long have you been up?" He finally asks and Cassie shrugs.

"About an hour."

"Shit...and you fed her and everything? I woke up and realized that I never turned on the monitor--" he stops rambling and rubs his eyes. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You needed the sleep." Cassie says easily. "When will the food be delivered?"

"Uh...should be any minute now actually." Tony steps over to pat her head. "Thanks for taking care of her. Think you can watch her for a little while longer? I want to get Friday up and running."

"Uh-huh."

Tony sighs and crouches down to kiss Diana's forehead and he disappears into the garage where Cassie assumed he was going to set up his lab. True to his word, the food delivery came about fifteen minutes later and Cassie brought it all in and put it away, pulling out a large bowl to put on the counter and set the fruit in it. Once that was finished, she poured herself some cereal and took it back into the living room after putting the milk in the fridge and ate at the coffee table. Diana happily babbled at her cartoons as Cassie ate, and when the girl was finished she got up with her bowl and even took the baby's empty bottle from her to wash and put away.

As she was setting the bottle on the drying rack, Tony walked back in and Cassie pointed to the fridge. "I put the food away."

"You did?" Tony raises an eyebrow and opens the refrigerator to look inside and finds it stocked and organized. "Guess I know who the boss of the house is."

Cassie giggles and puts the step stool away and returns to the living room as Tony finds the coffee and sets about making himself coffee and breakfast. She knew he would probably only willingly make himself food today, but she would make sure he ate no matter what. She wanted to do her dad and Stephen proud and make sure Tony took care of himself.

"Cass? Did you eat?" Tony asks.

"I had cereal!" She calls back as she colors in a flower with her orange pencil.

"What did you give Dia?"

"Half a jar of baby food and some formula."

"How do you know to do that?" She hears him mumble to himself but doesn't answer him. "Uhh...I think I'm almost done with Friday." He says a little louder.

"I can watch her. It's okay." Cassie responds.

"It's just for a little longer. Promise." Tony says as he pours himself some cereal.

It became apparent to Cassie after that day that she would be just as responsible for Diana as Tony was.

If not more.

#ironstrange #mama bear au #tony stark #cassie lang #diana stark strange (oc)#post infinity war

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nissakii · 3 years

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Scent. a Haikyu!! Fanfiction pt.10

[want to read all chapters right now? Our fanfictions get updated every monday on our blog, click here to continue reading!]

The car we sat in pulled up to the university campus, and an eerie feeling of familiarity rushed over me.

Although I was only here for one semester before leaving, I forgot how many emotions I tied to this place.

Quiet thoughts krept up into my head until I realised the cab had stopped in front of the gate and the driver turned around to me.

“That would be 15,97, please”, I extended a twenty towards him with a polite smile and while he gathered the change I looked to the seat next to me.

There he was in all his glory, a snoring mess of a man. His eyes covered with arm and tucked to his right side, his other hand lying lifelessly on the middle seat.

So that’s supposed to be an adult huh?

I nudged his arm a little, but he only groaned and swerved to the side.

“Here you go”, the driver handed me a receipt and the change and took a slightly annoyed glance at the man next to me, “a heavy sleeper?”

“Yeah, apparently”, I retorted and took both hands to shake his shoulders.

“Sleeping beauty! Wake up! We’re here!”

“Hu-wah?”, was the intelligent response he gave, hoisting himself up into a sitting position until he saw the buildings outside from the window.

“We’re here!”, he grabbed at his backpack and slung it over his back a couple times before he got it right and grabbed the handle to open the door.

I shook my head but smiled and gave the driver a knowing look.

“Youngsters am I right?”

The driver tutted and turned around in his seat, “Aren’t you guys the same age?”

Maybe physically?

“Yeah, but he’s a walking preschooler”, I grabbed my own duffel bag and opened the car door with a swing.

The trunk was already open and I got my luggage handed to me a bit too hurriedly.

“Woah, woah easy there! You’re going to run me over!”

“Oh man I’m so pumped to be back! I missed this place!”, he rambled on and started dashing off through the gates.

Well he slept through the whole plane ride and up until now, of course he has the energy.

The jetlag already made me feel incredibly tired, as I looked at my phone I realised it was merely 11am, which meant I had a long day ahead of me.

While I had my phone out, I quickly texted a message and held back a grin as I saw it was read immediately.

“Course he doesn’t reply”, I muttered to myself before I walked through the gates as well.

The man in front of me already started to briskly walk towards the school building, even though we had to go to the reception first.

“Wait”, I shouted in his direction and he actually stopped for a second to look at me.

I started to jog with my luggage trailing behind me until I got closer, “why the rush? It’s not like they’re waiting for us to-

“BOKUTO!”

“OH MY GOD!”

For the first time in what felt like ages I picked up the familiar scent of fresh caramel steadily coming closer to us, and Bokuto who must’ve done the same let go of his luggage and ran towards the small figure coming closer and closer.

With a sigh, I took Bokuto’s luggage with my other hand and tagged along.

My nose twitched as the man’s lemongrass scent flared up in excitement as he ran towards the small omega.

He roared out a loud laugh as he crushed the giddy woman with a hug.

Muffled sounds came from his chest as he kept pressing her in until she tapped out with repeated taps on his back and gave a huge smile herself as he let her go.

“I missed you!”, the omega smiled wholeheartedly, and I couldn’t repress a snarky smile myself.

“I missed you too! It’s been so looong!”, Bokuto trailed and he stretched out his arms after crouching down to meet her small frame.

“Ah~ the little rascals found each other again, huh?”, I got closer to the omega but didn’t know if she was okay with a hug, so I extended both of my palms for a high ten.

She laughed cheekily before hitting my hands harder than I anticipated, and the sting in my palms made me grin wider.

Feisty as always.

“How are you doing Kuroo?”, she asked with a smile.

I nodded while taking a side glance to Bokuto, well ya know, with this idiot here it never gets boring so”, I rolled Bokuto’s luggage towards him, “what about you? Did you make new friends? How’s Kenma?”

I had hoped for a little second that he would at least greet me, but I was not only left on read but also ghosted apparently.

“He’s good, but you missed out on some stuff”, she whispered towards me with her hand shielding her mouth.

Some stuff?

“No way, what happened?”, Bokuto interjected.

If Mikoto found it important enough to drop it in casual conversation it must’ve been something big, but I don’t think she would spill it all now.

Even though I knew Mikoto officially for three years now, she was still a mystery to me.

I had met her at her highschool graduation that she attended together with Bokuto, since they knew each other since they were children.

Bokuto had always told me stories about their time spent together, and it was a fun coincidence that I knew her cousin Shirothrough Kenma.

Kenma, Shiroand I hung out throughout our middle school days even though she was two years younger than me, and I only learned of her relationship with Mikoto after I met Bokuto through highschool volleyball tournaments.

We were from different towns and had different lives, until we somehow all joined at the same university.

Small world, hm.

There was no match to the bond between Bokuto and Mikoto.

Those two have been inseparable for years on end, and I felt like Bokuto fulfilled a bigger sibling role for her. Since their parents got along just as well, they basically turned into a duo.

A duo of huge dorks.

“Long story”, she replied.

I was about to say something about the reception, when I picked up more scents that I could and would never forget.

There they were, Shiropushing a grumbling Kenma in front of her while she giggled.

Oh man, I really did miss them.

My steps quickened as I picked up the smell of vanilla and white chocolate filling my senses, and the giggle turned into a laugh as Shiroshoved herself with Kenma into me.

“oof-”, I grunted as she extended her arms around both of us, laughing harder as Kenma struggled to muffle something against me.

Wow, what a feeling.

“Hah! I’ve missed you kids!”, I plopped my hands on Shiroand Kenma’s head to which they both flinched and complained about.

“Let me go you weirdo”, Shiropushed my hand away in played disgust, but her sweet chocolaty scent couldn’t deceive anyone with a nose.

“So! Kenma~ I hope you’re staying up all night gaming hm?”

“Tch”, Kenma’s face scrunched up,”I think you should’ve stayed away for a year longer”

I chuckled at his defensive retort and found Bokuto and Mikoto rambling over something.

Craning my neck up I tried to look for other familiar figures, I tilted my head as I didn’t find anyone.

As if he matched my thought process, Bokuto did the same and slumped his shoulders as he found nobody else approached us.

“Wait”, he whined, “where’s Akaashi?”

His head drooped down and he pouted until the omega spoke up again to comfort him.

“Heey, don’t be sad! I think he’s caught up in a meeting, we should check the beta lounge”, she lightly hit him on his arms until life came back to him.

“Alright! Let’s go find Akaashi!”

Kenma and Shiroboth followed the two while keeping a couple steps behind, and I eyed the pair in front of me a little more. The beta and the sigma were really open since they basically had the same interests and knew each other for years, but as I took a closer look at their exchange something felt different.

Hm.

Trailing behind the group, I held my luggage behind me as its wheels charred on the asphalt.

Nothing about the building changed.

I mean it’s not like it’s been a decade, Bokuto and I were just gone for a year, but I had the feeling that something at least should’ve changed while we were gone.

I looked up at the sky, the late summer still bringing a warm breeze before the winter ultimately would take over. Other students going in and out of the building or sitting on the tables around either side.

Chattering of groups walking around filled my vision, until my eyes caught two figures farther away from us.

Both of them had their eyes on Bokuto, and I squinted to make out who it was.

Wait.

Did they look at Bokuto?

Both of them were wearing casual clothing just as everyone else did, nothing about them seemed suspicious.

The taller one eyed not Bokuto, but Mikoto with his chin tilted a bit high, while the shorter one looked a lot more calm.

My gaze snapped back to Bokuto and Mikoto who were pushing each other from side to side while laughing.

I looked back at the two men and they were talking to each other, before they turned around and left.

What was all of that about?

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ploughwomen2 · 3 years

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Brand new York Singles: Guide for Dating in New York

2, 2012 april Looking to impress a night out together ny City? Whether you’re brand new in town or a life-long New Yorker, here are a few fun date some ideas to consider within the ny. Dating in New York: Walk!

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Tabby Anderson’s Backstory

It’s finally done. After a whole month of working on this. It’s done.

TW: Death, child abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse, bullying, offensive language, mentions of suicide, homicide.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING.

So….I probably should tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Tabithia Roxanne Anderson but please call me Tabby. I am seventeen years old and I have a slew of disorders. Starting with narcolepsy, insomnia, anxiety, OCD, PTSD, and paranoia. We’re probably missing a few others because therapists and doctors can’t do their jobs in diagnostics correctly…but anyways… I digress, I’ll get to that part later on in the story….

Anyways from the time I was born I was already at a disadvantage. My mother Shanna Wolfe had me with my biological dad Michael Anderson. My mother… how do I describe her… she’s a good person all around for the most part… She has a big heart and is very compassionate… very moraled and loyal too. But she’s not very bright and she lacks the ability to stand up for herself to which she couldn’t stand up for me. My biological dad was the complete opposite. He was intelligent and able to stand up to anyone….if that included getting over on other people and standing up to anyone who was weaker than him. He was a coward and a bully. I came to despise him later on in life as I got older. He’s dead now thank thy lord. He died when I was twelve due to pneumonia and drug overdose. He was always into drugs as far as I knew growing up but he didn’t get into the hardcore drugs like heroin and meth later on. But I’m getting ahead of myself. As a child I remember only getting three to four hours of sleep at night (My insomnia wasn’t diagnosed at the time yet) and seeing the bruises on my mother’s face on her eyes and cheekbones. My mother was abused mentally, verbally, emotionally, and physically. Always listening to them arguing. I myself got lucky somehow. I was just neglected by my dad.

I remember my mom telling me this story once or so. I was left by myself. My dad was upstairs with the neighbors getting high on weed and other things. My mom was at work at the time. She used to work at a nursing and rehabilitation center called The Hills as a CNA before she got fired. Sometimes she would bring me to work if she really couldn’t find a babysitter and I would sit in the lounge watching the two movies I brought with me. Which was always Bartok the Magnificent and Shark Tale. But anyways I was left by myself and I saw something on the coffee table. Turns out they were pain pills on a high dosage. It was brightly colored and I thought it was candy so I was about to take them. My mom walked through the front door just in the nick of time. She screamed at me and snatched me away from the coffee table. I was confused but later on in life I was thankful for what she did. Later on that night I heard them getting into a fight about what happened. My mother lost of course but she still tried to do what was right as a mother for once. I was four years old.

