#game addict dad escape room

[journullism]

how is he a dilf and a terrible dad (he ISNT even a DAD anymore!!!!) at the same time..... no one knows

he doesn't even have a canon name and I need him so badly (hes pathetic AND dead)

#escape room webtoon #game addict dad escape room #i need him so badly you dont UNDERSTAND

[sadclowncentral]

my family is fucking addicted to macgyvering and it's becoming a problem. every time something in this house breaks, instead of doing the sensible thing of replacing it or calling someone qualified to fix it, we all group around the offending object with a manic look in our eyes and everyone gets a try at fixing it while being cheered on or ridiculed by the rest.

it's a beautiful bonding activity, but the "creative" fixes have turned our house into a quasihaunted escape room like contraption where everything works, but only in the wonkiest of ways. you need a huge block of iron to turn on the stove. the oven only works if a specific clock is plugged in. the bread machine has a huge wood block just stapled to it that has become foundational to its function. sometimes when you use the toaster the doorbell rings. and that's just the kitchen.

it's all fun and games until you have guests over and you have to lay out the rules of the house like it's a fucking board game. welcome to the beautiful guest room. don't pull out the couch yourself you need a screwdriver for that, and that metal rod makes the lamp work so don't move it. it also made me a terrifying roommate in college, because it makes me think i can fix anything with enough hubris and a drill. you want to call the landlord about a leaky faucet? as if. one time my dad made me install a new power socket because we ran our of extension cords

#this post was inspired by me using a screwdriver to take the broiler off the wall because the warm water stopped working #while my dad went well there is only cables in there. who are we if we dont find our ways around some cables #damn right!!!!

[jockfootstories]

“Oh shit, I totally forgot to get something at the store for my dad,” you hear your friend say as he puts the controller down. “Do you want to come with me or stay and try and finish this level?”   “I’ll stay,” you reply back. You watch your friend get up, slip on his shoes, and walk out of his bedroom. You hear the front door shut and continue on with the level.  Not 5 minutes go by that you hear the front door open back up and hear someone bounding up the stairs.  It can’t be your friend as he just left but suddenly hear from the door,”Hey, where’s Eric?” You recognize that voice as it’s your friends, older brother Brady. You respond back,”He had to run up to the store to get something for your dad that he forgot.”  Upon saying that, you get swarmed by enemies, and your character dies. Frustrated, you drop the controller, and fall back onto your backside. You peer back at the doorway and watch him step into the room toward you, stopping right behind your head. You immediately detect the odor of his feet, a medium dry cheesy smell emitting from them that usually makes his other friends gag. You look back at the tv then up at him and see him staring down at you like a giant. “You both really suck at this game,” he says down to you and glances back up at the tv. “Yah,” you agree, still looking up at him from the floor. He shifts his eyes back down at you, a sly grin coming over his lips, and quickly lifts one bare foot above your face. Before you can react, the center of it cushions down onto your nose, the warm bottom sinking into your face. That dry smell you picked up on has now intensified as you breathe in through your nostrils. You feel the soft sole wag slightly back and forth against your nose and feel it start moving around your complexion. You grunt some, moving your face to the side, but make no attempt to push the foot away with your hands. You feel him move his foot to the side, following your weak escape, and up-turn your face back to where it should be. He slowly guides his foot back up, smooshing it back down, determined to conquer you with its smell. You breathe in again and not sure why, you strangely feel a bit addicted to this. Being in this submissive state, letting him do this to you, you’re not sure what is happening. You feel the foot drag down, his plump toes, pressing down over your nostrils. You sniff in… a more powerful odor making your senses go nuts. You feel him rub the bottoms of them back and forth over your nostrils. He squeezes your nose some a few times as you take deeper sniffs and finally releases you, removing his foot. You move your face to the side a little and act like you’re catching your breathe. You look back up at the giant above you, seeing him grinning down at you in some satisfactory way. You start to lift your head up but he presses his other naked foot down onto your face, pushing you down. “Mmmmfffffphhh,” you get out as the foot engulfs you. He once again covers your nose with the bottom of his toes, and you hear him say,”Now smell.”  You obey, thinking he’s getting some sort of excitement from this or at least seeming to like the power trip from it. Knowing most everyone hates his foot smell and he see’s you laying there just taking it. You both suddenly hear the front door open downstairs and hear your friend call out that he’s back.  Brady briefly nudges your face with his entire sole then clamps his toes over your nostrils, shaking your face from side to side, before letting you go. He peers down at you, slowly nodding his head and grinning “Yahhh, you liked my foot smell in your face huh?”  He taps the side of your cheek with one foot before heading out of your friend’s bedroom.  You quickly lift yourself up and look at the tv dizzily. You faintly hear your friend complain about his brother’s foot stink as he grabs the controller off the floor.  You watch him game for a bit, realizing you have awakened some odd enjoyment to be foot dominated like that.

[mochiswifey]

ANGEL

BONTEN KANJI MOCHIZUKI

~MATURE THEMES~ Next

*Arrange Marriage, Sexual Themes (Blowjob), Age gap*

Forced to marry an older man, Louie tries to navigate the hell she’s suddenly pulled into.

Her eyes flicker.

“Finally she’s fucking awake.” Someone with an androgynous voice said.

She tries to wipe her eyes and to her surprise her hands were tied to a chair.

Panic attacks her

She tried to think whether she took too much sedative and she’s lucid dreaming.

“She’s awake.” The voice repeated after she heard a metal door open.

She tried to compose herself to no avail. The surrounding is dark and cold. The floor is dirty. Tainted with dry blood. And-

Her thoughts were interrupted when a shadow fell over the little light from the lamp shade hung above.

“Your Dad. He operates boats.”

Husky voice accompanied by a strong smell of cigar.

“I- I don’t- What?! My dad doesn’t-“

“Your real Dad.”

Then, it dawned on her.

She was taken because of her real father. The father who she last saw 7 years ago.

The father who ran away and left her.

The father who was never really a father to her.

“What is this? Did he pissed some Yakuza? I am nowhere pretty to be sold-“

“Bruh, no one would fucking buy you-“

“Shut up addict.”

“Shut up lung cancer”

Louie sighed before closing her eyes.

“I haven’t seen him for 7 years. I don’t know where he is or how he is. You could kill him for all I care.”

“Your father didn’t pissed us. It’s just. We have a tradition to follow.”

“This isn’t the 20s.”

“Don’t you think that this isn’t the best time to joke around?” The androgynous voice turned out to be coming from a man with a pink hair and diamond scars on either side of his mouth.

He steps in front of Louie and squats down. He has a deranged face. A manic expression.

But Louie recognize the loneliness and emptiness in his eyes.

It’s the same for every rich person she has ever seen in Tokyo.

It didn’t matter how much wealth they’ve accumulated throughout the years.

It’s never enough and will never be.

“My whole life is a joke so shut up.” The scarred man laughed before standing up and going away from her view.

“This tradition, is this some fucking sacrificial bullshit?”

“No. It’s you marrying one of our executive.”

Louie chuckled before going silent.

“This isn’t a Wattpad dark mafia bullshit.” She says with an excellent American accent surprising the two men.

They knew she was a bastard born to a cabaret hostess mother. They assumed she was uneducated and-

“Was that English?”

“In what world wasn’t that English?” She mocks the men.

“You seem comfortable in this kind of situation.”

“I am nowhere comfortable in this situation.”

Louie sighed. She’s captured and she has no way of escaping. It’s cooperating that would get her a pass to live another day.

“Why do I need to marry?”

“The boats your father have. We want them to carry our shipment.”

“Then sign an agreement! Why the hell would I be pawn to your games?”

“Agreements are easily broken. With marriage your family will be bonded to our organization.” Louie shakes her head and almost laughs.

“I’m a bastard. What made you think that my father won’t betray your organization?” The men had the same thing in their mind.

But she is the best they could get.

Louie’s father won’t marry his legitimate daughter to them.

“You still carry your father’s last name. And once you bore a son, when your father betrays us every single workers of your father will never trust him again.”

A son?

There was no way of winning through brute. So, even though she was infuriated she remained calm and listened.

“Who am I gonna marry?”

“Mochi.”

Who in the world is that with a punk ass name?

Kanji removes his tie as he burst inside the hotel room.

Misaki had a smile on her face but it quickly dissipated as she realize Kanji is in a bad mood.

“What happened?” She quickly follows him to the balcony.

The cold wind chilled her body but she knew better than to ignore the man who’s supporting her lavish lifestyle.

Kanji gripped on the railing. His face full of fury. Eyebrows arched and teeth gritted.

“Tell me what happened.” Misaki soothes Kanji’s gigantic arm. She tries to comfort him because that’s her duty.

“I was going to marry you.”

Her smile faded from utter shock. Not once did she ever think of him having the want to do what he just said.

Kanji and Misaki’s relationship- it wasn’t something they hid. All of the executives in Bonten knew that Misaki is Kanji’s woman.

They met in a club and from that day Kanji desired Misaki.

He showered her with everything she didn’t need. Kanji would never admit it to anyone but she’s the closest thing to love he has ever gotten.

