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echantedtoon · 5 months

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A Bloom In Time Ch3 Plan On The Way

A quiet floating ghost made their way across the floor and over to the door as the tall and dark spector slowly opened the door and peeked out...The dark ship was still dark except for the kiddo's nightlight indicating the children was still asleep and eased himself out with a sigh. He didn't think he could handle another storybreak again- He sighed and reached up to comb a clawed hand threw his messy floof, floating casually now towards the Time Piece room, he was rather impatient just waiting for them to fall sleep and getting his kids' nightly routine out of the way. He swore he was about to go loose some nonexitance teeth from the sweet pancakes and doughnuts she always brought home. Or grow fat from all the sausegues and bacon and all the other fatty foods cooking cat brought. She+ was a good cook he wouldn't deny it, but he wanted couldn't eat anything and he didn't like all the fatty foods the kids always seemed to eat. He wanted some none fatty foods for them for once and MAYBE have just a small teeny tiny little piece of quiet before he left for his rounds- He froze when he heard a little buzzing and sweeping noise and looked down. The kid's weird robot pet, Rumbi he thought, was sleep sweeping again. Nevermind how a robot could sleep and sweep in said sleep, but he knew if he woke those girls up it'll be a bigger pain to put them back to sleep again. He spent the good majority of the day thinking over what Hattie said. Those things worked like wishing stars, certainly gave him the extra boost and that Mustached menace when they needed it, and right now. After so much hate, so much pain....SO MANY LIES!! He would get what he so rightfully deserved.

REVENGE!!

Revenge for every single little thing she had ever done to him! All those crazy things she banned him from. BACON of all things. WHO BANS BACON OVER JEALOUSY!? Cutting and dying his hair while he was asleep! Getting jealous over his old tutor, who by the way- WAS A OLD WOMAN ALREADY MARRIED!!! Seriously, he was so, SO blinded by his 'love' for her that he never saw anything coming. He should've listened to those red flags shoved at him while he still had the chance. Because of that stupid choice everyone in their giant kingdoms suffered. Him. The children of the village. .....Poppy. A feral growl forced it's way past his fangs. IF ONLY HE HAD LISTENED!! Maybe he would've gotten that love and happy marriage he always wanted. With his sassy, fiery Flower Princess and maybe even a child....Just like he always wanted. ...He shook his head. Snap outta it you ninny!! That was more than a thousand years ago. She was gone, even if she escaped Vanessa's wrath. There was NOTHING he could do about it now.

"Ow. mY cUrcIT bOaRD!!," that small little distorted voice caught his attention.

Snatcher looked down and rose a brow so to speak. His long tail had run into Rumbi and 'woken up' the robot that was just looking up to him now curiously as Snatcher stared back down at him. They stared at each other for a moment, before the ghost reached down and flipped the poor cleaning bot on it's back to avoid any loud sweeping sounds. The poor bot let out beeps and boops, not loud enough to wake anyone up at least. He smirked at the robot for a moment before the shadow spector continued on his past away from the kiddo's bedroom and over to the driver's room of the ship, where the giant pile of pillows was. It was easy for him to spot the giant locked volt which held the kid's stash of time pieces. The shadow smiled wide seeing the volt. Something like steel won't stop him from going right through it. It was easy for him to vanish through the giant heavy metal door, while the monitor screen on the left flashed a perfect one thousand time pieces present and accounted for, not for long though. The twinkles of the huge collection of blue time pieces made the spector grin even wider as his plan was about to get set in motion. ONE.All he needed was one little twinkling hourglass and he'd be all set.

"It'll be quick and easy," he told himself as those purple claws eargerly grasped around the closest one to him, picking it up gently as if it was a newborn baby. His smile reflecting in it's twinkling surface. Magic blue sparkling sand held within it. "Go to the witch's home. Wish her to get lost forEVER. And put it back before the kid wakes up. Easy." He wasn't sure if he was encouraging himself or just reassuring his plan, or both. But it seemed to be working as he chuckled glancing at his reflection again. "Oh this is going to be fun."

Getting out of there was easy too, of course he couldn't go through walls holding something. Then the thing he's holding wouldn't be with him, but he could warp into his domain with things. How else did the kid suspect him to sign his contracts without risking her running away into the woods? In warp of energy and magic the ghost cackled out loudly in the giant room and long purple shadows danced across the room covering the glittering hourglasses and as soon as it came it faded away leaving the room of hourglasses as peaceful as it was before. Outside the room, the ship was still quiet except for the Roomba. Outside by the door, the screen showing the count of all the hourglasses, glitched and the even count of '1,000' changed to the number '999' hourglasses in the room. Compared to the teleporting ghost who was surrounded by a purple void, shadows stretching along the room as he cackled and still glanced at the small hourglass in his claws. A moment later that purple curtain faded away and the familiar gloomy forest reappeared around him. It was dark, nighttime, and twisted trees were around everywhere as the ghost floated there for a moment just staring at the hourglass, already feeling the power energy spiking off it and chuckled again.

"Oh. This is going to be a night to remember.~"

"May I ask what is going to be so memorable, my cackling counterpart?"

The Snatcher froze. That voice!...That disgusting DAPPER voice!! he inwardly cringed as any happy feelings left him as he groaned and turned around to peer behind him with a scowl. Chains rattled as they floated around the other, glitching spector who blinked at him with a smile and those weird red patterned eyes blinked at him as his body glitched every few seconds. But as Snatcher hissed in utter displeasure at him, the other ghost only smiled politely waiting for a reply from the shadow ghost. Before he leaned over a little and blinked at the shiny hourglass in his claws.

"Oh, my." He pointed a blue claw at it. "Wouldn't that happen to be dear Hattie's little collectable?"

He hissed before wretching back around. "None of your business, Moonboy! Go haunt that toilet and turn into sludge!" He began floating away but to his utter annoyance his copy began following him.

The Moonjumper's sparkly blue and white hair glimmered in the moonlight as he leaned over slightly as he floated above the Snatcher. "Oh, come now. It was just an innocent question. As the girls' father, I don't think it's good morals to steal from her."

"I'm NOT stealing!," he growled without looking up at him, "I'm just borrowing it. It'll be back by tomorrow morning, just like nothing will ever happen."

A pause- "Stealing, not stealing. Whatever it is you call it. But I also known you for almost more than a thousand years, Shadow theif, and I know you never do anything without reason." He chuckled making Snatcher frown further. "Now what might the all powerful Snatcher, be needing that for?"

"Are you going to just bug me everytime you come across me?"

"To be fair, you teleported right next to me, so I was minding my ow business before you even arrived. And no. I'm too curious for my own good.~"

The shadow ghost growled like a feral animal but Moonjumper didn't flinch, to used to this by now. And a ghost couldn't harm another ghost after all. "If you HAVE to know, Cresent face.....It's all a part of my plan. Something I wished to do for so, so long."

That peaked Moonjumper's interest as he hummed and the chains clanked more. "Now what plan would that be?"

"To destroy Vanessa once and for all."

Moonjumper completely stopped at the words spilt from the shadow ghost's mouth. Blinking in mid air as Snatcher still didn't stop as Moonjumper stared at him- Before shaking his shock off and calling after him. "N-Now just wait a moment!" He quickly flew glitching after him and floated right next to him now as Snatcher still ignored him. "HOW may I ask are you planning on doing that?! A ghost can't hurt another at the same strength as them. And Vanessa's..."He shuddered(glitched. "Dark magic rivals both your and my abilities. How do you suppose you're going to pull all this off with a teeny tiny object of sand and glass?"

..That scowl disappeared as he chuckled darkly and smirked. Still not looking at him, he held up the hourglass. "These things grant you what you want, at least according to the kid. And what better way to get rid of someone you don't want then by wishing away Vanessa's afterlife.~ If these things can grant a blonde brat inter-dimentional time powers to get lost, then who's to say it couldn't do the same with me.~"

The Moonjumper was staring at him, already thinking about this whole thing. Vanessa could...get lost?...Forever? And no one would ever have to deal with her ever again?! A happy feeling washed over the other ghost's glitching self as the thought of Vanessa no longer existing came over himself. Sure, it wouldn't fix what happened in the past, but he DID like the thought of having a mansion to himself and chuckled darkly himself as he mirrored his counterparts happy smirk.

"Well, now.~ This would be ...most pleasing to me as well.~ I don't suppose you mind me tagging along to witness this glorious event, do you?"

Snatcher still smiled wide. "Just stay out of my way and we won't have any problems.~"

As the two spooks floated along, dwellers and Snatcher's minions watched confused as the powerful spirits floated past and gazed at the shiny thing in their King's hands. The forest slowly getting darker and colder as they went and slowly his plan would be fulfilled. In the meantime, back on the ship. A small little brown haired girl stirred awake.

#ahit vanessa #ahit moonjumper #ahit hat kid #ahit conductor #ahit snatcher #ahit dj grooves #ahit timmy #ahit mustache girl #ahit bow kid #a bloom in time #snatcher x florist #snatcher x the florist #the florist x snatcher #ahit florist #a hat in time florist #ahit cooking cat #A Bloom In Time #a hat in time #hazelle

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨1

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Yay, mob Clark. And I know what you’re saying right now, enough with Clark Kent! I get it haha. Promise, for a while, this will be the last I do of him. I have Lee fic in the work right now, the early development of medieval Peter, and I’m still sitting on some Loki ft. an exchange student... and then all my other series of course!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You stood against the wall, chewing your lip as you looked around the gallery. You should be ecstatic, you should be floating around on a cloud, but all you could feel was crushing anxiety. It was truly a dream come true; your art hanging on the wall. Only three pieces, but it was there, and your name was below it in print.

You tugged on the waist of your dress and teetered in your heels. It was a borrowed outfit, you couldn’t afford anything appropriate to the upscale venue. The classic starving artist, or almost. You slipped your phone from your purse and up your sleeve. You subtly checked the time and for the little chat icon in the corner. Still no message.

Marcus was almost an hour late. He texted just after the event opened to warn you he was caught up with work but you worried he wouldn’t show up at all. It wasn’t his fault his boss was a jackass but you weren’t prepared to face this alone. You dropped your phone back into your slender purse and snapped it shut.

Vanessa, the gallery owner, made you flinch as she appeared almost out of the air. You smiled at her shyly and stopped chewing your lip.

“You should mingle,” she said, “you have an interested buyer. You might have a few more if you come out from the corner.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” you confessed, “I-- thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“You earned it,” she touched your arm daintily, “all those hard hours working the back room, I couldn’t not hang a few pieces.”

You fixed your posture and tried to seem as confident as her. Your income came solely from hours of at-home data entry as you volunteered at the gallery in your few hours between. It was all worth it and maybe if you sold something tonight, Vanessa would feature you work again and you wouldn’t need to spend the bulk of your days staring at tiny font.

“So, where’s this buyer?” you asked hopefully.

“That’s my girl,” Vanessa trilled, “he seems very interested.”

She led you across the room, stopping to greet other artists and old friends with a kiss on the cheek and deep laughter. You’d met them all before as you were often working at these events. It was your first time as one of them.

When at last you neared your little stretch of the wall, a man stood with his head slightly back as he stared at your proto-renaissance portraits. He was tall and his broad shoulders strained the rich fabric of his jacket. His dark hair was neatly parted and a slight curl marked the front above the shadow of scruff poking out along his jawline.

“Mr. Kent,” Vanessa chimed, “I found her.”

He turned to look at you and his deep blue eyes struck you. He smiled between you and the gallery owner, his chiseled jaw even more defined by the gesture.

“This is Mr. Kent,” she introduced you in turn, “I believe he was interested in the larger piece.”

“All three, if you don’t have another buyer lined up,” he intoned, “I think they belong together.”

“All of them?” you raised your brows, “well, I, yeah, I guess--”

“We can put something together for you,” Vanessa interrupted your awkward stuttering, “let me just mark them.”

She took the silver pen she kept on a chain around her wrist and scribbled in the corner of the tags to mark them as sold. You were slightly numb at your disbelief. You were a bit reluctant to part with your work but the check would ease your grief.

“The way you use colours,” he said as he faced the paintings again, “I’ve recently had some work done in my house and I hate the sight of naked walls.”

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped a little closer and looked at your delicate strokes.

“Pardon me,” Vanessa rushed away as she beckoned to one of her assistants and prattled orders.

“Vanessa tells me you’re a new artist,” he said.

“New in a sense,” you said, “I guess, I’m officially an artist now.”

“Oh? I’m flattered. Your first buyer?”

“Besides some online fanart, yeah,” you replied, “so, Mr. Kent, what do you do?”

“Clark,” he corrected, “and a little bit of everything.”

An awkward silence took over and was thankfully interrupted by your name. You turned as Marcus rushed over and his shoes slipped on the polished floor. He reached you and kissed your cheek as he caught his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I got caught in traffic on the way over and then my oil light started flashing,” he gasped out.

“Hey, you’re here,” you rubbed his shoulder and straightened his tie without thinking as it hung at an angle.

“So, you sell anything yet?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, um, Mr-- Clark,” you gestured to the man standing patiently to the side, “he just bought all three.”

“Damn,” Marcus said, “guess I can hold onto my savings.”

“Marc,” you nudged his arm with your knuckles, “you know we can’t afford your cheesiness.”

“Sorry, uh,” Marcus laughed at himself, “I’m Marcus.”

He held out his hand and Clark shook it. His eyes strayed to you as his features sharpened just a little.

“You two…?” he ventured.

“Five years,” Marcus announced, “guess we’re going steady.”

“Oh,” Clark nodded placidly, “are you an artist too?”

“God no, I can hardly write my own name legibly,” Marcus kidded, “I’m a developer.”

“Computers,” Clark mused.

“Yeah, computers,” Marcus scoffed, “and you?”

“Own a couple businesses,” Clark shrugged.

“Must be successful if you can hang around here,” Marcus said and you elbowed him in embarrassment.

“I guess,” Clark smoothed his dark purple jacket and checked his watch, “I’ll let you two be. Maybe I’ll find something to go with these fine pieces.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, “I’m happy to see my work go to a good home.”

“I hope to see more in future,” he returned kindly.

He turned and carried on to the statue constructed of can tabs and greeted another suited man. You looked at Marcus as he leaned in to read the tags beneath your paintings. He stood and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, ten grand?” he hissed.

“Pretty good pay for one night,” you chirped, “glad you could make it.”

“Sorry again, I… I had to redo some code. Adam was in a mood so,” he shook his head and sighed, “let’s not talk about it. Let’s celebrate.” He peeked over at the server with a tray of stemmed flutes, “and you can decide what you’re going to buy me with that check.”

“Hush,” you chided as you took a glass of champagne, “now is not the time to go over bills.”

🎨

At the end of the night, you watched one of the assistants take down your canvas and you helped wrap them in paper and twine. As you finished a loopy knot, you were surprised by the figure beside you. You looked up and set the smallest piece atop the larger ones. Clark smiled as you moved to let him pick them up.

“All yours,” you said, almost mournful to see them go.

“Thanks,” he said as he tucked them easily under his thick arm, “I forgot earlier but do you have a card? Are you open for commissions?”

“You must have a lot of walls,” you looked down and opened your purse, “I have a card and I could try a commission.”

You slid out one of the cards that had lingered in your wallet for more than a year. You handed it to him and he read the flowery font before tucking it away in his jacket.

“I do… have a lot of walls,” he said with a smirk, “I’ll give you a call once these are hung.”

“O-okay,” you kept from wringing your hands and closed your purse, “thank you… again.”

“My pleasure,” assured, “have a good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” you said and watched him go.

You let out a breath and smiled to yourself. You would talk to Vanessa and get your cut of the check before you went. Then you could worry about getting Marcus home. He’d had a little too much champagne and you’d left him in the backroom so you could help with the clean-up.

Vanessa bid goodbye to one of her featured artists as you neared. She turned to you and threw up her hands in delight.

“Wonderful, darling,” she said, “you earned that wall.”

“Thanks,” you grinned bashfully.

“Really. That man has never bought a piece before,” she smirked, “I’ve been dying to get into his wallet for years.”

“I never saw him before…”

“Oh, well, yes, he has not been to many of these either. I often see him at other galleries,” she explained, “I hope you have some more for the next.”

“Um, yeah, I should be able to--”

“I’ll have the check for you tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder as her eye was caught by another, “go get your boyfriend out of my studio.”

You accepted your dismissal and turned on your heel. That was just Vanessa, steely but slightly flighty as well. Besides, you were exhausted and you would likely be dragging Marcus into a cab.

You found him slumped at the paint-splattered table. You shook him awake and smiled dopily as he opened his eyes.

“Babe,” he pushed his arm around you.

“Marcus,” you drawled in disappointment, “let’s get out of here.”

“Huh?” He looked around and hiccupped, “oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You had a long day,” you assured him as you rubbed his back and let him lean on you as he stood, “I’m just happy you showed up after all that nonsense.”

“Of course, babe,” he slurred and you helped him through the door.

You kept your head down as you slowly sneaked out past Vanessa but you didn’t miss her side-eye. It was best to be as covert as possible. You came out through the door and nearly dropped Marcus.

“Jesus, can I get a little help?” you snipped as you looked around for a yellow cab.

“Sorry, baby, sorry,” he got his feet flat but it hardly helped take his weight off of you.

You raised your hand to hail a cab and he slipped down your arm. Your ankle bent as you turned to try to catch him before you dropped him entirely. He was saved from hitting the ground as he was caught by another. You looked over his head as he was pushed up to his feet again.

Clark kept his arm behind Marcus as you stared at him, “oh my god, thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he steadied your boyfriend, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you lifted your foot and kept the weight off your ankle, “I just need to get a taxi.” You raised your hand again as you tried to see past the large man, “if you don’t mind getting him in--”

“You can ride with me,” he said brusquely as he turned with Marcus and peered back at you, “this way.”