One of the stories that I really remember is when my grandmother came to visit. My dad’s mother. It was my first traumatic event. He was too lazy to get his own drugs which were just weed at the time from a couple of blocks down where his drug dealer was. He threatened my grandmother at knife point saying how if she doesn’t get his drugs then he’ll slit her throat. My dumbass at the time came out of my room and down the stairs so I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. He saw me and with lightning speed came over to me and held the same knife at me thoat. I began to cry. My dad said that If I didn’t stop crying and if I didn’t get his drugs then He would kill me, my mom and grandmother. So I was reduced to sniffles and agreed. He gave me the address which was literally down the street just five houses down. I’ve seen the house before all the time due to mom taking me to go to the park to play. So I knew where to go. I did what I was told and no one was killed thankfully. That was the last straw for my mother when she found out. She packed up our stuff that actually belonged to us and took me with her out of that house that we were living in. That’s really the only time I can remember when my mother actually stood up for me and did her actual job as a mother. I was also four at the time.

We got our own apartment pretty quickly. It was on the other side of town. It wasn’t the good part of town, lots of drug users and dealers and drunks in my neighborhood. But we were poor and it was the cheapest that we could get for rent. But my mom got it all on her own and well beggars can’t be choosers. However, even with this new found freedom she still lacked the ability to stand up for herself. Like I said before she’s very compassionate and is just too good for her own good. She would bring home random strangers she met on the streets to “help them back up on their feet” in exchange for helping around the house and babysitting me. But in reality they were just there for the pussy and free ride. They used my mom in every way possible. And that’s what started my severe distrust and dislike of males in general. I assumed that just about every male was like that since that seemed to be the same pattern with every person she brought in. I was still neglected so I learned to do the basics of taking care of myself. I learned how to get myself up on time, I learned to bathe myself and I learned to make canned soup, cereal, and sandwiches, and I learned to keep myself occupied. I’m honestly still asking myself how the fuck am I still alive? Because It’s already dangerous enough bringing home strangers from the streets especially if there’s a kid involved. I mean who knows what could happen if i was left alone with strangers who clearly didn’t give two fucks about me. Miraculously I’m still alive and I was just neglected like usual.

I…have this gift that is the core of my intuition.I can just see through a person easily and figure out what their true intentions are vaguely. I’ve always been highly intuitive on top of being able to see the paranormal. I could always vaguely tell if a person is good or bad with just a minute of looking at them. And with every person she brought home I always felt uncomfortable and I can just tell that they had bad intentions. I always tried to tell my mom about each person that she brought home but like with every adult that I ever encountered she brushed me off and told me that I was wrong. But I knew better. I knew I wasn’t wrong. God, looking back on it now, one of the few good things that I miss about my younger self is the amount of self confidence that I had that I lost over the years. Eventually I stopped trying to tell my mother about the various people that she brought home and just kept everything to myself. I mean why keep trying the same thing that I know doesn’t work? Anyways I just focused more on myself for my own survival since my mom wouldn’t listen to me. My mom actively made the choices to bring home these people so she knew what she was doing and I didn’t worry about her. Let her have the consequences of her own actions. I had and still don’t have sympathy for her.

Then on that fateful day, he came along.

I came home from preschool one day. I opened up the door to see my mom standing there and this strange man sitting on our couch. We locked eyes. His piercing icy blue eyes met my unnaturally wide hazel eyes that still take up 50% of my face. As I said before I can read people easily and normally have a very good intuition about them after a few minutes. But…strangely enough…I couldn’t read him for the life of me. He gave nothing away which piqued my curiosity. After all, who was this strange man? What was he doing here? What were his intentions with my mother? And why can’t I read him like I can with everyone else? After what seemed like an awkward forever of sizing each other up my mom Introduced us. We exchanged names. He said that his name was Michael Timothy Mulleney jr. My mom said she was going to the store real quick and she left me alone with him to babysit me. I approached him with cautious optimism. He just felt different from the others that mom brought home. We made small talk to get to know each other and we used to have a lot in common. We both liked video games and disney and other things. I took an instant liking to him and that happened with no adult family or not especially males in particular. He was different. He was unlike anyone I ever met. I was naive and didn’t know any better back then. My mom finally came home and she found me curled up on his lap, napping to Peter Pan. Which is why I will forever love Peter Pan because it was the first thing he introduced me to and overall it just reminds me of a better time in my childhood when I was happy and I had my dad/best friend back then. I think she was honestly surprised to find out that I hadn’t chased him out of the house. So she took that as a sign to bring him around more often and to keep him.

He came around more often after that. We were a handful to each other. I was used to adults neglecting me. So I was used to having to do everything myself and I never really asked for help. I wasn’t used to having to be taken care of and asking for permission to have stuff. So there were fights over that. Which was really frustrating to me because he requested a two hour nap every time he came over first. He had a weird sleep schedule. He’s a night owl. So I had to keep myself occupied and wait for him to wake up. If I was hungry then I was hungry and I wasn’t going to wait for him. Ain’t no one has the time for that. Eventually we established a boundary and compromised. If I waited for him to wake up then I could still have my freedom of doing things myself as long as I was supervised. He’d let me do whatever since I’ve shown him that I could take care of myself as long as he stood in whatever doorway to the room of whatever activity I was doing to make sure I didn’t hurt myself or break anything and to periodically check up on me.

I was also not used to rules and consequences and routine. Since I was loosely taken care of, meaning that I was fed, showered, went to school, and not dead. Adults wanted nothing to do with me and my mother was always too busy to establish any rules or consequences. If she did it wasn’t consistent so I just did whatever I wanted for the most part. My life was nothing but chaos with the amount of people coming and going. My step dad was the first to establish rules and consequences which resulted in a lot of time outs and early bedtimes. He never used to hit me or abuse me verbally, emotionally or mentally. Eventually I learned to follow the rules and we established a routine. It was nap time for him when he first walked through the door and I had a few hours to keep myself occupied while I waited for him to wake up. When he did wake up we would do whatever together, I got as many snacks that I wanted, we played with my stuffed animals, play-wrestled with each other, we would color, watch tv, sometimes he would take me to the park and play with me since other kids wouldn’t. Around 6pm it was dinner time I had whatever my mom left for me in the fridge. Or I had spaghettios. After that it was shower time, then I picked up my toys, then I would watch family guy with him (My mom didn’t really care what I watched back then as long as it wasn’t pornography). Then it was bedtime.

You see before he met my mom. He recently came out of a 12 year relationship with his ex girlfriend. And he has two other kids. His oldest came to us by accident later on in my life and I became the middle child. Anyways, She cut off all contact with him in his kids so he couldn’t see them and take care of them anymore. Since he was free now he became more reckless since he really wasn’t tied down anywhere anymore and he had nothing to lose. In a sense I was his redemption as a parent and as he spent more time with my mom and I the less reckless he became. He settled down because it was like ‘oh shit there’s a kid involved here I can’t do that anymore’.

During those times where he would come over he’d teach me a lot of life skills. He taught me how to pick up after myself. He taught me self defense and how to fight a little, just in case I ever found myself in trouble and there was no other option. Heh… who knew that would pay off during my years at Rosewood and in my life now. The moves and stances are the foundation of my fighting style which is more on the defensive side. He taught me how to cook basic meals, hard boiled eggs, ramen, mac and cheese, and spaghetti. Which he helped me discover my passion for cooking. I had a job in a restaurant working in the kitchen before I quit because of my left hand. He taught me how to read and write. Which he helped me discover my passion for reading and writing. I was always writing stories with my limited vocabulary and I would pull all nighters discreetly finishing my masterpieces. I am the picasso of literature. More importantly he was someone that I could talk to. I never had anyone to do that with save for Autumn later on. I told him everything and anything and he told me everything and anything. Well what was appropriate for a four year old to know. He told me stories about his life from when he was a kid. He was the first person to step up and be the father figure and raise me when my own mother and family wouldn’t. I owe him indefinitely and despite all the abuse and shit he put me through I can never hate him fully. That year and a half of my life was one of the happiest years of my childhood. I thought it would last forever.

I mentioned before that I could see the paranormal. At first it was just tall lanky shadowy figures of various sizes. I never figured out what they were really called so I just called them what I saw them as. Tall, lanky shadowy figures I didn’t think too much of them since all they did was just watch and they weren’t causing me harm. I just went with the flow. Sometimes they would come to me other times they would not. It was a hit or miss. On the times that the shadowy figures would show up I would talk about my day, what was bothering me, or just what was on my mind at the time with my limited four year old vocabulary. I was young and lonely and I did not understand the concept of filtering and giving out too much information. As I got older the shadowy figures’s visit became less and less frequent. Occasionally they would show up and I would give them a nod in acknowledgement and have a conversation with them. I used to believe that that would be the extent of my abilities.

But one night it became so much more than that.

It started out as any average day in my life.It was cloudy. I woke up, ate, showered, and kept myself occupied by watching some movies or playing with my toys. But the entire day just felt off… Like you know how cats and dogs can tell if there’s a thunderstorm coming and the act all weird? It was like that for me. There was an ominous feel in the air like something bad was going to happen. I just didn’t know what at the time. At first I thought something bad was going to happen to my mom. So I begged her not to go into work that day but she brushed me off and told me not to worry about her and that she would be fine. She didn’t listen to me like usual.

Now despite my mom still having strangers in the house she realized that none of them were going to babysit me finally. Even my step dad wasn’t around the whole time. And it was one of those days where he couldn’t babysit me. So I was bounced around from babysitter to babysitter. Sometimes it was other family members other times it was just whatever my mom could find to hire. I never lasted a week with any of them. With other family members it was because I interrupted their lives and they saw me as extra baggage and didn’t want anything to do with me. They always found some sort of excuse to return me back early to my mom. So it was nice to know that I wasn’t wanted by my own biological family. As for the strangers that my mom hired I just simply didn’t like them. I gave them as much as a hard time that I could. They lacked common human decency and respect. They knew nothing of the routines in my household when I did. They told me that no that’s not it. Like? Bitch I live here you don’t. What do you know about my life in my household? My thing was don’t tell me what to do when you don’t know dick about shit about my household. This is what started my severe hatred for adults.

Anyways, this time my babysitter was a stranger that my mom managed to hire. A fifteen year old blonde petite girl by the name of Maggie Hemmington. At the time I thought she was an adult but then again anyone older than 10 is an adult to you when you’re four years old. She wore stuff that expressed she was into the occult stuff. When she came over that day the feeling of something bad was going to happen jumped to 1000. I became more insistent and screaming, crying and begging my mom to not leave me alone with her. But again my mom brushed me off and tried to reassure me the best she could. In the end she left for work and me alone with that bitch. The day was awful with lots of fights and screaming at each other. She was just an awful person; she didn’t even do her job. I still had to go and take care of myself. Eventually she made me go to bed early saying that she was going to have friends over and she didn’t want a brat like me to get in the way. Which she wasn’t supposed to have friends over to begin with but after the day I had I was more than happy to oblige. The quicker I went to sleep, the quicker I could wake up and have it be the next day. So like the good kid I once was I went up to my room and surprisingly I actually fell asleep naturally.

It was around midnight or so I would like to believe. I honestly don’t remember much of what happened that night. I only remember what I remember due to months of pushing through the painful headaches and flashbacks that have accompanied me ever since. I don’t remember the full story so I’m probably missing a few parts but I remember enough to piece together a semi complete story.

Anyways I believe it was midnight or so. I remember waking up to Maggie and her friends screaming. I was scared and confused as to what was happening. Hindsight is 20/20 I probably should have just stayed in bed. Although to be honest I don’t think that this night wouldn’t have ended differently even if I did just stay in bed. And in all actuality I didn’t hate her or any of her friends for that matter. At least, not enough to leave them to their deaths. What if they were in trouble? I was the only there that could do anything. If i didn’t that would make me a coward and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. What if they were dead? Then what? If I did go down there and saw what I saw if they were dead how would I explain what I saw to the police? To my mom? All these questions and choices ran through my head. However, my pride and what little compassion that I had got in the way. I didn’t raise myself to be a coward and i wasn’t going to start then and they sounded like they were in trouble. They needed me. So I made the choice to sneak downstairs to see what was up and figure it out from there. The apartment itself was quite old so the staircase was creaky. However, there were spots that weren’t creaky, I knew where they were. Going down the stairs was like doing an intricate dance to avoid the creaky spots. I crouched down halfway down the staircase. The apartment had dim lighting as it was so there were lots of shadows all over the place. I was wearing a black nightshirt and I was tan and small enough to hide in the shadows. I looked through the bars of the stairs and I saw Maggie and her friends huddled together with the look of absolute fear in their eyes staring straight ahead and a ouija board in front of them. I couldn’t see what they were seeing at the time. But I could feel a dark and powerful aura that was around. It was uncomfortable and overwhelming. It was almost suffocating. The…entity…as I called it because I didn’t know what it was since I couldn’t see it but I could feel it and hear it. All that I knew was that it was a malicious entity. It kept coming closer to where I was hiding. I crouched down more to make myself appear smaller. But the entity snatched me up and as far as I knew I was levitating in thin air. The entity had a suffocating grip on me. I don’t remember much because Maggie, her friends and I were too busy screaming, crying, and I was trying to fight my way out. I even tried to bite the entity but that only resulted in it tightening its grip on me even more. Maggie was trying to negotiate a different price for summoning the entity, Since it said that it required a sacrifice as a price for summoning it. And well…I was it. After hours of screaming, crying and negotiating they came to a compromise. What that compromise was I have no idea to this day. But all I remember is a pressure on my forehead and just a flood of painful life truths and knowledge on more paranormal creatures and how to deal with them. I was screaming and crying in pain and agony. It was too much all at once and I felt like my head was going to explode. The night seemed to go on for forever to me…I thought that it would never end. Until it did. After the entity was done I blacked out I can’t tell you what happened after even if I tried. This is why to this day I don’t fuck with horror movies, witchcraft, and ouija boards. I don’t go actively looking for stuff that I don’t understand what I’m dealing with.