On the other hand, Misaki saw him as jackpot. He was addicted to her even though her heart belongs to someone else.

But it’s fine. Because with him she could get a comfortable life.

“Y-you wanted to marry me?” She asked him but Kanji didn’t reply.

He wanted to marry her. He was planning on proposing to her on Christmas Day.

But now it’s all ruined.

“I-l I’ll say yes if you still want to…”

Kanji’s rage disappears for a moment. He wanted to smile and be happy for once but his world would never allow such thing.

“Well I can’t now.”

His rage returns.

It’s one thing to be ordered to kill but it’s another to be ordered to marry.

Misaki knew she didn't love Kanji. And she also knows that she will never fall in love with him. It's just impossible.

But she couldn't help but feel disappointed after his words.

Yes, she will never love him. But she knows him. And she knows he'll never leave her. He'll never disregard her for any other woman.

"W-why?"

"Because I'm ordered to marry a fucking bastard." Kanji spat out with fury.

"I-"

"Don't ask me any more fucking questions!" Kanji snaps startling Misaki. He leaves her in the balcony to get his favorite whiskey.

Kanji's rage sometimes scares Misaki. But every man in the crime world has their own temper.

Misaki closed her eyes and sighed. She then followed Kanji to the bedroom.

Kanji was slouched on a chair with whiskey in his hand. His face was full of rage and Misaki knew what Kanji would like for the night.

"You don't need to marry me. I'll be with you either way. Married or not." She says and Kanji chuckles.

She kneeled down between his legs and started to unbuckle his belt. Kanji placed his liquor down and watched as Misaki took out his cock.

He didn't say anything and simply watched as she licked the side of his shaft. She then slowly nibble on his tip before taking half of his enormous length.

Kanji sighed in pleasure as he felt her wet warm mouth. She twirls her tongue around as she bobs her head up and down making erotic wet noise as she goes.

One of the reasons Kanji likes Misaki is the fact that she's an elegant woman who gives a blowjob like a whore.

Misaki pushed her head down as far as she could before pulling away and spitting on his cock before licking one of his balls.

"Just like that... fuck..." Kanji says head thrown back.

She begins sucking on his balls as she strokes him fast. Misaki took her time licking him before returning on sucking his tip.

She felt his cock getting harder and the salty taste of his precum cued her that he was getting close.

Kanji surprised her when he stood up and slammed his cock far back in her throat. He begin to fuck her mouth fast.

His whore struggle to breathe but he didn't care. He needed to release the frustration he had.

Just when Misaki was beginning to lose breathe he slammed his cock farther than he has ever done and came inside her mouth making her gag.

"Don't spit." He order and with a teary and ruined mascara his whore obeyed and swallowed every last drop of his cum.

"You always looked pretty right after I fucked your mouth."

Satisfied, Kanji went to take a bath.

Mikey ordered him to marry the bastard.

And the king's words must be obeyed no matter what.

So, as much as he hates it. He'll meet his future wife at exactly 7:40 pm at the Hilton Hotel.

Plagiarism Is A Crime

#tokyo revengers #bonten #kanji mochizuki smut #tokyo revengers mochi #mochizuki x reader #mochi x reader #mochi smut #kanji mochizuki #mochizuki kanji #kanji mochizuki x reader #bonten mochi #tokyorev #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev x you #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers sanzu #ran headcanons #tokyorev kokonoi #bonten kakucho #bonten ran #haruchiyo x y/n #tokyorev ran #haitani ran imagines #ran scenarios #manjiro headcanons #tokyorev scenarios #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader

[galaxywarp]

I think maybe I’ve always felt like it was my job to be better. My dad didn’t handle his mental illness well and it destroyed the family. He got addicted to gambling and drugs and weird shit and neglected my mother when she was dying of Crohn’s disease and my sister and I were babies and he was shitty and crazy and bipolar and abandoned all of us and ever since I was a kid I knew and was told about how much I was like him. But at the same time we didn’t talk about him? Like an elephant in the room type situation.

I knew dad existed and he was bad and out there somewhere. And I knew I was like him. When I was a little kid, I played video games to cope with my trauma. Also I was normal little kid who liked Pokemon and Zelda. But dad was obsessed with video games in an unhealthy weird way that destroyed my family. So my grandparents made comments about me playing them that made me feel gross and bad and weird and like I had to hide what I was doing. I played twilight Princess in the basement to hide from my stepfather when he was angry. I wasn’t supposed to play video games to escape because dad did that and dad was bad and you will grow up bad like he did. But also we aren’t gonna get rid of the scary man who is making you feel like you need to hide in the basement with the legend of Zelda twilight Princess. You just have to figure out how to cope with that in a. Way we approve of.

[sing-me-under]

I find the basic fandom tropes for the BatKids to be so boring. I think it’s just me, but they’re like… really stale. Like old bread. Not even the good kind of old bread that you can make croutons with.

My takes under the cut:

Trope: Jason was abused by his dad and neglected by his mother then was homeless on the streets for a period of time.

I like his original (post-crisis) background where his mom had cancer and took drugs to deal with the pain and where his dad tried so hard to provide for him and Catherine, resorting to illegal means, then getting sent to jail then killed very shortly after being released before he could return home. That’s an interesting and complex relationship with his parents. Jason loved his parents. He had no frame of reference for parents who don’t love their children because otherwise he wouldn’t have trusted Sheila Haywood so easily.

Furthermore, I imagine he grew up in a very tight-knit and supportive community. In his introduction (post-crisis), he stashes the Batmobile tires in his apartment. It’s clearly his based on the personalization. I imagine that after his mom died (in the hospital), social services never came for him, effectively being abandoned by the system, but his neighbors provided what little support they could offer simply by not chasing him away and looking over him staying in the single room flat. He had one neighbor who even held onto his legal records for years after, waiting to give it to the rightful owner. Jason fended for himself by fencing off tires and probably other things, but he has a faith in people that only started to wane after becoming Robin.

Trope: Tim was criminally neglected by his parents and they emotionally abused him.

Rich people do have a tendency to just throw their children into the most convenient boarding school and rarely interact with their children. Oftentimes, they have kids out of social obligation. But Tim’s parents did love him. They were distant and often focused on their own work and hobbies, but they proved they cared about him enough. Jack had his flaws but he did genuinely care about Tim’s wellbeing. Also, I can never get over the issue of Tim meeting his mom again just talking to her and Janet listening supportively. I like the idea that they used to take Tim with them everywhere when he was younger and only put him in boarding school at a later age in order to socialize. They trusted that the school was taking care of him (even if Tim did escape quite frequently to be Robin). It’s such a damn shame that Janet died so early into Tim’s tenure as Robin. I wish I could have gotten a better characterization of her in like No Man’s Land or something. Or just Tim being a proper corporate heir to Drake Industries for longer instead of being mildly upper middle class with a comatose-then-emotionally distant father before becoming the Wayne heir.

I feel like Jack Drake is like the epitome of the “father is for emotional distance” meme. He’s well-meaning, but he’s still a man of the patriarchy.

Trope: Stephanie is from a family reminiscent to Jason’s.

I have no idea where the fuck this characterization came from. Like. Have they never even READ Steph’s wiki? Did they just go “Jason but female and waffles and purple”??? Arthur Brown was a host to a game show that was popular enough to feature celebrities and the rich and famous. His whole villain origin is that he hates the stupidity of the rich, and he ended up blowing up on TV. The scandal got him unemployed and he resorted to theft to make ends meet after. Later on, he became a strategic criminal adviser or something. Cluemaster eventually got caught and put into the Suicice Squad, eventually dying. Meanwhile, Crystal Brown is an overworked nurse who takes extra shifts to make ends meet. She’s basically a single mom at this point. I think she gets addicted to something in order to get by and goes into rehab at some point after Steph’s death. Steph loves her mom and has very complicated feelings about her dad. When she was pregnant, she feared that Cluemaster would harm her baby in order to get to her.

Anyway, the whole point of this is that my perception of Steph is that she was raised solidly middle class. She’s from the Bowery, not Crime Alley. Her parents used to send her to gymnastics classes, and she was very good. They took her out after Arthur was unemployed.

#personal #dc

[carmenblake]

statistics / pinterest / biography / connections

ABOUT

Full Name: Carmen Elizabeth Isabela Blake

Birth Name: Carmen Elena Palomo

Nickname: Minnie (by her dad and god daughter)

Age/DOB: October 30, 1989 (34)

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Gender: Cis Female

Place of Birth: Chicago, IL 

Neighborhood: Downtown

Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Bisexual / Biromantic

Religion: Atheist

Occupation: Unemployed

Length of Time in Providence Peak: Six Months

PERSONALITY

Goals/Desires: currently, carmen doesn’t have any goals or desires. she’s living life one day at a time and is struggling to get through that. however, if pressed, she’d be forced to admit that she wants the life she was given by her father for her goddaughter, and knows that in her current state she isn’t able to give her that. she wants to make her father proud, make the sacrifices he made for her throughout her childhood worth it.

