#but like there was a time when i would tear myself apart for you. mot even because i liked you that much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oghoneytryst · 5 years

Text

winter flakes.

UPDATED

request: harry is upset when he takes his love to meet his family, but they end up not liking her

where the holiday season brings upon a terrible first impression

a/n: yo pls read this is I M P O R T A N T lol ok so I'm trash. I wanted to write so many xmas one shots since I had time but now I just ... don’t. I wanted to finish this one before Christmas Eve bUT that didn’t happen so here’s an essential *part one*. I won’t make another post for part two, I'll just update it on here since I wanted it to be a one-shot and nothing more.

I just wanted to post this in case I actually don’t finish the rest tmrrw (today) but hopefully I get myself in check.

The second part has been added to this post, thus making this one-shot finished. Happy reading!

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She hides in plain sight, where fragments of white winter flakes sink from the clouds.

The sky is in full gloom, a gray nature that flawlessly exhibits her most inner emotions. A frown etches her face as powdery snow decorates the roofless patio, the couch cushions as stiff as ice. Behind her numb face is the infinite chatter of her teeth; her fists in the pockets of her creamy coat begin to lose feeling.

Somehow, it is warmer out here than it is inside.

She yawns silently, blinks away the icicles of fallen tears from her sad and wandering eyes. She knows she will fall ill soon, but perhaps it is in everyone’s best interest. She – sick in bed as the holidays go on without her. An absence in the family pictures is favorable over having to eventually cut her out with precision and an open-mind.

A reasonable part of her wishes she had declined Harry’s invitation to visit his family this holiday season. She would have had to spend Christmas and New Year’s alone, but she imagines it is better to be in her lonesome than in the company of people who dislike her.

It no longer matters. By some chance, it is better this way. At least now she can prepare for the meek outcome of her relationship’s future – or rather, a lack thereof.

Through the harsh yet whispering winds, she fails to hear the patio door slide open. With her back to her visitor, she stares out at the hibernating greenery, entirely entranced by the Earth’s chaotic intricacy.

“Baby,” Harry’s voice calls out. “What’re ya doing out here?”

She manages to shrug despite the startle that Harry gives her. “Needed some air.” Tiny inhalations temporarily sniffle the coldness away. She tugs her arms together in an empty self-embrace, hoping that it will still the shivers of her body.

Harry appears behind her, peeling the blanket he had stolen from inside so that it may envelope her entire frame with its great quilted pattern. She senses this added warmth and looks up to her right, gracious of Harry and his proud smile that peers down at her.

“Better?” he asks, long legs moving him around from behind the patio couch.

It is better, very much so. Yet, when he flumps down on the cushion next to her, she responds with a frown. “Now you’re going to be cold,” she reprimands. He wears nothing more than a puffy sweater, trousers, gingerbread socks, and slippers.

Harry leans forward, slim fingers switching the controls of the sleek fire pit table in front of them. “Why didn’t you turn this on then?” he asks, chuckling when she tries to pull him into the warmth of the blanket for two.

He allows her to wrap him up, two lovers cocooned with legs in a knot and hearts beating as one. His left arm slides around her, lazily squeezing her into his chest. She encloses his waist in a hug, slips a hand underneath his sweater and over his hip. She rubs tenderly with frozen fingers that make his skin tingle, not a single complaint hanging off of his tongue.

“Didn’t want to mess with it,” she answers, snuggling the tip of her nose deeper into his sweater. “Knowing me, I’d figure out a way to break it.”

“So, you’d rather freeze to death?”

“Better than having your mother angry at me.”

“She’d never.” His chin meets with his chest, lump limps against her head. It isn’t so much a kiss, rather a little something that lets her know he’s there. “You should be inside, having a little girls’ talk or wha’ever. Mum’s made some hot chocolate, said she’ll start on the cookies soon.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine out here.”

It is important to note that only a handful of months into their relationship and already does Harry adore her so much. A handful of months in and he has already studied and learned the shifting features of her strongest emotions.

Ecstatic is when her eyes crinkle. They practically disappear behind her happy cheeks, front teeth blossoming with power.

Angry is when she appears neutral. If not for the haunting flare of her nostrils, he would end up playing a dangerous game between his oblivion and her temper.

Hungry – yes, to her it is an emotion. Apart from her rumbling tummy, she has this certain pout that his lips find irresistible.

Whether her demeanors are bold and obvious or faint and unnoticeable, he is aware of them all. Whether he can see her face or not, he knows. It is in the way she speaks, the way she holds onto him as though he is only possible thing that can calm her mind.

He asks then, “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” because she is sad, in the simplest of terms. He doesn’t quite know why – figuring it out on his own requires a little more patience and expertise. For the moment being, he only focuses on her sullen blue mood.

“What do you mean?”

Harry expects her dumbfounded response, along with the slight stiffening of her body. “You trust me, yeah?” he tries instead, eyes to the crackling wisp of the fire.

She raises her head to him, an instant, “Yeah,” as her answer. She doesn’t doubt the confidence she has in him.

Harry pouts with a now delicate grip on her chin. “Then be truthful with me, please?” He loves this position they’re in, where two bodies connect in such an innocent way, an invisible link between their loving eyes. “I don’t want you alone in whatever’s bothering you. You and me, that’s us, alright? No exceptions.”

Her lover seals this promise with a spongy kiss. She admires the way he breathes her in and out, specifically because she likes that certain smell of his. Their mouths melt as one; his tastes of that delicious chocolate liquid that lingers on his lips.

When he pulls away – and god, she doesn’t ever want him to – his green eyes glaze with the upmost sincerity that has her sighing in his arms. From this he knows that he has won, but her prefers to consider it as earning her vulnerability.

He is patient with her, but even then, she is wary. No exceptions, he had said. None, unless it concerns the people most important in his life.

“I kind of ... I didn’t want to start anything,” she begins, evidently avoiding those piercing eyes of his. “Still don’t. Even mentioning it might ... I don’t know, ruin something? And that’s not what I want, because you’re so content right now and I want you to stay that way. I don’t want to be a trouble.”

“Are you trying to say that you’re some kind of burden?” Harry quizzes, suspicious of her spiel’s direction. “Cos’, honest, whatever concerns you is my problem too. If you’re not happy with something, neither am I.”

“That’s the reason, baby!” She sits up straighter, and he tries his hardest not to melt around his girlfriend. For her to call him such an endearment is something he truly loves. It is thick like honey, dripping down the chambers of his heart. “I don’t want you to be upset. If I don’t tell you, at least for the time being, then it won’t affect you. At a time like this, I think that’s pretty important.”

“No!” he argues, eyebrows knitted like the sweater he wears. “No, that’s ... what’s important is that you’re honest with me. ‘Bout anything, at any time. Still don’t even know why you’re upset. You just gotta tell me, I’ll help you. If I didn’t care about you all the time, then I’d hope you’d break up with me for being a dickhead.”

“It won’t be on my part,” she says under her breath, never intending for him to hear. To her dismay, the winter winds are not nearly loud enough to mask her voice.

“S’cuse me?” Harry raises, no longer slouch against the couch. “What do you mean by that? Are you saying that I’m just going to date and dump ya?”

“No.” She shakes her head, repetitively, as if to further deny his assumption. “You know I don’t think of you that way.”

“Alright, then what is it?”

“It’s ... it’s complicated. More than you think, or maybe not ... can we just talk about it later?”

Harry states her name in such a way that is frightening, serious, even emotionless. This is a first in their relationship – the first time he’s ever been so strict with her.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to call my mum and sister out here to drag it out of you.”

His darling’s face expresses shock up to her eyebrows and down to her chin. She shakes her head again, this time more frantic and desperate. “No,” she pleas, gripping onto his cold hands. “Please don’t. Harry, I swear I will never forgive you.”

A spontaneous spill of words conceives her threat. Her bottom lip quivers, her rapid tongue suddenly dry as she waits for Harry to settle back against the couch.

Harry, however, is frozen. He doesn’t know if he is hurt; if he is, he doesn’t know what for. It is just something about this warning of hers that makes him feel weird.

“Forgive me?” he questions, his voice now smaller than hers. “Forgive me for what? Have I done something? Am I the reason you’re upset?”

The look on his face is heartbreaking. She frowns at him again, gently smoothening her fingers over his hands to explain to him, silently, that no, he is not the reason. While in their future – if there even is one – they will have many arguments where he is the one at fault, or she is the one to blame, he currently does nothing to make her feel this way.

For this reason alone, she knows she has to tell him. He is here for her in this blistering cold. He had promised he would be. In such an unfamiliar place as his mother’s home, he is her common, her serenity. This is something that she has to trust in.

“It’s not you,” she confesses, nervous as her eyes begin to dart from side to side. “It’s because ... your family. They hate me.”

Silence. Her heart beat ironically aches in her chest. She tries to find a reaction in his body language; a head tilt in her peripheral, a twitch in his fingers. Instead, there is nothing, which only makes her want to scream.

“Hate you?” Harry blinks, cautious about whether or not she kids with him.

“Hate, dislike ... does it really matter?”

“...No. You’re right, no, it doesn’t matter.” Harry is unyielding, which makes his girlfriend raise her head with surprise. He leans forward, green eyes burning into hers. “Cos’ they don’t feel either way about you. Why would you even say something so ridiculous?”

She cranes her neck up a little, eyebrows soaring in defense. “Have you even been paying attention the entire time since we’ve gotten here?”

“Of course, I have. Haven’t seen anything less than a smile directed toward you.”

“It’s not that hard to fake a smile out of kindness.”

“This is my family we’re talking about. The people who raised me.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“Alright, so trust me then. They’d never hate the person I’m dating, ‘specially not after just a few hours of knowing them.”

“Seems like there’s a first for everything.”

“Or you’re just being extremely paranoid.”

At this, it is her turn to feel hurt. The word stings a little, especially since she knows she’s right. It is an intuitive gut-feeling; a negative energy surrounds her all afternoon. Harry somehow foreshadows his fate. She is upset, but now it is all because of him.

In an impulsive tantrum, she throws his hands down to his lap. Her body turns away, arms crossing over her chest like a grumpy child. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” she grumbles, ignoring the burn she begins to feel in her nose.

Harry knows his family. He knows these accusations of hers are nearly impossible. Though, he also knows that his love had been nervous to come here – and this gesture of hers! It is so harsh and abrupt; it is very unlike her. Harry hates that he only notices her distress over his unintentional name-calling after the damage had already been done. He had promised to be tender, but now his guilt overpowers every fiber in his foolish being.

“Hey ... none o’ that,” he mumbles, reaching out to sling an arm around her shoulder, a gentle hand on her knee. He is afraid that she will push him away, a dent in their relationship that is entirely his fault. To his relief, she actually allows him to pull her in, even turns toward him a little. “M’sorry,” he coos. “So sorry, baby. I didn’t mean that.”

Harry presses his freezing dry lips to her temple, further murmuring his apologies. She is stubborn with where she is now, but rightfully so. Still, it is nice to have him so close.

“You can tell me anything,” he assures her. “You’re not being paranoid, I’m just ... being a dickhead.” Harry laughs, cursing the universe for this clever turn of events. “I’ll listen, alright? Please, talk to me.”

“You don’t believe me.” She rolls her eyes, hating how instantly she complies to his touch.

“Okay...” His face scrunches as he tries to work his way around this one. “But you’ve got to understand why I’m a little hesitant about it. Look, doesn’t matter. How ‘bout you explain to me why you think that way, hmm?”