The next morning I woke up back in my room in my own bed. I had a painful headache in the center of my forehead, like the equivalent of a really bad hangover. I was really confused as to what happened last night. I knew something happened, I just didn’t know what. That is until the painful knowledge that I received last night came flowing back like a flood. I was crying and screaming in agony until the flashbacks subsided. My mom came running in to see what was wrong. She asked me what was wrong. But I couldn’t tell her the truth of what really happened last night. She wouldn’t have believed me anyways. Instead I just cuddled up to her and held onto her tight and just cried until I ran out of tears and was reduced to a sniffling, hiccupping mess. I just suffered in silence while my mom rubbed my back and petted my hair.

The next three months was a bitch to deal with. I was a mess. I still did what I needed to do. I went to preschool although I was more antisocial than usual and I was more jumpy. I was just more of a broken quiet, my wide hazel eyes had a haunted look to them on top of them being slightly sunken back and I had dark circles under them, I wasn’t sleeping much during those three months. I was an awful sight. I was almost sickly skinny, I wasn’t eating much for those three months as well. It was evident that I was a shell of my former self. After preschool, I ate the bare minimum to stay alive and to shower when I had the energy to do so. I didn’t want to be out of my room longer than I had to. I was afraid the entity would come back for me. The rest of the time I laid in bed with my covers pulled up, staring at the wall or ceiling for hours on end just empty headed and crying when the flashbacks and nightmares occurred. The worst part was that I was alone. Mom was either working or sleeping and she knew that my trauma had to do with Maggie so my mom stopped with the babysitters and just left me alone. She wasn’t supposed to but she didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t tell my step dad about what happened. And I used to tell this man everything and anything. Back then we didn’t have secrets with each other. But I couldn’t tell him…this. He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. The only ones that I told were my friends when they gained enough trust. So I kept it to myself. My step dad didn’t push me back then. He knew when to back off and respect my boundaries. He dropped it when I didn’t want to talk about it. He knew something happened to me but didn’t know what. He checked up on me when he was there to make sure I was okay and got a little bit of something to eat.

A month has passed and my step dad had enough of me being bed ridden. He gave me this piece of advice that I live by to this day. He sat on my bed and rubbed my back. It was a particularly bad day. The flashbacks and headaches were non stop and sleep was non existent. He was saying how he could tell that I was scared and he hated seeing me like this everyday. He also said that he knew that I wasn’t a coward and he knew a way to help me face any fear that I would have. That caught my attention so I sat up a little to pay better attention. He told me this: The more you know the less you have anything to be afraid of. After all you can’t be afraid of something if you know what that thing is. He left me alone after that and it was something to think about.

I gave myself a week to think about it. By Friday I decided that I had enough. I didn’t want to be stuck in bed. I was tired of the constant flashbacks and headaches. I was tired of living in fear. It’s not a fun way to live as I would discover that realization again later on in my life, and guess what? That night when I made my decision to start not being afraid anymore was the first night that sleep overcame me with no flashbacks and headaches the following day. I guess as I started to make peace with what I was about to do had something to do with that too.

The next day before my mom left for work and my step dad came over to babysit me I told them my decision and asked if I could go to the library. I figured that the first step to not being afraid is getting everything on that subject. My mom agreed and left her library card for us to use (I didn’t get my own until I was six). I think my mom was just relieved that I wasn’t going to be bedridden anymore and that I was actually going out to get some fresh air. After my mom left, I grabbed my black backpack that he gave me and we went to the library. I got every book I could on the supernatural and how to deal with them. I definitely got some confused and concerned looks from the librarians and my step dad. I ignored the librarians and my step dad didn’t push it. I assumed that he picked up on the type of books that I was getting and figured out what I was scared of but he was more than willing to help me conquer my fears. We checked them out and we had a month with them before we had to return them. My backpack was so filled that it made me look like an oversized turtle. I wasn’t a good reader back then mainly due to reading comprehension. It wasn’t my strong suit back then. But I was one hell of a writer. So even though he was confused on the subjects that I picked, he helped out with reading the books and helped me take down notes. The more I understood the less I was becoming less and less afraid.

The next step to me for not being afraid was getting the full story on what happened that night. To tell you the truth I honestly didn’t really remember what happened exactly. I remember bits and pieces of what happened due to flashbacks and memories but not in order. and I don’t remember what happened after I blacked out.My thought process was that I can finally understand and not be afraid anymore if I learned the truth of what really happened. Despite me staying out of my room more and more I still spent an equal amount of time there. I would deliberately sit myself down and go through that day’s events, walking myself through step by step. It wasn’t until I got to the part where I was snatched and then the flashbacks would come back intensely. But nevertheless I pushed through. I would always have a violent headache after each and every session. Literally my diet consisted of whatever I ate and children’s tylenol. It wasn’t easy and there were days where I stepped back from the progress that I made but little by little I got to piece together as much of a complete story that I could.

Over time the flashbacks and headaches became less and less frequent as I got older. Occasionally nowadays I would get the nightmare of that event which would always be followed by a headache in the center of my forehead the next morning. But I would just take some ibuprofen and be on my way. They don’t happen as much anymore like they used to. Over time I became less and less afraid and I became well more normal after that. Well as normal as I could get after an event like that. I was happy more often. I had my dad/best friend. I pushed boundaries, I got time outs and early bedtimes. I played with my toys and with him and I went to preschool and I ate a lot and regularly more often. I was doing fine. I was getting better.

Then my step dad left us. I was five at the time.

He left us for two years. Turns out he went to prison for breaking and entering an abandoned building while he was drunk looking for a place to sleep for the night. The day I found out I was hurt, confused, lonely, and pissed. I was confused because why did he leave us all of a sudden? Where was he? Was he okay? Would we be able to see him again? I was hurt because I had all of these questions running through my head. Did he not love us anymore? Did he even love us at all? Was I a bad kid and that’s why he left us? Was I too much to handle and so he said fuck it and left? Was my mom not good enough? Were we not good enough for him? Then I was pissed because how dare he leave us? Us of all people? We didn’t do anything wrong to deserve this and he had the audacity to leave us! I was also pissed at myself more than anything. My intuition was wrong about him. My intuition was rarely wrong about anything in my life. Although I couldn’t read him at first he proved himself to be different than the rest of the people my mom brought home. He stayed for a year. That’s the longest anyone has ever stayed in my life at the time. He actually stayed and didn’t run away from his responsibilities. He was the first person to take me in and raise me when my own mother and biological family wouldn’t. I thought that he was different….I was wrong obviously but I didn’t realize just how wrong I was until later on in life.

I never felt more alone since that day. There were only two other times but nothing would compare to that day when he left.

This is the reason why I have severe trust issues.

It was downhill after that. Mom lost her job and the apartment so we bounced from motel to motel. Mom was either busy sleeping or looking for jobs. I don’t blame her, it was tiring for her to be looking for jobs for 8 hours a day. So she needed the sleep. Although the rare times she was up she did spend time with me and we would watch tv together. Other times I had to take care of myself and my mom. So I kept myself entertained and my mom barely had enough money for the week to stay let alone for food more times than not. In every motel that we’ve been to there was also a convenience store. Some were nice and were understanding of my home situation so they would let me pick out two things to eat for free. One for me and one for my mom once a day. They were nice. Other store employees weren’t so nice and understanding. But my mom and I had to eat so I learned to lie and steal from them. We had to survive and eat and I was willing to do that by any means necessary. The worst part is that instead of stopping and only doing it when I needed to. I got better at it and I became more clever. I absolutely hated stealing from the store that was nice to me but desperate times called for desperate measures and I wasn’t even sorry for it.

School wasn’t any easier for me. The only things I was good at was everything else but math and gym. I was also good at being a teacher’s pet. It was the only way I could survive at school and I really was a good kid once upon a time and that’s how I got away with mostly everything at school from kindergarten through 11th grade.

That’s when the bullying started for the first time. They made fun of me for being homeless and not being good at math and not being strong enough for gym class. I didn’t know exactly how to deal with it at first since I wasn’t good at social situations. At first I ignored them or shot back an even worse insult to them for k-4.

Eventually my mom got a job at a restaurant making sandwiches and we eventually got our own apartment again.I was seven at the time. It was decent about the size of a single wide trailer, three bedrooms and all for $725 a month. It was on the poor side of Maplehood Creek. So there was a lot of crime and drug deals but beggars can’t be choosers. We settled into a routine very quickly. Mom went to work and I went to school and business as usual. We never really saw each other often. However, it was a nice change to have some form of stability instead of stealing and lying to survive and the uncertainty of it working.

The best part? My step dad came back to us. However, when he did come back he….changed…..He was always the stoic, tough love type but…this was different. I get the people change over the years, especially after a few years of being away from people. But not like this. Looking back on it he came back more distant….and more cold and calculating…. But I didn’t care at the time. I was just happy and excited to have my dad/ best friend back. No more lonely days, no more fear, no more sadness, like all of the hurt, anger, confusion, loneliness, and sadness for the last two years just melted away…. I was just so desperate that I overlooked the warning signs. But anyways, I ran up to hug him as soon as he came back through the door for the first time in two years. I hugged him like my life depended on it, as if I let go he would walk out again. But he didn’t hug me back like he normally would. I just chalked it up to the fact that he probably needed time to adjust. Which was fine. That’s understandable. I figured that after he got used to us again we could go back to being a family once again. Like the good old days but perhaps this time with something better.

BUT BOY WAS I WRONG….LIKE 180 DEGREES WRONG……I WAS SO VERY, VERY WRONG!!!

The abuse started light…at first it was just cutting words and biting remarks….He didn’t start hitting me until I was nine. I really didn’t think anything of it. I often do things to get those comments. I fucked up a lot of things that I was supposed to do that I really shouldn’t have fucked up to begin with. It hurt what he said to me but I just thought it was his new form of discipline. I always thought the point of discipline was that it was supposed to hurt so that you don’t do the bad thing again. It wasn’t anything bad at first. Just normal stuff, he would always call me “stupid”, “worthless”, “Useless” “I’m a burden and that no one wants me” The works. I put up with it because I was desperate to get my best friend back. I thought that if I showed that I was strong enough to take whatever he threw my way then it would show how loyal and worthy I was of being back into his good graces again.

School was beginning to become more and more difficult. Academics was fine. I was too smart for what they were teaching. I was often ahead of my classes. I wouldn’t call myself a genius, otherwise it would have been proven earlier on in my life. I was just above average in intelligence. I would always be ahead for that week in whatever lesson they would be teaching. But the bullies….the bullies got worse….It was just superficial shit. Saying how bad I am at math even though I was good at other subjects, no one wanted to be my friend because I was mean and awkward, I was too weird…. I was only mean because I could see right through them they weren’t good people. I wanted nothing to do with them. And they started with me first. I didn’t start fights, I finished them. I remember something my step dad said to me in passing later on in life. It was an off-color remark and I don’t think he intended for me to use it in the way I did but it proved useful in every fight I’ve been in verbal and physical. He said this to me “Be more afraid of someone who can ruin your life with a press of a button than of someone who can pack a punch. Physical wounds heal mental wounds don’t. Be vicious with your attacks and go for the throat. Hit where it would hurt the most”. And I still live by that. I’ve made people run away crying from my words. Don’t start with me and I won’t start with you. Plain and simple. As for my weirdness. Well, I was more reserved and quiet. I was antisocial and due to my step dad I had increased hostility and ‘behavioral issues’. But I guess I’ve also had my personal darkness following me around. Always just barely below the surface. I guess it created an unsettling aura around me that always made others uncomfortable. Oh well.