Fears: failing her goddaughter, turtles (don’t ask)

Hobbies: drinking is her #1 right now, running (in general and from her problems), reading parenting for dummies books (more like skimming while making a drinking game out of it), mindlessly rewatching her comfort shows, any form of escapism she can find

Likes & Dislikes: bananas, hot summer days, her far too large emotional support stanley cup, the stuffed elephant she’s had since she was two, the smell of fresh laundry, wearing sweatpants right out of the dryer, the feel of freshly shaved legs in silk pj bottoms, red kool aid, musicals, kitchen dancing, gold jewelry, cigarettes, black leggings // the smell of gunpowder, diet soda, country music, driving long distances, overly friendly people, clothes with feathers on them, fireworks, nightmares, silence, room temperature water, getting attached, goodbyes, wet socks, broccoli, crossword puzzles, insincere compliments, pink, the phrase “everything happens for a reason”

QUICK FACTS (quick is subjective tho bc idk how to tldr anything)

Trigger Warnings: lots of death, drugs, sex work, crime, murder, terminal illness, shooting, etc.

Carmen was born in Chicago, IL, to Isabela Maria, a woman who struggled with addiction and worked for a crime syndicate called The Commission.

Isabela, Carmen's mother, became a confidential informant for Chicago PD with the help of Stuart Blake, a Vice Detective, who also assisted her in getting clean multiple times.

Carmen's childhood was marked by her mother's battles with addiction, but with Stuart's support, Isabela got clean when Carmen was 6, providing her with a brief period of stability.

Tragically, Carmen's mother relapsed and died of an overdose when Carmen was around 7, leading Carmen to be taken into custody by the police, where Stuart intervened and took her in.

Stuart, now Carmen's legal guardian, moved them away from Chicago to Phoenix, Arizona, where Carmen got a fresh start and adopted a new last name.

Carmen's passion for ballet began at the age of 8, but her dreams were put on hold when Stuart was shot in the line of duty when she was 17, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down.

Carmen took up various part-time jobs to support herself and Stuart, putting her ballet aspirations on hold.

At 20, Carmen joined the Police Academy to make her father proud, excelling in her law enforcement career and eventually joining the FBI.

After her fiancé left her and Stuart was diagnosed with a terminal illness, Carmen faced personal and professional challenges but continued to juggle her responsibilities until Stu passed away a year later.

Carmen's life took a dramatic turn when she joined the FBI undercover to dismantle The Commission, a crime syndicate linked to her mother's death, leading to complex relationships, loss, and her eventual decision to leave the FBI and care for her goddaughter, Ellie, in Providence Peak.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

Family of Dani (her dead partner and Ellie's mom), who have been helping her care for the seven year old. Dani was born in Providence Peak and moved to Phoenix, where she and Carmen met, when she was 10. I imagine Dani was about 37 when she passed.

People who have been involved with/know of The Commission - They're a large crime syndicate who I imagine operate outside of just Chicago. Maybe she's met some people while undercover?

Other drinking establishment regulars. When Carmen doesn't have Ellie she's usually sitting at the corner of a bar somewhere drinking away her guilt and her grief. She's not very friendly 99% of the time but all of her energy is going into waking up and keeping Ellie alive and shielded from herself.

Neighbors. She lives in a two bedroom apartment downtown with Ellie. I imagine she's probably a super quiet neighbor but maybe she lives in a building with shared laundry and she's had some negative run ins in the laundry room? Or parking space arguments? Or even just a concerned neighbor who checks up on them when they haven't seen the girls for a bit.

When Carmen doesn't have Ellie she's found herself engaging in rather... reckless behavior. Whether that's sleeping with a stranger in a bar bathroom, running red lights as she drives home, or going for runs in all black in places she probably should be more aware of her surroundings. Anything to help her forget how she's feeling for even a second. So people who encourage/participate in this behavior, hookups, anything. Or even on the other end, people who are worried and try to stop this behavior.

Honestly, as much as Carmen is in bitch mode she's really just fighting for her life tbh. Trying not to be swallowed up by her grief and guilt and anger while doing her absolute best for Ellie (even though she knows her best isn't anywhere near good enough right now). She's lost everyone she's ever loved and while she wants to make them proud she doesn't know how to be alone in the world or how to pull herself out of the hole she's dug. So she needs friends, even if she acts like she doesn't need anyone.

#providence.intro #intro. #about. #death tw #crime tw #sex work tw #drugs tw #terminal illness tw #illness tw #idk i think that's all of them

[w-the-intern]

Lars II

That’s how it usually went. People get lucky, break through from the amateurs just to die in the first real fight. 

Lars didn’t take any pleasure in those fights, it was just business to him. Only those with superhuman abilities managed to get a permanent slot in the fighting roster.

“I need to remember to send flowers to Dylan senior, maybe that cute little flower shop two streets over is still open.” he murmured to himself, face lifted towards the shower head.

Getting out of it was always the hardest part of having a hot shower. The warm water reminded him of home. He always imagined himself back on those black sandy beaches of Grivala, playing in the shallow pools with his sister. It didn’t feel like it was a few hundred years ago, but time is a cold and uncaring force. No matter how spiritual or physical, all is grinded to dust in the end.

The slight creak of the shower knob broke Lars’s thoughts as he turned off the water and walked back into the arena locker room, one hand on the towel around his waist, ducking to not hit his horns on the ceiling beams. 

“There’s my champ! You absolutely destroyed that kid! The cleanup crew is still trying to get his brains out from under the bleachers!”

There was a short middle aged man sitting next to Lars’s duffel bag. He looked like a used car salesman with a teeth bleaching addiction. The thinning hair on his head was slicked back with gel and the walrus moustache that adorned the upper lip looked carefully combed. His ash grey suit jacket was a tad too small for his slightly chubby dad bod.  

“Hey Frank. The fight was alright, just another meal on the table for me.” Lars half-heartedly responded while shuffling over to his bag. 

“About that, the board is cutting your salary” Lars looked over in surprise.

“Again? I barely have enough to feed Kibbles as is.” Frank took his left hand out of his suit jacket, handing Lars a slightly crumpled up envelope. 

“This is all you’re getting champ, you’re becoming old news.” Lars slowly grabbed the envelope out of Frank’s sausage fingers while looking at him with an air of disbelief. 

“Old news? I’ve been doing my best for the last 25 years! I’ve been training, I’ve been meeting fans, I’ve even been interviewed by the police multiple times and I covered for you guys!”

The exasperation was clearly audible in Lars’s response, but Frank didn’t seem to care. 

“Your fights are boring, you always win! Especially in rookie fights like tonight, the kid didn’t stand a chance and everyone knew it! You’re costing us money in the betting pool, you’re too good.”

Lars knew there was no use arguing, Frank had made up his mind.

“Here’s the deal champ, either you keep doing what you’re doing and you will see less and less of your revenue until you have no choice but to leave on your own.”

Frank vaguely gestures to the envelope in Lars’ hands.

“Or you choose the smart option and take a dramatic dive.”

There it was. The board had nearly no use for Lars. All that was left was to wring the fighter of all potential and toss him to the side of the road to eternal greed.

“Frank, this is the D.D.G.! The dimensional death games! Taking a loss would mean someone will stomp my head until they break my horns.”

“Ah don’t sweat the details. You’re a big guy, you look like you can handle a few skull fractures. And besides, it’s just a name, not all losses end with a death.”

The dismissive tone in Frank’s voice made it clear that these were the two options available and Lars had to deal with that.

“Also if you choose the sexy option two, you’ll share in the profit. You’ll be set for life!”

A defeated sigh escaped Lars’s lips as he turned his attention back to his bag.

“Give me some time to think about it please, this is something I don’t want to decide on a whim.”

Frank looked clearly content with himself as he heard those words. “You have one week to decide. Also you won’t get any fights until you give me that answer.”

Lars silently nodded.

“Great, so glad we understand each other.”

Frank stood up and walked past Lars towards the exit, patting him on the back in passing.

“I’m trusting you to make the right choice, don’t make me regret ever sponsoring you.” The door creaked and fell back into the lock with a soft click. Lars was alone once more. He stood there for a moment just looking at the door, trying to process what this all meant for him, the envelope still in his hands.

“Right, the flowers.”

The hulking figure came into action, quickly towelling himself off and getting dressed in his everyday-clothes. The xxl denim jeans barely fit his waist and his black turtleneck stretched dangerously over his belly and arm muscles as he opened the locker door and let it fall closed behind him with a soft click.