His love begins to ease up a little in his arms. She reluctantly turns her head to him; an angry frown still taints her pretty face. In contrast, he smiles warmly, never once loosening his grip.

“...Gemma answered the door,” she explains, making Harry contently sigh.

“Uh huh,” he presses on. He prepares his ears to catch onto any faint detail that he can use to dissect her version of their visit.

“And she was really happy at first because, you know, you.”

“Right.”

“But she kind of like ... interrupted us? Because she opened the door without us even knocking. So, you were whispering in my ear about ... things and because of that, her sudden presence took me by surprise.”

Harry smirks. He had been whispering to her, alright. Whispering about things that his sister definitely doesn’t want to hear.

“So, when she came to hug me, I was still in that sort of shock, y’know? So, I was really stiff and I didn’t even hug her back. It was terrible! When she pulled away, she had this awkward look on her face.”

“I don’t think that means anything. She was probably just taken aback, same as you. Doesn’t mean that it was bad or that she hates you.”

His girlfriend scoffs. This is how he knows she has much more to say.

“That was nothing compared to your mother. I didn’t even hug her, Harry! She came in for one, or maybe just a kiss on the cheek, and I was so nervous that I just ... turned away! Do you realize how bad that is? Everyone in the kitchen just looked at me like ... like I was some kind of spoiled brat.”

“But you said it yourself,” Harry rebuttals. “You were nervous. I’m sure my mother understood that. She knows I wouldn’t date someone so self-absorbed.”

“Oh really? Is that why I keep seeing them whispering to each other? Even worse, when they instantly stop once they see that I’m in the room?”

“Alright!” Harry stands up from the patio couch. “I’m going to settle this, and when I’m right, I want a cuddle.”

Her eyes bulge out of her head when she sees her boyfriend rise. She leaps to his side, holding onto his hand as though she is clinging onto the last bit of life.

“What are you doing?” she cries. “Please, don’t say anything. Don’t you dare say anything, are you crazy?”

“How do you expect this to be resolved if I don’t bring it up to them?”

“I am begging you not to. Please ... don’t.”

Harry pauses, staring into her anxious eyes and then to the skin-tight grip she has on him.

He sighs. “Okay. I won’t mention anything, but I am going to figure this out. Whether that means bringing you into the conversation or not.”

“That’s ... fine,” she settles, though she is a little wary of how he will manage to fix any of this. “Can I just ... hold your hand for a little longer?”

Her beloved smirks, taking his rightful place next to her on the couch. He lets her wrap his larger hands in hers, a tick that he now learns is what she does when she’s nervous. She’d done it when they had first arrived, and she does it now.

“You’re gonna have to let go some time,” he points out, though smitten with the peace she finds in him.

“I know, just ... a little longer, okay?”