Nine is when things turned up a notch for the first time. Lot’s of things happened. I was in 4th grade. Adam was born, I got into my first fist fight, the abuse became worse at home, and I made my first important choice that would change my life forever.

But one thing at a time. Let’s start with the birth of my little brother Adam.

I was nine years old. It was October 3. 2011. Adam was born. His full name is Adam Mitchell Mulleney. I always wanted a sibling, someone I could protect and take care of and teach. Preferably a sister, but beggars can’t be choosers. The moment I held him was the moment I knew I had to protect him. From what? I don’t know. But anyways my step dad doesn;t do babies. So he didn’t even help take care of him. Mom wasn’t the strongest mentally speaking so she wasn’t fit to take care of him. So I did, mostly. I was more of his mother than his big sister at the time. We went to a daycare so that helped me out a lot. But mainly I took care of him for the first three years of his life on top of school, and the increasing abuse from my step dad. He was saying recently back then how I was a bad influence to everyone I met and how much of a monster I was. How I was incapable of making good decisions, always. But back then I didn’t believe him. God, I miss the self confidence I used to have. Before life and reality kept giving me brutal beatings and I just gave up. But I didn’t believe him at the time because Adam proved otherwise. I mean how could I be a bad person when I was keeping Adam alive, healthy and happy? It didn’t make sense to me. I was there for the formative years. I taught him almost everything I know. At least enough for a toddler to understand. It was enough hopefully for him to have the basics of survival for when I couldn’t be with him anymore when I left for my new life. I did the best I could as a 9-12 year old pseudo mother.

As Adam got to be older he quickly became the family favorite. My step dad treated him like the golden child like he could do no wrong. He gave Adam the love and affection that I used to get. But yet he treated me like shit. So you can imagine the growing animosity I had towards my family and life. And unfortunately, after I was done taking care of him and my parents finally took over and did their actual jobs for once I grew to hate Adam more and more for a while until I got older and I realized a few things. But that’s later on in the story.

Like I said before, the abuse from my step dad got worse. I remember the very first time he hit me. When I was nine I got my first chore other than cleaning my room. It was dishes. At first I was excited about it because it was like “finally I’m a big kid now!” But I wasn’t good at it for the first three days. I have sensory and vision issues so I can’t feel or see the dead food on the plates sometimes but I really did try my best. My step dad got fed up with me after the third day of me doing dishes. He got so angry at me that he broke one of the dirty dishes on the floor and then moved with the speed of a viper. He smacked me across the face so hard that you could hear the crack that came with it. My face turned so fast I swear that I almost broke my neck. The force behind was so strong that I fell into the pile of broken ceramic and I could hear ringing in my ears. He yelled at me saying I’m a useless child and that I can’t do anything right and that I’m stupid because I can’t do a simple dish right. He then stormed off and hid in his bedroom for a while. I just sat there in shock. It was a good couple of minutes before the stinging, and ringing died down and before I could turn my head. I’m pretty sure he left a red mark and I just cried silently. I was just so confused as to why he would hurt me. He’s never done so before…But I quickly justified it as I deserved it. He doesn’t do shit for no reason he always has a reason for the shit he does even if he never told me. If I hadn’t fuck up something so easy like dishes I wouldn’t have gotten smacked that day. I cleaned up the broken pieces of the plate and cleaned up myself from the cuts I got and I just went on with my day.

There were always incidents like that. I’d fuck something up whether it’s completely wrong or not up to his god like standards, I’d get smacked. Whether it was across my face or upside the head. Or sometimes he would pin me to the ground or to the wall by my neck if I even tried to defend myself with words of course. I never once tried to fight him that would ensure my death. I was always all about survival. I only fought fights that I knew I would most likely win or if I felt strongly for that cause.

My mom was always at work for the most part. She would come home later in the night when Adam and I were asleep. On her days off she either slept, or she took Adam and I on errands. It was her form of quality time with us. Sometimes if the incidents took place while she was home she would ignore it, only focusing on Adam to keep him sheltering him from the fucked upness of the situation and just let my step dad and I figure it out. But yet failing to protect me. Although I understood why she would protect him more than me. Because I would do the same too. He’s younger, he has more of his entire life ahead of him. I don’t need him to be fucked up and ruin his chances of living a happy, normal life. I’ll be damned if someone were to take that away from him. Although sometimes my mom would actually do her job as a parent and step in to protect me by arguing with him. But that always fails because she gets meek and worn down from his relentless arguing. Gradually she stopped doing that as well. He never hit my mom or Adam or Michael when he came into my life later on. It was just me. I used to believe that if I left then he would take out his anger on my mom and Adams and use them as scapegoats. I thought I was protecting them so I still stayed. But I was quickly proven wrong about my belief as I realized that he just had it out for me.

School was getting increasingly worse. On top of the abuse I recieved at home which made me more vicious and hostile and according to my teachers I had “increasing behavioral problems” the bullying was getting worse too. The kids kept telling me how useless and worthless I was. How weird I was, how nobody liked me. I didn’t mind it coming from my step dad because I was getting used to it and a scrawny nine year old can’t fight a grown man who’s twice to three times her size. I’m normally able to separate business from personal. Home was personal, school was business for me. That’s how I survived for so long, especially when I went to Rosewood Preparatory school later on in the story. I was always able to fight two battles on two different fronts. One at school and the other at home. If I was at school I shut off the war at home and focused my energy on surviving the day. If I was at home I shut off the war at school and focus my energy on surviving another night at home just to repeat the cycle all over again the next day. Keep on fighting in the meantime.

Anyways, school was supposed to be a break from my stepdad to me. Just enough of a reprieve to help me survive. And I wasn’t getting that with the kids repeating the things my step dad told me. I had enough.

One day while I was in math class in the fourth grade. I had Mr. Williamson at Maplehood Creek Elementary School. I sat in front of Alan Washburn. He was one of my many bullies but he and Nikola Whilems were my main ones at Maplehood. Mr. Williamson wasn’t paying attention, he had his back turned to the smartboard teaching the rest of the class long division at the time. I was minding my own business and was actually trying to learn the lesson. Math wasn’t my strong suit and he and Nikola always picked on me because of it amongst the other things they picked on me about. Alan got the brilliant idea to pull me by the back of my ponytail so my head was bent over backwards and his face was upside down in my perspective. He told me “How does it feel to be the retard in the class?” with that cocky, annoying, arrogant smirk, and then pushed my head with enough force to make the front of my head hit my desk. I let out an audible “ow” and everyone turned to look at me including Mr. Williamson. I sat up and pretended like nothing happened. Everyone went back to what they were doing. I heard Alan and Nikola snicker and that;s when I lost it and that’s how I got into my first fist fight. I turned around in my desk to face Alan, balled my hand into a fist and I just decked him square in the face as hard as I could and I broke his nose. It hurt like hell for the both of us but seeing the look of fear on his face after I punched him was so satisfying to me. Then I leaped over my desk and tackled him to the ground. Back then I didn’t know how to fight as well as I do now. I only knew the basics from my step dad and it was the first fight I ever got into. I just sat on his chest and bitch slapped him until his face was red and started crying like the little bitch that he was. I screamed at him to “say that you’re sorry and say it like you mean it!”. The other kids surrounded us. Some looked at us in awe, some looked at us in shock and some looked at us in fear. Mr. Williamson had to pull me off of him. I was breathing heavily, ears burning and rash like from anger and Alan scurried into a corner of the classroom whimpering and in a protective position. I made direct eye contact with Nikola and he looked so pale and afraid of me. In all honesty I felt relieved and accomplished. It was nice to distribute retribution and to finally have power over them. On that day I asked myself why didn’t I do that sooner?

Unfortunately Maplehood Creek Elementary School has a zero tolerance for violence, so I was sent to the principal’s office for the day. The punishment for a violent physical fight was expulsion. Yeah, they were really strict about that. My mom didn’t come to get me until school was out for the day at 3:30pm since that’s when she got out of work that day. My mom and my principal Mrs. McCaulen had a conversation about what would be the most efficient course of action for me. I was getting expelled, there was no getting out of that. But expulsion was for a year at Maplehood and then I could try again. Neither one of them wanted me to be behind in my school work and since I was too smart of the school work anyways for the most part they felt bad and didn’t want to waste any of my potential intelligence. So, They gave me two choices. One, I could do homeschooling for the rest of the school year and then come back next school year. Or, Mrs. McCaulen said that she knew some higher ups at a place called Rosewood Preparatory School and could pull some strings to get me in after Christmas break since it was December at the time. I would switch schools after Christmas break and I would finish schooling there. She explained to me that Rosewood was a prestigious private school in the downtown area where the rich people lived. It was a k-12 school. It was a place where the rich, problematic and intelligent people got better and got a good education. You have to wear a uniform and meet certain qualifications to get in. But since I was highly intelligent and definitely had enough issues to spare. Mrs. McCaulen was certain that I could get in. She also added that after I graduated I could get into just about any esteemed college since Rosewood was a prestigious school itself. That sounded promising to me since I already knew that I didn’t want to be in Maplehood all my life and be stuck with my family forever. Once upon a time I actually had high hope and a bright outlook on my future. I didn’t want to do homeschooling because the only one that was home all the time was my step dad since he was a stay at home dad. Mom worked almost all the time to provide everything for the house and us. My step dad is a good teacher when he’s not being an abusive, manipulative, arrogant prick. However, If I chose homeschooling I knew that my step dad wouldn’t let me go back the next school year and keep me locked up in the apartment forever or until he dies. Not only that but once again school was the only break I ever got from him. It’s how I survived for so long. I was not going to have that be taken away from me. So in the end I chose Rosewood, not knowing what I’d get myself into. They discussed the option of a dormitory since Rosewood also had a boarding section. Mom decided that it would be easy if I just came home at the end of the day. Which I was thankful for later on.

Of course my mom told my step dad about what happened. I was expecting him to beat the shit out of me and to yell at me. But instead he asked me for my side of the story. Which was out of character for him but nevertheless I was happy to give my side of the story in hopes that maybe I would get punished less. I told him how Alan (and he knew about my bullies) how he grabbed my hair and called me a retard and smacked my head on my desk. So I retaliated and I punched him the face and then I jumped over my desk and I sat on top of him and I bitch slapped him and screamed at him to apologize. I used the excuse that it was self defense and also used the philosophy that he taught me. If you do something bad then expect the worst possible outcome. Which I delivered. He then asked me if I won the fight. To which I said that I thought so since I gave him a bloody nose and made him cry like the little bitch he was. My step dad nodded thoughtfully and stayed silent for a few minutes. I braced myself for whatever backlash I was about to receive. He then patted my head and told me he was proud of me. Now THAT was something I hadn’t heard in a long time. It felt good. I then told him that they expelled me and I had a choice between homeschooling and a place called Rosewood Preparatory School. I chose Rosewood. And that’s when he went back to his asshole self. He told me that Rosewood was a place to stuff severely mentally disturbed children that their parents wanted nothing to do with anymore. I’m talking about mentally disturbed kids that need to to be in an insane asylum and actually get professional help.that they so desperately needed. He told me that I wouldn’t survive there. I didn’t believe him at the time because I thought that he was fear mongering me like he normally does when he tries to get control over me. I thought he was trying to scare me into homeschooling so he could gain more control over me. So, using the other philosophy he taught me. I made my choice and I will stick by it through the bitter fucking consequences. I will go down with the ship. I still stuck to my guns and I was adamant about going to Rosewood. Anything to get away from him.