#creative writing #writing

[shesholy]

a   self   para   of   #𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚛   in  involuntary   rehab   .   

               the  harsh  reality  finally  settling  .  digits  fiddling  with  the  journal  she’d  been  handed  on  her  first  day  .  pages  riddled  with  i  hate  them  written  consecutively  only  for  a  few  pages  in  ,  the  letter’s  shift  to  i  hate  myself  .  left  all  alone  ,  with  just  her  thoughts  and  strangers  who  claimed  they  wanted  to  know  each  and  every  thought  that  swirled  through  her  brain  .  it  was  like  living  in  her  own  personal  hell  .  feelings  of  betrayal  shift  from  other’s  and  onto  herself  .  admittedly  ,  her  own  worst  enemy  .  faced  with  two  choices  :  give  in  to  the  process  or  play  the  game  until  she  can  walk  through  the  front  doors  and  reclaim  her  freedom  .  either  way  she  feels  as  though  she’s  lost  .  in  the  confines  of  her  room  ,  tears  ravage  porcelain  skin  .  trust  in  herself  as  well  as  those  who  claimed  to  love  her  lost  .  

if  they  love  me  as  much  as  they  say  they  do  ,  why  tuck  me  a  away  ?  out  of  sight  ,  out  of  mind  .  they  are  no  better  than  my  grandparents  .  scribbled  into  the  very  journal  ,  moments  before  her  next  counseling  session  .  therapy  never  having  been  her  thing  but  here  she  had  no  choice  but  to  attend  .  even  if  she  refused  to  speak  ,  her  presence  was  mandatory  .  

for  the  first  week  ,  she  deny’s  visitation  .  it’s  her  right  ,  one  of  the  last  few  choices  she’d  been  left  with  .  not  wanting  to  face  anyone  ,  although  she  can’t  particularly  pinpoint  why  .  was  it  embarrassment  ?  a  way  for  her  to  punish  those  she  felt  thrown  away  by  ?  probably  a  mixture  of  both  .  it’s  not  fair  ,  she  screams  ,  voice  echoing  throughout  her  room  .  god  ,  she  misses  her  room  at  home  .  she  misses  filming  ,  the  only  time  she  felt  as  if  she  could  fully  escape  her  own  reality  .  the  reminder  of  both  productions  she’d  been  working  on  having  to  halt  filming  in  her  absence  .  

each  night  she  tosses  and  turns  ,  mulling  over  how  she  could  possibly  numb  the  pain  .  cliche  therapist  quotes  etching  a  space  in  her  brain  .  recovery  begins  the  moment  you  surrender  ,  you’ll  never  heal  if  you  keep  pretending  you’re  not  hurting  .  eyes  roll  back  at  the  very  sound  of  words  .  annoyed  and  frustrated  because  for  the  first  time  ,  she  actually  hears  the  words  .  loud  and  clear  .  

weak  hands  reach  for  a  journal  that’s  damage  emulates  her  own  .  pen  to  paper  .  she  may  not  be  ready  to  say  everything  outloud  ,  but  she  knows  she  needs  to  admit  it  .  even  if  only  to  herself  .  

breakthrough  journal  entry  :  i’m  an  addict  .  never  addicted  to  one  thing  ;  i’m  addicted  to  filling  a  void  within  myself  ,  with  things  other  than  my  own  love  because  i  don’t  think  i  deserve  it  ...  to  be  loved  .  i  sabotage  good  things  in  fear  of  rejection  .  i’m  constantly  afraid  the  people  i  love  will  wake  up  one  day  and  realize  i’m  not  worth  the  headache  and  walk  away  from  me  ,  forever  .  i  owe  so  many  people  apologies  ;  my  mom  ,  my  dad  ,  archie  ,  micah  ,  cely  ,  zach  ,  val  ,  my  fans  ,  and  most  importantly  myself  .  i  don’t  know  if  i’m  strong  enough  to  get  through  this  but  i  think  i’m  finally  willing  to  try  .  i  just  want  to  be  happy  .                                                       

#ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ㅤ੭ ᵃᵘˢᵗᵉⁿ 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫 : ❪ ⠀ ⠀ muse ⠀ ⠀ ❫ #ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ㅤ੭ ᵃᵘˢᵗᵉⁿ 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫 : ❪ ⠀ ⠀ prose ⠀ ⠀ ❫ #rehab tw #addiction tw #mental health tw

[mariposaortiz]

All the dreams were held so close Seemed to all go up in smoke you can't say we never tried.

Song/Skeleton: Angie

Name: Mariposa Ortiz

FC: Adria Arjona

Age: 29

Birthday: March 27

Gender & Pronouns: ciswoman, she/her

Sexual & Romantic Orientation: bisexual, biromantic. 

Occupation: Bartender at the Mint

Neighbourhood: Willowdale

Positive Personality Trait(s): adaptable, resourceful, charismatic, extroverted, bold, adventurous, protective

Negative Personality Trait(s): selfish, flighty, incredibly temperamental, impulsive, reckless, stubborn, self-destructive

Wanted Connection: nope!

Extras: https://www.pinterest.com/rachaelredridinghood/getaway-car/

BIOGRAPHY tw: alcoholism/addiction, mentions of drug use/abuse, rough childhood things (no abuse or anything like that, just more of what was mentioned in the skeleton!), infidelity, prison mentions/parent going to prison Childhoods were supposed to be a time of innocence.

Mariposa’s childhood was full of the rumble of a motorcycle and the scent of engine oil, the wind in her hair on the back of her dad’s bike. Her formative days were ones filled with cigarette smoke, leather and patches with no bedtime to speak of. Little girls were supposed to be soft and gentle, lace and silk, but Mariposa was all hard edges and grit from the day she was born.  Far from idyllic, home was the back of her daddy’s bike, because well, that was where he was the happiest. The four walls they lived in, a shitty apartment in the worst part of town, was never home for Mari. No, that apartment was a place where her father drank and despised her mother, where her mother just sat and where her siblings cried. Really, the formative days were brief. Just a few years, but she held those memories tight as though in a white-knuckled fist. Had to hold onto something, even if Mari wasn’t sure just how real any of it was anymore.

No, what was real was the crying baby and the two other siblings that needed baths and dinner. The arguments were real, too, before the door-slamming started. Hard to ignore, really. Those four walls were small, didn’t leave a lot of room for private conversation…not that they made an effort to keep it private. That was all very real, and Mari didn’t really have time to play the real or not real game with the few good memories of her childhood.

The only consistency was all of that leathes with patches and cigarette smoke and engine oil. That remained, despite all of the bullshit, and the seat of a motorcycle was really the only place that Mari felt free. A literal escape with a rumble around the corner, but also a way for her mind to have a break. The bike was still home.

Dropping out of high school was par the course, and really, it wasn’t unexpected. Mariposa had barely been there to begin with, skipping class to cause a little trouble or do some damage control at home. Mari knew she was going to fail out anyway, decided to cut her losses and split when it suited her needs best. Her teenage years were even more formative than the memories she still secretly held onto, but they were still somehow in the same vein: more leather, more cigarette smoke, more patches but these were her own. Her bike had always been more of a home than anything else, so it just made sense…especially when her dad was no longer a part of it, sitting in a cell that had been more or less waiting for him. It had just been a matter of time, truly, between the club business and the drinking and everything in-between. Still hurt, even if Mari didn’t want to admit it. The bike felt like home because she’d made it one, but he’d been the one to introduce it.

At eighteen, Mari took the kids and split - their mother was still just sitting, just staring, and Mari couldn’t stand it anymore. Those kids deserved better (she’d deserved better, too) than to watch her just waste away, and so they’d make it work. They’d made it work all these years anyway, just by sticking together and pitching in whatever they could. They had to move around a lot, had some outside help from friends of Mari’s that were cool with them couch surfing for longer than a day or two, and finally they managed to land an apartment. They made it work, just like always, and through it all Mari had a mantra: this was just temporary, this was her past, and she would never live like this again. She would never settle, like her parents, and would never live a lie. If and when she found love, it would be for love and love alone and none of the stupid bullshit she’d been subjected to for her entire childhood.

But then she met him, and he sucked her right into his gravity so fast that she really didn’t see anything else. Just saw him. That had to be love, right? Had to be, the way her palms would sweat and her heart would jump right to her mouth. Had to be love, the way she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And…yeah, the heat was a big part of it, and with that came some problems. Those problems were nothing in comparison to the way he made her feel, and that was what mattered. No bullshit could get between those feelings, that fire, and that had to be what her parents were missing - why her father looked for that in every pretty face he met at the bar while he drank his way down the bottle, why her mother felt so lost. Mari had something they never had, and that was where they had gone wrong.

Had to be, right?

She ignored the red flags, but soon there were so many that she felt like she was drowning. The first time he cheated she was able to piece it together, and she was too blinded by rage to think clearly. She got mad, and then she got even. Again. And again. And again.

She was too close to it to see anything clearly. No, they loved each other, even with the fights and the falling out and the cheating. They’d cheat, they’d fight, they’d break up but then they’d always fall back to one another. It was a pattern, but it was one they could break. Each time, that was what she told herself, that was what they promised. No one else made her feel like this, made her feel like she actually meant something, and they would figure it out. She was really good at figuring it out.

But then he skipped town. Disappeared. Completely fucked off to who knows where, and left her in the dust. The rage came first, overpowering in a way she’d never experienced even through all of their fights and the infidelity olympics. How could he? Why would he? The stages of grief came in a wave, though anger lasted the longest. Anger was easy. Familiar.

Left with nothing but to face the facts, Mari was able to look at her relationship in a way she never had before with him gone, and saw something ugly and familiar that sat like a sour taste in her mouth. Had she settled? Had she done the one thing she swore she’d never do? Maybe it was a good thing he left, maybe he’d done them both a favor. Maybe now she could set her sights on something real.