“We can’t--”

“On that ankle,” he said as you began to limp after him, “you won’t get him out on your own.”

“Really, I’m fine--”

“I don’t mind,” he said coolly as he came to a silver sports car and balanced Marcus against him as he opened the door, “I’ll need an address.”

“Uh, oh,” you folded your hands, “thank you. Really, you’ve done too much.”

“It happens. I’ve had these nights,” he put Marcus across the seat and folded his legs up and shut the door, “you can take the front and tell me where I’m going.”

You hesitated and he opened the front door. You neared and hissed as you stumbled on your ankle. You caught yourself on his arm and quickly retracted your hand as you apologized.

“It’s alright,” he said as you sat in the front seat. He knelt and gently took your ankle. His thumb rubbed the swollen joint, “you really banged yourself up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him, “thanks.”

He let go and stood. He waited for you to turn your legs into the car and gently closed the door. He rounded to the other side and got in as he fished around for his keys. He turned the engine and gripped the wheel with one hand as he took out his phone. He placed it on the magnetic holder and his fingers flicked over the screen.

“Address?” he asked.

You recited it and winced as Siri responded, ‘calculating route’. You shrunk against the luxury leather and glanced at him. He let out a huff and steered into the mostly empty street.

“I’m sorry about all this--”

“No, don’t be,” he glanced in the rearview, “he must be happy for you.”

“Yeah, uh, I think he is,” you said as he followed the map directions, “I am too. I mean, it will go along way… uh, well, you know, things can be tough or--” you shrugged, “I mean, it’s not about the money.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to be paid,” he said lightly, “and I don’t mind paying for good art.”

You looked out the window as your cheeks burned. You could smell his cologne, subtle but strong. You played with your purse as your nerves brewed in your chest. You watched the sidewalks and the street lights as your surroundings grew more familiar.

He pulled up to your building. It wasn’t the greatest area and the brick façade was faded and cracked. Before you could get out, he was at your door. He offered his hand and helped you out as you leaned on the car. He let you go and opened the back and lifted Marcus out. He hooked your boyfriend’s arm over his shoulder and offered his other arm.

“Come on,” he said.

“Look, you don’t-- there’s an elevator.”

“I’d feel better if I got you inside,” he insisted, “especially in this area.”

You relented and took his arm and limped beside him up the steps. You took out your keys and went ahead of him as he dragged Marcus in. You went to the elevator and hit the button. The doors glided open and you stepped inside. He stood close in the small metal box and Marcus murmured dumbly at his side.

The doors dinged and he let you out first. He followed you down the hall and you unlocked your apartment and waved him inside. He carried Marcus to the couch at your direction and you leaned against the armchair as you bent your leg to check your ankle.

“You should put some ice on that,” Clark said as he neared, “get some sleep yourself.”

“Yeah, I will,” you assured, “thank you, again.”

You felt embarrassed as you eyed his expensive suit and looked around your tiny apartment. It must have been laughable to him. He hardly seem bothered as he retreated to the door.

“I’ll let you then,” he said, “and thank you. I really do like your work.”

The door shut in his stead and you heard his footsteps down the long hall until the door at the end swung open. You glanced at Marcus and shook your head. You weren’t as happy to have had him at the show then.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #series #mob au #mob!au #mob!clark kent #portrait of a dangerous man #dark fic #dark!fic #superman #au #dc #dcu

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mayyourshipsbewithyou · 3 years

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Things I loved about In the Heights

-The sounds of the city are part of the music of the opening song

-The frame story is the only way this story should be told; the story only works if it shows the results of Usnavi's decision to stay

-Anthony and Lin shaking hands

-Yay to random mixed race couple asking for directions

-“I hope you’re writing this down I’m gonna test you later” only makes sense with kids

-Showing different residents of Washington Heights provides scale

-I’m not sure about the decision to cut Camila, but if it means less Nina drama, then I love it

-I love how Usnavi has his friends’ orders all ready to go

-LOVE how Usnavi announces Benny’s entrance

-Everything about Vanessa in this movie is perfect=> she’s given so much more depth, her beauty is downplayed, she’s kind of a nerd, but has a beautiful smile

-Nina’s heels=> metaphor for her reaching for the stars

-I love the actress that plays Nina; she’s the right age and her singing voice is so sweet

-Nina’s hair is straight when she’s at school; as soon as she comes home, it’s curly=>she can be herself at home

-When Nina turns around and sees the crowd of people counting on her=> I felt that

-I love seeing Nina get her acceptance letter; I remember what that was like for my brother

-Camila must have died while Nina was at college in this version; Nina lost her mother recently which helps explain her different reason for dropping out; she feels lost

-I don’t know why Sonny is using this deep voice, but I love it!

-Whoever decided to have 96,000 take place at the pool is a genius

-The graphics at the beginning of 96,000 are good for helping regular people understand the rap

-Pete just put his arm around Sonny=> are they dating?

-Sonny yelling 96,000 as he enters the pool=> the sound design

-Pete nodding along to Usnavi=> sucking up to the family

-Usnavi is such a proud cousin-uncle during Sonny’s part in 96,000

-Vanessa making her “I'll be downtown” walk down a ramp

-The dancer doing flips is now a diver doing spins into the pool

-On stage, the lighting was dark; in the movie, it’s underwater

-The circles of people in the pool reflect the zeros in 96,000

-Lin and Chris being rivals is perfect; their bromance is everything

-Nina and Benny being together before the events of the movie means they are the beta couple and have less drama than Usnavi/Vanessa which is how it should be

-Benny joins in during “on that fire escape”=> like West Side Story

-Benny’s “Let me in” against the fence is hilarious

-Nina and Benny are FUN, not angsty like in the original

-Nina following the little girl=> following herself, following her dreams which eventually lead her to the sea; all of this is done while she’s talking about her past

-Nina and Benny instrumental™ part 1 in the middle of “When You’re Home”, Benny interrupts=> their story isn't complete yet

-Benny says he believes in her without discounting her feelings

-Everyone loving Nina=> I finally get it

-Nina is home geographically and with people who love her

-Benny is Nina’s home

-In the Heights is about how dreams are great, but the life you have now can be so beautiful

-Nina’s hair during the dinner/club scene is great

-Usnavi is wearing his dad’s hat for his date with Vanessa; he knows that she is to him what his mom was for his dad

-Family dinners are the same in every culture

-Awkwardness of long-time friends going on a date

-Vanessa offers Usnavi his first drink of the night; he thinks that’s what she wants; because why would she want him and only him?

-Usnavi whispering in Vanessa’s ear is so sexy

-Love that Benny is on Nina’s side instead of being mad at her

-I wonder if they thought 5 years of Benny working for Kevin was too much or too little since they changed that line to "all these years"

-Benny’s reactions to Vanessa dancing at the club are hilarious

-Vanessa laughing at Usnavi dancing with someone else

-Nina is always smiling and laughing at the things going on around her; not as self centered

-Nina and Benny dancing at the club=> all of the yeses

-Usnavi is too nervous about being alone with Vanessa that he un-dated himself; he wasn’t quite ready

-Love that they consciously cut all the “Usnavi, help me” parts=> Vanessa is not a victim

-Fireworks are a romantic setting for Sonny and Pete, just saying

-Usnavi/Benny/Nina talking about the fourth member of their square gives me feelings; I need more of these four in fanfic, my dreams

-“I got to wait for Vanessa”=> the stuff dreams are made of

-Benny is such a good person; he’s even better than the original which is what he deserves

-Usnavi is relieved to have Vanessa call his name

-“Don’t walk away from us tonight”=> great addition

-To give Usnavi and Vanessa some of Nina and Benny’s original lines is to see the face of God

-The first time I saw this, I’m ashamed to admit, I thought Benny was going to steal money from the dispatch; I was a fool

-Dancer with fireworks on his shoes

-Benny is smart and good; he isn’t doing this for Kevin or Nina but for the people of New York

-Abuela was able to see stars again on the last night of her life

-I’m sad Blackout isn’t exactly the same but the orchestral parts that cover up what is unsaid is so beautiful it makes up for it

-Abuela’s family is her “fireworks”; they are what light up the Heights

-Sonny came to Usnavi instead of being with his dad during the blackout; his real family

-Abuela’s smile as she looks at her family while reflecting on her childhood is the most beautiful thing there will ever be

-Paciencia y Fe as a dream sequence is how it was meant to be

-The transition on the subway from reality to memory

-Paciencia y Fe is a mixture of cultures; like Abuela’s memories

-“Wide awake”=> stepping off the subway

-The same actress played Abuela on Broadway and in the movie

-Abuela may be in a musical, but she’s still an old woman

-“As I feed these birds”=> back to the present

-Calor means heat in Spanish but in English it sounds like color

-Abuela dying during the night of the blackout is perfect

-Usnavi saying “she was just here” twice: when she was literally just there and many years, maybe a decade, after the fact

-Usnavi’s daughter is the life that goes on after Abuela is gone

-Usnavi and Nina crying together

-Those closest to Abuela are inside and everyone else is outside

-Iris was sitting on the outside and now she’s in the middle; needed comfort from her friends

-“Should we take a break?”=> we’re past the point of an intermission

-“No daddy, keep going”=> does this look like a stage production to you? It’s a fucking movie

-There isn’t a clear point for an intermission; the action stays strong over where the intermission should be; this is a movie, not a play, and movies don’t have intermissions

-Everyone’s holding candles; like the stars Abuela loved so much

-Iris called Usnavi Daddy for the first time because that was the point in the story where he needed to hear that the most

-“I thought about the people I care about the most, I thought about you”

-Anthony makes Usnavi sexy in a way Lin never could

-So many people love Vanessa, but no one better than Usnavi

-Abuela paid to have Camila's napkins cleaned after all

-Usnavi is the kind of parent that doesn’t sugarcoat life

-Vanessa listed no emergency contacts even though she had people

-“That’s senorita to you”=> yes girl, get it

-Love Daniela for getting everyone out of their asses

-“Tonteria” means foolishness=> the more you know

-How fast Carla says no to “ask me why” shows how quickly she wants to please her love

-Usnavi’s Nueva York t-shirt=> I need it

-Daniela’s first effect being on a woman whose hair is terrible

-Carla pushing that man away from her woman with a bullshit excuse

-My friend was laughing at the parts that were meant to be jokes

-Usnavi’s entrance being announced in Carnaval del Barrio; just like Benny in the opening song

-“There’s nothing holding me down”=> assuming he was rejected

-The different communities dancing with their flags

-Nina being part of Carnaval del Barrio is great

-Even Kevin, kind of an old man, can get down

-Since Nina and Benny sex scene wasn’t shown on screen (praise Jesus), I have to assume Nina told Daniela even though she knows she’s a huge gossip

-Everyone stops because Sonny, a kid, starts singing

-Vanessa and Sonny are so powerful together

-Vanessa’s hand on Sonny’s shoulder

-A kid providing Usnavi with the “flag I’ve got in my hand”

-Usnavi and Vanessa dancing together is muy romantico

-Everything about Nina’s appearance in “When the Sun Goes Down”

-“Let me just listen to my block”=> peak Nina

-Abuela wrote “for Usnavi” on her lotto ticket 😭

-They cut so many songs but kept Champagne=>I love their priorities

-The pause before “you outta stay”

-Everyone has such great chemistry; especially Usnavi and Vanessa

-The choreography in Champagne is what I’ve always imagined

-Usnavi didn’t have time to cash in because Vanessa came over

-Vanessa and Pete friendship for the win

-“Best days of my life” is said thrice=> good things come in threes

-Usnavi staring at the room where Vanessa kissed him

-Iris knows he stayed; she loves her dad so much

-Usnavi looking out his window in Washington Heights and seeing his friends on his dad’s beach

-When Usnavi talks about Kevin at the dispatch, the camera flashes to an abandoned building

-“Vanessa at the salon”=> Usnavi sheds a tear

-Vanessa being front and center during Usnavi’s decision to stay

-Hearing the sounds of the beach during the unveiling

-It’s all about Vanessa=> perfection

-Lin being at the ending is perfect no matter the context

-“Say it so it doesn’t disappear”=> the sad reality is your neighborhood probably will disappear

-Usnavi telling his daughter “you’re it” is everything

-Iris understanding all of the little details of her father’s store now that she knows his story

-Iris is the goddess of the rainbow like the light that appears when water appears on a sunlit day

-“Man, you talk forever”=> that’s so “How I Met Your Mother”

-Iris has a necklace of seashells, like the islands

-Vanessa would sooner get wet than let go of Usnavi’s hand

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a-simple-gaywitch · 3 years

Text

Locked Out

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer gets locked out of his hotel room in his rush to talk to you, and overhears a conversation he was never meant to hear. Word Count: 1182 Warnings: None, I think? A/N: this is more of a blurb than a full fic, but I saw this gif and it gave me this idea

“More the hurry, more the obstacles.” -Welsh Proverb

You were sipping your crappy motel coffee and reviewing the case files when there was a knock on your door. You opened it to see Spencer Reid.

Your best friend.

In nothing but a tiny pink towel.

“Hey,” he said, clearly out of breath. “I had a breakthrough about the case.”

You cleared your head and looked at Spencer’s face. “And the reason you’re in a towel…?”

“Oh, I thought of it in the shower and needed to tell you right away.”

“You didn’t have time to put clothes on?” He shook his head and you said, “Okay, well get in here before someone we don’t know sees you.”

“Thanks. Okay, so I was thinking about the connection between the victims and-”

“Spence, I’d love to hear your thoughts but I’m concerned about that washcloth around your waist.” You dug through your go-bag and grabbed a pair of old sweats you’d stolen from your dad for sleep pants. “Put these on.”

After you turned around and covered your eyes, Spencer started explaining. “I was thinking about how there’s no obvious connection, such as appearance or age. You can turn around now.”

You turned back around. “And?”

“I had Garcia do a little digging. At first it looks like they’re victims of choice, but that doesn’t account for how they were killed in their homes.”

“So there must have been some other common factor. The geographic profile is too spread out for it to be the school district and all the women worked different jobs all over town.”

“Exactly. But Garcia looked at their credit card records for me.”

“What did she find?”

“They all went to the same salon within a month of their deaths. But they all went for different treatments. Emily Green went for a nail art treatment, Jody Summerfield went to get her hair dyed, Regina Allen got her eyebrows waxed, and Vanessa Lang went for um…” Spencer’s face turned as pink as the towel he was still holding. He cleared his throat, “She went for something called vaginal steaming.”

“So the salon is the common factor,” you said, choosing to ignore the awkwardness that Spencer was exuding. “Did they go on similar days or at similar times?”

“That’s the thing,” he said, going over to the desk where you’d put the files. “The only commonality is the salon. None of the employees overlapped and they all went at different times of day.”

You hummed, looking at the crime scene photos. “Maybe we should talk to the rest of the team, see what they think.”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah. We can go to the station and-” He stopped.

“What?”

“I left my key in my room. I locked myself out.”

“What?”

“I locked myself out of my room. God!” He flopped down onto your bed. “I’m an idiot.”

“Hey, Spence,” you said, getting his attention .”Breathe. It’s okay. I’ll go to the office and get a spare, okay?”

He smiled at you. “You’re my savior.”

You scoffed, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Sure. I’ll be right back.” You grabbed your keys and a jacket before walking across the dingy motel parking lot to the office. After grabbing a spare key from the bored teenager at the desk, you headed back to your room. Before you got to the door, you ran into Morgan.

“Hey, Pretty Girl,” he said. “So, I noticed Reid sneaking into your room earlier. You finally decide to bone down?”

You punched his muscled shoulder. “Shut up, Morgan!” you hissed, your face flushing. “No, that’s not what happened. And that’s not going to happen.”

“Come on, (Y/N), we all see the way you look at him. We all know you love him.”

“He’s my best friend, Derek. I can’t screw that up because I have feelings he doesn’t. I can’t lose him.”

“So, you’d rather live in the misery of not knowing?”

“If it means I don’t lose him? Absolutely.”

Little did you know, Spencer heard the entire conversation you’d had with Derek. And he had been madly in love with you since you joined the team.

He knew you didn’t want to mess up your relationship with him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t let you know how he felt.

When the team got to the station to meet with the local officers, he brought you coffee- not crappy precinct coffee, but good, expensive coffee-shop coffee, made exactly to your liking. When he noticed you shivering in the cold of mid-November, he pulled off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. When you lost your favorite pen, Spencer went out to the nearest office supply store and bought you a box full of replacement pens.

After the case was closed and the team boarded the jet to fly home, you decided to ask Spencer why he was being so generous over the past few days. After the rest of the team fell asleep, you sat next to Spencer on the sofa, tucking your legs up under your body.

He smiled at you, setting his book on his lap. “Hey.” When you stayed silent, just looking at him, he said, “What are you thinking?”

Spencer knew your mind better than anyone. You were his other half, the two of you being connected on a level no one else could match.

“You’ve been weird,” you finally said.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The $5 coffees, the new box of pens. What’s going on with you?”

He looked over the jet to double-check everyone was asleep. “I, uh, I heard you and Morgan talking outside the motel.”

Your face drained of color. “Spence, I-”

“(Y/N), please,” he said, cutting you off. “I know what you’re going to say, and you don’t need to say it.” He took your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You watched his hands, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I love you too, (Y/N),” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “As so much more than a friend. And the idea of you being miserable hurt me. It physically causes me pain. You understand me in a way no one else does. I fell for you the first time I ever heard your laugh. I never told you because, well, because I had the same thoughts you had.” He squeezed your hand. “I never want to lose you, (Y/N). I love you.”

You smiled, your eyes welled with tears. “I love you too, Spence.”

“Well, it’s about damn time!” Morgan said as the rest of the team started clapping.

You felt your face heat up and you hid your face in Spencer’s chest.