It was January 7th. It was after Christmas break and time to go back to school. For me it was my very first day at this Rosewood Prep. I wore my new school uniform which was a white long sleeve shirt and tan khakis with a black belt. I had a choice between the standard red and black plaid skirt and tan and black khakis for the girl’s uniforms. I didn’t and still don’t like girly things, there’s just so many prying prepubescent lemur boys out there you know? So I chose pants all the way. The one good thing about Rosewood is that they are more lenient about their school uniforms than most private preparatory schools. We could wear whatever hoodie/ sweatshirt we wanted over our uniform as long as we could prove that we had the standard white tee/ long sleeve shirt, red and black plaid skirt, tan or black khakis on. We could wear whatever socks and shoes that we wanted. It was nice to have some sort of independence and individualism in that place. I ended up walking to school since we lived closer to the downtown area than to Maplehood Creek Elementary School. So I didn’t meet the requirements for the school bus system. Nevertheless I was so ready for what little independence that I would get.Rosewood Prep is a big school. It was right across from The real estate office building called Camelson’s Realtors. Rosewood had a black wrought iron gate with an archway that stated the School’s name in cursive. Rosewood had a lot of property and it was covered in snow. Not even half of it was trampled on yet. The kids were spread out in various places. We had the younger kids k-3 playing in the snow together closer to the entrance, 4th and 5th graders were huddling together for warmth near the school doorways, 6-8 were all gossiping with each other on the left lawn and 9-12 graders were behind the school doing god knows what. The school itself was made out of bricks and was part of it was covered in ivy. It looked like one of those uppity schools that you read in books and see on tv where those schools are mysterious and hold deep, dark, sinister secrets.The main building was 7 stories high. One floor for the lobby, principal’s office, tech support, cafeteria, kitchen and gym was. That was the first floor when you got into the school. Basement level is underneath the entire school but you could only get to it through secret passageways throughout the school and on school property. Second floor was for the kindergartners with their own art and music rooms. Third floor was for the first grade, fourth floor was for second grade, fifth floor was for third grade, sixth floor was for fourth grade, and the seventh floor was for the fifth grade. The second building attached to the main one on the right had three stories. First floor was for sixth grade, the second floor was for seventh grade and the third floor was for eighth grade. There was a third building attached to the main one on the left that had four floors. First floor was for ninth grade, second floor was for tenth grade, third floor was for eleventh grade, and the fourth floor was for the twelfth grade. There was a building in the back that was like fifty feet from the school that I assumed was the boarding section. They also had three playgrounds in the back. They also had a sports shed with a neon orange roof over on the far right of the school. There were also a lot of spirits roaming about the school property, some staff members others were children as young as five- eighteen.

The school also had a brick interior and red and white tiles on the floor. My school day started like any other day. I had breakfast, and I went to my main teacher’s room for the majority of my classes. Her name was Mrs. Lameire. Out of all my time at Rosewood She was the nicest teacher I ever had. The majority of teachers there were cruel and ruthless. Rich kids were always the favorites. Anyone with grades lower than a C, people that were too mentally disturbed to the point of causing disruptions in the class, people that were late to class for even a minute, and just because were met with cruel and unusual punishments. Kids were locked in the rundown gym bathrooms during their hallucinations. I remember hearing about this one girl in the boarding section getting locked in the sports shed in the damp cold being starved and forced to lick up the water that was given to her on the ground. All because the staff wasn’t feeding one of her friends so she stole some food before it was made in the kitchen to give to her. Thankfully her friend got to eat before she got caught. Turns out Mrs. Lameire was a rare one. Towards the end of fourth grade she actually got out of Rosewood and got a new teaching job at Greengrove High for the seniors in English. That’s not something a lot of teachers and unfortunately a lot of students could say. A decent handful of teachers were former students at Rosewood, K-12 and lived in the boarding section all their school life only to finally leave for college and get out of that wretched place only to come back and be stuck at Rosewood once more. Unfortunately a lot of the students would share the same fate. I feel bad for the younger kids who live at the school too. It’s all they’re going to know. We have this saying in Maplehood for the people of Rosewood with a darker meaning. “You may leave Rosewood but Rosewood will never leave you. After all, all paths will eventually lead back to Rosewood”…..

It didn’t get interesting until after lunch. Just on my first day I witnessed seven fist fights, this was all at Lunch. At my old school a lot of kids would have gotten expelled that day. What I found strange was that these weren’t just school fights….these were…almost fights to the death. These were brutal. I saw one kid almost die because he got beaten into a bloody pulp. Luckily he turned tail and fled to the nurses office. I also found it weird that there were no teachers to pull the fighting kids apart. They either turned the other cheek, cheered them on or made bets on who would win under the table. It really was survival of the fittest here. The last fight of the day was heading towards me. I felt my arm being pulled out of the way and I was out of the direction of the fight. I looked next to me. There was a strange boy with short black hair and a darker tan complexion than me and brown eyes.

“Thank you”, I said.

“No problem”, said the strange boy who pulled me away.

We stayed silent for what seemed like forever before the strange boy spoke again.

“My name is Horacio Galloway”, said the strange boy finally introducing himself

“Tabby Anderson”, I said slowly, suspicious of this kid.

“I’ve never seen you before, you’re new here?”

“This kid is trying to size me up. To see what he could get away with”, I said in thought before I actually spoke. “Yeah I am”

He nodded thoughtfully for a minute before speaking, “You know you could use someone to show you the ropes here of how things work around here. You could use a friend”.

I just looked at him and stared into his eyes for a long time. Although I was thankful for what he did and he was right I could use a friend. Two is always better than one. But….not him. He just made me uncomfortable. He just didn’t feel like a good person. He had this dark, cold, evil aura around him. I saw major red flags with this kid. I didn’t want any part of that. If I wanted a friend I would want one to be a real and loyal friend. Someone who is trustworthy and a good person in the bigger picture. He wasn’t it.

This time my intuition was right.

“No”, I said.

He looked at me like he couldn’t believe what I said. He wasn’t used to someone telling him no. “I’m sorry…did you just say no?…” he got menacing closer to me trying to corner me.

“So he’s controlling and manipulative. Just as I suspected”, I said in thought as I was being backed up into the corner of a wall in the cafeteria.

“Yeah that’s right. I said no”, I still stood my ground.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road?”, he asked threateningly as he cornered me.

I do one of two things when I’m scared I either lie my ass off or I attack and I’m hitting. I chose the second option. Obviously this kid isn’t capable of listening to reason. So maybe he’ll get it through a punch in the face to get him to back off. I dealt with this from my step dad, there’s absolutely no way I was going to put up with that bullshit from anyone else.

“Yeah I’m sure” I said and I decked him square in the face.

He staggered back a little and he looked genuinely shocked that someone would dare to hit him. Apparently he wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him and not falling for his bullshit. He was angry and he charged at me full force to attack me back. I moved out of the way so her ran smack into the wall knocking himself backwards.Other kids laughed and ooohhhed at us. He didn’t like to be humiliated. Other kids ignored us and minded their own business. Some of the teachers smirked at us and looked on with amusement, waiting to see what would happen next. Other teachers just ignored us. Either way no one stepped in. He got back up and was really in a blind rage now. He tried to attack me once more. I remember what my step dad told me when getting into a fight. Use my opponent’s momentum to my advantage since i’m so small. Use every body part you can in a fight. Never let up. If you get knocked down, get back up as fast as you can. Use all of your body weight to pin someone down in a fight. Horatio charged at me and I turned to move out of the way and I grabbed his arm. I put my right leg behind his and pivoted so I could push him into the wall face first. I made him hit his head hard. I twisted his arm behind his back, kept my leg behind his and I used my entire body weight to keep him pinned against the wall.

“Look, get this and get this now. I am not afraid of you. You can not manipulate me or control me. I’m not the one who can be broken or controlled. Understand?”

After a few moments I let him go. He dropped to the floor and I backed away breathing heavily. It took all of my strength to do that. He got back up and he glared at me as he walked away. That was the first time I actually stood up for myself against someone who is just like my step dad. I may not have made him bleed and cry but at least I got him to turn tail and run away like the little bitch he is. For the first time in forever I actually felt surprisingly good about myself. I spent the rest of my day in a good mood.

Until it became the end of the school day.

I survived my first day at Rosewood. I was getting my stuff and preparing to walk home. Until I caught sight of a ghost out of the corner of my eyes. It was a milky white mist. It was a little boy who looked deathly scared. He couldn’t have been no more than six. He had short blonde hair and glasses and was wearing the standard Rosewood uniform. A white long sleeved shirt, a black belt and tan khakis. He also looked like he was lost and confused….like he knew he was dead but he didn’t know what to do next. He made eye contact with me but you could tell that he wasn’t….all there…even before he died. The little ghost boy made eye contact with me. He then walked through the janitor’s closet that was like 10ft down the hall and disappeared. I tried to walk away but something inside of me told me to follow him. I’m not the one to ignore intuition but I knew that I wouldn’t like what I would see. I looked to make sure no one was looking and I followed.

I went into the janitor’s closet and tried to quietly make my way through the cluttered mess of cleaning supplies. It was a quiet hallway so any unnecessary noise would have drawn attention to myself. I made my way to the back of the closet and there was a little doorway in the wall. It was slightly ajar, suggesting that it’s been used recently. I cautiously opened it up not really sure what to expect. The doorway led to a secret passageway that seemed to spiral down towards the basement level area. I head down the passageway with my bag in tote.

I reached one of the entrances of the basement and nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. I stood frozen as my freeze response took over. I saw Horatio just standing there with a kid slumped over. The kid couldn’t be no more than six and strangely enough the kid looked like the little ghost boy that I saw not that long ago. Horatio made eye contact with me and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t fight him because I didn’t think there was anything worth fighting about since the damage has been done and fighting wouldn’t bring him back and I saw no reason to go along with the situation since there was nothing to go along with, so I did the only sensible thing I could do. I ran for it. I ran straight out of there.

I kept running and I stopped and sat down outside Rosewood’s gates and I broke down. This is what Rosewood was. I just had my first taste of Rosewood. There was violence and torture everywhere. So many mentally unhinged kids that don’t belong in that setting. Adults who enabled or ignored everything that went on instead of doing their jobs as responsible adults to protect us. This sinister place really was the top of the top survival of the fittest. If I were to stay that means that I would have to fight two wars on two different fronts. I mean, I’ve been doing that anyways but Maplehood Creek Elementary school is VERY different from Rosewood Prep. Compared to Rosewood, Maplehood Creek Elementary was a fucking daycare center. My step dad was right…there was no way that I would survive Rosewood for long….there was no way that I could survive both Rosewood AND home….so I made my decision.

“Hey, are you okay?”, I heard a strange voice say that sounded like whomever it was was getting closer to me.

I looked up with my red, tear stained face to see a strange, tall, lanky, ginger girl that would become my best friend, walking towards me. She was the prettiest person that I have ever seen. She had long beautiful auburn red, pale skin that had freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and she had stormy gray eyes which I later discovered that they fluctuate between stormy gray and emerald green. I coward in my spot in a defensive, protective position because I didn’t know what she would do to me. She was also in her Rosewood uniform. She was wearing a the white tee shirt and red and black plaid skirt with her red and white converse. What was she doing here after school? She sat down next to me.

“ Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Autumn Lemmory. I promise I’m not like the other students here at Rosewood. I saw you sitting here and crying so I wanted to see if you were okay”, she tilted her head to the right and she had a kind and concerned voice.

Warily I uncurled myself and was sitting like a normal person. She was so nice, like she genuinely cared. That was something I haven’t seen or had in a long time.

“ T-Tabby Anderson and n-no I’m not o-okay”, I said between sniffles and hiccups as that’s what happens when I cry for a long time.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, the ginger girl asked softly.

I just looked at her and I turned into a blubbering crying mess again. I wasn’t used to this level of concern and kindness. I told her about how I was new here and that it was my first day at Rosewood. I told her about what I saw what happened to the mentally ill kids who acted out in class, the fights I saw, how I met this boy Horatio Galloway and how he threaten me when I stood up to him, I beat him in a fight, and how I just saw Horatio tourture some poor six year old boy.

She stayed silent and listened. She held me and petted my hair for comfort. She just nodded her head and she didn’t judge me like I thought she would. In fact she didn’t even look surprised as if it was an everyday occurrence. To which I cried even more because I haven’t had this much kindness, level of concern, comfort, and affection in a long time.

“I’m sorry you had to see that on your first day, It can be a lot for someone who isn’t used to it. But you get desensitized quick the longer you stay here. That type of stuff happens extremely often here unfortunately. There’s always someone dying here at Rosewood whether its a teacher or student”, said Autumn sadly.

As much as I was enjoying the affection I had to pull away before I made it more awkward for the both of us.

“You said all of that like you’ve been here for a long time. How long have you been here?”, I asked

“A year now. I came here in the third grade”, she sighed exasperated.

“You know and hate Horatio too?”, I asked.

“Everyone who goes to Rosewood knows who he is. He is the richest, problematic, evil, and popular kid in school. He’s scarily smart too. Everyone hates him but they’re too scared to say or do anything about it since he can easily ruin their lives outside of Rosewood or make their lives a living hell. I’m honestly surprised that you met him on your first day. He must have taken an interest in you and you had the guts to stand up to him, fight him, and actually won”, Autumn said amazed.

“Yeah I did. In case you haven’t noticed I’m not like other people”, I said

Autumn laughed and it was a beautiful sound like all of my pain and troubles melted away immediately for a short time.

“I can see that”

She then took a good look at me, and stood up.

“I can tell that you’re a good person and you look like you can use a friend. In fact your chances of survival would greatly increase if you had one or two people in your corner at all times. Especially if you’re dealing with Horatio and since you actually won against Horatio for now he’s especially going to have it out for you all the time. But don’t worry, he really is a coward and won’t bother you too often if you’re with a group of people. So I want you to promise me something”.