…. she really did miss him, though, underneath it all. A new quiet little secret, stored in the back of her head with the motorcycle.

#stillwater.mariposa #bio

[journullism]

my low quality baby girl <3333

#escape room webtoon #game addict dad escape room

[creaturebehavior]

my brain is wired for animal crossing now btw

i will see something and involuntarily relate it to animal crossing

also high key i feel like playing animal crossing has sharpened my interior decorating skills and just my eye for beauty and aesthetic in general which feels really good because i used to tap into those skills on a regular basis but since moving away from my chico apartment and living out of a suitcase doing the revolving door of hospitals, rehabs, halfway houses, rinse, repeat. and then i was homeless and had so i stayed with my dad for a month. and then moving to oregon while i was deep in addiction…. I didn’t even unpack. i lived there for a year and was living out of boxes. i never made that apartment a home. back to treatment and another halfway house. to a random apartment for all of a couple days. into my moms trailer cuz i was homeless again. then we moved to arizona and my mom got a house and i lived there shortly but there were 2 more OD’s and 2 more hospital stays and 1 more treatment center and 1 more halfway house. then back into my moms house a year ago, but we’re moving away in a year or two so i haven’t done very much to make my room cute like i used to love doing in my paradise and chico homes.

that feel when ur animal crossing post turns into a stream of consciousness trauma dump lmao.

so anywho. I like decorating in my little game and making that world my own little home that i can escape to in my imagination. it’s been a really nice creative outlet for me. i love flexing my creativity muscles

[googhostgamer]

My traumatic story

My name is John and this is my story about how I went from a total extrovert to a closed person with only a few friends and than to a normal-ish one.

It all started when my mom and my REAL dad got a divorce, my dad moved away and me with my mom had the whole house just for us. Not for long, soon enough my mom found a boyfriend and that's the moment it all went to shit. It wasn't really bad in the beginning but as time passed and we got to know each other he started to "test me" about how far am I willing to go to keep doing the things he wanted me to do. I didn't go far, so we had a fight. Few weeks later I locked myself in my room because I was scared of him and also he always had these "dumb talks" and I just wished to do anything else but listen to him ,I couldn't. Half a year passed and we had our biggest fight yet, I started yelling at him but he started yelling more and more, am I the only one who thinks that this is not how you should treat a 12 year old? My 12 year old just had a breakdown or I believe, it's called something like this. A few months has passed and It happened again, resulting is myself being more in my room and if possible not coming out at all. My friends did  not suspect a thing, because there are only a few things that I am acceptable in and one of them is pretending that everything is ok(I sure that they eventually saw the change but even if someone asked what is happening, I would lid so they had no chance of knowing). Eventually a lot of my friends stopped talking to me, my guess: I didn't spend enough time with them so after a while I got only a few friends left. One of them introduced me to what I call game util you forget about your shitty life. So I became a game addict which wasn't good because I stopped talking to the few friends I have had left. Now I had only 1 real friend, who had no idea that my stepfather is picking on me. One day there was another fight but this time I had a witness, the very one real friend I have had left was on the other side of the computer and he heard it all. This is the moment when everything changed, he was the push I needed. I called my grandma and told her everything and she made steps, very helpful steps. She talked to him very gently and she always got what she wanted so in this case she got a promise from him. He promised that he would never have fight with me again. It fucking worked, well at least it got a lot less noisy because my mom just couldn't stop it alone but now I had everyone on my side (the news quickly got out because everyone thought that my stepdad was an angel but now they knew the truth) so after that he just calmed down a little. I recovered pretty quickly and when I turned 16 I started to behave like more normal kid, of course there were some weird things but it was a lot better. Now I am in high school and I have a lot of friends and almost everyone likes me. Im glad that I don't have to listen to his pathetic yelling anymore and I want to point out that no matter what you are experiencing right now, there is always an escape.

IM SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES, I AM STILL LEARNING ENGLISH.

#trauma #heal #story

[finelinevogue]

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #harry styles angst #harry styles ppd #harry styles pregnancy #finelinevogue blurbs #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #anon response #anon #i have a basic taste in men #harry styles depression #finelinevogue harry masterlist #harry styles little moments #little moments pregnancy #little moments masterlist #little moments finelinevogue #harry styles x reader depression #harry styles sad #harry styles fluff #harry styles dad angst #dad!harry

[throwawayfish]

𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: moving from new york city to the outerbanks was already difficult in itself. but having to deal with being hated by a blonde surfer who questioned your existence made it harder to keep a secret you cannot disclose. especially when his friends roped you into what they called a gold game

warnings: focuses on how you got to the outer banks, language, mild derogatory terms, mentions of death, adoption, accidents

a/n: my second series! hope you guys like this as much as the first one. let me know if you want to be added to my taglist.

the atrocious heat of the sun hit your substantially exposed body. as much as you didn’t want it to look too bare for people at the beach to have a free exhibit, the scorching july day made even your sheerest sundress too uncomfortable to wear.

you were unacquainted to the small island called the outerbanks. used to the chaotic hustle of new york city, it was as if life came to a sudden halt when you stepped out of the ferry to live a new life. a life where waking up early to avoid the morning frenzy on the subways and anticipating the city’s midnight madness was no longer your usual.

it did not take too long of living on the island that you mustered up knowledge about your new environment. how there are two sides of the island and two different groups. which meant it didn’t take long for you to realize that you were put in the kook category, just by the look of the houses in the area much like your own. but you hated it, the title and attention.

you closed your eyes, not minding the squeals and giggles of kids at the beach with their families. ignoring a few whistles you got and muttering of locals that you were sure were about you. as you blocked out the distractions, you laid under a palm tree seeking shade until the rays of light didn’t shine through the leaves anymore as the day progressed.

as the wind picked up, you headed back to figure eight, careful not to be followed by whoever. it has been a routine for you to do your laundry at the house as well as take a small amount of cash enough to suffice for a week or two. and as you finish what you need to do, lock all doors and go to where you felt safe and invisible, the cut.

life in new york city came naturally to you. growing up with adoptive parents made you thankful for them having to put up with you. it took years for you to open up when you were adopted, but when you did it was something you would even call magical. helena and marcus hawke made you feel loved you as their own, doing everything they can to make you have the best life to live, and for that you couldn’t be more happy. the house always smelling like freshly baked goods and breads. lively flowers littering the windowsills and the house well lit with the rolling stones playing no matter what the weather or season was.

it was a sudden shift in scenery. your brownstone that was once cozy became dull. one that could be a contender to houses used in horror films. you were closed off to people because of the handful of times you’ve had a foster home just for them to put you back in the system once they got tired of you, so you learned not to get comfortable.

you came home from school one gloomy, winter day. cheeks red and tight from the blizzard you barely just escaped. the house blue despite the candles and lamps doing everything they can to improve it. you heard thumping from upstairs, voices loud enough for you to hear them trying to keep it down. thinking that it was your parents who just got home from their three day business trip, up the rickety stairs you went. you were welcomed by your aunt in your dad’s old art room, the one turned into a boring office.

noticing the almost bare walls and a surprisingly clean desk, you knocked on the slightly opened door. two pairs of eyes were suddenly looking at you. cold ones, which only heightened your worries.

“what are you guys doing?!” you pointed at the wedding canvas that was taken down and leaning on the bookshelf. not meaning to raise your voice at them, you muttered a soft sorry and went back to scanning the room.

“y/n, you are coming to brooklyn with us.” vera, your aunt said dryly, making your head snap in her direction. austin, her husband didn’t bother looking at you and continued rummaging through the drawers and putting them in piles.

“austin, what are you doing? and what do you mean i’m going to brooklyn? where’s mom?!” tears were threatening to fall down your now warm cheeks though you didn’t have any idea why. but with the looks on their faces and actions, you could tell something was going on. mainly because the family you have been adopted into had too much pride to just accept you as their own blood, despite your parents loving you from the moment they saw you.

“helena and marcus got in a car accident yesterday. dead on arrival. now i don’t have much time, i have a busy schedule so will you please just pack. we’re leaving in a bit.”

you felt your heart breaking. it was like a huge punch in the face, the one that knocks you out and you forget what happened hours prior when you wake. and then you felt it, the feeling of being closed off because people who are important left once again, leaving you all alone.

“and you’re gonna tell me this when?! when they’re burried?! fuck!” austin strided towards you, vera not holding him back when he gripped your arm rather harshly.

“you should be thankful we’re even here, you ungrateful bitch! if it weren’t for the will i would be kicking you out into the streets so you can be a drug addict just like your real mom when she gave you up! now go pack!”

his words and behaviour were unexpected. of course you accepted the judgemental stares and coldness gave you every time there were gatherings or meetings your parents brought you to. you learned to accept that they will never treat you normally as part of the family, but you have never imagined it escalating to this. and with what he said, you further confirmed he was bad news.

you ran to your room, hurriedly gathering the things most important to you. including the shark tooth necklace your dad gave you when he gave you a tour of their lab. heading out the door, you turned back to grab the cassette he always played on the radio. you opened it to check if it was not damaged, and as you slid the tape out of the cardboard protector a pink paper your mom loved writing on fell on the floor.

to panic was your first instinct, especially with the footsteps approaching the room. so you hid the paper in your pocket together with your emotions just in time before your aunt barged through the door.