He nods, raising their clump for hands to press a kiss on her knuckles. “Tha’s fine with me.”

~~~

In the face of her reluctant separation of hand-holding, Harry is content when he persuades his girlfriend back into the warm confinements of his mother’s house.

The two of them walk past the sliding patio door, shuffling away the snow in a living room exuding lively chatter. There are family friends in the mix, extrovertly stunning individuals who sit on cozy cushions with fishbowls of wine in their grips. They’re kind people, a hilarious lot, although she fears their previous talk in these walls.

For a short moment, the queasy uproar in her chest subdues. Anne and Gemma are missing from the bunch. The most vital of Harry’s blood and bones whom she cannot blame for any of this. In actuality, it is she who is the root of the problem. Her mannerisms, her presentation – she has failed herself. She has failed Harry.

“Alright.” Harry folds the quilted blanket upon locking the sliding glass door. “I think they’re in the kitchen. Would you like to come with?”

She takes a studious gander at the living room. The other guests had only spared the couple a glance upon hearing them walk in. Besides that, they had returned to their chirpy conversations with ease. Their laughs bounce off the walls; the couples discreet chat goes unnoticed.

“N-No.” She shakes her head. Here, in a room full of persons, she is practically invisible. She is safe.

Harry nods, hanging the blanket over the back of the couch. “Okay.” He slips his hand right underneath the side of her jaw, puckering his lips on her forehead. “I’ll be right back then.”

She is frantic again when he says this, pulls him back by the arm as he begins to walk away. “Don’t say anything,” she warns him once more, this time with much more intensity. It is clearly moot to him how ashamed she will feel if he so much as even mentions her sad emotions.

“I won’t!” he whisper-yells, mimicking her look of absurdity with nothing but loving intentions. “Why don’t you sit down, eh?” He flicks his head to the opposite end of the couch where an entire cushion is available to her. “Next to Michal. Y’think you’ll be okay with that?”

She grimaces, side-eyeing the man’s harmless appearance. “Gemma’s boyfriend ... he probably hates me by default.”

Harry snickers, unable to resist another kiss on her sweet face. “Adorable.”

He backs away from her reach in dance: bends his arms and sways his hips. The glare she sends contrasts his cheeky wink, and he is off to the kitchen.

It is true that he doesn’t want to lie to his darling. It is obvious how in distress she is over this, but he believes that it is nothing more than a mild illusion, a product of her nerves. Surely his mother and sister will find it endearing that she worries so much over their approval. He can fix all of this in a matter of minutes.

“...not know what he’s thinking.”

Harry’s stroll comes to a halt in the hallway, the light of the kitchen cutting diagonally across the floor. He hides in the shadows, up against a wall where his mother and sister cannot see him. Eavesdropping is a dirty thing, but something about his mother’s voice is strange.

Curiosity killed the cat.

“He’s blind to it,” Gemma adds in, a hint of secrecy in her tone. “But that’s him. He grows obsessed, then he gets ... I don’t know, bored?”

Harry narrows his eyes. Are they speaking of him?

“A simple and kind person,” Anne tuts. He can hear her place batter on the cookie sheet. “That’s all I want for him. Why is it so hard?”

“Why don’t you tell him then?” Gemma asks, then pauses. He can imagine her sipping on her wine, licking the elegant flavor off her lips. “Maybe he’ll be open to the idea of you setting him up. He trusts your word more than anyone else.”

“I do have a couple of people in mind that I’d like him to meet, but it’s as you said. He’s obsessed. He won’t listen now. We’ll just have to ... wait it out, see how long it goes for.”

Wait it out? He’s utterly lost, but at the same time, he fears what he already knows.

“Do you think...” Gemma begins, “Okay, this might be a tad harsh, but do you imagine she’s here because her own family didn’t want to spend the holidays with her?”

The question is a bullet to his heart. He blinks rapidly with a face that twists; disbelief washes over all of his senses. Had he heard it wrong? His lovely sister would never be so cruel. Is this all a misunderstanding solely on his part?

His mother. Oh, his dear mother. Her response is the icing on the cake.

“Poor girl. I can’t even begin to think what family must have raised her.”

He won’t lie – it hurts. Their gossip hadn’t meant to belittle him or his decision making. In a strange type of way, he understands where they’re coming from. They love him. They want what’s best for him.

Nonetheless, understanding doesn’t make him any less upset. It doesn’t make him any less confused, overwhelmed, absolutely livid. This side of his family is a disappointing shock and it makes him a little sick.

Of anything else, he feels for his lovey. While this mess concerns him, it is not about him. In the end, she had been right, and he had been selfish. He had dismissed her, had disregarded her intuition and her discomfort, all because he had much more faith in his family than in her.

His mother and sister’s conversation becomes a jumble, not as if it matters much anyway. He had heard what he had heard, and they had moved onto a new, safer topic as unbothered as one would be flipping through the channels on the telly.

He takes a minute to calm himself, inhaling and exhaling before pushing himself off the wall. A few nervous clicks of his knuckles and he stumbles into the light with more to prove than before. His heavy footsteps garner their attention mid-conversation.

They greet him with twin smiles, but he responds in a boiling, amusing stare. Leaning against the counter opposite to the island, he crosses his arms and nibbles inside his cheek.

“Everything alright?” Gemma asks, noticing his stare-down with the tile floors. He is in thought, a distracting amount of it, and it is concerning to his sister – his sister that knows him so well.

Harry opens his mouth, lips silently stuttering over infinite responses. How could he go about this in a way that is civil amid his lingering vexation?

“Mother o’ mine,” he comically says, full out ignoring his sister’s question.

The pair of ladies look at him with curiosity, but it is not in an eager or silly way. It is tense. Stiff. Suspicious.

“Darling?” She smiles, setting the batter aside. Her chin tilts up, her soft features almost overpowering his will. How could he possibly be mad at the woman who’d given him everything?

He wants to give her a chance. He wants to believe that he’d been right. Very casually does he mention the chat he’d had with his girlfriend, her name that twitches the gleam in their faces. Though it is only a slight falter, a millisecond of a reaction, he had seen it.

“It’s funny.” He laughs, raising his head in the gravity of his words. “She’d said something to me that I found quite ... mmm, ridiculous, I’d say. Unbelievable, even. I couldn’t quite believe it myself, but for her sake, I listened. That’s what a person in a relationship does, after all. So, she’d said to me that she was, ehm, she was feeling a bit down.”

Anne frowns. “Oh no, darling. What about?”

“What about? Well, she’d said ... hmm, how did it go? In her words, as best as I can remember it anyway, she’d said, your family hates me. Yeah, tha’s what I heard.”

At this sated accusation, the faces of the two women grow paler. Gemma freezes, while Anne swallows in discomfort. Her eyes search for a way out of this maze, but her beautiful son does not allow it.

“Doesn’t that sound ridiculous, mum?”

“It does,” Gemma answers. She easily catches onto how they have to team up against Harry’s spontaneous quips.

He smiles again. “Right. After all, she’d been devastated to find out that she couldn’t travel to spend the holidays with her family. The snow just wouldn’t allow it. Cancelled her flight and everything.” He steps up, leans forwards now with his palm gripping the edge of the island. “And you had been so kind as to welcome her into your home. So, really, how could you possibly hate her?”

His gaze is unbearable. His mother feels as if she had committed a crime.

“Of course,” Anne chuckles, “that’s – it is ridiculous. I don’t ... hate her.”

“And you, Gem,” he switches his interrogation. “Of all the ... questionable people I’ve been obsessed with, it doesn’t seem sensible that the one simple and kind person I’ve finally ended up with, turns out to be someone you hate, right?”

Gemma raises a brow as the intensity of his stare increases. Their eyes – her dark ones, his light ones – from the same genes collide in a battle. Together, in a team setting, they are competitive, supportive, and practically unstoppable. Apart, in a duel against each other, it is an all-out war.

She never gives in, no matter how grueling. She is as stubborn as he is, but this time, she knows. She knows that the longer she plays this game of his, the winner he will become.

“Oh, stop it!” She folds the towel and turns away from his mocking smirk. “I’m not doing this!”

“Gemma!”

“What? I’m not going to sit here and lie to him.”

“Oh really?” Harry asks, hands on his hips. “Just like you two have done all evening?”

“We haven’t lied!” she defends in a high-pitch.

“You said you didn’t hate her!”

“We don’t!” Gemma sips her wine, commenting very quietly that: “We just don’t like her.”

“Gemma!” Anne repeats. It astounds her that her daughter would be so blunt, but she can’t bring herself to disagree.

Harry shakes his head in shame. Not of his own, nor for bringing his love to this place, but for the distaste of his own blood. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “It is actually unbelievable. And after all of the boyfriends of yours I defended.”

“Oh, don’t be such a knob.” His sister glares. Her wine glass is lonely on the island counter. “Anyone in my past hadn’t nearly been as impolite as her.”

“Impolite? Wh—” Harry turns his head from side-to-side. He wonders if anyone else can hear the absurdities. “When has she ever been impolite?”

“Darling,” Anne speaks up. She’d been quiet, nervous about where this sensitive topic would end up going. It had not finished well. “Why don’t we just leave this as it is?”

“No! No, I will not—”

“Harry, please, it’s just not worth it.”

“Not worth it?” He questions, a pattern of the sorts ensuing. Every ridiculous thing they say, he has to repeat. They have to hear it again, from his opposing tongue, and maybe then they will come to terms with how unreasonable they’re being.

“Can you honestly tell us that she’ll be here in a year’s time?” Gemma says, a bit sincerer than she’s been.

“I ... how am I supposed to know that?”

The two women give each other a look. It only boils his blood more.

“Don’t do that!”

“It’s a simple question, Harry.”

“It’s not so simple to answer given that you two don’t even like her! I mean, what – what could you possibly not like about her? What has she done?”

“She’s just ... rude,” his sister answers, his mother nodding in agreement. “Reserved, but in a bad way.”

“She’s nervous!” he retorts, hands twitched out in frustration. “And rightfully so, given how you two are behaving. You’d think, that with all I have to go through in the media, you’d know better than to judge someone off of one unjust impression.”

“It’s has more to do than that,” Anne says, her tone so sweet that it makes his tummy ache. “It’s just a feeling.”

“A feeling? A hunch then?” He waits for her to nod, and then he nods, and suddenly no one is quite certain where this will go next. “Right. I’ve got one of those myself. I have a feeling, a very strong one at that, that I do want her to be here in a year’s time. But do I see her here, in another 365 days? No.”

The women are silent, this unexpected sincerity captivates them. Still, there is something circulating the air. It is thick and unsettling, the loud chatter from the living room beginning to echo into their private area.

“She won’t be, because who in their right mind would willing endure this kind of treatment? Oh, the family doesn’t like her. Big shame. There’ll always be another one ready to take her in with open arms. She’ll realize that eventually, and she’ll go. None of this is worth it, as you’ve said, ‘specially not for me.”

The ticking of the wall clock has never sounded so ardent and bold. The more it ticks, the more of Harry’s vulnerability unravels from his monologue – his deepest fear. Tick, tick, tick. Seconds pass, but they are as torturous as lightyears. The trio grows weaker, the team of two at a loss for words. This steady beat in time makes no progress at all.

Harry sighs, a long one that devours them all. He steps around the island, throws an arm around his mother’s shoulders, the opposite hand on the crown of his sister’s head.

“I love you,” he says to Anne, then looks to Gemma. “Both of you. And I respect that this is your house. It’s your decision, I can’t change that. But I can’t stay here and pretend that it’s not a problem. It’s not fair to her.”

He finishes his sentence by giving them both a respective kiss on the head. They don’t respond, emotionless even, and he walks back into the hallway where the light does not blanket his creamy skin.

The guests are even chattier when he walks into the living room. He can easily spot his love on the couch, just as he had suggested. She scoots up against the end, the nearest person not even an arm’s length into her personal bubble of space. A majestic black dog is in front of her legs, head resting on her lap as she gives gentle rubs to his ears.

Harry smiles sadly. He had wanted to fix this for her. He had wanted to enjoy these days with her, to begin a tradition that everyone would be more than in favor of. He feels now as if he has done her wrong. Maybe there was more that he could have done, but she deserves better either way.

He walks over, opting to crouch down to her eye level next to the arm of the couch. She senses Harry, relieved to see his face of tranquility. She offers him a smile, but it shapes oddly at his less than neutral expression.

“M’sorry I didn’t believe you,” he says, with the softest eyes that had ever existed. He hopes that she can trust in his sincerity, that he truly is sorry for all that has happened. He doesn’t want her to hurt; he doesn’t want her to go through this mess when it clearly isn’t her fault. He adores her; hopefully that is enough for her.

She quizzes over his out-of-context statement, but when it does eventually hit her, it drowns her in deepest ocean. Her mouth gapes, wrinkles on her forehead, and the smallest, most innocent shake of her head.

“I told you not to say anything,” she remarks in the most precious voice. That is when his heart finally breaks.

“I know, baby.” His own voice is a little croaky. He pouts, and it isn’t exaggerated or playful. It is a genuine representation of his dismay. “M’ so sorry. You can have all the cuddles you want.”

A makeshift laugh exhales through her nostrils, but she sucks a meager amount back in when her vision glasses up. She won’t cry – although it is a very strong possibility despite her rapid blinks – but her entire mind, body, and soul reacts to this quite negatively.

Over all, this sucks. This holiday sucks and while Harry’s cuddles are therapeutic, she wants to revert to the darkness of the universe where the stars had first gathered her.