“Hm?”

“Promise me that you’ll come back here tomorrow and find me. I have a few people that I’d like you to meet. I’d think you’d like them and they would like you. Now come on it’s not good to be here for longer than necessary. I’ll walk you home”, she said as she gave me the exact same sweetest, kindest smile that she gave me earlier and she held out her hand as an offer to help me up.

I gave her a good long look. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I didn’t plan on even being alive come tomorrow. However, she showed me kindness, compassion, and understanding. That’s something I haven’t had in a long time. She was the only one at first to stand by me and not against me. She actually wanted to be my friend willingly. She wanted to help and that damn smile though. It was that smile that gave me hope and suddenly I didn’t want to die as much anymore.

“I will. I promise”, I said as I gave a small smile and I took her hand and we walked home together and for the first time in forever I had hope and something to look forward to tomorrow.

And I always keep my promises.

The next day I met the first people that would become the only form of a family that I have. There were four other people. Heath Yazheimer, Mitchel Brooks, Donnie SanMaria, and Rebecca Bea. Mitchel and Rebecca were the rich kids and Heath, Donnie, Autumn and I were the poor kids. I was the youngest in the group at first but I quickly became the ring leader. I mean someone had to keep their dumbasses in line. Then I became the second youngest as my family grew and by seventh grade I had my entire family. They really were the best of me.

After a year of Rosewood my parents got tired of my telling them about the awful shit that kept happening. They didn’t believe me and they said that I was lying and being paranoid. Of course I got punished by my step dad for telling the truth. My mom however was concerned about how often they deemed that I was making this shit up. So my mom scrambled to get enough money and pay for my first psychiatrist that I had. I was ten.

His name was Dr. Kutz. He worked at a place downtown that was red and beige called Where the Wind Blows. There were two psychiatrists that worked there. Him and a woman called Dr. Gina. Dr. Kutz worked upstairs and Dr. Gina worked downstairs.

But anyways back to Dr. Kutz. I can honestly say that he was one of the few therapists that I actually liked. I hate therapists and Doctors in general because they can’t do their damn jobs right and do diagnoses correctly. It took seven years to get the diagnoses I have now. But anyways. He was kind, taught me how to play chess and he got the diagnoses right the first time. I was diagnosed with anxiety and paranoia which was understandable considering the shit that went on at home and Rosewood. He put me on medication for my anxiety and paranoia but I gradually stopped taking them because they made me too mellow and my mind was always fuzzy. That’s not good for surviving Rosewood where you have to be constantly alert and ready to fight at any time. I told him everything that happened at Rosewood and I can tell that he didn’t believe me and he was just listening to humor me. Still it was nice to have someone who actually listens to you for once. I told him what went on at home but I told him not to do anything about the abuse because that would affect Adam in the long run and he’s already a bright and good boy. Even at one. Everyone needs a dad. Mom wouldn’t be able to take care of him with how much she works so that would leave me to take care of him. I could barely take care of myself as it was and I was so unfit to be a mother. Although Dr. Kutz didn’t like my decision, he respected it.

The reason why I stopped seeing him was because my mom and step dad deemed that I wasn’t getting anywhere on my so-called “issues” that my mom and step dad deemed that I had. So we moved on to therapist number two, Dr. Gina. I was eleven.

We still went to the same place where Dr. Kutz was only staying downstairs. I didn’t like her at all. She just seemed too fake to me. She didn’t care about what I had to say and she just wanted a paycheck. She also did countless misdiagnoses. ADD, ADHD, ODD, which I didn’t have either. I have been on and off so many medications for these misdiagnoses that I didn’t need. I even developed a twitch in my left eye because of the medications that I didn’t need. It only flares up when my anxiety is sky high.

The only “good” thing she did was call the CPS when she found out that I was getting abused by my step dad after she grilled me on it and I fucking cracked under preassure and after I begged her not to. She said that she was a mandatory reporter and that she had to.

That didn’t go over too well for me. Unfortunately they found no substantial evidence. My step dad used the fact that I did get into a lot of fights at school which was true. I always came home with more bruises and scars and I went in with more. Eventually they dropped the case and left. He was still there. I felt bad because it was Adam’s first birthday too. So I caught hell for that and for the fact that I tried to rat him out. So not only did I get a whole lot of beatings but also sleep deprivation and corporal punishment. Those two got added on as extra punishment that year and that became a standard punishment. Lack of sleep and a brutal exercise regime with very little to no water breaks and I wasn’t even fed for that week. So yeah.

Another incident like that happened while I was changing for gym class at Rosewood. Where the gym teacher saw a big ass bruise on the side of my rib cage and she called CPS again. And I got the SAME punishment.

However, everything evened out eventually. I got a handle on life at Rosewood. I got good at switching on and off battles. I was established as a straight A student and I was gradually becoming a good fighter. I had my friends to help me through and we protected each other and took on shit for each other. Autumn and I had this spot at Rosewood. It was in the beginning of the woods. It was a small clearing that was well hidden so no one else at Rosewood bothered us and it wasn’t too deep in the woods where we could get lost either. It was perfect and if anything were to happen the boarding section was fifty feet from us since our spot was behind the boarding section. So we could have easily run there. We would stay after school for like 20 minutes or a couple of hours. Whatever I could swing for the day. She would patch up my scars and bruises after school when I got into a fight or after I got a beating from my step dad the next day. After that we would just talk and hang out. It was our way of taking a breather. I could really be myself around her. She basically became my human diary. We were close.

We also had 4 others join our family too in those 3 years. Emmy Leonard, Emma Quelle, Ghavin Ramirez, and Laura Plummon. My friends made my life more bearable. They and Adam were my main motivation for living. I thought everything would become more manageable.

Little did I know how fucked up everything would become.

I just turned twelve. It was two months after I turned twelve. It was August 22 to be exact. I was getting ready to head into seventh grade. It was one of the hottest days of summer yet. I-I don’t remember exactly what I did to piss off my step dad so bad. I do remember however, going three days of no sleep when my insomnia wore off after two weeks and the brutal corporeal regiment that he had me on. I guess on the third day he finally took some form of pity on me and he had me do jumping jacks. That doesn’t sound bad right?

Well since they were the easiest things out there to do he commanded me to do more and go faster. We had this downstairs neighbor. She wasn’t a good person. She was loud, obnoxious, and sold drugs. We lived in that type of neighborhood and refused to take care of the two kids she had. A boy and a girl no more than 6 and 9. We lived in an old apartment so the floors and walls were pretty thin. The woman yelled at us through the floor. “Hey could you keep it down? You’re being too loud!”.

That was my step dad’s breaking point. He was already pissed with me as it is and the neighbor made it worse. He snapped his head up and I saw something snap inside of him. I was used to his anger but this was….different. it was this cold, unrestrained, unrelenting, calculating, suffocating, darker anger. And suddenly on that hot summer day the room was freezing cold. I never felt more scared in my life.

My step dad ran into the kitchen. I followed him frantically repeating the question of what are you doing? He grabbed a regular kitchen knife from the knife holder we had. He told me to wait here and to stay put.

I was afraid at this stage when I was 12. Not knowing what he’d do to me in that state if i dared disobeyed and I wasn’t going to test that. I did as I was told. It was deathly quiet. 5 minutes has passed, 10, 20, 30, 45, an hour, two hours has passed at this point and I began to feel nervous because if he did kill her it shouldn’t take 2 full hours to do so. Where was he? What if something happened to him? What if he’s the one who got killed? How would I explain that to the police? My mother? My little brother? I couldn’t. So against what I was told and my Intuition I went downstairs to where the first apartment was. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Honestly I should have just stayed where I was.

I stood in the doorway as the freeze instinct took over. I wasn’t exactly sure whether or not I should have ran, fought him or gone along with the situation. I remember feeling too much in shock to feel anything at the time. I saw the dead corpse all bloodied and mutilated and beginning to rot with how hot it was. I knew death happened to everybody and I was quite familiar with it at Rosewood. There was always someone dying there every week. But it’s a whole other thing when you see death first hand for the first time.

My step dad was just standing there staring at the body as if he can’t believe what he had done. He and his knife were covered in blood. He eventually noticed me standing at the doorway and ordered me to help clean up the evidence. I couldn’t run otherwise I would have died that day too. I couldn’t fight him in that state, I wasn’t strong or smart enough to. So I went along with the situation and helped clean up the best I could.

Later on that night when my mom and little brother got home and went to sleep. My step dad and I went back downstairs and put the dead body in my mother’s trunk and my step dad drove us off to Fairfield Park. All the way back by the willow tree where the dirt was fresh and no one would see us. He ordered me to dig the grave for the woman while he supervised. I dug and dug. I came out of shock slightly but that’s because my anxiety and paranoia were sky high about being caught and I could’ve sworn that I felt something watching me from the woods surrounding Fairfield. But my step dad just told me to ignore it, say it was just my paranoia, and reassuring me that we wouldn’t get caught. I believed him at the time.

The reason why I went with the situation and everything that he’s put me through over the years was because I thought that if I showed that I was loyal and still stuck by him then it would show that I was worthy of being his friend again and he would stop. That year I just wanted everything to stop. Horatio, Rosewood, the abuse I recieved from my step dad, everything. But nothing ever stopped. I knew that there was no going back to any form of normal after what we did but I thought that this would prove my loyalty to him once and for all and he would just stop. I was wrong.

The next two days after the incident I finally came to with the full realization of what I did. I took the two kid’s mother away from them. Sure they were spoiled brats and just rotten kids in general but that was still their mother. They had every right to a mother and me and my step dad took that away from them in the most brutal way possible. That wasn’t fair to the kids. I began to cry and my step dad called me a pathetic bitch and that I shouldn’t feel sorry because I made the Choice to help him. Which makes me just as much of a murderer as he is. I’m just as guilty. He also threatened to kill me, my mom, my little brother Adam, and all of my friends if I ever dared told anyone about what we did. And he would find out. After witnessing what he did that night I wasn’t going to take that bluff. So I suffered in silence and haven’t told a soul about what I did to this day.

Twelve was the worst year ever for me. I’m not saying that to be cliche and over dramatic. Seventh grade was a real dark time for me and I have legitimate reasons for that. I still had that murder event fresh in my head so I was a little more broken after that. I became more of a broken quiet after that. I was so happy to see my friends again. At least I had them and they were still alive. At least I had a home, love, kindness, acceptance, and understanding with them. My therapist, Michelle didn’t even know about that event and she wasn’t going to. If I told her she would tell and send Adam and I into foster care and be separated. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Even if that meant that I had to suffer.

But, I couldn’t tell them what happened to me that summer. I wasn’t going to put them in harm’s way because I desperately needed someone to talk to about what happened. They didn’t deserve the wrath of my step dad. No one else should have to suffer what I suffered. I didn’t want to get them killed because of my selfishness. That wouldn’t be fair to them after all they’ve done for me. Not only that but what if I did tell them? Then what? Would they deem me as a monster and a bad person like my step dad did? Would they still want anything to do with me? What if they left me and abandoned me? What would their reactions be? Would they be afraid of me? What if they no longer loved and accepted me for who I was? I couldn’t risk the one good thing I had going for me. I couldn’t have my family taken away for me. I could not be alone again. Everyone knew something was wrong with me and tried talking to me about it. There was no way I could tell them. I never even told Autumn about it and she was my best friend/ older sister. She was my other half. My human diary. We told each other just about everything and anything. That’s saying a lot. Nevertheless I still stayed silent about it.

I guess I pushed them away for a while because we grew a little distant from each other after that. We all had something that we weren’t telling each other. One by one they all left. I had no idea what happened to them at first. I later found out that they went to various mental hospitals around Maplehood and in a couple of towns over. I didn’t know at the time. I thought they all left me for no reason, or worse Horatio got to them and killed them or they died by other means! So I was left to battle Rosewood and Horatio myself.

Home wasn’t any better either. My mom and step dad were arguing and yelling constantly. Yet despite that he never once raised a finger to her. It was just me that he hit. The arguments were always all about me about what to do with me. You can imagine the amount of added stress I was under. What if they argued so much that they broke up and he would leave? Then that means I would be responsible for taking care of Adam. I’m not a good influence and I’m an awful person. I’m not fit to be a mother and I don’t want to be the one responsible for his downfall if he goes down that way. Adam was beginning to act out too and he was getting into trouble at daycare and at home. It seemed as though I was losing control of every aspect of my life.