“i’m sorry for the way he acted, but it’s not like you didn’t deserve it. we’re leaving in ten minutes whether you like it or not. ten minutes.” she uttered and left, goosebumps travelling your body from her piercing eyes.

you immediately shut the door, doing your hardest to make the slightest sound. then you leaned against it and fished out for the letter. it was your mom’s handwriting, you haven’t started reading anything and just saw the usual cursive letters and just like that tears poured down your cheeks.

the letter contained information, of how to get into an island you had never heard of in your life. so you reached for the envelope said to be under your nightstand which contained fifty thousand dollars. and you were off, into the cold not caring for the protests of your aunt and uncle. smashing and throwing away your phone, with your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you hollered for a cab, and to the airport you headed.

the letter contained fairly easy instructions, but it was difficult to ponder. the letter said to look for heyward and once you asked around as you stepped off the ferry, you were led to meet with a man with a welcoming aura, finishing up some groceries before ushering you onto another boat when you introduced yourself.

it was more or less half an hour when the dated boat parked on a dock of a huge estate not isolated but far enough from other mansions. the outside was surrounded with bright green grass. cobblestones in perfect placement lining the path to the front porch with large antique oakwood doors.

as you dropped your bag into the tiled floor, you heaved a deep sigh. looking at heyward as you forced a kind smile.

“thank you. my parents must really trust you if they told me to find you.” he nodded as if he bowed, looking around the bare living room before answering.

“you’re safe here, kid. and you’ll figure it out. you’re brave to go to a place you don’t know, especially from new york. it takes guts.” you raised the corners of your lips which he returned

the short stay you were in the house you noticed minor details that could be of great significance. no decorations or paintings on the walls, it was different back in the city as your dad loved art. no antiques suiting your mom’s taste, and no sign of anyone having lived there. the massive space only decorated with necessary furniture.

and with that, as heyward tapped your upper arm and turned around, you called out “is there somewhere i could stay that will not capture attention?”

you hated the feeling of asking him such question. after driving the boat to your house that are bright to the eyes of people, here you are asking for another place to stay. you felt like you were interrupting his tight schedule, but you felt worse thinking that you were bragging. he was occupied with his job when you arrived, working hard to make a living and you don’t even have to worry about paying for another house.

negative thoughts were wiped out of your mind when he let out a laugh, tapping his temple with his pointer finger “i knew you’re a hawke! smart kid. i know a place. but you stay here for a bit to explore. i’ll pick you up after a delivery i have to make.” you nodded, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders.

as he stepped out the door, he peeked one last time gaining back your attention “third room to the left upstairs, the small wine cooler is a safe, i’m sure you’ll know where to find the code.”

it was a peaceful drive that even you were surprised, used to having clouded thoughts that you cannot seem to get rid off. having the windows down definitely did you wrong as a loud honk of a horn from a rundown volkswagen startled you along with its bright headlights, making you swerve your jeep.

the probability of you crashing was high, being that you closed your eyes trying to control the vehicle. it just so happens that you are lucky enough to have pressed on the brakes faster before falling in a ditch.

heavy breaths escaped your now pale lips, your heart pounding twice the speed you were driving before the unfortunate incident.

“oh my god! are you okay?!” you heard a girls voice query in a loud tone as you tried to steady your breathing. you nodded quickly but she did not buy it, the shaking of your head made you panicked state apparent.

you looked up, three pairs of eyes glancing intently at you. “john b you stupid asshole!” she yelled once again as you observed all of their expressions. blue eyes catching your attention but breaking the contact as you tried to start the car once again only for it turn off.

“shit” it wasn’t unheard by the three teenagers as you turned the ignition for the hundredth time “we can give you a ride if you want.” the guy who the brunette lass called john b offered, you looked at him and back at the other for confirmation earning nods except from the blonde one.

“we’re not giving a kook a free ride.” he declared and your doe eyes widened by the statement not knowing how he can identify your so called title before relaxing as you watched scan your car.

“good to know that if i died i would’ve died right here because your bus is pogue exclusive.” you rebutted. he let out a laugh, the three others merely watching the exchange

“it’s a van, princess. not a bus.” his remark made you roll your eyes. you didn’t know if it was because of the reply itself or the nickname he gave you, nonetheless it made your stomach turn.

“don’t be a prick. come on, we’ll help you get your car back tomorrow.” the girl once again said. it was late at night, so as much as you wanted to decline, you had no choice but to agree. especially when her smile made you feel welcome despite the inhospitable approach of the blonde.

a shriek was let out by another boy when the sliding door was opened, the others let out a laugh and you couldn’t help to do so too by the sight of him trying to cover his lower area even with boxers.

“didn’t know we have a guest i would’ve prepared!” you giggled with the three, accepting his hand as he introduced himself as pope. the others soon doing the same except that one boy once again.

“do you have a problem with me?” you couldn’t help but ask out of annoyance. “i don’t need to explain myself to you, kook.” he answered under his breath and avoided your stare.

problems with any body on the island is one thing you wished to avoid, so at any given circumstance, and because you have the excuse for it, you played your last card.

“i’m a pogue, stupid.”

attention was on you, even john b who slowly stopped driving and looked back to ask you where you lived. making a u turn once you told him where your house was on the cut.

“are you new?” pope uttered starting a conversation. you shook your head, already having come up with a lie “lived here my whole life.” a scoff was let out and you looked at the blonde once again

“how come we haven’t seen you here before?” he asked, and you smirked “that’s because i’m a vampire, you just got lucky to spot me tonight.” the others laughed, making you comfortable to stand your ground against the blue eyed boy

“i still haven’t gotten a name you know.” all you got was a frown which turned to a smirk “that’s for me to know and y—” “it’s jj!” “kie!” you laughed at the altercation, secretly wishing to have a friendship like theirs as you watched them playfully slap and kick each other.

“a pogue with a brand new jeep, interesting.” he blurted out and drilled a hole into your head with his cerulean eyes “i’ll let you take it for a spin don’t worry.” he hastily shook his head, an irritated look on his face “i don’t want anything to do with you so fuck off will ya?”

as your eyes widened you let out a whistle and raised your hands in defeat. telling john b to let you out as your house is not far enough. for your own good and the blonde pogue’s sake.

you barely started your walk when you heard footsteps approach. turning around, you were ready to defend yourself from whoever would cause you harm, but were met by the boy who just made it clear he hated your presence.

“you don’t come up behind someone like that! i could’ve taken your eye out!” you wished to call the silence comfortable if it weren’t for the stares of the jj creeping into your arms and back. reciprocating the attention, you noticed he was staring just below your face. you were about to call him out when you glanced down your neck, where your shark tooth necklace carefully sat.

“why are you here—” “where’d you get that?” he asked sincerely, sending a tightening feeling on your throat. “found it laying somewhere. not that it’s your business. why are you here?” you lied and asked once again

“john b told me to tell you he’s picking you up tomorrow to get your car.” he stuttered, “okay cool.” you quickly muttered and turned around not wanting to further drag the interaction.

convincing yourself to relax, the blonde boy was bothered as he went back to the twinkie, letting out a laugh of dismay “she’s hiding something.” his friends furrowed their brows, ready to hear what he has to say

“she’s hiding something and i’m gonna find out what it is. even if it means being around her annoying ass.”

comment on the series masterlist to let me know if you want to be added or removed from my taglist or want your username updated. read more of my works here! ♡

@sunsetholland @bibliophilewednesday @drewswannabegirl @omgitzbillie @sexualparkour @spencereidbasis @spilledtee @ifilwtmfc @maybebanks @obx-snippets @glux64 @rae131415 @pink-meringues @jeyramarie @lust-for-pan @k-roleplay20 @prejudic3 @rafeyybabyy @mj-20182 @makrenee @hoodpankow @softtfordrew @diverrdown @obxhstyles @suicidexdarkness @edyn-nicole @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @obxloves

#outerbanks #jj maybank #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x reader #obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x y/n #obx imagine #jj maybank series #jj x reader #obx series

[paisley-print]

NEAR THE WATER’S EDGE:   CHAPTER SIX

After fleeing your abusive husband, you find yourself in the small coastal town of July, North Carolina. Soon you meet Frankie Morales, Air Force Veteran and single dad. As the two of you grow closer, you begin to let go of your past and learn to love again. That is until a strange man shows up in town, and you ’re forced to choose between your safety or the safety of the people that you love.

Series Master List

Rating: 18+ / Heavy adult themes eventual smut.

Trigger Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Mentions of Drug Addiction, PTSD, anxiety.

Notes: I hope you like it  I rewrote it like six times lol. Also, I very much stole David from the book, but I am going to add my own spin on him in later chapters to make him different. 