“None of you were actually asleep?” Spencer asked, his eyes wide.

“No, we wanted to see if the two of you would finally own up to your feelings,” Emily said. “It was getting painful to watch.”

You just held up your hand that wasn’t laced with Spencer’s, flipping the team off.

“Vulnerability is the only bridge to connection.” - Brené Brown

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #x reader #em's fics

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erminecore · 4 years

Text

I really liked @doodledrawsthings’s A Hat in Time “Coffee Shop AU” idea… but also got me to thinkin. What if Vanessa’s poison was rather more immediate, so she had time to gloat, and so poor Luka had to deal with the idea of coming home to Harriet as a big snakeghost… who won’t recognize him at all?

“I’m not here to talk about custody.” Vanessa says, her smile angelic, perfect. She flicks a strand of hair from her shoulder, just to complete the illusion of the person Luka thought she’d been.

Luka’s emptied cup hits the saucer with a clatter. His nerves, which were screaming at him the whole time, rise to a fever pitch. He sharply stands, his stomach rolling, his hands hitting the table with the clatter of cutlery - but if anything, Vanessa’s smile only widens at the show of frustration. “...If this isn’t about custody, then what is this about?”

Vanessa laughs even as Luka’s stomach winds knots like dancing snakes, even as he bends double with the roiling pain of it. She laughs even as he hit the floor, his arm coming up to grip the tablecloth for support - and failing, his nerves turning to jelly, his muscles screaming as if melting under an acid kiss. “Oh, Luka. You should really know better by now. I’m here for revenge.”

From his vantage point on the floor, Luka gets a good view of the tableware as it comes crashing down around him. Forks and knives twirling like dangerous silver dancers around his spinning head, the graceful fall of a teapot in slow motion… but it is his own cup that, rolling to a stop near his arm, that draws his attention. In the tea, he sees the same purple, the same stain that is creeping down his arm - the purple of night, of pouring ink, of scribbled over legal documents and things gone wrong. Luka is aware, painfully aware, that he may be dying.

“What,” he rasps, aware of the spasming of his own arms, of the distant sound of his shirt tearing. His entire body was nothing but a ball of fire and nerves, somehow nebulous, but growing longer all the time, growing larger. “Have you done to me, Vanessa?”

In response, Vanessa stands - perhaps was always standing. Luka doesn’t know. His sense of time, of continuity, is near shattered. But he sees her perfect pink shoes, ribboned and sweet, as she walks over, and deftly kicks the cup away.

“I never wanted the child, you know.” Vanessa says, her voice full of spite. “You should have known that. I just wanted to make you suffer - to remind you whose you were.”

Luka tries to speak, tried to form the words to tell her just how awful she was, just how awful she still is. But the only sound that comes out is a soft gurgling, a pained wheeze. It’s like trying to breathe through a straw. His hands come to his neck and he feels them - large and clumsy, clawed and fumbling, two fingered, inhuman.

“You know? I don’t think you’ll be winning custody now.” Vanessa says, her voice sweet and pleasant. As pleasant as when she cut his hair while he was sleeping. As pleasant as when she told him to choose between her and Harriet. As pleasant as when she told him to stop talking to his tutor at law school. “No one would give a child to a monster like you.”

“You’re the monster!” Luka manages to spit, coughing up something black, something wretched onto the carpet. He forces his gaze upwards and yes, Vanessa’s glaring at him, glaring, but smoothing her face quickly, tightening it into a smile just like always…

“You think so?” She says, with a little chuckle, reaching into her pocket to pull out a silvered hand mirror, no bigger than her palm. It shows very little. But what it reflects nearly stops Luka’s heart.

Glimpses of black, of yellow eyes like a lantern, of fangs lit by an endless glow set above a gaping maw. He’ll never work at a law firm again - he’ll never fit in a law firm again. A long slithering tail where his legs should be… it is no wonder he cannot feel them anymore.

“You always were a little snake, my prince…” Vanessa croons, her eyes twinkling even as the monster in the mirror begins to cry. “Now the whole world will know.”

“...How could you? How could you?!” Luka sobs. He’s not thinking about Vanessa. He’s thinking about poor Harriet. He’s thinking about his job. He’s thinking about his life, in tatters. About the child he has to support. About the case he has to win. How in the world is he even going to get through courtroom doors like this? How is he going to navigate the formal attire required to be his own lawyer? What, is he going to just wear a tie on the day of the hearing and nothing else?

“How could I? How could you?” Vanessa snaps right back, crossing her arms and glaring, glaring as if Luka’s the one in the wrong. “You took my heart and ran away with it! You left me, alone, all alone in the world over a child!”

Luka sees frost beading at the edges of Vanessa’s clenched fists. Sees the tears of fury in her eyes. It explains everything. Magic? Magic. God, of all the people in the world to have magic, it has to be his ex…

“Now you understand, though, don’t you?” She says, her smile smoothing crookedly, uneasily over her face. Jagged lines and uncertain swoops. “You’re mine. Mine and mine alone. You can’t go anywhere else. No one else will accept you. No one will love you, not like me. That wretched child won’t even recognize you now.”

Vanessa reaches down, her pale hands coming to caress Luka’s cheek. Her fingers are still icy, horribly cold, all the worse on Luka’s freshly burned skin. “There’s nowhere else for you to go…”

“...I…” Luka whispers, shivering, trembling in her fingers. He sees her eyes widen. He sees the hope there. It’s the old hope, the hope he fell in love with, the light that was brilliant, that drew him in like a moth to the flame. God, he’d loved her so much, when he first saw her look up from her books, when he saw the boredom drain from her eyes to be replaced by this fire…

But that was then, and this is now.

“...I’m going to be pressing charges.” He hisses, pressing his hands into the dirt, scrabbling, sliding, slipping away into the night, however he can. He doesn’t think about it, can’t think about it - to think about it is to not be thinking about the furious howls of rage behind him, the wintry blasts of ice that shatter and smash tree branches above him - flash frozen in an instant.

Somehow. Somehow he gets away. Hauls himself up to a park bench somewhere, puts his head in his hands. Somehow, he finds a moment to think, but there’s only worry, only the same burning fear, over and over.

“She’s right.” Luka whispers, the horror dawning on him. “There’s no way the kid will recognize me now.”

He said he was only supposed to be an an hour, maybe two.

Luka had never been home late before. But, then… he usually didn’t make appointments this suddenly either. Not the day of, not thirty minutes before. But… it was with Harriet’s mom. So maybe that’s what made it special?

Harriet wasn’t supposed to know where, or with who but… she’d kind of listened in. Heard the phone call. It was… easy enough to pick up the details through the shouting, even without poking her head through a crack in the door. Subcon park, eight pm, sharp. They were going to talk about things. Talk about her.

It felt like the only thing anyone ever talked about anymore was her. But not in the way Harriet liked. Not talking about how brilliant she was, or how bright, or what she brought home from school. Talking about who she’d be happier with. Where she belonged. Who owned her.

Luka still talked about how bright she was, of course. How brilliant, how beautiful. But when he spoke about it, he was always… defensive. Or tired. Harriet wasn’t sure which one was worse.

Harriet… isn’t supposed to go out late. Or alone. But her dad is really, really late now. Maybe… maybe he got lost? Maybe it’s time to go look for him, to make sure he’s okay…

Harriet checks her phone again. Still no calls, no texts, nothing. Except, exactly as she’s looking the phone lights up, with a text from her dad -

“Dad

11:48PM

idmworot994 w”

-and nothing else. Not even the usual “Sorry I forgot it was in my pocket, kiddo!” that her dad always sends after scrambled texts. That seals it. He really must be in trouble, or he wouldn’t be so sloppy and un-Luka like…

Harriet snatches her hat from the hatstand, grabs her coat, and rushes out of the front door, into the night, unaware of the bright yellow eyes anxiously following her the whole way…

Luka follows along behind his own daughter, clumsily, awkwardly, anxiously, his body ribboning through the trees like an eel. He feels horrible doing it, but who else will keep an eye on her? Except, now he’s the embodiment of everything that he’s warned her to be afraid of in the night, the very essence of a “stranger.”

How is he going to be able to talk to her? How is he going to warn her about Vanessa, Vanessa who is even now, on the prowl, hunting for the both of them?

He waits until there is light, at least. A light and a bench and… hope. It’s risky. But he can’t wait any longer. He calls out, his voice rasping, low. Will she even recognize it?

“Hey, kiddo?”

Harriet jumps nearly out of her skin, starting back from the light - gazing around wildly into the night. She sees nothing. Just trees, darkness… and two glowing yellow eyes, suspended above a grinning mouth.

“M-monster!” Harriet shrieks, fear tingling up her tiny spine as she scrambles for the bench, crawling under it, losing her hat her haste to take cover and hide. Trembling like a leaf, too scared even to cry…

Luka feels his heart fall out of his chest to shatter on the cold ground below. Wasn’t it just like this? When things started getting rough. When him and Vanessa started fighting, and he had to turn the whole house upside down just to find the poor kid cowering under the bed…

Vanessa was right, of course. He doesn’t see any recognition in Harriet’s eyes. For the first time, he is a stranger, someone new, someone terrifying. Someone awful - a monster. He can’t blame her for hiding. But it still hurts him, leaves a sucking wound that sinks down to the pit of his soul, a chasm that might never heal…

“...H-hey, I’m not gonna hurt ya.” He chuckles, clumsily flopping down from the tree tops. The ground is hard, and the impact is harder as he lands in an ungainly heap. But the little giggle Harriet gives is worth it, even if the humor is lost as he shakily pulls himself into the light. “Don’t you recognize me, kiddo?”

Nothing. No reply, no recognition. Not even a response. He’s raised his kid well, even if it’s to his detriment. Don’t talk to suspiciously friendly people. If anything, she crawls further under the bench, keeping a wary eye on him. Luka sighs, running a hand over his head. Of course… it wouldn’t be this easy.

He spots the forgotten hat, lying on the ground, and reaches for it, stretching his arm far, grabbing it - and in that moment, when his eyes shift, Harriet makes a run for it. Smart girl. But he sees her hesitate, as he’s lying there with her favorite thing in the world. In response Luka slowly lifts up his girl’s favorite little topper, smiling forlornly.

“Come on Harriet. It’s me, Luka. I know it might be hard to believe right now but… don’t you recognize your father?”

Harriet stops. Not because she believes him. But because those words are familiar. Because when she was under the bed, sobbing her eyes out because her parents were splitting over her, over her… her dad had leaned down, with that same, forlorn smile, and had said…

“Come on, Harriet. I know it might be hard to believe right now… but it’s going to be okay.”

...In that same tone of voice…

“...D...dad?!” Harriet whispers, leaning down to take the hat, her eyes practically boggling. “What happened to you?”

Luka just laughs. That nervous, over-loud laugh he does when he’s losing a case, and pulls himself closer, wrapping around his daughter for a hug. Harriet tenses under him for the suddenness, the strangeness of it - but she doesn’t try to run. Instead she holds him back, comforting and being comforted at the same time.

“I have no idea. But we need to go. It’s not safe with Vanessa still around.”

#ahit #a hat in time #ahit 'coffee shop au'#the snatcher #hat kid #queen vanessa #writing #fanfiction time

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frosteee · 3 years

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I've seen a theory (can I call it that?) around that The Snatcher's preoccupation with contracts is a reference to the exchange between himself and the florist that sealed his fate as the unfortunate lawyer-prince.

This is cool, but I think we can go deeper (and darker) than that. For one thing, his penchant for contracts is a double-edged sword. Not only does it restrict the freedom of others, but it also does the same to him. In the final fight with Moustache Kid, we see him having to make a contract to be able to do something as simple as throw boons to Hat Kid. He literally needs a contract to explicitly state that he has leave to do such and such.

When Hat Kid tries to back out of making a contract with him, Snatcher shouts: "I don't think I've made this clear enough: YOUR OPINION DOESN'T MATTER HERE!"

This ties in with Snatcher's past with Queen Vanessa, and her abuse towards him. I haven't seen it talked about much in that way, but let's call it what it is. When Snatcher was with her, his opinion never mattered, because - to quote Vanessa - "He is MINE!".

She wanted to possess him entirely, and control everything in his life - the food he ate (bacon was his favourite, but he loved it, so that had to go - he could only love HER), the way he looked (she cut and dyed his hair to be like hers without his consent), who he interacted with (even when he is far away), and even where he went. The prince had absolutely no say in any of it, because she decided it all for him. Any deviation was betrayal. When she saw him with that florist, she saw what she wanted to see. His words, his feelings, meant absolutely nothing to her. He had to submit to her terms of their relationship, or die. She even admits how far she's willing to go to keep him before she does it!

tl;dr: It's tragic that Snatcher didn't realise until it was too late how dangerous Vanessa is, and even more tragic that he lost himself to such a degree that he is inflicting the same abuse on others. Also Vanessa was an abusive lunatic long before she went off the deep end, it was only a matter of time.

#Snatcher #AHIT #A Hat In Time #analysis #Queen Vanessa #Queen Vanessa AHIT #Hat Kid #theory

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karihighman · 4 years

Text

Witness – Upstead AU

PART ONE: MEETING YOU WAS FATE

Hailey couldn’t believe it. Well, she could believe it, since she saw it happen right in front of her eyes. But she really could not believe that she would be the one to witness such a thing.

She was walking to her car from her family’s Greektown cafe and bakery, where she worked, and she heard a rustling in the alleyway across the street. She turned, but couldn’t see anything. She had just put her key into her car door to unlock it when she almost jumped out of her skin.

A gun shot.

That she knew she heard.

Before she could even blink, the gunman was fleeing the alley. He was panicking, but not only from the crime he had committed. No, Hailey had a feeling he wasn’t from around the area, because if he were, he would’ve ran the opposite way, as the back of the alleyway would dump you onto a service road, which would make the perfect getaway.

No, this guy ran to his right, forward, and even crazier, in the direction of Hailey. She had tried to avert her eyes, but she felt frozen with fear as she heard strangled sounds coming from said crime scene.

Oh god, was someone dying? Shit. She couldn’t just leave them there. She had to help.

She blamed it on her masters in psychology, which she was just two more months away from completing. She was splitting her time between school, and work. It was actually how she met her now-roommate, Vanessa. They studied at CCU together.

Hailey whipped out her cell phone and dialed 911. She was talking with the dispatcher when she cursed herself for not shining her flashlight in the dark alley. She flipped it on, and in front of her was a man, couldn’t be more than 5-10 years older than she, lying on the ground.

His words were mangled, but it took Hailey a moment to realize it was because blood was spilling from his mouth. She held her breath, as if that was going to help something. She was trying to find where the actual wound was, but she was having a difficult time.

The man’s fancy suit jacket was covering his arm that put pressure on his abdomen. Shit, that’s not good, Hailey thought to herself as she tried to assist. “Yes, at 501 S Racine. Yes, he’s been shot in the stomach, he’s bleeding really bad, please hurry.”

“Ma’am, paramedics and police are in route.”

Hailey heard the dispatcher as she dropped her phone, not caring where it landed, and turned her attention to the dying man in front of her.

“Sir? Hey, the ambulance is on its way,” she tried, but he wasn’t responsive. “Hey,” she said with a bit more authority. “Do you know who did this to you?”

He barely moved his head up and down, but that was enough for Hailey. “Who? Who did this?”

“My,” he croaked, his speech cut off by the gurgling of blood. Hailey idled helplessly as the man’s eyes shifted closed.

“No, no, no. Hey, hey!” She exclaimed, ears perking up when she heard the sound of the sirens. “Sir, please hold on. They’re almost here.”

She saw a myriad of flashing lights, red, blue, and white. She had the most idiotic thought when she looked at it. It reminds me of the flag. As fast as it entered her mind, it was gone as she screamed for the first responders to get over here. She wasn’t sure if they could see them from the street.

She saw shadows along the brick wall, rushing to meet her own. She didn’t expect to be pushed and prodded, but she supposed it was what needed to be done. She was plucked up by a paramedic, while 2 tended to the man. He was up on a gurney and into the first waiting truck before the one that stood by Hailey spoke.

“Ma’am? Are you hurt?”

Hailey hadn’t spoken yet, but when she brought her hands up to her face to brush her hair out of her eyes, she found them to be covered in blood. His blood. She felt her breath come in spurts, and she felt like she couldn’t move, let alone say anything. So much blood.

“Okay, we’re gonna get you to Chicago Med just to be safe,” the medic told her, leading her zombie-like frame over to the second ambulance. “Did you see what happened?”

Hailey parted her lips only a tad, still unable to form the simplest of words: yes. So, in a disturbing twist of events, she took her bloodied pointer finger, and etched a “Y” onto the back of her hand, which was clear of blood. She felt like she was watching herself do these things: showing her hand to the medic, hearing calls for a cop to follow them to Med, and a distinct two taps on the back of their truck before it propelled forward.

What the hell just happened?

——————-

Jay wasn’t the hugest fan of the late night calls that Intelligence seemed to always pick up. Well, at least not lately. Seemed like he barely clocked in two hours of sleep a night because he was always on the clock at work.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes as he surveyed the remnants of the crime scene. They couldn’t call it a murder yet, because as it stood, their victim was on his way to the hospital. Blood littered the brick wall, some trickling down to the unevenly paved cement ground.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he took it all in. Why the hell would someone be shot here? It was just outside the dinkiest shopping lot, with a bakery across the street, a gas station on the corner, and a couple of random stores in between.

“Halstead,” Voight’s voice echoed over his own thoughts. “Get to Med. You’re interviewing the witness.”

Jay opened his mouth, wanting to at least get someone else to come with him. Ever since his ex-partner and subsequent ex-girlfriend Erin left a few years back, he’d been rotated through all the rest of the Intelligence Unit. He’d felt most comfortable with Adam, as the two were able to dick around in their free time to take the edge off the homicides and robberies they dealt with every day.