“C’mon.” Harry pulls her head down, sponging his lips right over the crease on her brow. It softens and smoothens, but she is still uncertain on the edge. “Let’s go.”

“What?” she questions, allowing him to clasp their hands tight. He pulls her up from the couch, murmuring his condolences to the large dog who sighs and trots away. “Wait, what are you – go where?”

She splits herself in two opposing halves: one follows Harry, but the other resists with heels dug in the floor. He directs her to the Christmas tree, where his path ceases in determination.

“Home,” he answers, freeing his hand to sift through the boxes of gifts. “We’re taking the presents with us.”

“What?” she whisper-yells, same as he had done to her, only hers is much more severe. “Are you out of your mind? W-we can’t just leave! Our bags!”

“Still in the car ... didn’t take them out.”

He can sense her glare burning on the back of his head. “I told you to take them out.”

“It was snowing hard, I was cold ... but now look ... didn’t even need to go through all the hassle.”

She grimaces at the pile that begins to appear at his side. Decorative paper seals all of the presents, wrapped by the two of them weeks prior. She feels useless in this situation, but he resembles something of a champion, a hard-headed competitor sprinting to his goal.

“Harry...” she whines, sneaking glances back at the oblivious guests. She hopes that they remain blind to the commotion he causes. “Please think this through.”

“I did,” he insists. “We’re not staying.”

“We can’t just leave.”

“You’re not comfortable here. We can spend the holidays by ourselves. Tha’s all we need anyway, right?”

Her mouth opens to protest his name again, but another voice calls out to him instead.

It causes him to tense up, a first in his life. He rises from his bent position and turns to find his mother and sister now present, with a certain concern scribbling their faces. He notices the obvious distance between them and his girlfriend, and it only increases as she takes discreet steps back in oblivious fear.

“Harry,” Anne tries again, smiling to his love the way a mother would smile to a stranger when her child misbehaves in public. “Please, don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have to leave.”

“We’re not staying,” he announces, a repeat in only a mere minute.

“Harry...” his girlfriend mumbles, to which sets an alarm off inside of him. In a second, he has her by the arm, pulling her behind him in protection.

“Harry, let’s talk about this,” Gemma offers, her once confident tone now lacking clarity. “For everyone’s sake, please.”

“M’sorry, but there’s been enough talking for now. I’ve heard everything I needed to. We’d like to spend the rest of the holidays in peace.”

She tugs on his arm now. “Harry...”

“By the way, mother...” Harry points up, reaching for the smallest box on his pile. He hands it to his bewildered mother, who takes it hesitantly. “You can keep that. It’s from her. She spent weeks worrying about what to get you, said she had to get you a gift on her own rather than just writing her name on mine. Said it was really important to her.”

Anne frowns, fingers still as ice on the square box. “Sweetheart...”

“It’s a lovely pair of earrings,” he reveals with a shrug. “Wouldn’t let me pay for it either. Cost her a few paychecks.”

“Listen to us, we’re really sorry—”

“No, m’sorry, but I really don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s our tradition to spend the holidays together!”

“Harry...”

“I thought it was our tradition to be kind to people.”

“Harry...”

“Stop it, we haven’t done anything!”

“That is just laughable, Gem—”

“Baby...” she states, her voice still soft but more stern than previous.

The instant clench of his heart causes his lips to seal; his ears open up to the sound that he had been accidentally ignoring in the midst of his defense. He looks to his love, who has found enough courage to step beside him than hide in the privacy of his tall frame.

“Give me the keys to the car.”

Harry twists his face. “What?”

“Give me the keys,” she repeats, eyebrow shooting up for emphasis.

“What for?”

She looks to the floor, her hand still firm in his. She feels their eyes on her, but she can’t seem to figure out if it is in envy or curiosity.

“You obviously don’t want me to stay here,” she confesses, “So I’ll just go back home and you can spend this time with your family.”

The silence that follows her quiet explanation is almost like a near-death experience. She doesn’t know what will happen, but in a millisecond, it feels as if the end awaits her.

Harry chuckles. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I’ll be fine—”

“You are not spending the holidays by yourself!”

“You are not leaving,” she persists, and there he sees it: the flare of her nostrils. “This is your family, Harry.”

“And you’re my girlfriend,” he retaliates, the word ever-so loving on his tongue.

She smiles, but it is sorrow in every way. “Doesn’t nearly compare.”

“That’s not—”

“Look, we can talk about it ... we’ll talk about it next year,” she tries as a joke, but it sounds disgustingly distant. “Just give me the keys—”

“No, no,” interrupts her command, not from Harry, but from the woman who loves him more than she’s ever loved anything, alongside his sister.

The couple turn to Anne, who shakes her head at the both of them.

“No one is leaving.” Anne looks at her, whose blood freezes in circulation. “Darling ... I’m sorry about all of this. I didn’t mean for us to so clearly start on the wrong foot. It’s just...” she pauses, then reaches up to touch the side of her son’s tense face. “He’s my baby. I ... admittedly, might strive too hard over what’s best for him.”

“He’s very special to us,” Gemma adds, with a warm smile to her brother’s companion. “No matter how annoying he may be.”

“Hey...” Harry glares, but it’s with pure intentions alongside his growing grin.

“We’re not ones to assume so quickly,” Anne continues, “but I just couldn’t help myself this time. That was wrong of me, and I hope you can understand how sorry I am. If you’re still willing, I still need to go finish up the cookies. I’d love to get to know you better, putting all of this behind us, of course.”

She is speechless, to say the least. She hadn’t known how much she had wanted this approval until her offer opens up a gate of relief in her chest. “Y-Yes,” she agrees, a bit of a falter in her voice. She embarrassingly clears her throat. “Yes. That would ... be great. I um ... accept ... uh, your apology?”

She looks up to Harry, begging with her eyes to help her.

He smiles at her, kissing the top of her head with the upmost glee he’s ever had. “She’s shy.”

#honeytryst

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hope-for-olicity · 5 years

Text

Home for the Holidays 3/3

Merry Christmas Helen @oliverfel4! So sorry for the delay but due to your patience you are getting a multi-chapter story. I so hope you enjoy! Hugs - @hope-for-olicity

Synopsis: Captain Oliver Queen runs into CEO Felicity Smoak at O’Hare Airport as they head home for the holidays. The two have not seen one another since high school.

Also available on AO3

Felicity woke with a smile on her face. She touched her lips remembering how Oliver kissed her the night before. The man had talent. She sighed, stretched in bed. She’d definitely like more of that before he left.

“Good morning,” Oliver stood in the doorway, enjoying how adorable Felicity looked all cuddled up in bed. He wished he could hop in with her. Something told him, her mother would be just fine with that idea.

“Oliver!” Felicity began to straighten in bed. “Have you been up long? You must think we are awful hosts. My mom works nights so she often sleeps in.”

Oliver chuckled. “Actually, your mom has been up with me for a while. We are making breakfast, it’s almost ready.”

Felicity slanted her eyes. Her mother helped make breakfast?

Oliver could see Felicity was starting to get worried at the prospect of her mother cooking.“Okay, it was me. I made breakfast, your mother really helped with her encouragement.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute. I need to make myself pretty.” She joked as she began to get out of bed.

“You are already beautiful to me,” Oliver said softly before turning away.

Felicity couldn’t help but blush.

→→→→→

Oliver found he quite enjoyed the Smoak women. They clearly loved one another very much but they were very different.

They had just finished breakfast in Donna’s cozy little kitchen when she turned to them, “so what are you kids up to today?”

“Felicity and I have a date.” Oliver declared, smiling brightly.

“Oh, do you?” Donna looked at her daughter.

“Yes mother, the man you told to ravish me last night is making an honest woman of me today. Taking me out to lunch. Isn’t that right, Captain Queen?” Felicity smiled.

Damn, the way Felicity said Captain Queen, almost made him forget her mother was sitting right there. “Yes,” he managed to sputter. Oliver began gathering the plates from the table to clean up.

“Sit down, Oliver. You did the cooking, I’ll do the cleaning.” Donna shooed him away from the dishes. “Why don’t the two of you get ready and head out. You can borrow my car if you like. Oliver, did your parents say when they would be getting back?”

“Yes, ma’am. They said they’d be back around two. I was going to go to lunch with Felicity then head back to the house.”

Donna giggled. “You called me ma’am, you really don’t need to. Just Donna is fine.”

“Donna,” Oliver emphasized her name. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here last night. It was very much appreciated.”

“It was our pleasure, Oliver. Wasn’t it, Felicity?” Donna nudged her daughter.

“Yes, of course.” Felicity felt slightly embarrassed at her mother reminding her to be mannerly.

Oliver reached over, squeezing Felicity’s hand. “I’m just going to get my things together. Maybe then we can head out. Take a tour of the downtown, see what’s changed.

“That sounds great.” Felicity smiled at Oliver before turning to her mother. “Mom, I’ll head back here after I drop Oliver off, maybe we can make some cookies before tonight’s Christmas Carnival outing.”

“Christmas Carnival?” This sounded like something Oliver could get in on. He couldn’t explain it but he really just wanted to be with Felicity.

“Yes, I told you mom and I do all the holiday traditions here in Star City. Maybe we’ll see your family there tonight. It tends to be well attended, right mom?” Felicity turned to her mother.

“Yes, dear, very well attended.” Donna nodded at Felicity. She then turned to Oliver. “I’m sure your family will go, Oliver, they are big supporters of community events, in fact, I think your mother was on the organizing committee.”

→→→→→

Oliver and Felicity spent the rest of the morning wandering around the town. Felicity even helped him pick out a few presents for his family. “I know they will love your presents, Oliver but I think having you home will be the best gift of all.”

Oliver smiled. He was really excited to see his family. He could hear the tears in his mother’s voice when he talked to her last night. It suddenly struck him, He couldn’t wait to tell his mother about Felicity.

Felicity continued to look at items in a local craft shop. “Oliver, do you need any other presents? I just found this stunning painting of Star City harbour.”

Oliver walked toward her. “That is stunning.” He looked at the painting over Felicity’s shoulder. “No, I’m finished my shopping. What about you? Do you need to get anything? I know you don’t celebrate Christmas but do you do gifts?”

“We don’t officially exchange gifts but as I didn’t come home I used to send something to my mother at the beginning of the season. She always said she understood my not coming. We talked every night during Hanukkah but I wanted to show her I missed her. This time, I brought us home some fancy hot chocolate to share.” Felicity rubbed her hands together as they headed out of the warm store into the cold street.

Oliver took her hand in his, “I think it’s time for some Big Belly Burger. What do you think?”

“I think I’m all.” Felicity smiled, knowing she meant that in more than one way. She really should be freaking out this man was about to go back to war but she was so happy to have found him and have this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to worry.

→→→→→

They headed back to the car their bellies full of Big Belly Burger. “Ugh, I think I get the name now. It tasted so good but now I totally have a big belly.” She winked at Oliver as he got in the passenger seat.

Felicity went to put the keys in the ignition when Oliver took her hand. “Felicity, I know you are taking me back to my parents but I don’t want this to be over. I hope to see you tonight and other time you can find for me when we are home. I understand this trip is to visit your mother, I don’t want to infringe on that but, I really like you and being with you….” Oliver trailed off.

“Feels right. Like you are at peace? I mean, I don’t want to put words in your mouth but that’s how I feel. I really like you to, Oliver. And I know I should be freaking out because we have such little time before you ship out again but I can’t because I’m enjoying each moment too much. So if this is all we have, I want to be happy now.” Felicity blushed. “I hope I didn’t say too much. It’s just, I really like you, Captain Queen.”

Oliver knew exactly what she meant and the fact that they were on the same page, filled him with happiness. He quickly reached over pulling her into his arms for a kiss. He meant it to be a quick kiss but that’s just not what they did.

Felicity laughed as the pulled apart noticing the steamed up windows. “Well, now we will be the talk of the town. Kissing in a parked car on Main Street. My mom would be proud.” Felicity couldn’t stop smiling.

“Happy to help.” Oliver beamed.

“Okay, let me take you home. Text me when you know what you are doing tonight. I want to meet up.” Felicity turned on the car waited a moment for the windows to defog before pulling out onto the street.

“You just want more kisses.” Oliver teased. He couldn’t remember ever being this happy before.

“Well, of course. You give good kisses, Captain Queen.” Felicity gave him a smile before turning her attention back to the road.

→→→→→

As soon as Felicity pulled up in front of Oliver’s house the front door swung open and Oliver’s sister came running out.

“I have to go. But I’ll text.” Oliver leaned over, giving her a quick peck on the lips before opening the passenger door to hug his sister.

“Thea! Are you taller?” He squeezed her tight before waving to his parents waiting in the doorway. He pulled away from Thea to grab his bag from the trunk then walked back to the house. Where he was hugged by both his parents.

His mother sobbed. “I’m so happy you are home.”

Oliver couldn’t lie there were tears in his own eyes. He thought of his family so often when he was deployed, now he was here. He was with his family and everything was wonderful.

→→→→→

Felicity spent the rest of the afternoon making cookies with her mom. They ordered pizza for dinner and ate it while watching a Hallmark Christmas movie. She was so happy. But she missed Oliver just a little bit. Felicity phone buzzed, smiled seeing Oliver’s name.

Oliver: Miss you lots

Felicity: I miss you too

Felicity: We are a fine pair of saps

Oliver: I don’t care

Felicity: How is family time?

Oliver: Amazing, I missed them so so much

Oliver: But I wish you were here

Oliver: Maybe you could come over tomorrow?

Felicity: Sure

Felicity: You are going to the Christmas Carnival tonight, right?