So with constant battles at school and at home and no friends/family. I became vindictive, hateful, and reckless. I let my grades slip because I didn’t care at the time. Life was meaningless to be and I honestly thought that I would not survive that year with how reckless I was. Which resulted in some cruel and unusual punishments from the teachers. Mainly I was just locked up in isolation. Not so bad. I knew other kids who had it worse than I did. I also got into a lot of fights that year too. But that was because I went against my own rules about fights. I never start fights, I only finish them. Except that year I went out of my way to start and get into fights and I won most of them. I was brutal and violent. Instead of following Rosewood’s weird fight code about only fighting until one or both opponents are knocked out I would fight until they were knocked out and then just continue to pound into them until they were almost a bloody pulp. I could never bring myself to kill them. I just didn’t have it in me to do so. Even Horatio, who would go out of his way to start shit with me, only started shit twice and then he knew better and stayed the fuck away from me that year. I even learned how to knife fight that year.

I remember my most reckless night. It was the one that finally made me snap out of it. It was April. My mom was out of town, she was with my uncle Max in Indiana to try to help him get custody of his kid because his ex wife is a money hungry and power hungry hoe. He wanted me to go over to his house every night and check up on his cats. That was my job, he gave me the keys and everything. So it was just my step dad, Adam and I. It was one of those nights where he forced me to stay up late. After a long and violent argument I told him exactly how I felt.

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE AMOUNT OF PAIN AND FEAR THAT I LIVE UNDER ON TOP OF ROSEWOOD. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO FIGHT TO SURVIVE AND WAITING EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY HOPING THAT YOU’D DIE!!!”, I yelled not caring who heard or what he’d do next.

He just looked at me in a mixture of shock and amusement. I just gave him the most pissed off and hateful look up to date, breathing heavily.

“Is that what you want now is it?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow and had his hands on his hips.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I made direct eye contact with him and stood in a position that said I was standing my ground.

He nodded and quietly made his way over to where we keep our knives. Mom bought new knives not that long ago so they were still relatively sharp. He took a regular sized kitchen knife and put it into my hand. He went back to where he was standing. I looked at the knife and then back at him.

“Take your shot”, he stated simply as he held out his arms.

I just stared at him like he was crazy and in fear. There was no way he was serious. He was testing me. There was no way I could carry out his murder. How would I explain it to the cops? How would I explain it to my mom? How would I explain it to Adam? That I took away his father because I was selfish enough to do so. He would hate me forever. I didn’t want that. I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I did carry out his murder.

Still what if? I mean he was wide open. Fair game. Would I let this opportunity pass me by? It would be sweet revenge for me with all the shit he did to me. A few good stabs in the right vital places and half of my problems would be gone. I could finally start healing a little.

I turned the knife into the right position as I would with a fight and I took two steps forward. That was the end of that for me. I never saw him move so quick. The next thing I knew the knife was out of my hands and I was on the floor with him on top of me banging my head on the floor and choking me. Along with a few blows to my body.

“YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH!!! DID YOU HONESTLY THINK YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH KILLING ME?! ME?! IF YOU TRY ANYTHING LIKE THAT AGAIN!!! I WILL KILL YOU AND I’LL MAKE SURE THAT THEY’LL NEVER FIND YOUR BODY!!!”, he screamed at me.

He then let me go and I coughed as I tried to catch my breath and rolled over to my side and sat up. I was in a bit of a daze from the blows to the head. He then dropped Uncle Max’s keys into my lap.

“Hurry up and get over to his house to check up on the cats. After that you can go to bed as soon as you get home. You have school in the morning and I don’t want to deal with your ass anymore tonight”.

I whimpered in response as my whole body hurt and screamed at me to stop moving. I got up and staggered towards the door, closing it behind me.

Uncle Max lived North of Maplehood Creek where the upper middle class generally resigned. It was an hour walk to his house and as you kept walking the road became more isolated, wide and winding and houses became less and less frequent. There were woods surrounding either side of the road. He lived on Applewood Drive because there was an apple orchard near his house. So picture this, it’s about two in the morning. You see a beaten, bloody, bruised, and scrawny twelve year old girl staggering around by herself with nothing to arm herself with. To me that just screams for trouble. So, potentially I could have been murdered, no one would be able to hear my screams and my body would probably be never found. Sounds fun right?

I don’t know why, of all nights a piece of information that I’ve long forgotten about came back to me. I once heard long ago back in fifth grade from a couple of seniors. There were short cuts all over in the woods that helped you get from one town to another without walking for so long and what a coincidence one of the shortcuts started where I was and it would lead me close to Uncle Max’s house. All I had to do was head into the woods on my left side and pay attention to the beaten path I would be on since it was dark out. I really thought about it. It would almost be suicide going into the woods, by myself, at night, close to two in the morning, un armed and I wasn’t in the best physical condition to fight in case something were to happen. That’s how you die in the horror movies, it was common sense. However, all I really wanted was some form of sleep and at that point in my life my sense of nihilism was so great I honestly did not care if I died or not. So, I did the most reckless thing I could do. I abandoned all fuking common sense and I ran into the woods.

I don’t know what came over me…I guess it was just a mixture of everything. Hiding my first body, losing my friends, Horatio being relentless and ruthless, my parents arguing, the abuse getting worse, seeing my entire life that I knew falling apart right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it. My hatred, anger, lack of coping, confusion, lost, sadness, fear, and hurt were all too much to bear. I just broke down and started sobbing grossly and uncontrollably and I started running. I guess I was making an attempt to run away from my problems. I was just so pissed off and overwhelmed I just started punching every tree I could that was in my path.

“I LOST EVERYTHING!!! I HAVE NOTHING LEFT!!!”

“THE ONLY FORM OF A FAMILY I HAD!!! THEY ALL LEFT”

“MY HOME LIFE FUCKING SUCKS IM TIRED OF LIVING WITH THE FEAR AND ABUSE AND THE CHAOS!!! I JUST WANT EVERYTHING TO STOP!!!”

“I. HATE. ROSEWOOD. I’M TIRED OF FIGHTING TO SURVIVE I JUST WANT OUT”

“I JUST WANT TO FUCKING DIE OR HAVE A RESET, REDUE, SECOND CHANCE PLEASE!”

“SOMEONE TAKE ME AWAY! OR GIVE ME A SIGN…ANYTHING?! COME OUT AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN COWARDS!”

“….help”

I said finally as I slid down a tree with my bloody knuckles and I pulled up my knees to my chest and I just finished crying. Eventually I ran out of tears and I continued on with my journey and I finally did what I was supposed to, got back home and I got at least one hour of sleep before I had to get up for school. Thankfully nothing bad happened and I honestly didn’t know what I would have done if something did happen.

The beginning of my twelve year old year was really fucking rough and brutal. I’ve tried so many suicide attempts that I’ve lost count. In fact most of my scars are from self harm. The reason why I’m still alive is because if you actively try to commit suicide statistically speaking there’s an 85% chance that you won’t succeed so there’s that. Towards the end of my twelve year old year got so much better. I eventually came to the realization that I could control my grades again. I thought that if I could just distract myself long enough and get my grades back up to my usual straight A student status then everything else would fall back into place eventually. And it did. I buried myself in my school work to bring up my grades and to even get back ahead, my step dad bothered me a little less since I was focusing on school, my parents stopped arguing for the most part, Adam was back on the right path again and my friends came back to me one by one. We even had five new additions to our family. Morgan Tatiano, Julie Bostons, Jewel Ingles, CJ Vargos, and last but not least Shawn Bishop. After that my family was pretty set in stone.

Hell I even met my step dad’s oldest son from a previous relationship before he met my mom. His name was Michael Timothy Mulleney III. He was three years older than I was. So he was fifteen at the time. I was really happy because it was on my bucket list to meet at least one of his other kids and it was so cool to meet him. Over time however, he proved to be just like his dad. He would join in when my step dad picked on me. He was a delinquent to say the least. He was already in so much debt and over the last five years he’s had so many petty charges against him, continues to do stupid shit, miss too many court dates, violating probation rules twice, and had a warrant in a different county. He eventually got himself into prison for three years when I was seventeen.

Adam knew about it right away because I told him since no one else was going to. My parents were furious with what I did. I’m sorry but I don’t believe in withholding information. I think it is unnecessarily cruel to deny someone knowledge when they ask for it. Besides he was going to find out sooner or later. They couldn’t keep it from him forever. I’d much rather have him know sooner than later. Despite Michael being just like his dad there were times where all of us were like actual siblings and I really do miss him overall.

Thirteen was a really great year for me. Probably one of the few years that I would actively choose to go back to. I had a really great therapist named Heidi and on thursdays we did horse therapy since she owned a ranch too, which was always fun. I was also diagnosed with OCD with my cleaning because I discovered that as long as I was being productive he ignored me when he was angry for the most part. Which resulted in less beatings. As soon as he got angry or came out of his room I began cleaning and I did it quickly, quietly and efficiently. My method worked half of the time. It just became obsessive and compulsive. Now it’s just routine. I was also diagnosed with Insomnia when I told her about my sleep schedule or lack thereof and she finally made the doctors do something about it and prescribe me medication. I stopped taking the medication since it wasn’t working anyways and my step dad kept fucking around with what sleep schedule I was trying to establish by keeping me up for days on end when I didn’t have to and my insomnia wasn’t used to my advantage. I figured if I went this long managing it without medication I could do it some more and it would be easier to do so.

I came up with a lot of good realizations at thirteen. One being who cares what other people say and think about me. As long as I know the truth about myself that’s all that matters. Another one being is that life is not guaranteed especially in my case with life at Rosewood and at home. It’s so tiring to be hateful all the time and I was already tired as it was from lack of sleep, insomnia, and narcolepsy. I had to save my energy for fights at Rosewood and at home to ensure my own survival and the survival of others. Besides was that the way I really wanted to go out when my time comes? No. The only thing I ask for when my death comes is for it to be quick and painless. That’s it. My favorite thing that I learned was to say fuck it. Life is too short and if I was going to get punished for no reason I might as well go all out, go big or go home and have fun while I can. If I’m going to get punished then at least I got something out of it. I learned to live a little and sneak out.

It was so fun. Slightly dangerous because there’s at least two kids wandering around on the back roads at night at ungodly hours but it was still fun. At least Autumn and I would plan at lunch to sneak out later on at night. Other members of our gang were welcome to join but oftentimes none of them would remember to sneak out of their houses at the established times. So it was almost always just Autumn and I. That’s how I became more stealthy because of sneaking out constantly. Autumn showed me how to use the back roads so I’m now able to get all over town without being seen for the most part. We would just walk and talk about anything and everything, we would joke around and have fun. I felt so free when we snuck out at night and when I was with her. We could just be ourselves and be teenagers for once. We could be happy, and just forget everything for a while. We didn’t have to worry about surviving the next day, home, Rosewood, Horatio. ect…It was nice to be free for a couple of hours. The best part was that it pissed off my step dad so much because he knew I snuck out but he has absolutely no proof that I have been. It’s fun watching him struggle to justify my punishments.

The best part about sneaking out was always on New Years Eve. That was the only time the entire gang made it a point to sneak out all together. We had this spot in the woods that was abandoned but it was safe since I trusted them and Autumn. Either Autumn or I would bring some form of booze since both of our families had at least one bottle of liquor around. We would pass the booze to each other and sing along to songs we knew and we would just celebrate another year of surviving Rosewood, we were all alive and in one piece and we all still had each other. That was good enough for us. This was our tradition from 13-16.

Fourteen, fifteen and sixteen were pretty much smooth sailing more or less. Everything plateaued out. At fourteen I had Dr. Rachel and she had the doctors diagnosed me with narcolepsy once Dr. Rachel discovered that my sleeping habits were more than just insomnia. I was prescribed medication for that too but I stopped taking that as well because it wasn’t working. Fifteen I was diagnosed with non verbal learning disorder. Which means I can’t pick up on social cues very well. This was by Dr. Collins, she was okay I guess. Sixteen I had Dr. Baxter but he wasn’t much use because I felt as though I didn’t have any major issues to talk about aside from the ones I grew up with but I learned better coping mechanisms and my issues and my issues were more manageable. There was nothing else to talk about and he seemed very annoyed by that.

I Even got a job at a restaurant called This or That. It was a typical family style restaurant and I worked in the back of the kitchen from fourteen through a quarter of the way through seventeen. I started to put aside money for Adam in a bank account so that way when he is old enough he has a lump sum of money that’s all his. Hopefully he uses to get the fuck out of Maplehood. I even started to put aside money for myself so I can buy a bus ticket and get the fuck out of Maplehood myself and start a whole new life when I was old enough.