But, because Adam was a bit – according to his fiancée Kim, a lot – dismal, he’d managed to get stuck with a needle while chasing after a suspect a few days back. He was holed up at the apartment he shared with Kim until the end of this week, when his tests would come back. Just to make sure he didn’t catch anything. Adam had called it a “free vacation”; Kim called it “the dumbest decision he’s made in a while.”

So, he was left without his usual buddy, and everyone else had already been assigned a job. Kevin and Kim were out canvassing, meanwhile his sergeant and sergeant Platt were knee deep in the middle of a discussion. It made sense that the only other missing piece was the witness statement. The medics had whisked them away before anyone could speak to them. Jay didn’t even know if he would be speaking with a burly guy or a timid girl.

Only one way to find out, he figured as he climbed back into his truck. Off to Chicago Med, he went.

When he arrived a short time later, he saw a flash of red hair, which meant his brother was making his rounds. “Will!”

The redheaded older Halstead turned at the sound of his name. His face softened for a split second when he saw it was his younger police brother, but fell serious once again when he realized why Jay was there. He’d not been in the operating room while Dr. Marcel was working on their gunshot victim, but, he knew by hearing the experienced surgeon call “time of death” that they couldn’t save him.

Him turned out to be interim Superintendent Jason Crawford. And Will, being the nice guy that he is, would break the news to his brother.

“Jay,” he said carefully as he walked over to his brother. “He didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

“Dammit!” Jay said, slamming his fist against the nurses station. Maggie gave him one of her looks, and Jay mouthed a “sorry.”

“Shit. Will, who was it?”

“Ex-superintendent Jason Crawford.”

Jay just stood there for a second, mouth slightly agape. Well, fuck. This couldn’t get any worse.

He slapped a hand over his mouth as he began to pace. Will’s hands steadied his shoulders, making him focus again. “Jay. Go make yourself useful and interview the witness. I think April’s finishing her vitals now,” he nodded his head across the way. Jay’s head swiveled, following until he saw April’s coiled hair and nurses uniform.

Got it.

“Yeah,” he said, giving Will’s shoulder a quick pat of gratitude. “Thanks.”

He made his way over towards April, and when he asked her how they were doing, he was surprised when she said that “she’s good to go. No injuries, just shock. Blood was not hers, it was your victim’s. All yours, detective.”

He played off his surprise with a cough. “Thanks, April.”

He finally turned to face this mysterious woman, and was met with the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Her blonde waves were mussed, but he assumed that was from the hospital staff poking at her all night. Her lips were pursed, and she sat calmly on the hospital table.

“Hi,” was the first thing that tumbled out of his mouth, and if it was remotely possible to stick his foot in his mouth whilst standing up, you’d better believe he would’ve done so. Really, that’s all you got? He tried to pull it together so he wasn’t just gawking at her. “I’m Detective Halstead, with the Intelligence Unit. Can you tell me what happened?”

She blinked, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah, sure. I was walking to my car, and I heard a noise. I wasn’t thinking much of it until I heard a gunshot. Once I remembered how to use my legs again, I ran over to where the guy sat, er, lied. I asked him if he knew who did this to him, and he nodded – well, as best he could. He only said “my” before he passed out, or went into shock, I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. But, if I had to guess, it was someone close to him, because a close range shot like that suggests they were within arms lengths of each other.”

Jay was in the midst of scribbling down her answers when his ears perked up at her suggestion. He felt a small smirk play on his lips, and he miserably failed to tamper it down. “Not a doctor, huh?”

“Nope,” she responded, popping the “p.” Sensing he’d want an explanation, she tacked on: “Future psychologist.” She nodded, the smallest of smiles gracing her lips. She held out her hand, and Jay had forgotten what the custom meant. Damn her prettiness.

He regrouped, placing his hand against hers to shake. Their fingers connected, and even though it was a simple handshake, he’d not felt anything during all the other hands he’d shook in his lifetime. Not a one.

“Hailey Upton.” Even her name was pretty.

He locked his eyes on hers. “Detective Halstead, but you can call me Jay.”

#upstead au #upstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #witness #police detective #my writing

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babybatscreationsv2 · 3 years

Text

A King on a Leash ch13

Marvel | Starker

Tony Stark is a powerful man with a beautiful husband and a loyal crime family, but it looks like he didn’t keep his husband on a short enough leash. After turning Peter lose on a Cuban gang leader, Peter’s life is in danger. The real trouble is that Tony now realizes that Peter is the only thing in this world that he cares about and he never meant for that to happen.

Sequel to A Doll on a String

Rating: Explicit

Full Fic

A Doll on a String

Warnings under the cut*

warnings: violence, blood

Happy pulled the car up to the curb. Peter could see Harry through the window, waiting inside the cafe. There was a camera on the table beside him and across from him were MJ and Amy. He checked his coat to make sure his gun was hidden. He ran his fingers over the engraving and his heart gave a little flutter. How could he still be so damn in love?

"Thanks, Hap." Peter smiled at the man, his fingers curling around the door handle.

"No problem, kid. I'll be out here if you have a problem."

"I'm sure you will." He rolled his eyes. "I'm to assume there's someone already inside scouting the place."

"Oh yeah. Those two clowns aren't exactly on a date as much as they're trying to look it."

Peter looked again through the window and shorted. Sitting at a table by the window was a couple in their early thirties sharing a coffee cake. Only, they were dressed in black from head to toe and their coats were long enough to conceal a weapon in every flavor. They were so obviously mafia soldiers that the table across from them had shifted as far to the opposite sides of their chairs as they could and kept looking at them sideways. They were probably waiting for a shoot out. Peter hoped Chili wasn't feeling brave today. There was no way every crime lord in New York didn't know where Peter Parker was at exactly this moment.

"You sure I should go in?"

Happy turned around to look at him. "Now, you're being cautious?"

Peter chewed his lip. "I worry about Tony."

"How about you worry about having the correct number of holes in your head," he huffed, then he took a breath. "Sorry, I just wish you didn't insist on going out right now. It'll never be safe for you. Not with things how they are."

"I can't take being cooped up. Besides, I'm doing good work with Harry. We can't talk business with MJ here, but I need him to trust me."

"Try to not think of your friends like that, Pete. Harry is good to you. You be good to him to and not just for Tony's sake."

"What would you do for Pepper?"

Happy snorted. "If she told me to shoot a friend I'd shoot a friend, but do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because Pepper wouldn't say a thing like that for fun. She would have a real reason."

"You're sounding pretty judgmental for a glorified babysitter," Peter snapped. He ripped open the door and climbed out. It slammed shut behind him and a few passersby looked up before walking a bit quicker. He crossed the sidewalk but he didn't make it to the door before an unfriendly sneer caught his eye.

Adrian Toomes stood puffing a cigarette, leaning against the brick of the cafe. Peter rolled his eyes. Great, another old man waiting to tell him why he's an idiot.

"You know it's rude to smoke in a doorway like that. Some people have asthma."

Toomes laughed. "Some people have no respect for family."

"Really? You wanna do this now?"

He shrugged. "I'm not here to do anything, Parker-"

"It's Parker-Stark now."

"Of course I know that you little harlot. How many powerful beds did you try out before you found one that would keep you?"

Peter's fists clenched. "You better watch your mouth-"

"Or what? Your daddy gonna gut me? I'm sure Fisk would like that." Peter heard a car door behind him. Toomes's eyes flicked up, probably looking at Happy, but Peter didn't turn his head.

"There's no Boss of Bosses anymore. Fisk doesn't get to tell anyone what to do."

Toomes smirked. "I bet you think he likes you because you remind him of Vanessa, but here's the thing, kid. Fisk woulda put her down like a dog if she ever did what you did. And you're just another bitch." He flicked his cigarette to the ground.

"If it's your goal to annoy me to death it's not working. You're just another ant on the sidewalk."

"Cute." He glanced into the cafe. "I see what you're up to with little Osborn."

"And what exactly is that?"

"You're playing him. Setting him up to owe your man, but it's not gonna work."

Peter smirked. "How much of Octavius's old territory did Harry take back from you? You must be really feeling the hurt if you came all this way to chat me up."

Toomes narrowed his eyes. He stepped into Peter's face. Happy was at his back in a flash.

"I think you'd better take a step back, Mr. Toomes," he warned.

Toomes's eyes flicked between their faces. "Couple of dogs aren't you? The guard dog and the house bitch."

"Sticks and stones, Toomes, but words are all you have because we both know you don't have the balls to lay a hand on me."

He stepped forward and Happy got between them, looking down his nose at the man like he was a rat. Peter laughed. "See you around, Mr. Toomes. I have a lunch date." He gave a little wave and stepped inside the building. He walked to the table where the obvious non-couple sat.

"Back Happy up and find somewhere else to stake out."

They both nodded. "Yes, sir," they mumbled. Peter watched them go, making sure Toomes backed off of Happy and no one came to his aid. The fact that he didn't have anyone else with him seemed odd. Tony and Wilson always had men with them. Did Toomes not have anyone he trusted to watch his back? Peter wished he could exploit that enough to stick a knife in it.

He caught his friends all stared at him from across the cafe. Peter plastered a pleasant smile on his face and strode over to them like nothing was wrong. He sat down next to Harry.

"Who was that?" Amy asked. Her hair was dyed pastel pink now and it brought out the permanent blotchy red of her cheeks. It was cute, though, like she was always blushing.

Peter waved his hand like it was nothing. "I've seen them around the city before and I thought I saw their car being towed."

"Really?" She turned and looked out the window. MJ put a hand on her shoulder and Amy shot her a questioning look as she turned back to the table.

"We've got big news!" MJ said, tactfully changing the subject.

Amy smiled practically bouncing in her seat. "Okay, it's not really news and it's not exactly big, but it is super cute!"

Peter laughed. "What is it?"

"Amy's cat has found the perfect sun spot in the new apartment," MJ said. Peter knew the look of 'I'm pretending to be excited for her sake'.

Amy giggled. "He's so cute! Every morning he lays down on the rug and stretches his little legs and curls up in the sun spot and he's so cute!" she babbled. MJ smiled at her, totally smitten.

"That sounds so cute," Peter agreed.

"When is Muffin getting a brother?" Harry said.

"We did talk about visiting the shelter some time this week." MJ shrugged. "Our apartment said we could have two so we thought why not?"

"We're getting a kitten!" Amy squealed.

"How about a grumpy old street cat who has seen some things," MJ suggested.

"Either way sounds nice," Peter said. He looked past them out the window. Happy caught his eye and gave him an OK with his hand before getting back into the car. He saw the man from before leaning against a mailbox, pretending to check his phone. He didn't know where the woman went. Probably across the street. He wondered what it was Toomes had wanted. Had he planned to scare him away from Harry? A couple of threats that he might tattle to Fisk were hardly concerning, but it wasn't like Toomes had a lot of cards to play. If he hurt Peter it would kind of make him a hypocrite and Peter wasn't technically breaking any rules by forming an alliance with Harry. The Bosses were supposed to be brothers so convincing Tony and Harry to help each other should be encouraged. Toomes was just pissed that he couldn't take advantage of Harry's lack of experience so long as he had Tony to call.

The girls left early to get back to couple stuff. Peter hugged them both goodbye and shook his head as they hurried off. MJ had her arm around Amy's shoulders while the pink-haired girl babbled excitedly. Then they were gone and it was just him and Harry.

"I gotta thank you for hooking me up with Brock," he said.

Peter shrugged. "That was all Tony. He always knows what to do."

"Yeah well, he's pretty solid. Who was he?"

"He was one of Tony's own soldiers. Don't know what gig he was running, but Tony was confident he would be able to help you out. He says the best Consigliere is an experienced enforcer with a little bit of morality. Like Happy."

Harry cringed. "Enforcer?"

"You'll get there." Peter patted his shoulder. "The first time someone points a gun at you, you'll be glad your men are experienced. I would strongly recommend you get your first kill under your belt sooner rather than later."

"You sound like Tony."

"He is a wise boss."

"You really admire him. It's sweet."

Peter shrugged. "For a couple of bloodthirsty killers, I guess."

"Does there have to be so much killing?"

"Eddie will help you out. Help you see the good in the ugly."

"You mean the money."

"That money is gonna change hands one way or another. Might as well put it in your own hands." Peter phone buzzed against the table top. He glanced down to see Tony's face along with "Daddy" on the screen.

"Sorry, Har." He picked up the phone.

"No problem."

He answered the call and put the phone to his ear. Tony spoke before he could say anything. He was breathing heavy.

"It's time, angel. I sent Happy the location."

"Nat found him?"

"Don't be late, angel, or I'll start without you," he purred. Peter felt that down in his groin. Time to do what they did best.

"I'll talk to you later, Harry," he told his friend. He stood and stuffed his phone in his pocket.

"Business?" he asked. "You need some help?"

"Yes and no," Peter smiled. "I appreciate the offer, but you're not ready for this one."

"Some other time, then."

"Call me." Peter slapped his shoulder as he passed, then he was out the door. Happy climbed into the driver's seat as he came outside. Peter got into the back. The man and woman joined them in the car with the man up front.

"You ready for this, kid?" Happy asked, cruising at ten over the speed limit.

"More than ready." He pulled his gun from his coat and held it in his lap.

"Put one in him for me. I haven't gotten any sleep in weeks," Happy grumbled. It hadn't occurred to him how much this had affected the rest of the family and he felt a little guilty.

"Sorry to put you through this."

"Not your fault, kid. Well, no it is, but Tony should do a better job of intimidating people if he's going to let you loose like that."

"I'm not a wild animal."

"You act like one. I heard about the other night, you know. You get off on this shit, the both of you. But I don't. I'm just doing what I'm good at, making a living. I'm not judging. I'm just asking you to think of the family before you go dancing on graves that didn't need to be there."

"Ya know, if I had just stolen the diamonds, they would have come after me anyway."

Happy shrugged. "Maybe the whole gig was doomed from the start. Or maybe nobody would have put as much work into finding you if it were just some stones they were mad about."

"Nah. They would have come after me."

Happy didn't say anything to that. Peter knew that he didn't approve. He never did. As much as Happy tried to be the voice of reason, he was in just as deep as they were. He didn't have to like killing, but he did have to jump when Tony told him to. Daddy says 'shoot', everyone fires. No questions asked.

They pulled into the back of a store boasting 'rare oriental rugs'. There were way too many cars in the rear parking lot for it to not be a front. Either cops in this neighborhood were dirty or they were blind. The man and woman went in first. Then Happy got out and scouted the lot. Peter sighed to himself while he waited. Then Happy finally came to open to his door.

They walked up to the building. Happy opened the door. The smell of fresh death wafted out. Peter went inside and nearly ran back out. There were bodies everywhere, blood on every surface, and through a door on the other side of the room Peter could hear more screaming. There had been a massacre.

#marvel #starker #au fic #mafia au #violence

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strawberriestyles · 4 years

Text

Chapter 10

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Hope y’all are doing well, taking care of yourselves, and continuing to fight the good fight. Here is a post containing links to petitions and donations regarding Yemen. Help out where you can. I love y’all so much. Xx

Harry made sure that Melody slept soundly the next few nights, but she moved as though she were still tired, haunted. He wondered if this was how she’d passed the months without him.

The bruise on her jaw yellowed quickly, but the split in her cheek took longer to begin knitting itself back together. She cleaned it twice a day and Harry dabbed ointment on it before bed. She no longer winced when he came into contact with the swollen skin at its edges.

Melody was staring out her bedroom window on Wednesday morning as she chewed toast, sitting wrapped back up in the sheets. Harry watched her eyes unfocus while he picked at one of Bea’s raspberry muffins—they weren’t half bad.

“Mel, yeh sure yeh’re all right?”

She glanced at him and took another bite of her food before she nodded.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out if Vanessa has the morning shift today.”

“Why don’ yeh just ask her?”

“Right.” She reached for her phone and nearly flipped the plate holding the rest of her toast. Harry shook his head.

“Are yeh tired? Did yeh get enough sleep?”

“I slept fine.”

“Then wha’s wrong?”

Melody’s thumbs danced across her phone screen and she threw the device across the bed before shrugging. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Mel.” Harry placed the last few bites of his muffin on her plate and ran a hand down her spine. “C’mon now.” He watched as she began peeling apart the wedges of an orange and saw her fingers shake.

“I—” Melody cut herself off and bit into a piece of fruit, biding her time. She tugged restlessly at the edges of orange peel when she’d finished chewing. “I keep having these nightmares. And Colton’s in them.”

“I know, love.” Harry leaned in and pressed a kiss to her clothed shoulder. “What happened would give anyone nightmares. We’re okay, though. And—”

“No, it’s not just memories it’s—“ She drew in a long breath to prepare herself. She never talked about her nightmares. Not even with Bea, who had been the one to comfort her when Harry wasn’t here. But if anyone deserved an explanation, it was Harry. “There are two different dreams. The one I’ve been having ever since— Um, for months. It’s partly a memory. I’ve got your head in my lap and you’re bleeding, but I can’t move my hands, and I can’t scream, and the blood just keeps coming—“

“Melody,” Harry interrupted. Her voice was growing thicker, her words slurring together. He felt like there were pieces of him splintering in his chest the longer he listened, the more hysterical she became. “Stop it. Yeh’re freakin’ yourself out.”

She’d never talked to him about the day he was shot. He hadn’t known she’d been so close, had held him, thinking that he was dead or dying. His entire body ached when he thought about holding her like that, feeling helpless, void of hope. His eyes stung, and he hadn’t cried in years. He forced himself to blink away the pain.