Felicity was suddenly worried he was going to say no. This was silly, she was with him all morning. He deserved time with his family.

Oliver: I’m going even if my parents don’t but I think we are all going

Felicity: Can’t wait to see you

Felicity: Mom and I are heading over around 730

Oliver: I’ll try to get us to go at the same time

Oliver: I’ll text when I’m there

Felicity: See you soon

Oliver: For sure

Felicity put her phone down.

“Well, Felicity I can’t believe it. You’re in love. Although I’d be surprised if you weren’t, Captain Queen is quite the catch. I’m so happy for you, baby.” Donna pulled her daughter in for a hug.

Felicity was too overwhelmed with emotions to deny it. She was in love with Oliver Queen. She’d never believed in love at first sight...maybe she was wrong.

→→→→→

Oliver was so excited to go the Christmas Carnival he managed to get his family to go early. He looked around at all the twinkle lights strung above, the booths selling food, drinks and wares. It started to lightly snow. It really was lovely. Oliver smiled.

Oliver’s mother Moira walked over, hugged her son. “Oliver, I love seeing you so happy. I can’t wait to meet, Felicity. I’ve heard about her from her mother but I can’t recall meeting her when you were young.”

“I don’t think you would have. I’m glad you will meet her now. She’s really special, mom.” Oliver looked ahead hoping to see her.

“Well, anyone that brings you this much happiness, I can’t wait to meet her.” Moira chuckled. “I think I see them, isn’t that Donna Smoak?”

Oliver looked in the direction his mother pointed. He began walking toward Felicity, whose head was down looking at her phone. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, he suspected it was a text sent from Felicity saying she arrived. He stopped in front of her. “Felicity.”

“Oliver,” she smiled before going up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. “It is so nice to see you.”

Oliver took her hand. “Hello, Donna. I was going to bring Felicity over to introduce her to my family, do you want to come with us?”

“I’ll join you in a moment, I just need to say hello to someone. Go off and have fun.” Donna waved as she headed in the opposite direction.

Oliver rubbed his thumb over Felicity’s gloved hand as they walked toward his family. He could sense she was nervous, he wanted to provide some support. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “They are going to love you.”

“How do you know?” She whispered back. “I have a habit of saying the wrong thing when I’m nervous.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time. After we meet them, I’d like to take you away for some alone time. If that’s okay.”

Felicity blushed. “That’s more than okay.”

“Felicity, it is so lovely to meet you. Oliver has told us all about you. Thank you so much to you and your mother for taking him in when we were away.” Moira extended her hand in greeting.

Felicity shook her hand. “So nice to meet you, Mrs. Queen. It was no problem really, Oliver and I arrived on the same flight. I’m so glad to have met him again.”

“Felicity, this is my father, Robert and my sister, Thea. Guys, this is Felicity.” Oliver felt so proud to introduce her to his family.

“Are you the Felicity Smoak who runs Smoak Tech?” Robert couldn’t help but inquire.

“That’s me.” Felicity smiled.

“Well, it truly is an honour to meet you. You have accomplished so much. I hope we, meaning Queen Consolidated, will get the opportunity to work with you in the future.” Robert smiled.

“That would be amazing, Mr. Queen. I’ve always admired your company.” Felicity suddenly felt flustered. She reached out her hand and Oliver immediately took it in his own.

“Felicity, it is very nice to meet the woman who stole my brother’s heart.” Thea smiled.

“Well, he stole mine first,” Felicity mumbled.

“I heard that! I really like you, Felicity Smoak. I hope to get to know you better. Right now, I’m off to meet my friends at the skating rink. Did you guys want to come?” Thea nodded toward the rink in the distance.

“I think we are just going to wander around.” Oliver looked down at Felicity, she nodded. “Maybe we will see you there in a bit.”

→→→→→

Felicity smiled up at Oliver as they walked. “I’m so happy.”

“Me too.” He kissed her forehead.

“Is it bad, if I say I don’t want this to end?” Felicity tried to keep the worry out of her voice.

“No, because I don’t want this to end either. Felicity, there is something I should have mentioned. I’m finishing my final tour in Afghanistan. When I go back it’s to tie things up and do a handover. I’m officially retired from the Army as of February 28th.”

“You mean you are coming home, home?” She couldn't keep the excitement out her voice.

“Yes, I’m coming home permanently. I just didn’t know where I was going to settle. I thought about coming back to Star City and opening a restaurant but I can open a restaurant anywhere and I hope this is not too forward - I mean I don’t want to freak you out…” Oliver was trying to read her reaction before he continued.

“I want you to move to New York City with me! Please tell me you will!” There were tears in Felicity’s eyes.

“If you would be okay with it. I know we only reconnected yesterday but Felicity, I’m falling in love with you.” Oliver took Felicity’s cheeks in his hands.

A tear slipped down Felicity’s cheek. “Oliver, I’m already there.”

Oliver kissed her lips. Knowing she would be the last woman he would ever kiss.

→→→→→

One Year Later

“I’m so glad you two came home for the holidays!” Donna practically squeed with delight.

“Mom, it’s so good to see you.” She hugged her mother. “As Oliver’s restaurant isn’t opening until January we were able to swing it this year. We are so glad to come home.”

Oliver stood back watching Felicity and her mother. It had been a year and his love for Felicity hadn’t lessened, only grown. Yes, their were some growing pains but they worked through them and were stronger for it.

They were spending the first few days at Donna’s before moving to Oliver’s family’s house for Christmas. Felicity still didn’t celebrate but she was happy to be included with Oliver’s family.

Felicity enjoyed Christmas morning. She gave Oliver a lovely set of knives for cooking at home and he gave her the beautiful painting of the Star City harbour they had seen the year before.

While they both loved their families, they were happy to go to the Christmas Carnival themselves this year.

As they walked among the stalls. Oliver looked down at Felicity, “can I get you anything?”

She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Oliver Queen having you is all I’ll ever need. You make me so happy.”

“You are my always, Felicity.” Oliver got down on one knee in the snow. “Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes!!!” Felicity dropped to her knees in the snow with him. She began kissing him all over his face. “I love you, Oliver.”

“And I love you, Felicity.” Oliver slipped the ring on her finger. He was so very glad he came home for the holidays.

#Home for the Holidays #olicity fanfiction #olicity secret santa 2018 #MyFanfic

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promptothesunshineboy-blog · 7 years

Text

PromptoXReader slightly angsty fanfic with a never-before-seen angry/protective Prompto!

ReaderXPrompto fanfiction with a bit of angst~ But also a rarely seen angry/protective Prompto... spurred into action by angsty stuff~

Trigger warnings for: Self harm, violence, abuse.

This is largely (almost exactly) based on myself and my past/relationships and an incident that happened to me (and my brother) very recently.

There will be a bit of foul language including one particularly bad word.. but I will censor that one with a little star~ Its his favorite name for me though *bitter laughter*

[[Disclaimer (also slight spoiler for the story ahead I guess): In the real life version of this...Although he has hit me several times in the past, this time.. he did not hit me.. though he made a threatening move towards me. ]]

Your backstory: You never knew your biological father, who abandoned you and your mother soon after you were born and signed away all his rights to you. When you were still a young girl, your mother married who became your stepfather. He is a cruel and heavily alcoholic man. For 15 years he physically and mentally abused you; tore you down and made you feel worthless for the great duration of your life. He also regularly abused your mother, though you were always his main target. Your mother and he had 2 more children: your now 16 year old brother and 11 year old sister. Finally, years overdue, after a last-straw incident, your mother finally got up the nerve and divorced him. You are now a young adult in your early 20s, Your siblings, still minors and of his blood, are still required to have visitation with him. With you out of his grasp, your, now ex, stepfather has turned most of his aggression onto your brother.

You are traveling and fighting alongside your four best friends: Noctis, Gladiolus, Ignis, and Prompto. And, er, ok... you kinda have a big ‘ol crush on Prompto. The boys have been supportive and patient with you all along. They build you up and make you feel worthy and happy. You feel as though you’ve truly found your place in life alongside these wonderful friends of yours. Maybe even especially so in Prompto. You are all very close but theres a little something extra there with you and Prom...

Story starts under the cut.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your breath caught in your throat as you read the texts from your younger brother. On one hand, this was nothing new, you were aware how much he was affected by your, now ex, stepfather. Tiny cuts he tried to hide were the physical marker of his anguish. The very same man had affected you so deeply for the majority of your life... And you too had been there before; with the liquid red running from your body in the shower as you sobbed brokenly. You never wanted the same for them. You had always wished to protect your siblings from the same fate as you. He was a cruel man; violent, intolerant, and a dreadful alcoholic. He had put you through living hell for 15 years of your life. As a young adult now, on a journey with your 4 best friends in the world, you were just starting to rebuild some semblance of confidence and self-worth after the long years of abuse. You were a warrior and member of the crownsguard, fighting bravely alongside your friends. Nonetheless, your ex stepfather frightened you more than you would like to admit. And now came the desperate text messages from your brother, pleading for you to come get him. These texts carried an air of frightening desperation and left the blood draining from your face as you read them. The usually chipper blonde boy who sat beside you now had his brows knit together in concern as he studied your grave expression. Prompto hesitantly rested a hand on your shoulder “Hey, y/n, is... everything alright?”

You swiveled your head to face him, suddenly snapped from your daze. Blinking owlishly at the freckled boy, your voice carried a tremble as you told him about the texts. He listened intently, nodding as you spoke. He knew all about what your ex stepdad was like. You had opened up to the group on this matter before, in a tearful unloading met with many hugs and supportive words. The others had gone, on chocoboback, to the nearby marketplace not long ago, leaving you and Prompto behind where you had been engaged in an energized round of King’s Knight. Now, silence settled around the two of you for a moment as you sat alone together outside the RV. Prompto broke the silence, tilting his head a bit to catch your downcast e/c eyes “Hey... If you want, I’ll go with you.” The words were soft and soothing, calming your heart rate if only a small amount. You peered into his face with a small nod and a whispered “Thanks, Prom.”

You shot your brother a text as you climbed into the Regalia. Your trembling hands were best kept away from the steering wheel this time, so Prompto took the wheel. As he drove as cautiously as possible, the sunny blonde glanced over towards you and offered and encouraging smile. You return it with all the resolve you can muster, but your mind quickly turns back to worrying. Facing your tormentor, the safety of your brother, possible legal repercussions... ‘It was technically your stepfather’s legal right to have custody of your siblings right now. If you came and took them away against his wishes, he could potentially report you for kidnapping.’ You furrowed your brow. ‘And knowing him, you really wouldn’t put it past him to do it out of spite’ You flinched a bit as suddenly, the young man across from you reached over and slipped his warm hand over yours. You took a breath and focused on the comforting warmth of his larger hand over your own small, trembling one. Biting your lip, you resolved yourself. You absolutely could not leave them at his mercy, especially with the tone of your brother’s messages.

As you pulled into the dirt driveway of the small basement apartment that your ex stepfather lived in, you had no sooner stepped out of the Regalia when you were assaulted by a terrible commotion as your brother flew out the door, with your stepfather; all anger, beady eyes and beer belly, hot on his heels. Your little sister followed soon after, shouting at him to leave your brother alone. Protective instinct taking over, you hurriedly crossed the distance between you and your brother as the brute of a man caught the skinny youth by the arm and yanked him roughly backwards. Adrenaline rushed through your head. As your brother was grabbed, you barely recalled hearing Prompto’s panicked voice just behind you as he called out “Stop! Don’t do this!” shortly before you drowned it out with your own voice, raised in anger and fear all at once as you took hold of your brother and tried to free him from your stepdad’s grasp. “Let go of him!!” Your voice loud despite the crack in it. You wrestled your brother free, and he stumbled to your side where Prompto had apparently swiftly ushered over your sister in the heat of the moment and now stood with a hand on her shoulder. In that split second, it all shifted and your ex stepfather’s wrath was now on you. He charged you and forced you several steps backwards as his much larger frame closed in on yours. Everything was a flurry of sound and motion as everyone shouted, overwhelming your senses. The violent man leaned into you, inches from your face as he screamed. His breath was heavy with the scent of alcohol; it hit you like a blow to the gut as he berated you; “You stupid little c*nt! Get off of my god damn property! This is my son and I get to say weather he stays or goes! Me!! No one else! Especially not you, you piece of shit homewrecker! I will call the police and have your ass thrown in jail for kidnapping, you fucking c*unt! How dare you?! How fucking dare you?!?! You ruined this fucking family!!!”

His belligerent screaming rings unbearably loudly in your ears. Your eyes well with tears as you squeeze them shut and try to block out his words. The words everyone assured you was a lie. The words they said he spoke because he has a victim complex and was trying to manipulate you. And yet... the dread filled you as you stood, petrified, drawing into yourself and shuddering. You opened your eyes just in time to see him draw back his hand. The noise when the back of his hand hit your face was as sharp as the sting you felt, stars exploding in front of your eyes as you stumbled back,