Of course the abuse continued and so did my fighting, survivalist life at Rosewood but I had my friends or more like my family to help me through it. We all helped each other. They were my main motivation for living besides Adam. Honestly if I never had met them I’d probably be dead or a more vicious and violent person than what I am if my step dad had his way. They taught me what family, kindness, compassion, love, home, and acceptance was. I wouldn’t have known what that was if I never met them. I can never repay them for what they did I owe them everything. Including my life and I knew they would do the same for me.

I just never knew that that would be put to actual use one day.

It was September 28.It…was homecoming day. The days following homecoming was spirit week. One of the only times where Rosewood was actually a normal school. Friday was Rosewood pride. Where we celebrate Rosewood and the sports teams. Hell it was one of the rare times I actually wore the skirt part of the uniform. At the end of the day we would have the pep rally with all these competitions. It was actually quite fun. Later on that night Rosewood would have it’s own homecoming show and a dance with a theme to match. At Rosewood homecoming is a different theme every year. This year was carnival themed. Which I didn’t like as it is because I have a severe distrust of clowns. Too many horror movies growing up you know? On top of the fact I wasn’t exactly big on school functions, especially at that school. The only reason why I went was because my friends were going with the thought process of “fuck it, it’s our last year here or at least some of us only had a year to go and the least we can do is go to this one and only homecoming and celebrate one last hurrah together” I had the same thought process too. Not only that but since it was basically our last year there it was more important to me than ever to keep them alive since I knew damn well that Horatio would be there being up to god knows what. I was not going to lose them.

The only thing was that I would have to convince my mom and step dad to let me go. That was the hard part. I got up the courage to call my mom knowing that she would be home since it was her day off and my step dad would be home as well like he always is. I asked her if I could go to homecoming. That resulted in a huge ass argument between my mom and step dad.

“She’s a bad influence especially if she’s with those heathens she calls her friends!”, he yelled

I physically cringed.

“She’s seventeen now. She’s gone through her entire life having very little to no social interactions. She’s never been to at least one school function before and she’s a senior now, this is her last year there I’m sure that we can spare her this one event”, my mom argued back.

“You know she’s incapable of making good decisions! How can we be so sure that she won’t get into one of those fights that she always gets into or worse she may end up accidentally killing someone!”

“She’s a human! She’s troubled but she’s not a monster or demon child that you make her out to be! And besides, her therapist says that she needs more social interaction. This would be the perfect opportunity for her to get some socialization in a controlled environment and if it makes you feel any better my mother is supposed to come by today and visit. You could stay here with Adam and my mother and I will go with her to supervise. Does that sound fair to you?”, she asked.

Wonderful, they were treating me like a freak experiment. I could hear my step dad huff and storm away on the other side of the phone.

“Tabby”, my mother said in a sing song voice that really pissed me off, “does that sound fair to you?”

“Yeah mom”

“Good we’ll see you when?”

“At six”

The show was from six to eight and the dance was from eight to ten.

“Okay good we’ll see then. I love you”

“Love you too mom, bye”

I hung up the phone and let out a sigh of relief and that’s when all of my friends came up to me.

“So, what did they say?”, prodded Emmy.

“Well after a long argument about letting me go and how much of a bad person that I am and that I’m incapable of making good decisions. My mom decided to let me go with the condition that she and my grandmother would come to supervise”, I said as I rolled my eyes.

“At least you’re able to go”, pointed out Heath.

“Yeah that’s true I really can’t complain. I’m just afraid that since Horatio will be there, I have no idea what he could be planning to do. I mean who knows how he acts at school functions”, I stated.

“Relax Tabby cat. We’ll be right there beside you if anything happens. We won’t let each other out of our sight. We got your back just like you got ours”, grinned Autumn.

I breathe a sigh of relief. They really were the best.

“Thanks guys”

“No problem”, said Autumn, “look we’re going home to get changed into something that’s not Rosewood. We’ll be back”, said Autumn.

“Okay I’ll see you later”

“You don’t want to at least go home and change out of that uniform? I know how much you hate skirts and all”, said Autumn confused.

“Autumn, I never want to go home, you know this. I’d rather put up with slight discomfort, beats going home any day. Besides someone has to stay here and keep an eye on Horatio to make sure that he doesn’t try anything”.

"Okay well do you at least want me to bring you some clothes to change into so you can get out of that skirt at least?“, she asked.

"Nah I’m good besides I don’t want to throw my mom and grandmother into a conniption fit if they see me dressed in clothes that’s not mine or my Rosewood uniform”, I laughed.

Autumn laughed too.

"Fair enough. I’ll see you later"

"See ya"

Autumn left to go catch up with the rest of the gang while I went outside and sat on the curb to wait for my mom and grandma and my friends to show up.

I saw Horacio showing back up and was standing at the entrance dressed as the ringleader handing out pink candies that were laced with LSD (we didn’t know it was laced at the time) to the staff. He claimed that they were homemade and he offered me a piece since I was just sitting there a few feet from him. Everyone who goes to Rosewood should know that it is common knowledge that you do not take anything that Horacio gives you. Whatever it maybe. I didn’t take the candy because I knew better. I was too smart for his bullshit but not smart enough.

By five o clock everyone started showing back up and they all took one or two pieces of candy that he was giving out. I tried to warn everyone but they wouldn’t listen to me. It made my blood boil knowing that he was giving me an arrogant smirk and there was nothing I could do about it. It was getting late and there were still no signs of my friends. Maybe they were running late. Or, maybe I was too busy fighting with Horatio that I didn’t see them come in. Still I couldn’t shake off the growing anxiety and dread that was creeping over me.

At 5:45 my mother and grandmother showed up. I tried to keep them away from Horatio but he was too slick and sickly sweet it made your stomach hurt at how he talked to them. They both seemed pleased and then they looked at me like I was the crazy one that had a problem with him. They took a piece of candy after I warned them not to but they didn’t listen to me either. It seemed as if I was the only one who didn’t take the candy. It was me against them.

We were led to the left side of the building where the high school section was. There was a makeshift stage and chairs all lined up neatly. I still couldn’t find my friend group anywhere. But I knew that they were here so I didn’t worry about it too much and I’ll find them later. They had to be here. They promised that they would and that they would have my back. More importantly I promised that I would have their backs and we don’t break promises. So I got to the seats and watched the show which was quite boring since I wasn’t hallucinating from the candy. But the last act though. It was outside. I saw all my friends lined up on the rooftop of the school and it’s a fucking tall building. While everyone was thinking that they were doing some acrobatic tricks I watched them jump to their deaths one by one….I was screaming and crying begging someone to help but all ignored me and I couldn’t shout because they were too far up to hear me and I couldn’t break into the school either. i couldn’t do anything. later on the LSD wore off and they were mortified to find the 14 dead bodies. all confused on how it happened. So they deemed it the Rosewood Massacre.

After the show was over I confronted Horacio about what he did. I attacked him to strangle him. My goal was to kill him. but the problem was that we’re too evenly matched with each other. in strength and intelligence so it turned out to be a fist fight. we did a good amount of damage to each other. until he caught one of my punches and shoved my fist through a closed window shattering the window and every bone in my hand. i had to get the glass surgically removed as it was deep in the tissue so I can’t feel a thing in my hand anymore and they had to set my hand for the broken bones to heal. But since doctors refused to do their jobs correctly they set it wrong so it healed wrong and now my hand is paralyzed.

My mom let me stay home for the month to let my hand heal and to work through the trauma of what happened at Rosewood. She would bring my school work home to me. Even my step dad was slightly nicer to me. I guess he even took some form of pity on me.

My therapist at the Dr. Consworth wanted me to talk about what happened. She only knew the story that the news put out there. But she doesn’t know the real story of what happened and there’s no way she was going to. She wouldn’t have believed me to begin with and she could never understand the pain I was going through. She did manage however to diagnose me with PTSD so there’s that I guess.

What really made me lose my shit was when my step dad told me to get over it and that I shouldn’t be hurting because it was my fault that they died in the first place. His logic was that if I never showed up then they wouldn’t have died. After all bad shit seems to always happen around me is his belief. I had enough at this point and I stood up and yelled.

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?! YOU THINK THAT WAS ALL MY FAULT?! MINE?! I DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG BUT TRIED TO WARN EVERYONE! I HAD NO IDEA THAT HE WOULD DO THAT?! THIS WAS ALL HORATIO’S FAULT! IT’S BEEN HIS FAULT FOR THE LAST EIGHT YEARS! I HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT PROTECTED, SAVED, LOVE AND CARE FOR MY FRIENDS AND THEY DID THE SAME FOR ME! THEY WERE MORE OF A FAMILY THAN YOU AND MOM WILL EVER BE! AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT I SHOULD JUST GET OVER IT?!”, I finished as I was breathing heavily.

He just stared at me in shock. I was so pissed I knew that I would get hurt if I stayed any longer. I knew an outburst like that would result in a beating but I just didn’t care. I lost everything, my sense of home, happiness and the ones I considered family what’s losing my life too?

“YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK YOU!”, I screamed and I stormed out and slammed the door behind me.

I was really in for it now but to tell you guys the truth I honestly didn’t care and I would deal with it when I get back home. Right now I just had to get away and I had some business to take care of. I knew exactly where to go.

I stopped at Maplehood Creek Cemetery and looked for the Rosewood Massacre section since I heard they created a section for the victims in an attempt to honor them. Rumor turned out to be true as I saw twenty five graves with fourteen all lined in a row which were unmistakingly my friends.

I sat down to have a talk with them.

"Hey guys it’s me Tabby. I’m sorry that I couldn’t see you guys sooner I could only do it now", I said tiredly.

I was upset and pissed that they lied to me and broke their promise. But at the same time they never did not once. So maybe they had a good reason to. Maybe Horatio tricked them or something. I don’t know and I guess I never will. They were my family, they did what no one else wanted to do. I owe them everything so I forgave them.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to save you guys. I’m sorry that I failed to protect you. I’m sorry that I failed you not only as a leader but as a friend and as a sister as well. I’m sorry that I didn’t even say goodbye to you and that I love each and everyone of you”.

I paused for a moment.

"However, your deaths won’t go in vain. I will avenge all of you and take down Horatio once and for all. At least I can make Rosewood somewhat safe and make sure no one else has to suffer like we did. That’s a promise".

I stayed silent for a few minutes enjoying the peace and quiet, giving one last look at them before standing up.

"I love all of you goodbye. See you on the other side of the war and I hope to see you later when I get older…", I said softly before walking away and into the shit storm that was waiting for me back at home.

Of course my step dad beat me as soon as I walked in the door. It was payback for what I did earlier. I expected it and I embraced it. I took what was coming to me and I even hoped that this would be the beating that kills me.

It wasn’t and unfortunately I’m still alive.

I laid awake staring blankly up at the ceiling. Thankfully I was able to go to bed early since my step dad decided that he didn’t want to deal with me for the rest of the night. Unfortunately sleep was non existent that night as I was replaying last month’s events. Seeing the ones that I held close jumped to their deaths one by one. Everyone cheering, my own screams of terror. I could still hear the breaking of the glass window as Horacio put my fist through it. My bandaged left hand clenched up as I felt the phantom pain. I tried turning onto my side to look at my alarm clock. I let out a silent yelp as I was in pain from my bruises. My alarm clock read 1:30am. I turned again onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. Mom was going to make me go back to school tomorrow and I am just not ready to survive another day of Rosewood torture and dealing with Horatio myself. I just wasn’t prepared to fight alone again.

Then suddenly it dawned on me like I just got hit with a big pile of bricks. I came up with the realization that If I stayed in Maplehood any longer I would be killed for sure. Either by Horatio, my step dad or myself. One of the three and I can’t die not yet. Not until I avenged my friends and killed Horacio once and for all.

So I did the most sensible thing that I could do. I got up and winced in pain at my bruises. I got dressed and packed up a small bag. With a couple of pictures. One of mom, step dad, older brother and younger brother and I and one class photo in 8th grade that was just me with my now deceased friends and some clothes. I took what money I had saved up in my sock drawer. I was going over a couple of towns to the nearest bus stop and buy a bus ticket and get the fuck out of Maplehood and start my life over somewhere else.

Obviously that didn’t happen or I wouldn’t be where I am now.

Anyways. I snuck out and headed for the woods that were surrounding my backyard. I never felt so free and full of hope before in my life. This time it was me who saved me. I saved myself. I gave myself a second chance at life and I never looked back.

Ever.

#death tw #child abuse tw #verbal abuse tw #mental abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #physical abuse tw #bullying tw #mentions of suicide tw #murder tw #homicide tw #creepypasta #original story #original content #Orginal character #tabby #creepypasta fandom #please reblog #make this popular #make it canon

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