“No, I need to tell you,” Melody insisted, choking on a sob. She didn’t pause before trundling on, afraid that she’d begin crying too hard to speak. "You keep bleeding and there’s so much that it starts to flood the room. I feel like I’m going to drown in it. And I still can’t move my hands, and I can’t get up, but somehow I can turn my head and the closet door is cracked open and Colton’s just standing there. Just watching.”

“He was still there?”

“No, not really. Just in the dream. He was gone by the time I found you.”

The space between them grew quiet. Melody’s lips were trembling, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“The other one just started. In that dream, I wake up in the middle of the night and you’re fine. You’re right here and you’re sleeping, but I look up and he’s just standing there again. He’s here. And then I can’t move again. I’m stuck. I just have to lay there until I wake up."

Melody sounded winded, but relieved to have spilled her nightmares. Harry watched her gasp in a steadying breath, swiping the back of her hand over her wet cheeks, and then lift another orange slice to her mouth. He could feel the muscles in her lower back twitching, as if she were winding up for a fight, or remembering the adrenaline that accompanied a good hit.

“He wouldn’ come here, love.”

“How do you know that?”

“Doubt he’s been within a hundred miles of us since April,” Harry assured her, “and he wouldn’ come back here just to find me. Or to find you. He doesn’ wanna go to prison, Mel, no matter how fucked up he is, and the cops have been looking for him for months. Yeh’re safe, okay? We’re both safe.”

Melody swallowed down her orange and the lump that had risen in her throat. She turned her head away from Harry so that he wouldn’t see the tears continuing to fill her eyes. She’d had enough vulnerability to last a lifetime just within the past few weeks.

“Nothin’s gonna happen to either of us,” Harry whispered, feathering kisses over the bared skin of her neck while he waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, he sighed against her hair. “Yeh haven’ been sleepin’? I didn’ think yeh were wakin’ up.”

“I have been sleeping,” Melody assured him, swiping viciously at a fallen tear before she turned to look out the window and let Harry see her face again. “I just feel like my sleep is more exhausting than actually being awake.”

“Maybe we should start druggin’ yeh.”

“Ha ha.”

Harry shifted until he had a clear view of her face, of her puffy eyes and gnawed lip. He tilted his head until he could touch his cheek to his shoulder. “‘M serious. Helped me sleep when I was younger. Could get rid o’ your dreams completely.”

Melody’s frown deepened. She shook her head and scooped up her plate, crawling over Harry’s outstretched legs. “No, I’m fine.”

“Mel, yeh’re tired.”

“I’m fine.”

He watched her shuffle out of the room and scratched at the prickly scruff that was beginning to shadow his jaw. He heard dishes clinking in the kitchen and cupboards being rifled through. Then there was a considerable silence before Melody reentered the room. She avoided his eyes as she chose clothes for the day.

“Hey.”

Melody paused and picked at her lower lip.

“Please, come here,” Harry murmured.

She stepped gingerly across the room until she stood beside the bed, and she looked reminiscent of a child about to be scolded. Harry’s fingers drew her closer by her thighs.

“Love, ‘s ridiculous for yeh to be embarrassed by somethin’ like a nightmare. Yeh think I’ve never had a fuckin’ nightmare?”

“I’m not embarrassed, Harry.”

“Then yeh would’ve told me already.”

She held her breath, formulating words that she didn’t make coherent enough to speak. Harry tugged her down to sit on the edge of the mattress. He thumbed the teeth marks in the corner of her lip and watched her eyes flutter closed.

“When,” he whispered, “did yeh start thinkin’ yeh couldn’ talk to me? Love it when yeh talk to me.” He felt Melody’s shaking fingertips graze his wrist as he kissed her. She drew in a staggered breath when he gave her another quick peck.

“Sorry.”

“Wish yeh were meaner.”

Melody laughed as she opened her eyes. Harry tugged on a lock of her hair and ran his tongue across his lips.

“All right, get dressed. ‘M not waitin’ around all day. Wheel myself all the way to the hospital if I have to.”

Melody sank her thumb into the space Harry’s dimple usually occupied. She leaned forward once more to plant a kiss of her own on his lips, to sigh against his chin.

“I love you,” she whispered. Then she set her feet back on the floor and went to get dressed.

***

“Is this a joke?” Aiden’s brow was furrowed, his hands frozen, outstretched. He was silent for a moment and then he let his arms fall back to his sides. “It’s gotta be a joke.”

“What?” Melody asked.

“What do you mean, what?” Aiden motioned incredulously toward Harry and then crossed his arms. “That.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Melody,” Aiden began, “I have never seen someone improve at this rate. This is how they make it look in movies. It’s not how it actually happens. Not in real life. Coma patients don’t just wake up after months and start walking this fast.”

“Yeah, well, he is an athlete.”

“And hard-headed.”

“Rock hard head, yes.”

Harry shuffled the last couple of steps to the end of the short track and then leaned his bodyweight into one of the sidebars. His nostrils flared with every breath, but his skin seemed to glow, sing. He was proud and Melody could tell. It radiated off of him like steam off of asphalt.

Aiden stepped forward to help Harry sit, but all he did was spin around and start walking back the way he had come. Melody watched his steps, so much more natural than they had been even a month ago. His toes no longer dragged across the floor, his knees bent at more extreme angles, his ankles rarely ever twisted. When he reached the beginning of the walkway, he paused for breath.

“Think you’re about ready for a cane, my man,” Aiden rewarded, stepping in front of him in case he was ready for a break.

“‘M not your man,” Harry corrected, “and yeh can keep your canes far away from me, yeh freak.”

Aiden snorted. Melody had never heard him make that noise before.

“Seriously, Aiden,” Harry continued. “‘M not walkin’ around with a cane. Who am I, Lucius Malfoy?”

Melody’s lips parted at his reference. “Harry Potter?”

“Yeah, yeh made me watch a few of ‘em.” Harry glanced at Melody and then looked quickly away. She seemed stunned. “Tha’s the one, right? Asshole with the elf?”

“Yeah.” Melody’s astonishment was cut short when she felt a sharp poke to her side. “Ow!”

“Oh, don’t be such a wimp. I thought you had to be tough for boxing.”

“Yeah, for boxing,” Melody snapped back, spinning on her heel to face Vanessa. “Not for nurses who can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“Boohoo.”

The pair grinned peevishly at one another and then Vanessa lifted a finger to examine Melody’s cheek and her smile melted away. “Ouch,” she hissed. “I’d be surprised if that didn’t scar.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Melody bit back. “Tell me I’m pretty.”

“You are pretty. Especially with those designer bags under your eyes. What is going on?”

Melody glanced behind her to be sure Harry wasn’t eavesdropping. He was struggling to hold himself upright while Aiden stretched and rolled his ankles one at a time, and he didn’t seem aware that Vanessa was even in the room. Melody took a deep breath.

“It’s nightmares,” she blurted, spinning back around. “Horrible nightmares. And I wake up and it’s like I’m more tired than when I fell asleep. I’m an absolute mess.”

Vanessa’s lips screwed up into a grimace of pity. Her eyes softened. She glanced over Melody’s shoulder. “He doesn’t know?”

“No, he does. It’s just—he doesn’t know how bad. It’s almost every single time I close my eyes.”

“What brought these on?”

Melody had been trying to discern the answer to that question herself. And she still didn’t know. It wasn’t Harry—she’d slept like a rock for weeks after he’d left the hospital. And she couldn’t remember anything that might have triggered this. But she wanted it to stop.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you tried melatonin?”

Melody let out a quick lungful of air. Vanessa sounded just like Harry.

“No, and I’m not going to.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

Behind her, Melody could hear Harry’s weight settling into his wheelchair, could hear him rolling across the room to work on different exercises. She rubbed at the puffy, raw skin around her eyes.

“What about your art?” Vanessa asked after a brief lull. “Or writing?”

“What about it?”

“Well, do you think getting your nightmares out on paper would help?”

It was a good thought. But Melody hadn’t picked up a paintbrush or a pen in months. She’d barely even cracked open a book outside of the hospital. But if it might help her sleep, she would spill over a thousand pages, a thousand canvases. She would drown her darkest thoughts with ink.

“Maybe,” she said with a confident nod.

***

Melody scratched out an entire line and then clicked the end of her pen. The words felt scrambled in her head. Whether it was because she was tired, or because she hadn’t written in so long, or because she just couldn’t phrase her fears, she was unsure. Two abandoned canvases lay flat on the floor beside her. One was merely a shapeless, flesh-colored blob, the other was indiscernible beneath a splatter if frustrated black paint.

Harry appeared in the doorway, wobbling, trying to support his weight with the new cane he’d been gifted. He clung to the doorframe with his free hand as he examined the room. There seemed to be only one or two paintings that he didn’t recognize displayed on the walls, landscapes and empty rooms in muted blues and grays. The mysterious green eye that he’d seen when he first stepped foot in this apartment still hadn’t been hung up. It was leaned against the far wall where it had been on Melody’s birthday. A thin layer of dust coated her desk now, dulling the wood. The plant which sat on the desk’s shelf looked parched and withered. And Melody’s fingers twitched around her pen, her hair spilled into her face from the loose knot she’d tied it in, and her eyes blinked too slowly, as though each time she closed them they resisted opening.

“Mel,” Harry muttered. He could tell she heard him, but she didn’t turn her head. “Lay down an’ try to sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” she protested.

“All the more reason. Maybe yeh’ll sleep better when ‘s light out.”

Melody was silent for a minute. Then she began to click her pen. “It’s too quiet.”

“I’ll turn a movie on. Yeh can sleep on the couch.” Her pen clicked twice more. “C’mon, love. My legs are gettin’ tired.”

Melody slid her things to the back of her desk and climbed out of her chair. Harry began the short trip to the couch, knuckles growing white around his cane. Melody was there to catch him when he stumbled over the edge of the rug.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“It’s fine.” She lowered him onto one of the cushions and sat down beside him as he dropped his cane. “It’s a process, Harry, you can’t be perfect.”

He grunted and she settled her cheek on his shoulder. Harry pressed a gentle kiss to her scalp. “Why don’t yeh lay down, love?” he suggested, plucking the remote from the arm of the sofa and turning on the TV.

Melody slid across the cushions until her head rested in Harry’s lap. She watched the screen change as he flipped through channels until he found a movie that he didn’t recognize. And then she felt his fingertips in her hair, brushing her ear, sliding along her neck. Of all the times Harry had touched her, so gently, so forcefully, so methodically, she had never felt him like this. This touch was thoughtless and casual, almost subconscious, and it made her very skin ache because it felt like an unexplored side of him. He was always so in his own head, sort of confused by the way he wanted to act around her and the way he felt like he should be acting. She could usually see the wheels working in his mind, but he didn’t seem confused now.

“Christ, I can feel your pulse,” he muttered, his fingertips stilling at the side of her throat. “Wha’s wrong?”

Queenie hopped out of thin air, a flurry of snow that sent newfound adrenaline pumping through Harry and Melody. The cat settled into the space between Melody’s knees and the back of the couch. Harry gave her a withering look.

“Nothing,” Melody eventually said, pressing her cheek more firmly into Harry's thigh. Already, she could feel her eyelids growing heavy, curtains prepared to fall. But she didn’t want to miss this moment, this unguarded glimpse of Harry.

“Then go to sleep, love. I’ll stay with yeh.”

Harry watched the movie that was on, though Melody wasn’t sure if he was absorbing any of it. As it was, she couldn’t keep track of the plot or the characters, but she felt Harry’s eyes fall to her every other minute. His hands continued to slip through her hair and tickle at her shoulders. And she didn’t feel herself slipping out of consciousness, she just fell without warning.

Chapter 11

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles x ofc #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #boxer!harry #boxer!au #harry styles ferocity

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abloomntime · 3 years

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A Bloom In Time Ch 1 A Flower Princess Lost

An non-beating heart is a bad thing to most, but not a bad thing if you were already dead and didn't need anything like that of course. Snatcher is a complicated spook that already has everything he wants now and with two little kids constantly playing in his woods and asking him to join, he has more than enough of his mushy love anyways. But when a familiar face and secret pops up, it may prove that the beating of love may still come from beyond the grave.

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Warning: Mentions and briefly explains Snatcher's death.

Would it be so wrong to say I love you when you obviously didn't love me back the way I loved you? Would it be wrong to say I would I like you more than any other thing when you didn't see me more than a stranger? Would it be so wrong to want to hold you when you would be confused at my touch? Would there be any world where we were aloud to be together, with your hair flowing like rose petals and eyes of the beautiful blue sky. Where no one would stop them and no duties got in their way.....But it wasn't meant to be because no amount of begging or asking would probably change the way you see me right now. The smile I'm giving you as you talk about the flowers like they were your proud children and you were mother nature. You would make the best mother nature. With your fiery passion and gentle kindness. You always listened to me. Didn't pressure me to picking. Always smiled and never EVER treated me as some fairytale prince I wasn't, which is why after all these years of knowing you and loving someone who I know definitely loves me, but for all the wrong reasons, and as much as I love her back...I think I love you more.

"Your Highness? Are you alright?"

He snapped out of it and yellow eyes blinked up at the lady who's stolen his heart. The fairytale romantic love of a Queen with beautiful blonde hair and emerald eyes was the first to catch him heart and he fell hard for her, but overtime that vision started to blur into one of fiery red passion and smelt of flowers. He could imagine his Queen in a wedding dress of pure white and covered in lace, but now he couldn't get the idea of how the maiden with red hair would look shyly looking at him in a dress of white, flowers in her hair and a red hue to her face as he held her close, wedding bells sounding as he promised her he would always love her. Forever.....But he should get his head out of the clouds. From the day he was born, his parents and Vanessa's mother had an arranged marriage for the two royals, and he didn't think even though she was Queen now, she'd let him go so soon with how attached she was....and how forcing his parents were about this. So he smiled at the confused face on the beautiful woman with hair of the rose.

"I'm perfectly fine. Vanessa's just been....A b-bit cranky lately. So I wanted to surprise her with some flowers today. M-Maybe that'll help calm her down. "

That got her attention when she rose a brow at him and asked a question that made him flinch. "Is this like the time she banned everyone here from eating bacon?"

He waved her off. "N-No, no. She was only concerned about my health, a-and she's right. Bacon has too much fat. I could loose a few more pounds and eat healthier.''

Her beautiful blue eyes ran over him with a raised brow. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn't and instead smiled and pointed a hand to the flowers around her in her stand. "Well, how can I help you this time, Prince-y? We have a fifty percent discount on mixed wild daisies this week, more sprouted up than expected, but they smell great and multicolored. A colorful rainbow bouquet would brighten up anyone's day!"

He looked at the many flowers she was pointing to and smiled and nodded. "Y-Yeah. Vanessa's loves any flowers I give her! These are perfect! You know what, I'll take some thanks!"

She smiled and went to work on getting the flowers. Cutting them and getting the pretty pink paper to wrap them in so he could present them to his beloved Queen. He couldn't help but smile at the gentle way she handled the flowers ...but remembered. He didn't have any pons to pay her with. He spent the last on them on getting Vanessa an anniversary gift yesterday after she insisted he'd better do something to make her happy and 'prove he still loved her by not forgetting. And he didn't. He got her a beautiful bracelet with beautiful blue saphires studded into it and was getting her flowers on top of that....But- When she turned back to him with a smile, flowers ready to go...It was like it was stupid but-...He immediately held up the bracelet to her without question, smile on his own face. She blinked at the sudden gift held out to her before looking back up to his face in question.

"Take it. I-...I-I got three others at home just like it," he lied with a smile but it felt like the right thing to do at the time, "Besides. I-I don't have any pons on me right now."

He stared at him more. "Oh, no. I couldn't!" She held up her hands. "I couldn't possibly just accept it like that. Here." She held the flowers out to him. "You buy so much anyways. This time it's on the house."

"NO!" He insisted. Gently placing the small bracelet into her hand while staring into her eyes. "I may be a prince but even Im not above getting things for free just because I buy a lot of it. You obviously put so much work into growing such beautiful flowers and I won't let hard work like that go under paid."

They ended up just holding hands unintentionally for a few seconds as they talked and smiled. Neither noticed the beautiful golden sunshine haired woman with beautiful green emerald eyes suddenly stopping and watching from the dark corner of the alleyway. She stared in absolutely horror as she watched her prince, her beloved perfect prince holding hands with a...a...A PEASANT GIRL!! This girl with bland red hair that looked like it was dunked in tacky red paint and gotten red splotches all over her face, dirt smudging her tacky dress and obviously dirty and not fit for anyone other than another low life peasant like herself. AND YET THERE THEY WERE!! Holding hands, smiling, and giggling like they were...A Happy couple..NO! NO!! HE WASN'T ALLOWED TO LOOK AT ANYONE LIKE THAT!! HE WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO LOOK AT HER LIKE THAT!! HER! THE ONE WITH EYES OF EMERALD GREEN AND PERFECT HAIR SHINIER THAN GOLD!! FAIR SKIN AND BELOVED BY HER KINGDOM!! RICH AND COULD GIVE HIM ANYTHING HE ASKED!! THEY WERE THE ONES THAT WERE SUPPOSED TO GET MARRIED WITHIN A YEAR'S TIME!! THEY WERE GOING TO ADOPT ONE OF THE CHILDREN FROM THE VILLAGE TOGTHER!! HE COULDN'T WAIT TO HAVE A CHILD BUT SHE WANTED TO WAIT UNTIL A FEW YEARS INTO THEIR MARRIAGE BEFORE HAVING ONE!! IT WAS GOING TO BE THE PERFECT THING FOR THEIR IMAGE!! ADOPTING A CHILD OF NONE ROYAL BLOOD AND LOOK LIKE ONE OF THOSE FAIRYTALE STORIES!! THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO DO THAT TOGETHER AND HE'S.....He's holding hands with someone who's not fit to even be in their story beyond a lowly subject!! With tears stinging her eyes she hiccupped and turned to run back into the darkness of the alley, if she would've stayed a little longer she would've seen the florist hand over the bouquet of flowers meant for her to he beloved prince and him paying her with the golden bracelet. The movement out of the corner of his eye made him look towards the swift movement and he easily recognized that fancy green dress running back into the shadow of the alleyway.