No sooner had the moment of impact passed, however, then you witnessed, eyes wide, a sight you had never witnessed before. Prompto, the usual cheerful ball of sunshine, had crossed the short distance between the two of you with an expression that could only be described as feral. What happened in a split second seemed to play out in slow motion before your eyes. Prompto’s leather gloved hand, balled into a fist, collided with you ex stepfather’s face with the force of a train wreck. He reeled and stumbled away from you before his shirt collar was snatched up by Prompto’s free hand and the younger man drove him back with the full force of his lanky yet leanly muscled body. Fuled by protective fury, Prompto slammed the larger man roughly into the side of the house and held him there as a viscous growl tore from his throat, words cutting like a blade as he shouted “DON’T YOU DARE HIT HER!!” The world became still, save for the winded panting of the two men. The gentle blue eyes of your best friend were now a steely cobalt, trained unfaltering, on the eyes of your tormentor. Through gritted teeth he pushed words heavy with emotion “She is not the problem! She was NEVER the problem! And neither are these kids... YOU are!!”

No one said a word. Slowly, Prompto released his grip on the other man and backed away, never breaking the eye contact. His voice low, a tremble of raw emotion still laced within it, he spoke slowly and confidently “Y/n is.. the nicest and mot beautiful soul I have ever met. Despite you... despite everything... that you put her through. It only ever made her more kind. She is not the problem and never was. She is NOT what you call her. And I will not let you hurt her or these kids anymore..” His face was stern and his voice held a confidence and command such as you’ve never heard from Prompto before.

Hesitantly, your stepfather spits in the dirt near Prompto’s feet before muttering a begrudging “Some kind of white knight, ain’t ya? Fuck you.. Just you fucking wait...” With the shallow threat, he turned on his heel and stormed away into his apartment, slamming the door behind him. The four of you clamor into the Regalia and hastily pull away. Trembling fingers tap out a message to the other chocobros on your phone, explaining what’s happened. Quietly, from the back, your brother mumbles an emotional, yet drained “Thank you...” You look in the rearview at him and watch as he tugs down his sleeves over bandaged arms. You hung your head as a few tears fell silently. The silence was broken by Prompto’s shaking voice “I-I’m sorry... I just... I don’t know what came over me... but I couldn’t just let that happen.. I couldn’t bear to see it go on....” The freckled boy blinked away the fogginess in his eyes as he began to come down from his adrenaline rush and his emotions bubbled over. Cutting him off, you grabbed his hand between both of yours and squeezed it tight, tears spilling down your cheeks. “No, Prompto, thank you. For caring about me... for all those things you said. No one... no one has ever fought for me before.... I never thought... I was worthy of protecting...” A soft sob escapes you as you clutch his hand tightly.

Later, the rest of your friends meet up with the two of you and your siblings at your mother’s house. She came home from errands hurriedly after receiving your call. The rest of that night is spent in a makeshift group therapy session. The adults beginning to plan out what actions may need to be taken for the future. A better future. One where your tormentor can no longer hurt you or the ones you love. The sharing of feelings, tears, and many hugs evolves into games and laughter as the group shifts to trying to lighten the mood. Before you know it, the hour has grown late and you all decide to stay the night at your moms house. Its a small but warm and inviting place. A different house than the one you spent your formative years in. One with a new beginning.. As you lay on the couch and stare past the sleeping forms of Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis where they lay curled on the air mattresses upon the living room floor, a small movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention. From the extended recliner beside the couch, Prompto extends a hand toward you. You reach up and lace your fingers with his, enjoying the comforting heat of his touch. As you allow your intertwined hands to rest on the arm of the couch just above your head, you peer though the dark of the room at each other. There is just enough light to make his eyes twinkle ever so slightly, and you can make out a soft adoring smile on his face.. one which you return, heart swelling, before slowly drifting to sleep.

#prompto argentum #promptoxreader #fanfiction #ok im looking this over and i all reads a bit clumsily i feel like...#usually im a little more decent than this...#but when writing this i feel.. raw #so i guess it comes out feeling that way?#idk man enjoy the angst #vent writing #ffxv #final fantasy xv

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emba-93 · 5 years

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My Story pt. 1 and 2

So here is a little piece that I wrote after the second miscarriage. Reading it now is heartbreaking as I had no idea at that point how much much more was to come. I read this now almost from an outsider’s perspective as I was so full of hope and still had no grasp of the pain that was coming. Please be aware this will be huegely triggering to read and gets quite graphic in places. I’ve very much come to term with my issues towards recurrent miscarriage policies and why investigation has to wait until it’s happened more times.

“Miscarriage. Not a nice word is it? But that’s what it is. It’s not a *sympathetic face* LOSS. It’s not a stillbirth until you are 23 weeks pregnant. It’s a miscarriage. And thanks to hundreds of years of stigma surrounding people just absolutely do not talk about it. How can it be that something that affects 1 in 4 pregnancies is so socially avoided? I’d like to really drill down on the fact that it is 1 in 4 pregnancies. It’s not 1 in 4 attempts or even 1 in 4 women but 1 in 4 PREGNANCIES. That’s such a large proportion of people that go through this in their lifetime and yet how many people do you know that have had one? I personally have experienced 2 and on both occasions, there were at least 5 women in the same ward at the same time as me going through exactly the same thing. So why don’t we hear more about this life-changing event and why are women so afraid to speak about it?

My first miscarriage came in November 2018. I believed myself to be 12 weeks pregnant and we were just days away from the first scan. This pregnancy had not been planned but we were both over the moon and had already told our parents and a lot of our close friends as we already just so excited! Miscarriage wasn’t even something I’d thought about. Nobody talked about it. I didn’t believe I knew anyone who had gone through that and so all that was inside of me was excitement and nerves about a baby that I was sure would be with us in May. Three days before the scan I saw a small amount of blood when I had gone to the toilet. It was a tiny amount but it was there. I obviously Googled it and was filled with so many mixed messages. It was an ectopic pregnancy. It was a miscarriage. It was in an infection. I t was fine- just implantation bleeding. I then did the next best thing and asked my sister-in-law (a gynae nurse) what she thought it meant. Her advice was that it was probably nothing to worry about but I definitely go to a hospital to be sure. (In the months following this I did hear about a number of people who had experienced bleeding which had turned out to be nothing but I wasn’t one of the lucky ones)

That Monday morning we made the terrifying journey to the nearest hospital which I had never been to before. There are no words to describe that journey. I silently cried the whole way there, feeling sick to my stomach. I knew something wasn’t right. A few days earlier I had mentioned to my friend that I didn’t feel pregnant at all and it turns out I was right. We arrived at the hospital with all of those Google articles and explanations racing through my head, repeatedly telling ourselves and each other that it was fine and that we had nothing to worry about. The sonographer had that quiet sympathetic face that I have become so used to seeing now and as it was my first scan, he explained how he was sure everything would be fine but if he was to ‘go quiet’ it just meant he was concentrating. He went quiet. It felt like he was quiet for way too long and I began to cry. I knew it was over. He told us that he couldn’t see a 12 week foetus in there but we may have got our dates wrong (we hadn’t) and explained that he would need to do an internal examination to be sure. Hospitals have to have 2 sonographers present to confirm miscarriage and so then there were 2 of them staring at this screen whilst I had the probe inside of me searching for heartbeat that wasn’t there.

My husband told me some hours later that the foetus had only made it to 8 weeks. I don’t remember any of that. All I remember was crying in that dark room and then being at home an hour later in bed. The nurse explained everything to us apparently but I don’t remember anything she said. The thoughts you have in those first few hours just go round and round and they are so consuming that you don’t want to think about the next steps at all. You have to rely on someone else for that. I had never experienced loss like this before but the feelings bubbling up inside of me were all hitting at once and it was too overwhelming. I sobbed for a good 24 hours before having to make a decision on what I was going to do next. I felt huge waves of guilt: what had I done wrong? Maybe I’ve overworked myself? Were those shopping bags I carried too heavy? Had I stopped drinking alcohol too late? Had I eaten a bad egg? And how the hell did I not notice 4 weeks earlier when I had actually stopped being pregnant?! Then came the embarrassment: how do I tell everyone? Will they all think I’m a failure? Why has this only happened to me? Why does no one talk about this?

In those first few weeks after the miscarriage, I had the hardest physical time. I went for the tablets to help move things along a bit quicker but they didn’t work properly. I had no clue what I was doing and felt like I couldn’t speak to anyone about it because I didn’t know anyone who had gone through it. So I sat on my own in my house, slowly bleeding high volumes of blood for 2 weeks. I was in complete agony, off my nut on codeine because I had no idea that this wasn’t normal! Eventually I thought it was all over. I went out for a drink with a couple of friends after weeks of not leaving the bathroom, let alone the house and apart from a few period-level pains, I felt back to normal. 2 days later the agony started up again. I decided to have a bath to soothe my back and try to relax and I had barely slept. The bath water turned bright red and I knew something was wrong. I screamed in pain and was just so confused at what was happening. I slowly got myself out of the bath and shuffled over to the toilet but even that metre distance was too far for me and suddenly blood was spilling out of me all over the bathroom floor. My phone was in the bathroom but only at 10% battery. In that moment I honestly thought I was going to die. Noone had prepared me for this.I managed to get my husband home from work with my phone battery’s dying breath but in the half hour waiting for him, I honestly thought I wouldn’t be conscious by the time he got home.

Men get so overlooked when talking about miscarriage. It’s just as much their loss and they have to grieve too. In my experience, he was so much more concerned that I was ok and making sure he was supporting me. In turn, I was constantly worried that he wasn’t getting his time to deal with it whilst looking after me. I didn’t appreciate his level of burden until he was home and cleaning the bathroom and I watched him scoop the pregnancy tissue that I had just lost out of the bath. He just got on with it whilst I sobbed and watched him. At least, I thought, it was all over now and we could move on.

Following on from the bathroom trauma, I went back to work and felt fine for a week. But when the pains started to build back up 1 week later, I knew something wasn’t right. I returned to the depressing GAU unit where I had already been dealt one blow and didn’t fancy getting more bad news. I had another external and internal scan and was told that there was still a lot of pregnancy tissue left in there and there was a good chance it was causing an infection, hence the pain and the fact I was still bleeding nearly 1 month after the miscarriage. So there I was again: more tablets, more pain, more blood and more tears. This time I had the added excitement of antibiotics and anti-sickness tablets as this tissue that was left over was actually making me really sick. I just wanted it to be over. That day I spent 8 hours in the GAU.

Despite 3 weeks of pain, I had no idea that the real trauma hadn’t started yet. I had been so focused on the physical aspect of the miscarriage that I had no clue where the real pain was. This is the second important reason for talking about miscarriage. Once all of the pain and bleeding had cleared up, I had to deal with all of those questions that had run through my head initially. The biggest and scariest of these, of course, is ‘why am I the only one this is happening to?’ This question really needs to be split in half: why has this happened? And who else has it happened to? Both of these will be answered 10 times a day by the people around you: ‘it’s really common’ ‘I know loads of people who have had miscarriages’ ‘it’s nothing that you did wrong’ etc. Your friends are trying to help but it really doesn’t. Being told that it’s ‘really common’ isn’t helpful when you just have no evidence of that (I knew no one this happened to at this point). No-one talks about it which meant that both the emotional and physical pain was a complete surprise that there was no advice or true sympathy for. You get a lot of ‘my daughter had a miscarriage and went on to have a healthy baby a year later’ or ‘you’re only young, plenty more time for you yet!’ That’s great, but what about the baby I just lost?! It’s a grieving process. If you lost a grandparent, you wouldn’t say ‘it’s ok, I have 3 more!’