Series Tag List: @qytyy @abzidabzy @heythere-mel​ @winter-fox-queen @sherala007 @inkededucatednnerdy @quica-quica-quica @hnt-escape @toomanystoriessolittletime @whataperfectwasteoftime @headinthestarz @casssiopeia  @day-off-inkyoto @librariantothejedi  @dobbyjen @goblinsimp @kiizhikehn-cedar​

Permanent Tag List: @voteforpedro09​ @greeneyedblondie44​

Tag List Google Form: Click here to be added, updated, or taken off any tag list. 

-

NEAR THE WATER’S EDGE: CHAPTER SIX

Sixty degrees and overcast. New Jersey rarely got a spring, just four more months of winter. David held his head in his hands, trying to get rid of the pounding. He had fallen asleep on the couch, TV still on. All night fireworks had been going off around him, loud enough to prevent sleep. They were illegal there but that didn’t stop people from driving across state lines into Pennsylvania and picking up a carload. It had been the same for years, every weekend from Memorial Day to the Fourth of July. It annoyed him.

As he stood, David knocked over a bottle of vodka that had been resting on the floor. Thankfully, it was empty. A groan escaped his lips as he stretched. Everything hurt, and he was feeling sick again. If you were here, you would have made breakfast, done the laundry, then both of you would go out and run errands together. Maybe he would have even swung by the bookshop and let you pick out whatever new novel you had been raving about that week.

He swallowed hard, the feeling of bile rising in the back of his throat as he moved into the kitchen. The fridge was completely bare. All that was left was a bottle of ketchup and an old jar of pickle juice he had not come around to throw away.

He slammed the door shut and moved to the cabinet to pour himself a drink, needing  to get rid of this headache. As the bitter taste of whiskey filled his mouth, he found himself thinking about you, and how much he had fucked up.

You had been the very best thing to walk into his life, kind, gentle, always attentive to what he needed. The two of you were going to start a family together, bring a life into this world. Live together as husband and wife, like he had always dreamed of. Like his parents or his grandparents. He loved you deeply and desperately. The months since you had been gone had been tough on him. If he could take back every single mark he left on you and bare those bruises himself, he would. 

He wondered what you were doing, or where you had ended up. Somewhere warm probably, you were always talking about going somewhere warm. Maybe he would meet you there, start over, and you would allow him to be the husband you deserved. He could almost imagine it now, fixing up the nursery while you came into the room, hand on your belly swollen with his child. Yes, that is what would happen, that is what needed to happen. 

Marriage was forever, a union forged under the hands of the lord. Broken by death only, he didn’t care what the courts said. You were playing a dangerous game with the devil, running off and leaving him alone. He thought he had been able to save you from yourself, keep you on the straight and narrow, because he loved you. Obviously he failed in that regard.  

David moved to the table and opened a laptop that was sitting there from the night before. First, he searched the Doe Network for any fresh faces, but none of them were yours. Next he scanned the Facebook of a few old high school friends, checked his bank statements, then searched your name and social security number in a database, usually used by Private Investigators; since he was on his home computer and couldn’t get access to the information they had at the precinct. Still nothing. You had disappeared into the fucking ether. David closed the laptop and scrubbed his eyes, vision getting blurred. He needed to eat, but all he could think about was you.

Maybe after he grabbed a sandwich from the store, he would swing around town again, and look for something he might have missed. You may have been quick, but you weren’t nearly as smart as you thought. When David found out where you had slipped up then he would fetch you and bring you home. 

-

“Ready to go?” Frankie asked, standing next to the jeep. 

“Yep” you looked around “no Lucy today?”

“No, she’s at her friend’s birthday party. She wanted to help, but…. it’s probably best not to put her next to a gallon of paint. Unless you wanted to revamp your carpet.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” you smiled, opening the passenger’s side of his car.

“Oh trust me, I am,” he laughed. “It looked like a unicorn threw up, I had never seen so much bubblegum pink in my life.”

“What? It doesn’t fit with your whole tough guy military persona?” You teased. 

“No, it clashed horribly with the wallpaper.” 

Rubber tires rolled over broken shells as he pulled out of the driveway. The marina was busy again, you scanned the faces of the people as you passed. For a moment you thought you saw a shock of blonde hair but as the man turned you realized it wasn’t him.

Frankie glanced at you, “do you need anything from the store before we go to your place?”

You thought for a moment “I don’t think so?”

-

Home depot was empty for a Saturday afternoon. Frankie had loaded the cart with a few things needed to fix the windows. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” he asked, looking around. “Locks? Does the front door have a deadbolt?”

You hesitated, “I don’t know If I’m allowed, I’ll have to ask the leasing manager.”

“I know Kathy, her wife was Lucy’s kindergarten teacher. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Frankie pulled the cart over to where the locks were hanging on the display and inspected a few. You glanced around, feeling eyes on you from somewhere. Instinctively, you took a step closer to him. 

“Do you guys need any help?” 

Your head whipped to where the voice had come from; it was an employee at the end of the aisle. 

Frankie smiled at the man “no, thank you. We’re just looking around.”

Once the man walked off you raked a hand through your hair and crossed your arms in front of your chest. 

A gesture not missed by Frankie, “Summer, what's wrong?” 

“It's just... The deadbolts are a good idea but with the paint and the stuff for the window…. I don’t think I can afford it.”

His brows knit together as he looked at you “I was going to buy it.”

“What? No, no, absolutely not.”

He threw the item into the cart. “You got dinner, remember?”

“When I said that I meant I couldn’t pay you for your time. A pizza is ten bucks, all this stuff together is at least sixty. No, no way.”

He smirked and pushed the cart forward “consider it part of my thank you.”

“The beach day was a great thank you already,” you protested. 

“Then allow me to pay for it for my own peace of mind. Honestly, I won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re by yourself and you don’t have a proper lock. Do you want me to be half awake while I go work on heavy machinery?”

You sighed, “well thank you, seriously. I’ll pay you back.”

“You can try” he said.

“Ok but I’m still paying for the paint stuff-” 

“Nope. Paint stuff is ten bucks, you got that covered by the pizza.”

A smile crossed your lips and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

-

He backed the jeep into your driveway, then hopped out and lifted the trunk. “Ok, I got a few things from the garage.” He had a bucket full of power tools, nails, screws, tape measure... the works.

“Wow,” you said, “That’s a lot more than what I have.”

“What do you have?” he asked, lifting the bucket from the bed of the trunk. Frankie would never admit it, but he had spent nearly an hour trying to find clothes that weren’t stained or torn in some place. He even cleaned up his beard a little and put on the cologne that Katie had gotten him for his birthday a few years back. 

“A screwdriver,” you said flatly.

He closed the trunk of his car with a thud. “No stud finder?”

“No what?”

Frankie didn’t say anything, he just offered you an amused smile. Yeah, it was probably a good thing he was here to give some help... or at the very least teach you how to do it. That way you wouldn’t electrocute yourself after unknowingly driving a screw through a wire. 

As he entered your house, Frankie was surprised by just how bare it was. He knew you didn’t have a lot, but he never expected this. The first thing he noticed was your bedroom, a stack of books next to a mattress resting on the floor. Not one set of sheets matched another, even the two pillow shams were wildly different. It was obvious you must have bought them from the local thrift shop, searching for quality over aesthetics. Despite this the room looked clean, and the bed was made with such precise edges it would have passed a military inspection with flying colors. 

Next was your living room and kitchen, no furniture and walls completely empty. Dark brown stains snaked down from the windows to the wooden floors, indicating where the leaks had been. Frankie made a mental note to search his attic when he got home, there must have been a few things collecting dust up there that he could give you. A bed frame at least, just to get you off the floor. 

“As you can see, I moved all the furniture into the middle of the room so we can paint,” you joked. 

Even though there wasn’t much to it, Frankie could see how proud of this place you were. It was a home you worked hard for. 

-

The two of you made quick work of the windows. Frankie did two himself, showing you each step then letting you off on your own. He was a skilled teacher. Never once did he speak down to you or make you feel incapable.  The way you squealed when you finished your first one by yourself made him smile. 

After that was done, he got to work on the door while you prepped the walls with tape. A dusty cordless radio drifted music lazily through the house. You swayed to the beat as you covered the water stains with a brilliant matte white.

 Ever so often he would steal a glance at you and marvel at how adorable you looked. So eager and bright eyed, elated to be painting a wall...of all things.  Anger ebbed its way into his chest once more. How much had that man taken from you, that you were simply happy to be alive? It must have been quite a bit. Just as he was getting done with the lock, Frankie’s phone rang, and he stepped out for a moment to speak. 

You realized then just how relaxed or even, dare you say, safe you felt in his presence. So many years had passed in isolation. You had forgotten what it meant to be content in the presence of another person…. especially a man. 

As he came through the door again, you looked up at him from your spot on the floor. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, kneeling beside you and taking up a paintbrush. “Lucy, she was calling to see if she could sleep over.”

“Oh that should be fun. Is this her first one?”

He cleared his throat, “uhh, yeah actually.” 

You could sense the anxiety in his voice,  “you know the family right?”

“Yeah, Lulu goes there all the time, I’m not worried about that, it’s just...” he trailed off, trying to find the words. “This is the first night I’ll be alone since she was born, it’s kinda weird to think about…. your kids growing up and not needing you.”

“You still have many years of her needing you Frankie, this is the easy part.”