He jumped almost dropping the flowers he was just handed. "Vanessa!?" The florist looked to where he was looking but didn't see the woman that dashed into the alleyway as he stared in confusion. "Vanessa?.....Why did she run away so suddenly?"

...The florist shrugged lightly with a smile. "Maybe she was embarrassed she walked in on you getting her flowers?", she suggested.

....He gave a smile. "OH! Of course! She's considerate l-like that." He gave an almost nervous smile and turned back to her before bowing. "T-Thank you for your help once again...Ms. Poppy."

She waved her hand. "Oh, don't mention it! It's always to see just a nice man be so considerate and give the gal he loves so many flowers."

The gal he loved...Heh. He guessed that was true. He still loved Vanessa in some way or another...but lately..he wasn't too sure about things, but he was sure she was right. Vanessa was just in a bad place for a few years. Her mother was sick and dying slowly, she just got crowned Queen a month ago after her mother had an accident, her new duties were overwhelming her, and with him still doing his princely studies about law it musn't be easy for her. But like any betrothed, he was going to try and work through these problems together. But he still couldn't stop smiling after he left the Florist to her work. Cute freckles and blue eyes clouding his vision. He was sure as soon as Vanessa saw these flowers she would perk right up! She always enjoyed it when he brought her gifts like these- OH! How wrong he was. As soon as he got to the manor, Vanessa's vacation spot away from her huge castle, everything suddenly felt....off somehow. Like a tense and thick aura was in the air, so thick one would have to use a battle axe to cute through it, but upon further searching he found her. Vanessa, his beloved Queen with golden hair, weeping in one of the hallways, back faced to him and of course the sight pained him. What could've brought her to this state of being?

"Vanessa?!" She flinched when he shouted her name and came near her. The sound of his footsteps stopping just behind her. "Sweetheart? W-Why are you crying?" Sudden worry came over him. Oh no. Did she think he forgot their anniversary?! That made him hold out the flowers with a giant smile. "Don't cry. I-I got you these! Look. A-Aren't they beautiful?"

".....How could you betray me, Philip?" Her voice growled out. And he took a step back, was it just him or was the room suddenly darker? They needed to open up the blinds more. But the shadows seemed to come from her as she growled again in a voice that was clearly NOT the sugary sweet voice of his beloved maiden. And betrayl?? What was she talking about? "How could you CHEAT ON ME!? AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE BEEN THROUGH!! ALL OUR LIVES WE WERE MEANT FOR EACH OTHER!!" Her form slouched over as the shadows continued to consume her and her once beautiful emerald eyes twitched with a red of rage and anger he'd never seen before tears beginning to consume her eyes, or the one eye that was exposed to him at the moment. He froze just staring at her in horror as the same distorted voice asked another question. "How could you give your heart to that PEASANT GIRL!?"

He stared at her in absolute fear as she growled like some wild animal at him, "W-WHAT?! You mean-...N-NO!! Nonono! You have it all wrong!" He held up the flowers with a strained scared smile. "I wasn't cheating on you! I would NEVER cheat on you! I was paying her and got you these! S-She grows the most beautiful flowers in the land, and you deserve no less than the best!"

"LIAR!!" The not-Vanessa shrieked like she was a banshee making him almost drop the flowers. "I SAW YOU HOLDING HANDS!! AND LAUGHING AT HER JOKES!! FUNNY HUH?! WELL I HOPE PLAYING ME FOR A FOOL WAS WORTH IT, PHILIP!! GUARDS!!"

As if being summoned out of thin air, two heavy footsteps of the iron dressed guards came stomping down the hallway and like an idiot he looked back to her with pleading eyes. "Vanessa! I wasn't I swear to you! I was merely paying her for the flowers n-not giggling at her jokes! AAH!!" He yelped in fright when he was suddenly surrounded. two giant armored arms snatched him and wouldn't let go!

She giggled without any humor. "Oh, Philip. You played me the fool for so long perhaps a punishment is in order for you. Take him to the celler and CHAIN HIM!!! I never want to see his face again.....And then seeze the florist. No crime against me shall go unpunished."

WHAT?! POPPY!! "W-WHAT?! VANESSA, PLEASE NO!!" Two arms latched onto him and no matter how much he kicked and struggled he couldn't get out of their grasp. The flowers dropped to the ground as he reached out for her one last time. Her tears forming deadly ice to match her cold heart. "P-PLEASE!! DON'T HURT HER!! SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!! VANESSA!! NOOOOO!!!"

He weeped and weeped when he was painfully suspended in the air by his wrists. The coldness taking over him as he hiccuped and mumbled to himself and choked on those tears. He didn't know how long he stayed down there actually. TIme flies when you couldn't see what was happening but he was sure he never stopped crying for all that time as he got weaker, and weaker. Just getting colder and colder as the cold seeped into his very core...he was almost gone. Looking back up towards the ceiling and through his tears he wondered what was going on up there. He couldn't hear anything but he hoped Poppy was alright. He'd never forgive himself if Vanessa did anything rash. He hiccuped. His beloved queen. This was all his fault.

"I-Im sorry. IM SORRY! IM SORRY!! IM SO SORRY!!" He yelled to the empty air knowing full well no one could hear him. But Vanessa was not the one he was apologizing to. The maiden of feiry red hair and ocean blue eyes. "I-Im s-so sorry, Poppy. *hic*"

The cold crept further and his body felt light, somehow his shadow was extending, his life force fading into it as those handsome brown eyes closed to the darkness and numbing-

"I-...love-..."

The shadows and darkness consumed him. The shadow enlarging and morphing and contorted into a being of power and enhanced abilities. A gasp escaped the creature as it looked down at itself. At the same time moonlight shown through the window and what was left of the prince and his willpower faded away into the moonlight, so when the creature looked behind it, the prince was gone from the chained wall. The prince with his heart split into two by his heart splitting between two and found attachment in two very powerful elements of dark and light. Moonshine and shadows. The creature looked down at his new self....feeling his grin widen and a powerful laugh that many would come to fear vibrating around the basement of his new found freedom.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!''

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"GAH!!"

Something wacked his head and he immediately jumped to the air. If he still had lungs he would probably be panting and looking around wildly around the room he was in. No cold walls caging him in. No coldness seeping into him. No Vanessa or chains or....Poppy. Instead a small pale little girl was staring up at him with concern as she watched his confused face darting around the area....He was on her ship. Her strange cute ship of the small seven year old in front of him. He had been laying on the pile of pillows she had and looking around the area as if he was afraid for a moment. Before he sighed in releif and reached up a clawed hand to rub at his head and hair. Staring down at the little girl standing upon the pile of pillows, holding one dangling in her hand, which he guessed must've been the thing that wacked. He sighed again and slowly lowered himself down look at her better.

"Kid. It's already pass your bedtime probably. What are you doing up?"

Her head tilted and those blue eyes blinked at him before a tiny hand reached out and poked his face where a nose should obviously be if he was human and he rose a brow. "Boop!"

"....Did you really just wack me with a pillow for THAT? Kiddo, you should really find better reasons to wake me up." Two clawed hands gently reached down and picked her up from under the arms. She dropped the pillow from her hold and instinctively wrapped her arms around him as he floated her back down to her bed, the covers were already pulled back from her getting up and her friend snored away happily on the floor next to her bed....He made a mental note to get her a bed sometime. Bow couldn't be expected to keep laying like that on the hard floor, he gently placed the young child on the bed and went to pull the covers back over her-

"You were mumbling something funny." She said making him stop and blink at her.

"Oh yeah?" She nodded. Dang nightmares. He barely had any, but he still got the occasional blast from the past. Wasn't being a cursed prince fun? He pulled the blankets up and she snuggled down with her stuffed toys he hand crafted for her. "And uh..What exactly did you hear me say?"

She shrugged again as she was recovered and he started tucking her in. "Your head was in the pillows." He went to roll his eyes when something grabbed onto his hand. And he looked at her wide excited smile spread across her face. "Can you tell me a story?"

"Squirt, I already read you the one you wanted with the space unicorns," he grumbled remembering the ridiculous book the girl begged him to read to her.

"Yeah. But I always sleep better with a story, and if I don't sleep I'll get up and bother you again." She gave him that cat lipped smug face and he groaned lifting a hand to rub his face and look down at the child in the bed. Before sighing and giving in. She was right. He'd done this too many times to not expect a sudden pillow attack from the hyper story deprived child.

"Fine." He turned back to the bookshelf by her bed and looked over the many childish covers. "Which one do you want now? Space Adentures? Starella? Planets and Star Maps?"

"Your story!"

He paused, and snapped his head to her wide eyed. "What?"

She giggled and turned to her side yawning a bit before speaking. "I want you to tell me one of your stories."

..."My stories eh?" She nodded and he hummed. That..wasn't a very good idea. All the books he read were either lawyer/law books (what better way to help make his contracts better) and scary or mysteries books that were uh...N-Not suitable for children her age lets say. Plus he didn't have any on him at the moment so he guessed he could just make one up? How hard could making up a story for a kid be. She'll fall asleep if he just told her a story about a talking flower making friends with a bumble bee. His hand reached up to rub at his head again before looking at her now clutching the C.A.W agent plus he made her after telling him her adventures in the movie studio. ..."Ok, Ok! I'll tell you one I witnessed a long time ago....In a book. But you gotta promise to go to sleep." She hummed 'Mmm-hmm' and smiled patiently at the ghost who groaned and rolled his eyes again. Why was he doing this?...Well he just had a nightmare about his death-again- and talking about it even twisting the details sounded nice. Not that he'd ever admit it to the little girl. "Once upon a time there was a beautiful flower Princess named Poppy, and a-"

"Pop? Why is she named after a soda?", the kid interrupted blinking confused and he scowled.

"Not 'soda pop'. Poppy. Poppy is a kind of flower on this planet, Kid. Now don't be a rude little lady and let me finish the story unless you want to be grounded from them." She shut up and curled back down into the covers to his satisfaction. "Good. Now like I was saying! There was a flower princess POPPY not soda pop, an evil which named....'Veronica', and a stupid, stupid king." She raised her hand like in a classroom. "....*sigh* Yes?"

"Why was he a stupid, stupid king?"

"You'll see. Now" He grabbed her lamp and pulled the shade off, letting more light flood everywhere and she blinked at the sudden brightness, which a snap of his powers shadows slithered up the wall and formed the outlines of three people. Two women with their dresses and one wearing a witch hat, and a man wearing a crown. They moved as he talked and she watched amazed. "You see. WAY, WAY back before your great granny was even born there was these three. Like I said the Flower Princess was very beautiful. Her hair was a rose red and her skin was as soft a-as their petals. She had the most wonderful patience listeningto her friend The Stupid King, and his p-problems...."His face saddened for a moment as the king and princess shadows held hands platonically...."B-But..she didn't know the king was in love with her. You see...He was too cowardly to tell her or anyone else because he was betrothed to the Evil witch Veronica-" ANother raised hand. "...Yes?"

"What does 'betoofed' mean?"

"Betrothed, Kid. Not betoofed. You know contracts right? How you legally have to follow them because you promised to?" She nodded. "Well basically means the Stupid King promised to marry the witch a long time ago."

..She cocked her head. "But he doesn't love her. That's not like Starella and the Milky Way Prince. They fell in love before they got married."

He chuckled. Even a seven year old could clearly see the stupid logic in arranged marriages and she didn't even comprehend them yet. And his situation, but he shrugged before making the king turn around and ....ECK!! Kiss the hand of the witch who looked like she was giggling. "Well, you're wrong. He DID love her. A long, long time ago before she became evil."

"Why didn't he break with her like in the movies?"

He shrugged. "Promises are sometimes h-hard to break for some people. And he still cared about her in some way, the witch was really, really pretty too, and I guess he just couldn't see past her beauty and wanted to try and make things right."

"That doesn't sound like a healthy relationship." She held up a hand in knowing. "Conductor always says*ahem*!!" She tried to do a bad impression of the old bird and he smiled. "Lassie! If ye ever get yerself whatever the aliens call a wife, at thee first sign of trrrrrouble ask 'er if she loves the money ya makes with mah' movies. If she says yas, she's a no good golddigger and leave before she takes ye kids and house and most of ye money too!!"

He laughed a couple times and Bow stirred in her sleeping bag. Not waking up but almost as he stared at the proud Hat child. "Well that's good advice kid. But she wasn't a golddigger-"....His face slowly contorted to a scowl and looked down. "She was in love with a fairytale. She loved the Stupid King for being like a King from a story. She never loved him for who he really was as long as her fairytale wasn't tampered with. She was clingy, selfish, nothing was never good enough unless it was expensive, and she demanded all his attention all the time. ....Until one fateful day-" He waved his three fingered hand at the shadows and it contorted until it showed the witch with slated eye holes and the king and princess holding hands....platonically of course. "The witch saw the King And Flower Princess holding hands...AS JUST FRIENDS." He stressed. "Nothing romantic. Just two friends holding hands for a little bit. And she got really, really jealous. In fact she got so jealous-" The shadows contorted to the king looking sad behind a cage. "-she blamed him for breaking her heart and locked him away forever. And then she-" The shadows again contorted to show the witch still angry and this time over a cauldron. "-cursed the Stupid King's and Princess's kingdoms. All the plants died, all the animals ran away, and everyone...." he couldn't say they froze to death! "..T-They moved on from there. But karma struck her good and-" She raised her hand again. "...What now?"

"What's 'karma'??"

"It means he got revenge. Justice? Whichever one you wanna call it." The shadows formed to show the king opening the door to the cage and running. "The Stupid King managed to escape and get free, but the Witch's spell backfired. She cursed herself too and was trapped forever in her home, the black magic keeping her inside the cave she dug, but it was too late. The Princess was gone and he never saw her again. The shadows formed one more image of the King holding a flower with his head down in shame."

"WHAT?!" Bow stirred again and Snatcher shushed her. "He never saw her again?" She asked more quietly. "But that's not fair! He loved her so much!"

He shrugged sadly and put the lamp shade back on, making the shadows disappear and he sighed, "It's not all bad. He's free and he got to go rule again without worrying without pleasing anyone else. Not all stories have a happy ending kid, even if it's half decent like this." He stared down to the floor with a frown...before reaching over and ruffling her hair which she giggled at. "It's also a very important lesson. Don't let yourself be blinded in bad situations and don't let someone use you like that. Ok?"

"I'm never gonna fall in love! Yuck!!" She stuck her tongue out and he smiled.

"Good, good. You don't need to fall in love when ...well you're stuck as a kid for all eternity with me now don't you?"

"NOPE!! I don't like that mushy stuff anyways!"

He smiled wider. "Good. Good. Now go to sleep. I need all the energy you can get to fix the well tomorrow."

She giggled again but yawned and slowly closed her eyes and snuggled back into the blackets. As he smiled he looked back to the giant windows, as he looked to the darkned and frozen abyss of the planet they were above a frown slowly returned to the ghostly prince's face as he slowly floated over to the window. Placing a cold hand to the cool glass and watching as it slowly ticked by and he sighed once again.

"Sorry, Princess. I had to be the stupid king to do that."

"Snatcher...I can't sleep. Can I have a glass of water?" The Kid's voice piped up again and he chuckled.

"Sure, kid."

#Snatcher #a hat in time snatcher #A Hat In Time #a bloom in time #hat kid #vanessa #florist #The Florist #snatcher x florist #flowercrown

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

Text

Us, February 1

You can now buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Brad Pitt’s Baby Drama -- is ex Nicole Poturalski pregnant?

Page 2: Red Carpet -- Kaitlyn Dever

Page 4: Who Wore It Best? Lili Reinhart vs. Lily Collins

Page 6: Loose Talk -- Stephen Colletti on his viral reunion with ex-girlfriend and former Laguna Beach costar Kristin Cavallari last year, Kyra Sedgwick on husband Kevin Bacon giving her a bikini wax, Priyanka Chopra Jonas’ response when asked how many children she wants with husband Nick Jonas, Jessica Simpson on kids Maxwell and Ace and Birdie whom she shares with Eric Johnson, Rob Lowe on finally spotting his very reclusive new neighbor Prince Harry

Page 8: Contents

Page 10: Hot Pics -- Michael B. Jordan and Lori Harvey enjoyed a romantic getaway together in St. Barts

Page 11: Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt splashed around the ocean with their son Gunner in Carpinteria in California, Miley Cyrus and stylist pal Bradley Kenneth McPeek spent their evening at the beach watching the sunset in Malibu, Selma Blair went on a coffee run in L.A.

Page 12: Josephine Skriver shot a commercial for Maybelline with a pretty bouquet in NYC, Vanessa Lachey wrapped up a Hot Tools Volumizer before gifting to a pal

Page 13: Katie Holmes wore an all-denim ensemble while out and about with beau Emilio Vitolo Jr. in NYC

Page 16: Padma Lakshmi stunned in a white dress at the Gotham Awards in NYC, G-Eazy shared a laugh with a female costar while filming a music video in Pasadena, Brian Austin Green and Sharma Burgess kiss in Hawaii

Page 18: New Year, New Hair -- celebs are already changing up their ‘dos in 2021 -- Demi Lovato ditched her signature dark hair for a pink pixie cut, Tom Hanks called his bald look for the upcoming Elvis Presley biopic horrible, Kate Hudson with rose gold tresses, Taraji P. Henson with short magenta locks, Bella Hadid’s new dyed front strands give off Ginger Spice vibes, Keke Palmer rocking a mullet

Page 20: It’s all relative -- good genes run in these stars’ families -- Gwyneth Paltrow and her mom Blythe Danner and her daughter Apple, Heidi Klum and Erna and daughter Leni, Jada Pinkett Smith and daughter Willow and mom Adrienne Banfield-Norris

Page 21: Chrissy Teigen and mom Vilailuck and daughter Luna, Jessica Alba and Cathy and daughter Honor, Kris Jenner and Kim Kardashian West and her kids Saint and Chicago and Psalm and Mary Jo Houghton

Page 22: Stars They’re Just Like Us -- Kelly Bensimon got where she needed to go via Citi Bike in NYC, Helena Christensen stepped out with her beloved dog Kuma in NYC, Meg Ryan filled her gas tank in L.A.