The biggest question for most women is WHY? Unfortunately, most of the time, they have no clue why you’ve miscarried. And this area of medical research is so incredibly underfunded that finding answers is just such an unlikely possibility. One thing I was told a lot was that ‘It just wasn’t meant to be’ which as you can imagine, is not what my scientific brain needed to hear. I wanted statistics and solutions and I just wanted them to look inside me and tell me where the problem was like some sort of uterus MOT. I also read quite a few times that a miscarriage was your body’s natural way of ending a pregnancy that would never have made it to term. And once again: OK BUT WHY?! Healthcare professionals obviously give us guidelines of ways to avoid miscarriage but they are things that we all give up anyway. These guidelines are things such as cutting down caffeine, avoiding alcohol and smoking completely, taking folic acid and obviously not taking recreational drugs. Most women do all of these things anyway so it’s not too helpful in most cases. As far as I know, after a miscarriage, you are unlikely to think ‘oh so that’s why I wasn’t supposed to smoke 20 fags a day’. I know a lot of women also struggle with conflicting medical advice online vs. their midwife vs. friends’ personal experiences. Diet and exercise are a huge example of this. We know that you need to exercise and eat well when you’re pregnant. But also don’t START exercising if you didn’t pre-pregnancy and don’t go on a diet whilst pregnant either. This leaves us lazy junk food eaters feeling like we’ve already harmed the baby before we’ve even got to 4 weeks. Going for a run will hurt the baby but so will not exercising?! Help!! Then there are the rumours you hear which just aren’t true. Having sex whilst pregnant is ok if you are comfortable doing so. Working long hours is ok too believe it or not, as long as you are eating, drinking and sleeping well alongside this. Having a fright, experiencing stress or just feeling really sad also does not harm your baby. Again, if miscarriage was talked about more, then perhaps we would not be putting all of this blame on ourselves and others. Repeat after me: you did not cause this, I did not cause this.

In March 2019, I experienced my second miscarriage. I was so much more careful this time. I didn’t even so much as smell a glass of wine, I ran away from cigarette smoke like the plague, I ate at least 4 pieces of fruit a day. I was determined that I would not let it happen again. Again, no matter how many times you are told that it isn’t your fault, you will believe that it is in your power to control it. You will believe that if you miscarry, it’s because you stayed at work that extra hour or you lingered in the vape cloud a little bit too long outside that bar. Whatever your reason, you convince yourself it was you. You reach a point where you do not enjoy pregnancy. Which, to put it bluntly, is shit. With the first pregnancy, I was so happy, I enjoyed taking the vitamins, avoiding the nights out and even the nausea because I knew what it meant. But second time around, the excitement had faded and it was replaced with pure fear. I was terrified. We decided that this time we wouldn’t tell as many people other than those who needed to know or had guessed. I didn’t feel the secret bubbling up in me and the need to tell everyone I knew and worked with because I just knew how awful it was when you have to tell them the opposite news later on. Another thing we did differently was book an early scan privately because, no matter how much you beg, and despite the history of miscarriage, they just won’t scan you early on the NHS at all. So, £80 later, we were waiting to go into the room to be scanned in a private clinic. I wanted so much to be excited and I had been a lot more sick and hormonal this time around so I assumed this was a positive sign. I lay on the bed whilst the sonographer told me the spiel about ‘if I go quiet, it’s just because I’m concentrating’ I felt so overwhelmed and wanted to run out and cry. I couldn’t go through this again. Once again the sonographer went quiet and asked how pregnant I ‘thought I was’, and when my last period was. I knew there was something wrong again. She had found the foetus which as expected measured 8 weeks and 1 day. There was no heartbeat. I remember my reaction this time: one long wail/sob/cry. “Not again” I shouted at her. My husband held me there for what felt like forever whilst I sobbed into his chest.

The clinic referred us to the hospital but as it was a Sunday there were no sonographers there to do a second scan. I spoke to a gynae doctor who booked me in for an appointment 2 days later in the GAU. No chance of an earlier appointment due to backlog. So I began my 48 hours of sobbing, grieving and ultimately false hope. As I had to wait for the scan for so long, I had managed to convince myself that the first scan was wrong. 8 weeks and 1 day was exactly right which meant that my baby had died on the day of the scan. I reasoned that it was too much of a coincidence and that she was just a crap sonographer who couldn’t find a heartbeat. But her diagnosis was confirmed by the doctor at what had become my absolute nightmare hospital which I could now only associate with bad news. There was no heartbeat. 8 weeks. Again.

Based on the agony and length of what I had gone through less than 4 months earlier, I opted for surgery this time. And I was booked in for the next morning. It’s a day surgery so you sit in a waiting room full of people for a full day, waiting for it to be your turn. My husband wasn’t allowed to stay with me which is just as cruel as it sounds. I had never had surgery before so I was terrified and had to wait all alone for the procedure with no food or water for what ended up being 6 hours. There is little point going in to too much detail about the inadequacy of the nurses that day. But in summary, I was barked at several times and got zero sympathy for what I was going through, I was ‘misplaced’ twice, I was referred to by my middle name more than once and by a complete other name many more times, and the icing on the cake was the nurse asking me ‘do you think there could be any chance you are pregnant?’ By the time I got to surgery I was pretty scared, not only that they thought I was someone completely different, but that one of the ‘rare’ complications could be about to happen to me or that when I woke up, I would be completely alone.

Surgery went well and only resulted in a few days of pain afterwards. Which, compared to last time, was a huge relief. But when I woke up I was completely alone and they had lost the paperwork which allowed me to return to the recovery area and contact my husband. So I sat on my uncomfortable bed, with an extremely empty stomach, a woozy head and a massive sense of emptiness and just had to wait until I could finally go home and recover. The doctors signed me off work for a week this time to recover from surgery but with the pain dying down so quickly, I was left with a lot more time to dwell on my feelings and come to terms with the fact this had now happened to us twice. Now try and tell me there isn’t something wrong with me.

1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. And 1 in 100 women have 3 or more miscarriages in a row which they call recurrent miscarriages. On the NHS, your miscarriage will not be investigated and you will not receive any tests until you reach this stage. I’m sorry but this is bonkers. It is honestly cruel after a person has endured 2 miscarriages at 8 weeks to tell them that, despite a clear pattern, they still need to go through it 1 more time before it is looked into. Tommy’s, the charity, began research into miscarriage in 2016 as they agree that it’s not good enough. They believe that so many miscarriages have underlying causes that can be cured if more research is done into it. It’s not just about preventing the miscarriage either. I, for one, would find it so much easier to move on if I knew why it had happened to me. I can’t change the past but perhaps one day I can make peace with it.

SO now the healing process has to start again. It is not easy to write about what has happened to me. My experience, I know, is only a blip on what some women have endured. I would never claim to ‘understand’ another person’s pain or suffering. I have to crack on with all of the pregnant women and babies in my life flourishing around me and hope that in the future, people will be educated properly on the frequency and effects of miscarriage. I have to be brave and talk about it so that when this lonely and terrifying experience happens to the next person, they will hopefully know it is normal, it is not their fault, and they are not alone”

So there it is. It was really hard to write, even harder to re-read several months later and a huge challenge to write. If this helps even one person, then it’s been worth posting.

#TW #Triggering #BabyLoss #Miscarriage #Number2 #MyStory #TrueStory #RecurrentMiscarriage #fertility #pregnancy

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baddestseahorse · 5 years

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Can my first post be a rant? Fuck it, it’s kind of a rant.

So here’s the thing... The past year or so, maybe two, I’ve come to learn quite a lot about myself. I suppose many of us feel the same after significant events, tough times, and some reflection. I should add that I have always been learning oodles of things along the way, breakthroughs here and there, but this most recent set of events, it’s significant - but I’ll come to that later.

The thing about all this learning though? It’s very important what you do with that information. Knowledge is power! I don’t think I’ll ever try to stop learning about myself. I do love to learn other things as well, however this self-discovery of (continuously) figuring out how my brain works, what I need, what tendencies I may have, etc. - it’s all led (and still leading) me to become a better, healthier, and happier human: Keanu Reeves. Just kidding, but I do want to continue to become a better version of myself. That shouldn’t be that hard, right? You’d be surprised.

My whole life has felt like I’ve been struggling along, trying to keep up, catch up, trying to get by and make it through the day. Not to say I haven’t had happy times in my life, but this shit is tiring. Truly I thought I was just a loser who didn’t try hard enough - that’s what everyone told me so it must be true right? Study more, pay more attention, don’t be so lazy, try harder, eat all your food or your cousin won’t play with you, concentrate more, why can’t you be more like so-and-so? I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m not like so-and-so for a long ass time now, but thanks (and btw, so-and-so ain’t all that great either).

So fast forward to years of struggling, awkward parent-teacher interviews where they ask me What’s wrong with you??? I’m 11, how the fuck am I supposed to know? Hundreds of late attendances, skipped classes, calling in sick to work (interestingly never called in sick to work for ages until last year), no motivation. Still didn’t figure out how to be like so-and-so, guys. What did I do? I made some awesome friends... turns out they too were struggling.

Once they opened up, I had come to realise it was more than that. We were not struggling. We were suffering. I was suffering. The whole fucking time. Things started clicking in the back of my mind. Memories came flooding back. The entire time everyone was asking what’s wrong with me and all I could do was give them a shy little “I don’t know.” Or make something up because I had no idea what the hell else to say - I had been suffering from depression and (social) anxiety, and I had no idea.

But I was a bit more grown, things were working out for the better, I had figured out how to manage things enough to get by, although not the mot healthy way, but hey, it was all self-taught. Besides, it wasn’t that bad, my friends’ mental health and anxiety attacks were far worse, and I made it this far, I had friends and held down some relationships, right? ... right? No big deal.

Hah. Big Deal.

Fall 2017 I had been promoted (see, I was doing okay!). Sure the job I had been doing was hectic as hell and it was incredibly draining so much so that I didn’t want to speak to people or hear noises or see friends after. But this new job, it’s meant to be better. And it was... to a point. That point was our busy season + our micro-managing director of operations about to sell the business + my mental health.

If there is any take-away from this, this is #1: DO NOT SACRIFICE YOUR HEALTH AND WELL BEING FOR A JOB THAT WOULD REPLACE YOU IN 2 WEEKS.

No, I didn’t get fired or anything, but I made a stupid sacrifice for downplaying how I felt. I worked such long hours, was overwhelmed, my coworkers were overwhelmed, it’s too late to hire and train anyone new anyway so I suffered, All I thought about was work. I was stressed and anxious 24/7, my entire body was tense and in pain all the time, I was SO tired, I barely saw my friends or family, all I wanted was to be alone for a while, but I couldn’t do that because Did I remember to add this to that file? Oh man this client’s been waiting on this for weeks. Shit did I reply to that email? I need to do that first thing tomorrow. It was constant from the moment I woke up to the moment I eventually fell asleep... if I could sleep. Did I mention I also have insomnia now? This went on for weeks, Christmas break was barely a break. Only getting Christmas day and Boxing Day off, I was barely off - my brain was at work. I don’t even remember how I managed to get anyone gifts. It was horrible.

Early January, I got a cold, as you do in Canada. But also as you’re far more prone to getting not sleeping, being under stress, and not resting. I couldn’t call in sick, I had to work through it right? Then I’d be letting my coworkers down, they were getting work piled on them too, that’s not fair. So I went to work, and my cold never went away... for weeks. I couldn’t stop coughing and eventually I had some shortness of breath. Then some turned into a lot. A lot turned into I can’t talk for more than a minute or walk down the hall without being winded like I ran a marathon and my heart is beating so hard it’s about to join a marching band. I needed to see my doctor. Still trying to keep up with work, I made an appointment outside of work hours (I managed to not stay late, miracle!). After many back and forths to my doctor’s office, chest x-ray, blood work, even a heart ultrasound. Everything was clear... except my head. I burst into tears in my doctors office. She was always digging deeper, she confirmed what I was experiencing was all anxiety. I tried to cut back at work but it didn’t stop. It made me feel worse about myself. I broke down all the time. Eventually my doctor said enough is enough and I didn’t return to work for 5 weeks.

At this point I couldn’t do much without thinking my legs were going to give out or I would pass out. So I was forced to do nothing and work was forced to stick it. I had 5 weeks to try to rest and get better. I started reading a book to help me learn about anxiety and and I signed up for some virtual counselling. It was rough, but finally after 3 weeks, I began to feel a little lighter, a little more energy and towards the end of the 4th week I started to feel more like myself and got to enjoy those last few days off. When I had returned, I came back to some major changes, hoping that it was for the better. It wasn’t, the environment was toxic for me and I knew I had to get out. After months and months of applications, I finally got a better job and WOW the difference is surreal.I’m much happier and have a FAR better work/life balance. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until I took myself out of there and found a healthier environment. I had gotten so used to feeling so terrible that I thought it was normal.

I continued therapy after I returned to work. Although it was expensive, I’m glad I did. A little hint from my therapist helped me learn that I also have ADD. ADD/ADHD gets a bad rap for being over-diagnosed to calm high energy kids down. After lots and lots of reading, it only made more sense. I have ADD.