He sighed, “I’m worried that I won’t be enough for her. Like I’m going to mess her up somehow.”

“You’re definitely going to mess her up, but that’s okay. I can’t think of a single person who wasn’t a little messed up by their childhood. That doesn’t mean you failed, you love her and you look out for her…. at the end of the day that’s all that matters.”

He reached over to dip the brush he was holding in the tray. “She’s already had so much happen, I don’t want to add to it.”

“With Katie, you mean?”

“She told you?”

You bit your lip, “well, she said that her mother lives in Disney World.” You watched him nod slowly and adjust the hat on his head. Lucy was right, he did have a few silver hairs peeking through the brown. 

“The last time we saw Katie, she was leaving for a rehab facility in Orlando. Lucy heard Orlando, and I guess assumed Disney... that was a few years ago.”

You set the brush down as you heard that information. “She hasn’t visited her since then?”  

“She left one night with a nurse who worked there, nobody’s heard from her.”

“You think she was having an affair?” 

The look on his face said it all, “but she was sick. It’s hard to know what was her and what was the addiction. The V.A screwed us over. She had a piece of shrapnel lodged in her hip after one of the guys in her unit accidentally detonated an IED. The V.A hardly covered therapy and never approved us for surgery because it wasn’t ‘life threatening.’ Every time we would go they would prescribe a bottle of oxy and send us home. The pain got worse after she had Lucy.”

You were quiet for a long time, simply allowing what he said to wash over you before speaking. “I’m sorry about that, I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.”

“You learn to make peace with it because there isn't much else you can do. My only concern now is Lucy growing up without a mom… I can already see how much it affects her.”

“Frankie, you need to give yourself a little more credit. I don’t think you are doing a bad job at all. In fact, you are doing more than most parents would. You are a wonderful dad, and just because Katie isn’t in her life doesn’t mean Lucy will be without a mom forever. You’re still young, you have so much time to find someone who loves you both.”

Your words made you feel bittersweet. They both deserved a woman who could be there for them, but you knew that woman would never be you. Maybe if you two weren’t both still married, and you didn’t have to leave in a few months. He didn’t even know your real name….

Frankie cleared his throat, not wanting the conversation to sound as if he was trying to imply something. “Yeah. You’re right, and I apologize if I kind of just dumped all that on you. I know that probably wasn’t what you wanted to talk about.”

“No, don’t apologize,” you assured him. “You can always tell me if something is bothering you.”

He turned his head to look at you, brown eyes meeting yours. 

God, he was lovely, strong yet soft. A little smile curled onto your lips as you gestured to the wall next to him. “Hey, it looks like you missed a spot.”

As he turned to look at the brush and gave a little swipe of it on his arm. When he looked back at you, his face held mock surprise. “How dare you.”

“That was for stealing my beach ball.”

He laughed “it’s not stealing if you were not fast enough to catch it.”

“It was in my hands, but the wave took it away!” 

“That’s called a fumble, so technically the ball’s fair game.”

You scoffed, though you were smiling. “Oh, as if!”

“Sorry I don’t make the rules” he shrugged. 

-

The sun was setting by the time you two were finished. Frankie had just finished cleaning up by the time you were getting back with the pizza. You felt nervous ordering it to your house, so you waited by the front office instead. 

“Dun dun dun daa” you announced, holding up the pizza like a trophy as you walked through the door.

“Wow. Dinner of champions” he smiled and watched you set it down on the counter. 

“Exactly, we did pretty good.” you put your hands on your hips. “Right, so I don’t have any real chairs, but I do have some pretty high end plastic ones that the previous renters left.”

“And you’re pulling them out just for me? I’m honored.”

“You should be,” you said then pulled the sliding door open to the backyard. When you returned you had two crummy, pollen stained chairs. 

You placed them down on the ground, then disappeared in your room to grab two wooden crates from the closet and a blanket. After you were done, you had something that looked similar to a table sitting in the middle of your living room. 

You turned to him with a smile, “don’t worry, you didn’t faint and wake up in Italy.”

-

“In summary, don’t let anybody from New York fool you. Central Jersey exists. It’s an actual place, I lived there,” you told him firmly.

“I’ll write that down if anybody ever tries to argue otherwise,” Frankie said. 

The clock on the microwave read one in the morning. The hours had passed by more quickly than either of you had realized. The two of you spoke about many things, though you had still made it a point not to mention much about your past. Even if today went well, information like that could change things and you couldn’t risk it just yet.

There was also a small part of you that worried he wouldn’t like you after he found out. Like you would spoil into damaged goods…..You did share with him a little though, mostly what it was like living up north in the bitter cold for most of the year. 

He yawned and leaned back in his chair a little. That small weight shift proved to be too much for the already ancient plastic. There was a loud crack and suddenly Frankie was on the floor. You gasped and were at his side in an instant. 

“I knew you didn’t like me, but trying to murder me? That’s low,” Frankie groaned and sat up.

“Shit, did you hit your head?” You immediately started combing through the curls on the back of his head to check for bleeding. 

“No, no, I’m okay-”

“If I knew they were so weak I never would have- I’m so sorry. I have an ice pack in the fridge, hold on let me get it.”

Frankie laughed and placed a gentle hand on your knee, reassuring you he was in fact fine. “I’m okay Summer, I promise.”

You looked down at his touch, then back up to his face, the two of you only inches apart. With a breath you let your hand fall to his shoulder, fingers gliding over the tanned skin of his neck. 

Your heart fluttered as he lifted his hand from your knee to caress the side of your face. It wasn’t the sort of touch you had become accustomed to. After being married to David for so long; it felt foreign in a way. As if you had forgotten what it was like not to be grabbed and groped by hands that were fearfully strong. 

You felt yourself leaning into him, calloused fingers brushing along the shell of your ear. A shiver ran up your spine at the feeling. 

Frankie tilted his head a little, voice coming out in a whisper even though you two are the only ones there. “Is this okay?”

You nodded and closed your eyes, feeling him inch forward hesitantly. His lips just nearly ghosted over yours when the phone in his pocket rang. It must have been Lucy. Nobody else would call at this hour. 

You pulled back and bit your lip, not meeting his eyes as you said. “You should answer it.”

Frankie couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment that the moment had passed. He would have given anything to kiss you then, even if just for a few seconds. He pulled the phone from his pocket and answered the call. 

It was Lucy, her little sniffles coming through the other line shifted him into dad mode immediately. “Hey baby, what happened? You alright?”

“C-can you pick me up?”

He sat up a little more, searching for his hat on the ground. “Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”

You reached for where it fell beside you and handed it to him. The sound of Lucy’s voice made your heart break. You could tell she was still crying. 

“Y-yeah I just wanna g-go home” she whimpered. 

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll be right over. Here, go pack your stuff and give the phone back to Miss Laura” there was a slight pause in the conversation before he spoke again. “Thank you, I’m sorry.”

An older woman’s voice came through. “Not a problem at all, she’s fine I think she just misses you. My two older daughters were the same way. I got plenty of these ‘mom can you come get me calls’. Just text me when you get here, I’ll have Lucy ready.”

“Alright, thanks” he said before hanging up.

With a deep sigh Frankie stood, then offered you a hand. You took it and allowed him to help you to your feet.

“I feel bad leaving you with a mess” he said.

You walked with him to the door. “An empty pizza box and a broken chair is not a mess. You’ve done more than enough today. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you. Honestly.”

He stepped out onto the porch and reached for the keys in his pocket. The jeep beeped twice and the rear lights glowed red. Normally Frankie would have never found the courage to ask,  but seeing as you clearly felt something too... “Let me take you out, next weekend or whenever you’re free. Just the two of us, I’ll get someone to watch Lucy.”

“Frankie…” you trailed off, looking away. “I don’t-”

“As friends” he added quickly, though the words stung a little coming out of his mouth. He just wanted to spend time with you it didn’t matter in what capacity. “You’ve been here for months, I think a little sightseeing is in order.”

‘Just as long as it wasn’t a date it would be fine’ you told yourself. The very last thing you wanted to do was lead him on then break his heart.  “Sure, I’ll see about switching with someone for Saturday…. and again, I apologize for trying to kill you.”

He looked at his shoes and smiled, thankful for the darkness that concealed the light blush on his face. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Jesus,” you laughed.

“Well I guess I’ll see you on Saturday then. Have a nice night Summer.”

“You too Frankie, and tell Luce I said hi.” 

With your hand on the door you stood, watching while he got into his car and drove out of sight.

-

As you settled in for bed that night you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, trying to imagine that it was Frankie there with you. The picture was beautiful in your mind: moonlight spilling through the curtains and illuminating his face. His arms, warm and safe as they held you flush with his chest. You thought about running your hand over his neck and threading your fingers into those coffee colored curls of his. The ones laced with silver and too often hidden beneath a hat. 

You nuzzled your face closer into your pillow and sighed as the image started to fade; alone again. Although you wanted it more than anything else in this world, it was a dream that was simply unattainable. For your safety was dictated by your ability to go unnoticed by those around you.

Still though, it felt like someone was holding your heart and crushing it from within. 

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