Page 23: During a commercial break Good Morning America coanchor Robin Roberts sipped in a cool beverage in NYC, Rachel Brosnahan partnered with Amazon to support one of her favorite charities Covenant House in NYC

Page 24: Love Lives -- Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez are feeling refreshed after a recent trip to Turks and Caicos

Page 25: Jessie James Decker and husband Eric Decker are enjoying a lot more alone time now that they’ve finally put a lock on their bedroom door, Jackson Guthy is Olivia Jade Giannulli’s No. 1 fan

Page 26: Hot Hollywood -- After 10 years of marriage Elizabeth Chambers thought she knew the real Armie Hammer but when graphic messages surfaced of his alleged disturbing sexual fetishes of rape and cannibalism she was horrified and it’s like she’s living in a nightmare and she’s focused on protecting their kids Harper and Ford and she wants to shield them from seeing their dad so unhinged

Page 27: Kim Kardashian West is set to finally file for divorce from husband Kanye West by February 14 -- Kim wanted to hold the marriage together for the sake of their four kids she’s now ready to turn the chapter and move on with her life

* Meghan Markle’s half-sister Samantha Markle isn’t the only one telling all -- her estranged dad Thomas Markle now has a documentary in the works about his life and raising his famous daughter -- Meghan is absolutely repulsed by her father and she was praying that he’d stay out of her business and move on with his life but he won’t leave her alone and as a result Meghan will never let him meet her son Archie

* Keeping Up With Us -- Ben Affleck and Ana de Armas have called it quits, Vanessa Bryant opened up about coping with loss just days before the one year anniversary of husband Kobe Bryant and daughter Gianna’s tragic deaths, Jason Sudeikis has returned to work on season 2 of Ted Lasso amid his ex Olivia Wilde’s new romance with Harry Styles, Tom Cruise has splurged on robots to enforce Covid-19 safety protocols on the set of Mission: Impossible 7, Chrishell Stause and Justin Hartley have finalized their divorce, Dustin Diamond has been diagnosed with cancer

Page 28: A Day in My Life -- Hunter Hayes

Page 29: Chandler Powell and Bindi Irwin are counting down the days until they meet their baby girl -- Bindi who is in her third trimester cannot wait to be a mother and she’ll be wonderful at it

Page 30: Cover Story -- What Does Brad Pitt Know? Questions arise after Brad’s ex Nicole Poturalski is spotted with what could be a baby bump

Page 33: Inside Angelina Jolie’s new life

Page 34: Erin and Ben Napier -- doing things our way -- the breakout HGTV stars sit down to talk about making it big and putting family first

Page 36: Justin Timberlake turns 40 -- Justin’s highs and lows ahead of his milestone January 31 birthday

Page 40: Beauty -- surprisingly sexy scents -- Ariana Grande’s latest R.E.M.

Page 42: Entertainment -- Genevieve Padalecki on starring in Walker with real-life husband Jared Padalecki

Page 43: James Lafferty and Alexandra Park on Everyone Is Doing Great

Page 46: Fashion Police -- when bad clothes happen to good people -- Cardi B edition

Page 48: 25 Things You Don’t Know About Me -- President Joe Biden

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onechicago-upsteadrhekker · 4 years

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@chilly7188 requested #82 from the prompt list, “what keeps you up at night?” for upstead! I hope you like it! I’m having a lot of fun with these!

Summery: Sometimes you’re reminded of your nightmares even in the daytime, when you least expect it and Jay knows that more than anyone. He knows he’d never survive if it wasn’t for Hailey.

*title taken from ‘Pluto’ by Sleeping at Last*

show me where my armor ends, show me where my skin begins

This morning when Jay woke up, he did not anticipate what the day would bring. He had gone about his usual routine of going for a run, getting in a brief workout and then cooling down with a nice quick shower all before the sun came up.

He was dressed and had coffee made by 6:10, waiting on Hailey to stumble out of their bedroom just after 6:20 when her alarm went off. He greeted her with a kiss like he did every morning and she drank her cup of coffee asking about his run and if he slept okay.

She always did this; sometimes she asked him point blank if he’d had any nightmares and sometimes she just asked how he’d slept and sometimes she didn’t need to ask him at all because she had held him during the night after he’d accidentally woken her up during the throws of reliving his darkest moments.

He knew she was just looking out for his best interests like she’d always done so he would answer as truthfully as he could and she would smile at him like she was pleased and proud and that would make him feel proud too.

She kissed him again as she set her mug in the sink, heading towards the door to go on her own short run to be back in time to get a shower so they could be at work just before 8.

Trudy was there to great them as always as they bounded up the stairs, typing in the password they knew frontwards and backwards before pulling open the gate to continue up the stairs and into the bullpen. Most every one was there; Voight was holed away in his office like usual and Jay always wondered if he’d ever even went home in the first place. Hailey greeted Vanessa and Kim with a brief hug and a quick tease, saying ‘good morning’ to Kevin with a smile. Jay inquired where Adam was just as he came running up the stairs with a lame excuse that he got stuck in traffic but they all knew it was because he slept through his alarm clock again.

They all settled down at their desks, catching up on various paperwork, a light conversation bouncing between him and Jay couldn’t help but think how good his life was right now; he had a job he loved, great friends he worked with and the best fiance who he didn’t deserve.

That should have tipped him off that things were about to go to hell.

“Do you know who I am?”

Jay ignored the question, his eyes quickly scanning the room, resting on the little girl laid out on the floor. Her eyes were closed and her skin was pale.

A slap. “Answer me!”

“Let the little girl go!” Jay looked at the crazed man, his eyes blazing with fury.

“No! Not until you answer my question!” Jay watched as the man brandished his gun and he wondered if he could make a dive for his own gun that had been slid across the room after he had been lured into this trap without getting the little girl or himself killed. He wasn’t even sure if she was still breathing; she was so quiet and still.

Jay knew he needed to play this man’s game to buy him some time. To buy the team some time. To give him time to formulate a plan without the little girl getting shot even if that meant he got shot but he preferred an option where they both avoided getting shot.

But the truth was, Jay had no idea who this guy was or why he seemed to think Jay would know who he was. He was bulky and his hair was graying at the temples so Jay guessed he was in his mid-to-late forty’s but what concerned him most was the half-crazed look in the man’s eyes; desperation, anger and fear all mixed together and Jay had been in enough situations to know that this could go really bad really fast. He knew he had to be extremely careful with what he said and how he moved in order to preserve both his and the little girl’s lives.

“Okay, okay,” Jay spoke calmly his hands still raised, “I don’t recognize you. Do I know you?”

The man laughed to himself, walking around in circles still waving the gun around in his hand and Jay very carefully inched to the right, his eyes never leaving the gun. The man suddenly turned, the gun whipping back to be trained on him, “What do you think you’re doing? You aren’t getting out of here! Not until you know! Not until you pay for what you did!”

Jay froze, his hands still raised, “Okay, okay, I’m not gonna do anything but I don’t understand. What have I done? Can you explain it to me?”

The man laughed again and it sounded more desperate, more maniacal and Jay knew this was starting to get out of hand.

The man almost sobbed, keeping the gun trained on him, “Explain it to you? Explain it to you! I’ll tell you what you did! You killed my little girl and my wife,” The man’s face was beat red as he screamed, “You killed my whole family!”

Jay’s eyebrows furrowed. He had no idea what the hell this guy was talking about but he knew he needed to cooperate to get that little girl out of there so he wracked his brain, trying to remember the guys face.

“You really don’t know, do you? How could you forget what you did! All those lives you’re responsible for! If you hadn’t tried to play hero, that bomb would have never gone off and my family would still be here!” The man’s eyes were bloodshot and he still had the gun trained on him.

Jay felt like he’d been punched in the gut at the man’s words. Of course. Now he understood, now he got it. Of course he hadn’t forgotten one of worst days of his life. A day that he would never forget and would always weigh heavily on his conscious.

He should have figured it out sooner.

“You’re family was in that church, weren’t they? And they didn’t make it,” Jay watched as tears streamed down the man’s face.

Jay snuck a glance at the little girl to his left and she seemed paler than before if that was even possible, “I get why you want me but what has that little girl done? She has nothing to do with this! You need to let her go! This is between you and me!”

The man shook his head, “No. You see, that’s how I knew you would be the one down here. I knew that you wouldn’t be able to resist. Detective Jay Halstead! The great and mighty hero! But guess what? You aren’t going to get to save her either, just how you didn’t save my wife and daughter. You aren’t a hero!” The man’s eyes blazed in fury, “You’re a killer! It’s all your fault!”

Jay’s heart felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. The man’s words cutting deep because it was his fault. He knew that. It was all true. If he hadn’t rushed into that church that day to try and save those people, that bomb wouldn’t have gone off and those people would still be alive.

But that didn’t mean that little girl should die because of his mistakes.

“Okay,” Jay tried to reason, “But I’m down here now. You can let her go.”

The man didn’t seem to hear him, he was mumbling to himself and Jay caught a flash of movement behind the row of shelves that held garden tools. Hailey’s worried eyes met his through a crack in the shelves. A look was shared and Jay understood. They never needed words to communicate.

“Let the little girl go,” Jay tried again, getting the man’s focus back on him.

“No! She’s not going anywhere!” The man heaved.

He stared at Jay, his eye twitching before he suddenly smiled. Calmly, serenely, pleasantly; so different to his previous behavior it was unsettling.

“What keeps you up at night?” Soft and genuine and Jay’s breath caught in his throat.

The man walked towards him, “Is it the sound of the bomb going off? The screams of the dying? The charred faces of the ones you killed?”

He cocked his head, “Maybe it’s the fact that you know you’re responsible. Their ghosts haunting you! The fact that you know deep down that it’s your fault they’re all dead. And now your going to have another little girl, another child on your conscious all because you couldn’t save her. You couldn’t save any of them, could you?”

He raised the gun from his heart to his head, “And now you’re going to join them. You deserve to die and rot in hell for what you did and that’s exactly where I’m going to put you.”

There was a shot.

Jay barely took the time to draw in a deep breath before he was across the room and feeling for the little girl’s pulse.

He could feel Hailey watching him worriedly as she cuffed the guy she’d shot in the shoulder but he didn’t acknowledge her, reaching for his radio to call for an ambulance as he cradled the little girl.

The next few hours were a blur. Full of sirens and adrenaline highs. He watched the doctors work on the little girl and saw her frantic parents rushing through the hospital doors. He drove back to the district, filled out his reports and IPR, going through the motions of tying up a case and Hailey was right by his side. Her eyes had never once left him since they emerged from the basement. He could feel her watching him carefully, not saying anything. She was just there like always.

Until it was finally time to go home, Voight giving him a look saying he had done a good job and a rare pat on the shoulder as he shared a look with Hailey. He let her drive the truck home, neither of them saying anything and he knew she was giving him some time to breathe before she made him talk about it because there was no way she was going to let him not talk about it. Not after a case like this. Not after what happened a few months ago.

As soon as they got into the apartment, Hailey padded over to the kitchen to set out a couple of glasses and his favorite whiskey. She knew him well. Beer wouldn’t cut it tonight. He watched as she poured them some, climbing up on the bar stool and setting his glass in front of the one beside her and he knew she was waiting on him to come sit beside her. He took a breath, reaching for the glass to take a sip as he slid onto the bar stool. They sat there in a comfortable silence.

“Jay,” Her voice was soft and comforting and he never wanted her to stop saying his name like that. He could feel her head turn to look at him fully and she waited until he turned to meet her eyes.

They were compassionate but full of conviction, “Jay,” She said his name again, firmer this time, “This was not your fault. Not today and not the day of the bombing.”

“Hailey-” He could feel tears spring into his eyes, the guy’s words from earlier still bouncing around his head.

This is your fault. You killed those women and children. You need to pay for what you did.

Hailey gave a sharp shake of her head, “No, I don’t care what that guy said or what anyone says! It’s not true, they’re wrong.”

Jay swallowed, looking into his drink, “But he’s right. If I hadn’t went in that church that day, I wouldn’t have set off that bomb and those people wouldn’t be dead. And then that little girl almost died today because of my actions,” He shook his head in disgust, “It is my fault. Maybe I do have a hero complex.”

“Jay,” It was breathed this time and he felt her hand slide up his chest and rest over his heart, “You were doing your job. You didn’t know that there was a bomb and you didn’t know that it was motion censored and you didn’t know that you would trigger it. And today, you saved that little girl Jay because you went in.”

“But she wouldn’t have even been in that situation if I hadn’t of screwed up at the church!”

“Look at me,” Her hands gently cupped his cheeks, turning his head to look at her, “We’ve been over this Jay. Those deaths that day are not on you. They are on the terrorist who set that bomb in the first place. And today is not on you either. Everything worked out because of you and that’s what you need to focus on, okay?”

He knew that logic said she was right but that didn’t negate the fact that deep down, in his heart he felt like he was at fault and he knew that he would always blame himself for that day. Just like he blamed himself for all the other cases he’d been involved with that didn’t turn out so well. Just like he blamed himself for the deaths of his friends he lost overseas.

He’d been pushing all of his guilt over the church bombing to the back of his mind. He’d even been sleeping fairly peacefully through the night but today brought back all of the feelings he’d felt after the bombing as fresh as the day it had happened and with it all of the memories of his past mistakes.

“Oh Jay,” It was her voice and the look in her eyes that broke him. He knew she felt his pain, that she shouldered his burden and that she had since day one. He could see the love and the pain and the comfort in her eyes telling him that he was safe. That she was there for him no matter what and he knew he could take his guard down around her.

So he cried. And she gathered him in her arms as they slid to the kitchen floor and rocked him like she would a child, peppering kisses on his forehead and smoothing his hair back, whispering to him.

She told him she loved him. She told him she would always be there for him no matter what. She whispered about how proud she was of him, that his past didn’t define him and that it wasn’t his fault. She murmured that he was brave and how he had the biggest heart of anyone she knew, about how much she loved his big heart and that it was okay to burden her. She whispered that she would never change anything about him but she wished he didn’t blame himself for things that weren’t his fault because she hated seeing him hurt like this.

And then she told him that she understood, that it was something she would never let him bear alone, that she would never leave him no matter what because she loved him. All of him.

Her heartbeat and comforting arms slowly calmed him down to where he was only sniffling. A few years ago, he would have beat himself up if he’d ever lost control of himself like that in front of her but as he sat there on their kitchen floor with his head on her chest he found that he wasn’t ashamed. He craved the safety of her heart and mind and body. His best friend, his most trusted confidant, his biggest supporter and his greatest love.

He honestly didn’t know how he had ever survived without her.

Jay lifted his head, sitting up beside her. She offered him a comforting smile, reaching out to swipe under his eyes as he rubbed his face, “Feel better?”

He gave her his own small smile, taking her hand to kiss it, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Her own eyes were teary and that small pang of self-doubt hit him. He hesitated.

She noticed. Of course she did. She knew him better than he knew himself.

Her eyebrows furrowed, “What is it Jay?”

“I don’t deserve you Hailey. I’m so broken, you shouldn’t have to deal with all of this,” He looked up at her through shameful eyes, “How could you ever love a mess like me?”

“Jay Halstead,” She was in front of him in an instant, gripping his bent knees firmly and he forced himself to look into her fierce gaze, “Don’t ever say that. I love you with all of my heart and your so called brokenness, that’s what makes you you.”

She softened her voice, “That’s what makes you the person I fell in love with. The person I am in love with,” He followed her gaze to the ring that rested on her left hand, “The person I wanna marry. I wanna spend life with you Jay. Baggage and all.”

“This ring says I’m in it for long-haul. That I deserve you. And don’t you ever doubt that.”

Jay would go through a hundred wars, fight through a thousand shootouts just to see her looking at him like that and to hear her tell him that. He drew her forward, kissing her ring-the promise of their future before capturing her lips with his.

��I love you Hailey,” He whispered against her lips, rubbing his thumb over her engagement ring, “You’ll never know how much.”

“I love you too,” She leaned back, gazing at him with all the love she felt in her heart.

She pecked his quickly on the cheek before clamoring out of his lap, checking the time on the stove. 1:00 am.

Hailey extended her hand for Jay to grab and she pulled him up. He loosely laced his hands together behind Hailey’s back, resting them on the curve of her butt as he gently held her, leaning down to kiss her again.

She smiled at him, tilting her head in the direction of their bedroom, “We’ve had a long day. Let’s go to bed.”

What keeps you up at night?

The question from earlier popped back into his mind, “Hailey... I’m not going to able to sleep tonight and even if I do, my nightmares...”

“I know Jay,” She cupped his jaw and looked into his eyes, whispering, “I’ll help you chase them away.”

He looked at her and she looked back and he knew in his heart of hearts that no matter what, she would always be by his side to scare his demons away.

#Chicago PD #jay halstead #hailey upton #jay halstead x hailey upton #upstead #prompt

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vfenrirsv · 3 years

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When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones; When I die, let me go…

I couldn’t even begin to tell you when I last felt like I was myself; when I last felt proud of who I am, or where I came from, or of all the obstacles that I’ve had to overcome in order to get to where I am today.