Do you even know how many more light bulbs turned on, how many things clicked?!?!?!?!? I was blown away. And super super super sad that all this had gone on and no one really tried to help me. Not that anyone owes me anything, but when I was younger, my parents, teachers, etc. Maybe due to ignorance, mental health stigma, maybe because I was smart so I couldn’t have anything really wrong with me, lack of education on how to recognise these things. I’ll be okay. But my heart hurts for those who have no idea why the fuck their lives keep falling apart. The kids who don’t know what’s wrong with them. The kids who know but things, money, people stop them from getting the help/treatment/medication/shoulder that they need. The adults who have so much potential and still have no idea and things just won’t come together and they think it’s all their own fault. For all the assholes who ask why they can’t just get their shit together - they had it together but 49736584275642 things came up and they forgot about it for a while.

It’s really hard fighting your own brain. So yeah, I won’t ever stop trying to learn about myself. I want to work with my brain, be happier, healthier, and an overall better person for myself, and those around me.

This blog is about it be that journey. I have lots of goals to crush this year and I need to make it happen!

Wish me luck!

#mental health #anxiety #add #adhd #depression #goals #health #getyourshittogether #crushing it #killing it #toxic people #toxic environment #moving on #personal growth #self aware #self awareness

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redcardbluecard-blog · 7 years

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CAN’T LIVES ON WON’T STREET

A SUCCESS STORY with a twist!

A courageous, true story about breaking the toxic cycle of abuse.

One of the best witticisms my darling Uncle imparted to me in my youth, before he left this earthly world, was a goofy phrase that he would say whenever I would state in sheer frustration that “I can’t do it!”. He would simply respond to that by saying “CAN’T LIVES ON WON’T STREET”.

Can’t lives on Won’t Street. An extremely powerful statement when you understand it and it sure packed a punch of realization whenever he would say it. A tough reminder that it’s not that you CAN’T do something, it’s that you WON’T do something. A reality check that you really CAN do ANYTHING…the only thing stopping you is YOU. This impressive bon mot from my wise Uncle, managed to reverse my discouraged outlook on things several times over the years when I hit some personal lows (thanks Uncle G!).

One of those personal lows, is very hard to talk about. However, I know in sharing my story that it can hopefully help someone else and possibly give hope to those who might be in the same situation. Staying silent or hiding an ugly truth only enables it to continue, so I know it is important to tell my tale, as much as I wish I didn’t have to.

As a young woman, I got involved with an irrational abusive partner. I had never known serious abuse prior to this man, I didn’t grow up with it in my life, other than some old school “discipline” methods. So when I ended up in a horribly afflictive, physical and mentally abusive relationship, I found myself navigating through a blackness that I simply didn’t understand or know how to get away from.

I witnessed a few red flags while we dated but I made excuses for his behavior. He was having a bad day or he came from a bad background or he was just a little too drunk and the list goes on. I found myself defending him to those closest to me. I should’ve ended it then, but I thought these were just some bad one-off moments and chose to focus on the “good side” of him. We bought a house together and shortly after moving in, I found out that I was pregnant with his son. This is when his true colours really came out. It started with shoving & throwing me around then escalated to punching me in the face, threats, name-calling, intimidation and house-wrecking rages. I would try hiding from him, under beds or in closets, but that only saved me a couple of times. It was awful. Afterward, there was always the apology and promise that “it would never happen again”. It was a continuing cycle of abuse/apologize/abuse/apologize. This man was a product of generations of abusive behavior. His Father had abused his Mother. His Grandfather had abused his Grandmother. And so on. He didn’t like his own behavior yet continued to repeat the same abusive actions and continue the family tradition. I was living in Hell and wanted badly to escape but I was chained by my own mind. I would tell myself that “I CAN’T” leave for so many reasons. My CAN’T excuses immobilized me. Excuses like “I can’t, we have a child and a home together” “I can’t afford to leave” “I can’t because what would people think?” Etcetera.

So I stayed. Convinced myself that I could take it and tried to keep it a secret from others. Incident after incident happened, mostly behind closed doors, but unfortunately some that the neighbourhood, friends, family and the police were in on. It was so embarrassing when that happened. And no one understood why I stayed with him. I knew why…fear. Of him, of being a single parent, of failure, of breaking up our family and more. The chains of my own mind ensured my captivity. I had parked on CAN’T (WON’T) STREET and refused to leave. But finally, there was a day…a turning point…when the catalyst for change happened. My ex was in a rage and had started coming at me, when my then 4-year-old son, stepped in-between us, stood in front of me facing his Dad and full of courage said “Stop! Don’t you hurt my Mommy! It’s like you have a tornado in your head or something!”. My ex looked surprised and it did actually stop him in that moment. And it completely floored me. My 4-year-old son, so brave, full of the courage I should’ve had and ready to take on his Dad in order to protect me. It was a disturbing eye-opener to say the least. Full of guilt, I knew that my son had already seen too much in his first 4 years, no matter how much I had tried to protect him from it all. It was then, that I decided to leave finally. I needed to be as brave as my young son and leave his abusive father once and for all so that my boy could have a better life. I needed to ensure that he would not become the next generation of abuser and if I stayed then it was quite possible he could turn out to be.

Leaving was terrifying. It was fast and furious while my ex was out of the house. I packed my mini-van quickly with all that I could fit in to it and drove away without knowing where my son and I would go next. I had no real plan, it was just a spontaneous decision the day after my son had tried to protect me and I just went into action. It was Mother’s Day. I was in total fear about the unknown next steps and I only had $2,000.00 to my name. A secret fund that I had saved little by little, knowing that one day I would likely need it. And now that day had come. It wasn’t much to start a new life with but did cover the payment of the first and last month of rent and a $300 hydro deposit on a crappy, mouldy one bedroom basement apartment that I found after camping on a friend’s floor for 2 weeks.

So there I was. I did it. But now I was living as a single Mom of a 4-year-old boy, completely on my own, living in a disgusting dungeon apartment with nothing left and completely financially wiped out. So broke and so broken. I cried when I looked at my life but also smiled because at least we were free! Free from the angry raging abuse! And I felt like there was a glimmer of renewed hope of a better future for me and my precious son! However, it turned out there was still more to deal with. Much more. And the next challenge was right around the corner….

Monkey See and Monkey Do. Kids see and hear everything it seems and are shaped by their surrounding environment. My son, prior to us leaving, had displayed a very bad temper just like his Dad’s. Now that it was just the two of us living in a dungeon, it got even worse. His temper tantrums were frequent and epic. His anger uncontrollable. He swung at me just like he had seen his Dad doing, ready to strike if he could. I’m sure part of it was the confusion for him of leaving his home and not understanding why he wasn’t seeing his Dad, and he just didn’t know how to express it other than lashing out at me. My heart was broken in a million pieces seeing this! Of course, my own parental inexperience didn’t help either as I tried to manage his outbursts and angry behavior by reacting to him so I would yell back at him, make idle threats that I wouldn’t follow through on (like being grounded or throwing out toys), I tried bribing him (buy his good behavior), I tried time out, time in, 123 Magic, talking to him, reasoning with him, negotiating with him and even once I spanked him. None of these methods worked and in fact, only made his behavior even worse.

My stress level was super high and my son’s behavior was terrifying me. I was a single parent, working nights as a waitress, studying through the day for my real estate licence, trying to keep my head above water to pay rent and all else, and I had a now 5-year-old son whose behavior was very much out-of-control. Family members complained to me about him and said he wasn’t welcome around their kids. He was having trouble at school. He had no respect for anyone, especially adults. I desperately searched for a solution but found nothing tangible…just regurgitated advice and well-intentioned parenting articles without concrete solutions. Waitlists for therapy were several months away at best, and I didn’t have the time or money for a parenting class. It was so very frustrating because I felt that I needed real help and just couldn’t find it, access it or afford it!

In tears one night, after a bad temper tantrum had happened and my son was finally in bed for the evening, my emotionally distraught brain was a blurred mix of defeat and desperation. I knew I had to break this toxic cycle of abuse…he simply could not grow up to be the next generation of angry raging abuser…but how could I stop it? I knew I needed to save him from a future where all he knew was that angry, abusive action was a solution...but I felt overcome by the thought that I CAN’T change his behavior. And then…

My Uncle’s words, CAN’T LIVES ON WON’T STREET. The reminder that there is always a way when you decide that it’s so! I just had to try something different than what I had been doing! I started writing down ideas. Slowly, they started to form into a game plan, a real tangible helping solution! I knew I wanted to incorporate THE GOLDEN RULE where you treat others as you wish to be treated, this being a very important aspect of this new idea. I had personally experienced the yelling, threats and hitting from my abusive partner and hated it. So why was I using these same methods at times, to try to teach my son better behavior? Methods I have seen so many other parents also use because it’s all they know. I realized that this plan was also going to help me be a better parent, not just improve my son’s actions! I also wanted him to be involved so that he understood the lesson better and he felt like he was a part of the decision that affected him. Because as Dr. Suess wrote in Horton Hears a Who, “a person is a person, no matter how small”, and he needed to be respected as much as I did. As well, I knew that the power of play is a very important teacher so my solution had to be FUN! Serious but fun! I spent hours that night brainstorming, jotting down thoughts and ideas on how to do this parenting thing better and then finally out of a night of effort and believing that I CAN find a better solution….

The Red Card Blue Card Game was born! And It felt like such a brilliant solution! I was so excited to try it!

I created the game from all of the reading and research I had previously done while searching for a solution. I used tried and true expert methods but the delivery of them was different now! I made it easy to use, colourful and simple to understand. Then I explained to my son, that we would be playing this game every single day. To my utter amazement, this game WORKED!! My son loved it! Within 3 weeks, his behavior had drastically transformed and he was behaving respectfully and NO ANGRY TANTRUMS! I was blown away by how effective this game was! Parenting him completely turned around and became really easy! Whenever he started acting out, I simply reminded him that it would earn him a Red Card and it would stop any unruly behavior immediately! The best part was, that I could keep my cool, as I was in control again. No more yelling. No more idle threats. The game allowed me to remain consistent in my parenting method and allowed for a follow through on what I said, so that my son learned to respect my requests. And using my cool head, was leading by the right example and showed him how to keep his cool as well. This game was my miracle! And my son’s miracle! And finally, the cycle breaker I had dreamed of!

My son learned that peaceful action was possible as a resolution. He learned to respect others. He learned that being polite and helpful was a better way to live. He became that boy that the teachers always praised for being such a good kid and an example to others. He grew into an easy-to-live with teenager who handled situations with grace and wisdom, no matter how stressful. And now, I am so proud to say, that he is a grown man, who is gentle and kind and patient and caring. It’s not that he doesn’t get presented with trying situations in his life that test his anger, but when he does, he certainly knows how to handle them in the best way possible. He is now the kind of person in the world, that the world needs more of!

This is my success story and one that I am mighty proud of! It’s not one of financial success or world-wide recognition success, but one of actually making a real difference because I feel like I broke the cycle of angry abuse within one family tree anyway! It’s only a drop in the bucket sadly but a true testament that change IS possible! If you believe it, you can achieve it! In reflection, from where we are now to where we once were and where we could’ve ended up…is incredible really. Those rough few years happened many years ago, a bad memory that I really don’t like to rehash at all but it’s important for others who feel the same hopelessness that I did. Years later after realizing the long-term success of my idea, when my son was 17, I published The Red Card Blue Card Game to share with others. Parenting can sure be challenging sometimes and I am assuming there are many other parents who could use a real solution! Now they have a great option to use! I also recognized the important value in The Red Card Blue Card Game as a great pre-emptive tool to address the issue of bullying and improve the incidence of poor mental health by assisting in the support of better family relationship health. Less yelling, hitting and threats will lead to improved self-esteem for many of our young ones. And it was important for me to make it affordable and easy to obtain, especially for any single parents who financially struggle, just like I had. The Golden Rule Tool for peaceful parenting and effective behavior management should be available to anyone who needs it!

I know, from first-hand experience, that it is possible to be better to each other and for each other. Sometimes we just need someone to show us the way. I hope sharing my story can show someone else the way now too. Do not be held back by your perceived limits. Always believe in yourself, your abilities, your dreams, your inner courage and take action because when you do…you CAN and WILL be unstoppable. 😊

#courage #nomoreanger #abuse #changeispossible #changeforgood #mental health #inspiration #youcandoit

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