I was born “Vanessa.” A Gemini, an Air sign, a Horse under Chinese astrology. Coyote is my Totem. Wolf is my Sacred Guide. In Greek the meaning of my name is “Butterfly,” also from Phanessa, the mystic goddess of an ancient Greek brotherhood bent on finding Truth. Various accounts offer the ideas that someone named “Vanessa” bears the qualities of beautiful and strong, and most importantly ‘always tough on the inside.’ To the latter, at least, I can attest.

My Mother, in my infancy, called me “‘Nessa” in affection and “Vanessa-Anne” in ire. If my Father ever called me by any name other than “Baby-girl;” I can’t remember. I don’t remember much about my Father before my early tweens, when I was forced by the courts to spend time with him in an attempt to foster some type of relationship with the man that my Mother had divorced.

In elementary school I was simply “Vanessa.” Straight-A student in all but mathematics, budding lover of arts and crafts, and defender of both my own and my Mother’s honor on the playground when kids teased me about acting like a tomboy, or not having a father.

Throughout secondary school I was largely invisible – called a number of racial slurs, though I never considered any of them my name, even when someone took the time to recognize me; to bully me. Being white in a community predominated by African American and Hispanic families didn’t grant me the illusionary honor of being called anything other than “Cracker” or, “Piglet” since my parents worked in law enforcement.

By then, I didn’t want to be “Vanessa.” I didn’t want to have a name at all. Silence and being invisible was better than being called out for all of the things that I had no control of. It wasn’t my fault that I was born white, or born into a broken home, or the product of two law enforcement officers who sought happiness outside of their careers. In a quickly emerging socio-economic climate where all three of those variables were prescribed as being abhorrent or fundamentally wrong, I was cast adrift to navigate those faults as if I had brought them upon myself by my own hand. “Dealt a bad hand,” as they say; but it didn’t matter. “She’s a tough little thing.”

When I die, you can push me out to sea; When I die, set me free…

I was in fifth grade when I thought about suicide for the first time. Those dark thoughts were the result of climbing onto an overly-full bus to go to school; only to find that the only available seat was being used to hold the book-bags for a trio of African American girls who took one look at me and sneered. I sat on the edge of the seat, careful not to disturb their property; but when the bus turned a corner, and one of their bags fell the floor; they immediately grabbed my hair, punched me in the stomach, and began to degrade me with every slur they could think of. I hated myself and my name for no other reason that it wasn’t socially acceptable to be who I was.

When my mother later confronted the counselor of the school, a robust African American woman herself; she was told something to the effect of “to take her whining child and leave.” The "counselor" never said my name, because to them, I was a nobody. I was invisible.

In high-school I was both “Van” and “’Ness,” depending on how close I was with the person calling my name. I fell into Art and Science, and always kept my nose in a book. I avoided most people like the plague. When I joined the marching band I wore long jackets even in the summer and did my best to ignore the jokes about me being shy, but for the first time in a long time I wasn’t invisible and I wasn’t nameless.

I wasn’t “Vanessa” anymore, I wasn’t the bullied and disgusting child of a single-parent officer. I clung to being “Van.” “Van” was the introverted Artist who hand-made t-shirts for several of her fellow marching band members, and who thrived in studying Marine Biology and Criminal Sciences. I cut my hair and dyed it bright colors. I played soccer in short shorts. I free dived the local haunts in brightly colored bathing suits, and learned to connect to my peers. I got piercings up both of my ears and a tattoo on my back. I stopped wearing clothing to hide within. I grew to trust and love a very small group of people that, to this day – even though I’ve hardly spoken to any of them in years – I still consider my family. “Van” was the antithesis to “Vanessa.” Where “Vanessa” was reclusive, anti-social, and forced to grow up fast, “Van” was vivacious, carefree, and youthful.

Just before my 19th Birthday I met M. Tall, dark, handsome, though 10 years my senior; everything a budding idiot of a young woman would look for in a man – minus the obvious red-flags of him being not-so-separated from his soon-to-be-ex-significant-other and going thru a messy divorce. I saw a man, deliciously off limits, and he saw a young woman unclaimed by any other. When we eventually came together he panted into the naked dip between my shoulders, and between his ragged breaths on the precipice of a climax, the name “Vanessa” – for the first time in years – didn’t make me flinch or shy away.

When I joined the military midway through my first year in college, I was only identified by my last name, as it was barked at me for eight weeks in Boot, and then used as the only true thing that I owned without cost, once I was sent to my duty stations. It was tacked onto my MOS and Rank each time I was reassigned or given a new task. It was efficient, neutral, and impersonal. I grew to be the same. My shipmates called me by rank in the office, and “Van” on shore leave.

Years after; after M’s successful divorce, a couple more of my birthdays, and a few new duty stations, I began to better understand who I was as “Van.” I cultivated myself and thought for sure that this is who I was meant to be, and that I was with the person that I was supposed to be with. I soon learned otherwise. M was man with the world at his feet, divorced, with a young virile military girlfriend, he could do anything his heart desired. He ended up desiring all options that were the opposite of my own. So, true to my name, I tempered the steel within me; handed him back the $10,000 engagement ring he had placed on my finger; and told him “I love you, but now I know that love – sometimes – isn’t enough;” and we separated.

When I die, let the sharks come 'round to feed; When I die, set me free…

When I was honorably discharged from the military I was left adrift to deal with my PTSD and clinical depression. No one called me by my last name anymore. I was a civilian now. I did my best to stay “Van” in all the ways that mattered. I clung to my confidence, my intelligence, my MOS skillset; but I was also now blunt, with a dark sense of humor, and didn’t associate well with people my own age. I was standoffish and curt, expecting the same manner of respect and accountability from my new civilian peers as I had grown accustomed to while in the service. I started asking people to simply call me “V.”

“It’s just easier,” I’d tell people with a smile, but the truth was that I didn’t know who I was anymore.

When I met S, I was still “V.” I was mysterious and adventurous. I was a vixen, a one night stand, a pirate queen who left a trail of broken hearts behind her, a woman out to see the world and maybe watch it burn. I was fun and brutal in equal measures. The military made me sharp, and S was more than rough around the edges. We fell for each other faster that might have been wise, took to one another like melodramatic lovers always do. There was carnal passion and dangerous motorcycle rides down highways at 3AM. There were nights when we wouldn’t speak at all, and it didn’t matter that I didn’t want to have a name, or that his name was all that I would whisper or scream for hours. There were risks of getting caught, of getting pregnant, of getting too attached. There were days when all we would do was talk, and yet for all of our words we would talk about nothing at all. There were days when I knew that I had fallen in love, and nights when I had convinced myself that I didn’t deserve a single bit of it.

When you don’t have a name and don’t care who you’re becoming; it doesn’t matter what happens next. So one day, I left. I made the excuse that I had been offered a job somewhere across the country, that I was going on a vacation, that I was interning with a university out in the desert. It didn’t matter what I said. I was already gone. Lying to myself about why I was cutting the strings became easier the further away I got. Years later, S and I ran into one another; and he fervently admitted that he had been in love with me and had been too stupid to say it. I admitted that I had felt much the same, but had been too broken to allow myself to believe it.

When I die, let the flames devour me; When I die, set me free…

I rounded out many of the sharp edges that the military had left me with by moving back home. I had found employment in the civilian sector that matched closely with my MOS in the military, and I had begun to try and make friends on my off days. Mostly, I spent my free-time outside. I’d kayak or free dive the freshwater rivers in my home region, hike the beach trails or brush-land. I’d camp on the beach some nights or lay in a hammock in the dark of the pinewood on others. My time in the isolation of wilderness taught me how to sit still with my own darkness, and I believed that I would be mentally equipped to handle it.

Then, I stopped looking for myself in nature and started dating. I felt that I was ready. Tough girls move forward, right? That’s how I met J: completely by accident. A friend of my brother’s from the same high school – we had crossed paths more than a few times; with him a football star and me Second Chair in marching band. He called me “Van” and it didn’t strike me as odd, knowing that he knew me from before; when being “Van” meant more than being “V.” We connected, and did well for a time. He got a job as a Deputy and I as a Dispatcher. Things seemed like they were beginning to align. I thought my future was in sight. He said my name with pride and affection when he introduced me to his parents. He breathed life back into the part of me that was both “Van” and “’Ness” and “Vanessa” in equal measures, fixing me with slivers of adoration, challenge, pride, hope, adventure, and affection. We had many of the same interests, he never once stopped showering me in affection, and J could make me feel like the most treasured woman in the room with nothing more than a wink.

Moving in together with his brother and brother’s girlfriend is what killed all of the fragile progress that had been made. I came home from a twelve hour shift one afternoon to his brother’s girlfriend screaming obscenities. I didn’t clean enough. I didn’t follow her rules enough. I wasn’t present enough, or friendly enough. I was too young at the time to understand that she was unhappy with more than just herself, that there were things going on in her life that had nothing to do with me; but all I heard was: “Vanessa” wasn’t good enough to be part of “this family” anymore. They didn’t want anything to do with “Van.” I fell apart, and I was too broken to accurately convey to J what her statements had done to me mentally, what his brother’s silence in the face of those blatantly vindictive statement had done to me. I wasn’t able to convey all of the damage that I believed was irrevocably done.

I closed in on myself and became “V” again. If they didn’t want “Van,” or “’Ness,” or “Vanessa” in their picture-perfect ideations of the familial future, then I’d do them all a favor and leave. So I ended it. Moved into my own place. Started over. “V” didn’t care if she left another broken heart to the surf; didn’t care if starting over caused more harm than good. “Van” began to have the same connotations as “Vanessa.” I was running out of nicknames and letters to remove from my name; as if parceling out portions of my appellation would allow me the illusion that I was – somehow – keeping it all together. I gathered what I had left of myself and pushed forward. If nothing else, I was ‘always tough on the inside,’ right?

When I die, throw my ashes to the breeze; When I die, scatter me…

Later, I met my ex-husband D, an Air Force veteran, and each step in our post-military journey together unknowingly brought us closer to our unavoidable divorce. We both had scars that weren’t truly healing over, and we both had been losing ourselves to our own different demons for years before we met. We both wanted a distraction, someone to fall into on the weekends. He didn’t mind that I wasn’t looking for more than a dalliance, and I was secure in the knowledge that I could use him to chase away the solitude while maintaining my independence. By the time we realized that we were mired in one another it was almost a surprise for both of us to find that our demons played well together. Everything seemed fine, until it wasn’t.

We were always on the move. Influenced by work or family or our own personal goals; we would set out to each new place with hope in our hearts and dreams of bright futures in our minds. We’d drag each other along with us; happy to be in the orbit of the other even if it meant more change. Florida, Georgia, Tennessee. Kentucky, Michigan, Colorado…Each move was a fresh start, right? Each move was a learning opportunity, an adventure, a chance to explore instead of putting down deep roots…

I cannot speak on his behalf, but in my reality, each move brought a new job that I needed to train for, understand, and master; with new titles that I needed to be worthy of, and new responsibilities that I needed to fulfill. Each new apartment complex would be a new contract and a new name that someone would call me by; “206B,” “Mrs. Vanessa,” “Miss Van,” or some hybrid combination of both my and his last name.

By Colorado we no longer wanted the same thing. I hated being “Mrs. Vanessa,” or some last name sphinx-crossbreed. “Mrs. Vanessa” had suddenly become a weekend step-mother to two young boys who neither wanted me or needed me in their lives; and was now the wife of a man who didn’t know what he wanted out of a career or a marriage. “Mrs. Vanessa” found herself far from any semblance of a home, in a relationship that was coming undone at the very seams.

D moved back to his childhood home in Michigan, and I stayed in Colorado. Alone. We were separated for several weeks; trying to figure out how to salvage what we had attempted to build together. Demons play well together until, unsurprisingly, they don’t. The time that we spent separated outnumbered the time that we had been factually married. The distance allowed us to say all of the things that we otherwise wouldn’t have said to each other’s faces. Full disclosure and transparency came at the cost of long distance calls and aggravated re-dials. We yelled. We cried. We drew the venom out of the wounds we’d inflicted upon each other and finally relented. We didn’t attempt marriage counseling.

When the years have torn me apart; Just Let me be…

In an attempt to patch the internal damage, I made friends outside of my job. We started game nights, hosted pot-lucks, explored Colorado, and I was able to truly find kinship in one of my new friends. A fellow Gemini, Air sign, military veteran, person who had lost their path but had managed to find their way. I connected with them, trusted them, and turned to them when I knew that the floundering of my marriage was inevitability going to result in failure. I was branching out, I told myself. It was healthy to make friends and not let myself wallow in the fact that I had failed at being a wife. I buckled down and filed for divorce. “Tough on the inside,” I reminded myself. Always. Tough. On. The. Inside.

Failure makes us vulnerable, and vulnerability leads to poor decisions. On New Year’s Eve in Colorado, leaning on the trust of friendship and the influence of alcohol, I was sexually assaulted by the very friend that I had turned to for support during my divorce. He called me “Vanessa.”

God, I hate that name.

I adopted a cat to quell the gathering dejection, violation, betrayal; the over-abundance of feeling everything and nothing at all, and requested an inter-agency job transfer out of state. I landed in Kansas. The divorce was finalized less than four months from the day I married my ex-husband. I was a newly-wed in August and a Divorcee in December. I forced myself forward and turned over a new page in January of that following year. ToughOnTheInsideGodDammit.

All the world is dark, and I've looked as far as I can see…

This time, I did not seek out friends outside of my job. I kept my relationships professional. I was more willing to hang out with someone from the office in a neutral setting, but would stay home elsewise. I stopped responding to the name “Vanessa” entirely.

Loneliness also makes us vulnerable, but in a different way; and that same vulnerability leads us to do one of two things: Cloister ourselves away and never interact with people again, or Muster up enough courage to try new things. I chose Option #2: I joined some dating websites. I met men and women alike, and I began to grow more confident in my skin. I was “Van” again and I liked who I was becoming. I was independent and I wasn’t allowing myself to crumble beneath the weight of everything that I had been through. As my namesake, I was determined to be tough on the inside.

Being strong and independent and courageous led me to J. He didn’t mind that I was imperfect, didn’t balk at my scars or my demons, and didn’t shy away from my past. J had a past of his own, had made mistakes of his own, had a life of lessons learned and adventures had of his own; so it didn’t seem so scary to open myself up again. To be someone more than “V.” He promised the world; a future with deep seated roots, the dream of a home, a family. I believed him. Like an idiot, I believed him. We married. We vowed to cleave to one another alone, to put each other before ourselves, to love each other unconditionally; to battle the world together. We swore to cherish and adore one another, to build a life together and never take each other for granted.

I try. I try so fucking hard. When I feel ignored, I buckle down and swallow it. When I feel stressed I keep it in to prevent stressing him out more than he claims he already is.

He calls me “Beautiful” and “The Best Thing to Ever Happen to Him,” but follows these hollow words with casual indifference and gentle disregard. He doesn’t abuse me, but he doesn’t cherish me either. He speaks of me with pride when he talks to his family; but does not stand up for or defend me when his Step-Mother disparages me and belittles my actions. “Babe,” he calls me “This is just how she is with everyone. You’re Amazing.” I am supposed to be content with that. I am supposed to be content with sitting in silence, hailed as “amazing,” or “beautiful,” or “the best.” Hollow words echo in silence. Distort. Sound false. Do not bear weight in their worthlessness.

I realize that I don’t even know the last time he has called me by name and meant it…Maybe it was the day we got married. Maybe it was the day he proposed. Maybe it was our second date...

I try harder. When I feel neglected I go out of my way to do things for him that would please him; I cook his favorite meals, I wear alluring lingerie, I clean the entire house and make sure that he doesn’t have to lift a finger after work. When all else fails I reach out to his best friend to ask for advice on what I can do to make things easier, better, for my husband. I set aside my own embarrassment at having to ask for insight from someone else, instead of getting the answers from my own husband’s mouth, as to why he doesn’t seem to want me anymore. “It’s not you, Babe,” he says. It’s difficult to stay tough on the inside when “It’s not you,” echoes hollow and sounds more like “I don’t have a reason.”

When we disagree, he calls me by my full name, tacking on his last name at the end, as if in joking-jest; as if calling me anything other than some form of dead endearment will lend seriousness to his statements. “I promise,” he says. “I love you,” he says. I am not angry that his words hold no meaning or value anymore. I am just angry that I can no longer trust anything he says. I am angry that more often than not there are no words at all, just furious silence.

When I die, just let me be…

I am angry that I have allowed myself to become this nameless, hopeless, loveless thing. I am not even “V,” at this point. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

The wife I have become is a meaningless thing. What communication can be had between a wife who tries best to express her feelings and desires to a husband who reacts with anger and frustration when faced with the truth? What future can be had when a husband will not be intimate with his wife? What value do a husband’s words have when each promise is broken, when there is no follow-through on simple tasks of keeping a home, fostering a relationship, or growing a friendship?

“Nessa” and “Vanessa-Anne” in equal measures, had been emotionally bruised by the divorce of her parents; learning early in life that sometimes letting go is the best option. “Vanessa” was poisoned by the realization that your name means nothing to those who take one look at you and refuse to learn who you truly are on the inside. Both “Van” and “’Ness” learned the fragile existence of friendship, and the aching stab of loneliness that comes after you open your heart to a select few only to grow apart from them for no other reason than life gets in the way. “Van” was sullied by the painful growth out of adolescence and the realization that love just isn’t enough. “V” was grown in cynicism, the desperate child of PTSD and depression, and knew the devastation and loss that comes with refusing to make bonds with other human beings.

When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones; When I die, just let me go…

So who am I now? I’m not even sure the wolves would know.

Daylight is waiting for you…

_________________________

“Who Am I?” by Vann Fenrirs Volchitsa, Author

“Wolves” by Down Like Silver, Lyrics

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